Gospel.
I was speaking a while back with two of my favorite evangelicals, describing a book I was enjoying by an author they didn’t know. Their questions were predictable. “Is he biblical?” she asked. “Well,” I hedged, “I think he would say so,” trying to imply that every Christian considers himself or herself consistent with scripture. “Is it gospel?” he asked. Gospel, of course, being code for the evangelical version of the gospel. I responded, “Well, there again, people have different concepts of what this means.”
“Well,” he continued, perhaps a little exasperated with me by now, “Is he about Jesus?” “Oh yes,” I replied wholeheartedly. “He’s all about Jesus.” I think we all breathed a sigh of relief that we made it through that awkward dance successfully. But this is telling to me. Why don’t we start with Jesus when it comes to trying to understand where Christians are coming from? Why wouldn’t the actual words and attitudes and behaviors of Christ be our first point of reference rather than these other litmus tests we have fallen into to separate the “good guys” from the “bad guys”?
In last week’s blog we explored the priceless value of Jesus’ death and resurrection from a contemplative perspective: not payment of a blood debt, but very much the axis of our redemption. Today I want to talk more about this word gospel that means “good story.” Sometimes we use it as shorthand for the overarching spiritual narrative that encompasses our story about God, humans, and redemption. And once again, I think that before we look at Paul or Augustine or Luther, it would be appropriate to start with Jesus. Maybe we could even call this the gospel according to Jesus, filtered of course, as always, through our own very human glasses.
I mentioned in the last post that Jesus consistently describes God as both able and willing to forgive sin preemptively and gratuitously. Let’s look at how he does this because we need to be reaching for a Christocentric hermeneutic—a way of understanding all of scripture through the person of Jesus. As the ultimate revelation of God, he is himself the only trustworthy filter for interpreting the Bible (and yes, that will be yet another forthcoming post). So let’s look at a handful of windows that Jesus personally gives us into his view of God and salvation, Jesus’ idea of a story that is exceedingly good…
The vineyard (Mt. 20). The gist of the story is that the “Landowner” hires one set of workers at 6am at one denarius for a day’s work. At 9am he hires more workers, and at noon still more. This happens again at 3pm and even at 5pm, giving the last bunch only an hour’s work. All good so far. But then the Landowner pays the one-hour guys a full denarius…and proceeds to pay all the rest the same wage—much to the frustration of those who worked all day. God responds, “I am not being unfair to you, friend. Didn’t you agree to work for a denarius? …Are you envious because I am generous?” And with one simple story, Jesus totally dismantled the quid pro quo mindset of a retributive, punishment-based salvation. Jesus’ gospel is a better story.
The prodigal (Lk. 15). I’m going to bank on you knowing this story and simply ask one question: What punishment or penance did the prodigal have to pay before he was welcomed back into his father’s arms as a fully-endowed son?
The adulteress (Jn. 8). You probably know this one too—the Pharisees drag a woman caught in adultery before Jesus for his judgment (And where was the guy, by the way? Apparently he got a free pass.) After teasing them for a few minutes by drawing in the dirt, Jesus cuts to the chase, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” Mic drop… and the impromptu trail is abruptly over. Does Jesus condone her actions? Not at all: “Go now and leave your life of sin.” But does his “atonement” require a blood sacrifice? Even an animal’s? It does not.
Zacchaeus (Lk. 19). When Jesus spies this short fellow and invites himself into the home of a tax collector, the crowd is agitated and begins to mutter, “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.” Jesus had a knack for breaking social taboos… and for seeing into people’s hearts. In the face of Jesus’ unexpected acceptance, Zacchaeus volunteers to pay back his ill-gotten earnings. This was the result, not the means of this man’s absolution. Jesus’ assessment? “Today salvation has come to this house!” Salvation. Preemptive. Gratuitous.
Sinful woman (Lk. 7). “A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.” Jesus’ response: I’m glad you love me, but your sins require a blood sacrifice. You’re going to wait until after I die and make atonement; then after I have paid your blood debt, you can be forgiven. Nope. “Your sins are forgiven…. Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” Except there’s more: “Wherever this gospel—THIS GOSPEL—is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her” (Mt. 26:13).
Paralytic (Mt. 9). “Take heart, son; your sins are forgiven.” Any declaration of repentance? Any statement of belief? Any assurances that he was going to live a better life? Nothing. Crickets. Just preemptive, gratuitous acceptance. Jesus is yelling now: This is what God is like! Are you paying attention? God is better than you’ve ever imagined!
This, I believe, is the gospel according to Jesus. Is your story this good?
growing the soul
When you read these accounts of Jesus’ view of God and salvation, how does it strike you? Wonder? Resistance? Something else?
serving the world
How do you think your non-Christian friends would respond to this gospel? Maybe they would respond as eagerly as those who surrounded Jesus!
meditation
takeaway
Preemptive. Gratuitous.