Two counterfeit forms of spiritual maturity, and one way to find the real thing.
| posted 7/15/2004
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Some years ago, a Christian leader wrote, "One assumption in particular has haunted me throughout my Christian experience—the assumption of the changed life. I was taught that if I was a Christian, people would see a marked difference in my life. I was taught that the closer I was to God, the more spiritual I was, the greater and more visible the difference would be. I believed that Christianity would change you outside, not just inside.
"I don't believe that anymore."
He isn't the only one that's given up. Spiritual transformation is missing in many churches because failure in the pursuit of it has caused us to settle for less. At least two common counterfeits are passed off as transformation.
Settling for the minimum
Sometimes we mistakenly think the Christian life is primarily about entrance to heaven. We're content with conversion when God is calling for transformation. Rather than expecting the kingdom of God to revolutionize lives today, we hope it will happen in heaven tomorrow.
Somewhere along the line we swapped out Jesus' gospel—through him we can be transformed into citizens of the kingdom of God, right now, today—for a gospel of heaven's minimum entrance requirement.
The difference is illustrated in a scene from the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail. As King Arthur and his knights seek the Holy Grail, they come to a bridge that spans an abyss "of eternal peril." A bridge keeper allows people to cross this bridge only if they can answer three questions. Get one wrong, and you're tossed into the pit.
Lancelot is the first to test the bridge keeper. The keeper asks him, "What is your name?" Lancelot answers.
"What is your quest?"
Lancelot answers, "To seek the Holy Grail."
"What is your favorite color?"
"Blue."
"Right," says the bridge keeper, "off you go." Lancelot crosses the bridge, amazed this was so easy.
The second knight similarly states his name and quest. But the third question is now, "What is the capital of Assyria?"
"I don't know that."
Suddenly the knight is hurled, screaming, into the abyss.
The third knight, Sir Galahad, is nervous as he's asked his name and quest, but he answers correctly.
"What is your favorite color?"
Sir Galahad panics. "Blue … no, yellow. Aaaaahhhh," he screams as he is hurled into the pit.
Finally, the king steps up. "What is your name?"
"Arthur, king of the Britains."
"What is your quest?"
"To seek the Holy Grail."
"What is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?" (Don't ask. It's a goofy theme that runs throughout the movie.)
"What do you mean," asks Arthur, "an African or European swallow?"
"What? I don't know that," answers the bridge keeper, who immediately is launched into the abyss. Arthur and his followers thereafter cross the bridge unhindered.
Many people's idea of the gospel is that some day we'll get to the bridge to paradise and be asked, "Why should you be allowed to cross?" As long as we answer correctly, we make it across. Answer wrongly, and we're cast into the abyss. The gospel is redefined to be the announcement of the minimal entrance requirements for getting into heaven.
