This is the third of four short essays written to explain my journey in Christian faith. I wrote in such a way that the series might communicate easily with readers who do not have a history within the church, primarily by avoiding religious lingo and employing metaphors. I hope I have accomplished this goal.
Let’s return to our metaphor of water in the engine oil. The motor is running rough and headed toward failure. I know enough about my car to tell that something is wrong (sometimes people are so used to driving their beat-up cars that they don’t notice the shaking and sluggishness.) Is it possible to get my motor running correctly again? A mechanic would know, certainly. If I wanted to go a step further, if I wanted a true expert, I would consult the designer.
The designer would know three things about my situation: 1) how the engine works, 2) what has caused the breakdown and 3) what it takes to restore the engine to proper functionality. Of course, my metaphor is pretty transparent. My motor is the human experience, the water in the oil is what Christians call sin, and the designer is God. What is the “fix” for the failing motor? What process does the designer prescribe to expel the water from the oil, to refurbish the damaged parts, and to recalibrate the motor so that it runs as originally intended?
As a solution to the sin problem, God prescribed an unusual and surprising solution. It is a solution full of drama and power and mystery. God drew near to humanity in the person of Jesus and became a human like ourselves. God’s drawing-near is both confusing and comforting. It incites many questions, but it also sparks hope in us. The gods of other religions are unknowable, self-absorbed, distant or (at worst) caricatures of ourselves. Could it be possible that God would want to be near to us, to walk in our shoes, to make the first move in relationship?
The process that the Designer prescribed required that Jesus would experience a true, blood-and-guts human life. He was just like us with one exception — he had no water in his oil, no sin in his system. This fundamental difference is what made the shocking next step in the process possible. Our engine metaphor “breaks down” at this point, so I’ll speak plainly. Humanity’s pervasive sin problem does more than just cause the motor to run rough. At its foundation, sin is rebellion against God. It is not “boys being boys”; it is an act of treason against the Creator. Our treason is nuanced and feels natural, but it is pervasive and cancerous. The Designer hates the thing that destroys the engine and his will is to eradicate it. However, the water has so thoroughly affected our system that eradicating the water means scrapping the whole system. What does Jesus’ life and death have to do with fixing the system? In a way, it is as if the Designer chose to scrap a pristine prototype sports car and put its engine in my busted-up minivan. The correction for the water in my oil was to replace my system altogether, and Jesus provided the replacement.
It is important to mention again that this is a curious and confusing solution. In fact, there are many ways to understand why and how this process dealt with humanity’s sin problem. Though this process is quite mysterious, both Scripture and two millennia of changed lives testify to this: it works. The first evidence of its effectiveness was when the crucified Jesus walked out of his grave. Since then, countless men and women have walked out of their own spiritual graves to experience life in such a different way that it could only be described as a new life altogether.
When Christ changed my life, I was only vaguely aware of sin and the significance of all that he did on the cross. However, I was very aware that there was a problem that needed a solution. Do you perceive a problem in the world that needs a solution? What do you think the solution may be?