-Few verses capture the essence of the Gospel message better than this. What the law and my best filthy-rag efforts could not ever do, God did in Christ. He loved me and died for me, and when I trust in Him, His death and His life all get transmitted to me. They all get deposited into my spiritual bank account - and talk about a hitting the lottery! The motherlode of all jackpots, this. But it's not blind luck, and it is more than a just transaction in the heavenlies - we’re talking about the deliberate imparting of divine glorious essence, a transposition of life itself. Me-myself-and-I, we are having been crucified - a true, completed act in the past with ongoing results in the present. I died - in Christ, both freeing me from the law AND satisfying the righteous requirement of that death penalty. Because in truth without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sin. But this, Christ did for me. What great love, none greater, so rich and free, and I love how Paul personalizes that here (twice!). The Son of God loved ME. He gave Himself over - for ME. He is the One Who did it, He wasn’t simply some hapless victim of cruel circumstances, some helpless ignorant lamb led to slaughter (altho He was indeed the perfect Lamb of God). No, He knew exactly where His life was headed, He knew precisely what was going down, was in control of the entire process, and allowed it all to transpire - for ME.
-But let us not miss this - Paul says, no longer living am I. That’s the word order in the Greek. Sounds like Yoda. :) But i am no longer living. I am not calling the shots, nor am I the one making them - at least in theory. Living in me is Christ. I am in fact dead (supposed to be anyways), and Christ is living in me! This is the true-to-life version of ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’, starring Jesus Christ as the consummate Body-snatcher Himself. Sure, it still looks like me and sounds like me - for the most part at least, altho words, facial expressions, responses, habits, spending patterns, pastimes, values and priorities - these all begin to morph, perhaps even dramatically. Metamorphosis, creepy-crawly-earthbound caterpillar to glorious butterfly - that’s the kind of change we’re talking about (altho it’s not really a body snatching as much as a transaction of soul and spirit). It is not just a matter of a slightly different vocabulary and someplace I gotta be on Sunday morning. Surely most professing Christians have next to no idea what they are saying when they claim to be a Christian. Christ - the holy Creator God of the Universe - lives. In. Me. That’s what Paul says. Such a bold audacous statement, this. It crosses right over the line of presumption, and sets me up for a charge of blasphemy. Or hypocrisy. In fact, is it not possible that unbelievers see this hypocrisy more clearly than do believers? Don’t they often know to expect something extraordinary when say I am a Christian, something heavenly even? For way too many, isn’t the church full of hypocrites, isn’t this what they say? Surely this is the crux of the Christian faith, the litmus test of my personal faith - can someone look at me and say, living in me is Christ? Can they look at my life and get even a whiff of the divine, even a fleeting glimpse of Emmanuel, God with us, the King of Glory? It requires that oh-so-difficult and elusive death, a daily dying-to-self, hefting that same blood-stained cross onto my shoulders and like the One Who did that for ME, I deny myself and I live for HIM and for my fellow man. Sadly, when I, like Peter before me, make it more about do’s-and-dont’s, rules and rituals, when I douse my faith with worries and worldliness and that which is sombre and joyless and self-righteous and all about me, when I refuse to die then truly it is Christianity which dies a thousand deaths and the life of Christ cannot be revealed thru me. Lord help us!
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