Sensible Christianity

"If in this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied. If the dead are not raised, 'Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.'" 1 Corinthians 15:19, 32

I don’t know about you, but I grow weary of “sensible Christianity”—the kind of Christianity that nestles too snuggly with the American dream. I want the kind of faith that doesn’t make sense to those who don’t know Christ. I want to live the kind of life that makes people pause in wonder, maybe even shake their heads. I want the kind of life that causes people to furrow their brow and talk behind my back.

In 1 Corinthians 15:19 Paul states that without the resurrection, we Christians are to be the most pitied of all men. Why? Because Paul assumes that we Christians are laying down our present lives for the sake of a future one with Christ. He assumes that our faith is presently costing us worldly wealth, status, pleasures and ease. He assumes that we are no longer living in the patterns of this world and that our lives have taken a radical turn toward an unseen reality. Does he assume too much of us?

The call of Christ is intense—a complete dying of self and a relentless devotion to others. Laying aside the earthly ambitions of wealth, prestige, pleasure and above all—comfort—Christ calls us to store up our treasures in heaven and to seek first his Father’s righteousness. Such a pursuit will appear to be utter foolishness to those who understand neither the nearness of the coming Kingdom nor its rewards. To the natural man, this world and its pleasures are the end game. And thus to the natural man, the Christian’s denial of self and worldly comfort is absolute absurdity.

So how absurd are our lives? How much have we gambled on the idea that Christ lives and is coming again? If it wouldn’t cost us dearly to be wrong, then perhaps our lives are just a bit too sensible. Our American culture (particularly our suburban culture) is full of mediocre Christians who very “sensibly” fritter away their lives chasing after the things of this world. May that not be true of us.

I don’t think I’m quite where I want to be yet—closer than I was a year ago perhaps, but still not all the way there. So if you pray for me, I’ll pray for you. Maybe together we can all move a few steps closer to insanity.