Objective Faith

A Christian’s car can get a flat tire.

A Christian can get a toothache.

A Christian can go as crazy as an outhouse rat.

A Christian can feel blue, down, weary, depressed.

Case in point—my latest entry last Saturday about “Worthless Work” reveals me at a low state, down, sad, discouraged, wallowing in self-pity.

When I wrote that I questioned in my mind whether or not I should post it because I might scare off people on the outskirts of faith who were looking for some ray of bright hope. Knowing that honey attracts more flies than the stuff I wallowed in, I wondered if I should fake some happy thoughts I rarely feel.

After all, aren’t Christians supposed to be light and salt and joyous?

That ain’t me.

My internal temperament inclines toward the morose.

Neither light nor joy play a big part in my life—although my vocabulary does tend to get salty at times.

What I’m getting at here is honesty.

Every person at times feels low down, sad and blue. Angst grips us all.

To paraphrase Saint Paul, There has no temptation or trouble or problem taken hold on John Cowart that is not the common lot of all men. John is not unique (a bit strange maybe, but not unique). Therefore, If I reveal where I really am and where I’m coming from, and what I worry about, and how I feel—that honest record of my pathetic spiritual life may strike a cord in readers and help them know they are not alone.

So, when I reveal that I am down, morose, discouraged and lower than whale shit, does that mean I am not a real Christian? That Christianity does not work?

The thing is there are two elements to Christian.

One is the subjective, how it makes you feel. This element focuses on spiritual experiences. Happy, happy, happy. Feeling faith becomes addictive. I want to repeat things that make me feel warm fuzzy.

God is good and I want Him to be gooder.

I expect Him to do miracles, make me prosperous, and happy, healthy and wise.

And when He doesn’t, I pretend He does. I lie about my deeper-than-yours experiences. I position myself as a Prayer Warrior, a Healer, a Miracle Worker.

I attribute to God things God has not done.

Oh yes, Christians can lie.

On the other hand, there is objective faith. Little feeling is involved. I mean, who spasms with an orgasm over historical fact?

And historic fact forms the basis of Christian faith.

Jesus Christ rose from the dead because He is God come in the flesh.

Well-attested historic fact.

The only reason to believe the Gospel is because it’s true. Not because it gives warm fuzzies, though it may. Not because many Christians are nice people, though some may be. Not because of any feeling but because of fact.

Therefore, I don’t fear when my life seems empty and meaningless and when my work appears futile. I don’t fear because regardless of how I feel at any given moment, the fact remains that Jesus Christ is our risen Lord.

God came in human form on a rescue mission. Born of a Virgin, while totally God and upholding all things by the word of His power, He became totally man. He healed the sick. He taught the ignorant. He fed the hungry—whatever was wrong, Jesus made it right. And we tortured Him to death, nailed the Rascal down hand and foot, for His trouble because men love darkness rather than light.

You can kill the living but you can’t kill Life. Under His own steam Jesus returned to the living with nail prints still in His body. Neat, as you’d expect God to be, Jesus folded up the grave clothes and put them to the side.

Then He went fishing.

Unpredictable, as you’d expect God to be.

He enjoyed a cookout on the beach with His buddies. And when one asked about another man’s experience, Jesus said, “What is that to thee? Follow thou Me”.

Later, He temporarily went back to where He’d come from in the first place

Historic event. Not feeling.

So, what advantage is there to believing in Christ if as a Christian we still get flat tires, toothaches, discouragement, and sad days?

None.

The only reason to believe the Gospel is because it’s true.