We seem embroiled in debates over things that used to be self-evident.
We used to know what sex we were. If you were a man and feeling particularly feminine you could always do a quick check “south of the border.” That would answer the gender question. An added bonus was knowing which bathroom to enter.
We knew which sex to marry. It was easy. You picked the one opposite your own that had parts…ahem…that interlocked with yours. From the beginning of the world, the ancients had that one down. Animals figured out the mating thing, too.
We used to know right from wrong, and that there was a right and wrong. It wasn’t a matter of how many people liked it on Facebook, or how many bumper stickers proclaimed it, or celebrities endorsed it.
We knew what was a human life, and “choice” was something made before going into the bedroom, because there wouldn’t be so many “choices” later.
We used to know when to be ashamed.
Then we got smart. We pulled out all the stops. Recruited postmodern philosophy, agenda-driven science, idealistic political theory.
Under the influence of this elixir, we told ourselves that there are no absolutes, only social compacts that can change according to the times and the talk shows. Whoever didn’t agree would be labeled a hater or a bigot. Conversation over.
in the name of love and non-judgment, some Christians got on board, giving the big thumbs-up to all these developments. Wanting to appear humane, they presented the lamb of God, blood-free. They took the Lion of the Tribe of Judah and pulled his teeth. Now there is such a thing as churches welcoming people without repentance, and offering salvation without transformation. It’s the most unloving thing of all.
Our country has entered an experiment with unreality, where we eliminate boundaries and “think to change the times and the law” (Daniel 7:25 ). When this happens, the very things set up by a faithful Creator no longer seem to make sense.
As a result, we dispute issues that ought to be self-evident. Befuddled by our desire for lawlessness, we’ve tried to create an alternate reality contoured to fit our sin.
The problem is “drift,” a small word with big implications.
Someone I know fell asleep briefly on a raft while in the Gulf of Mexico. It was a quick siesta of five minutes or so. But in that amount of time, drift carried her over to a fishing platform, where the water slams against the massive wooden pier legs. She woke up with barely enough time to get away.
We are on this same cheap plastic raft, in a world where nothing is stable.
Our natural tendency is drift.
But it doesn’t have to be.
19 We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain,20 where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf… (Heb. 6).
We have an anchor. If you let it go, you’ll drift. If society cuts loose from it, even if the tie was simply indirect and cultural, it will drift.
Ultimately, Christ is the anchor for everything else. Only He can stabilize souls.
But Jesus doesn’t anchor us in the past, as though His perfect ideal was found in 1955. Remember, He has gone before us as a forerunner. It is from the position of the future that He anchors us where the work of God is complete and glory total, where victory is certain.
That means we’re actually anchored in something more relevant, continually more up-to-date than anything happening today.
The good life isn’t about drifting into outrageous self-contradictions and then defending them as if they reflect reality.
Besides, that sounds like a lot of energy to me.
It’s easier to stay anchored.