Good Morning. With me, you never know what you're going to get. I'm a scientist and I love talking about science. I'm a musician and I love talking about music. I love talking about my family. I've had cancer for the past 25 years and I like talking about living with cancer. I like talking about our "Imagine a place..." campaign.
But today I'm not going to talk about any of these things. Instead, I'm going to tell you a short story that is the most important story I could possibly tell you. This is the story of how I became a Christian. I will use some images from my home town, Madison, Wisconsin, to help you understand some important aspects of my youth. I took these pictures when I was home at Easter, knowing that they would help me tell this story.
(exterior image of a church building in wooded setting).
I was raised in a religious family. This is the church where I attended every Sunday while I grew up. It is a beautiful building. I was baptized and involved in all possible aspects of church life as a young person—singing in the choir, serving as an alter boy, Christian education, catechism, and confirmation.
(image of church interior and alter).
As I grew up, this interior view of my church sanctuary was what influenced me greatly. Something about this beautiful stone alter affected me as I developed my own personal theology of how to relate to God. I decided God was worthy of great reverence.
(image of a pair of scales).
My personal view of God was based on this cartoon. Perhaps you have, or have had, this same theology. I believed that God was a great measurer of my worthiness, constantly observing my behavior. If I was good enough, God might grant my wishes and bless me. If I fell short, God would deny what I wanted, or perhaps punish me. My young life was lived in a kind of negotiation with God—me trying to get what I wanted by behaving well enough.
(image of exterior of a high school).
In 1978 my best friend and I were talking after basketball practice outside my high school in Madison, just about where this picture was taken. He knew I went to church a lot, and he had the nerve to ask me to describe my relationship to God, and he asked me to explain where Jesus Christ fit in. I told him that I had a simple relationship with God—I tried to do my best, and God rewarded me when I was good enough, or withheld his favors when I fell short. I explained that I didn't need to worry about Jesus, I had a direct relationship with God. Jesus was a great teacher who was tragically killed, and God raised him from the dead to solve that problem, but having a relationship with Jesus was something fanatics added to complicate Christianity.
My friend then shared with me a small booklet by Billy Graham that explained how the New Testament described a relationship with God. This booklet blew my mind. Over the coming few weeks I became aware of the fact that it painted a totally different picture of how a relationship with God is possible.
(diagram of "God" and "me", separated by huge chasm, labeled "Sin").
As I read, I learned that a direct relationship with God, as I sought, was simply impossible because of a huge and insurmountable obstacle—this chasm caused by my imperfection and God's perfect holiness. My errors, and evil ways make it impossible for me to relate directly to a holy God.
(image of a tiny bridge from "me" hanging hopelessly into the chasm).
All of my best efforts at living up to God's standards amounted to this pathetic little bridge—hopelessly falling short of solving the fundamental problem of reaching across this chasm to God. As I learned, I discovered that none of us can reach God by our behavior—the Bible teaches that all of us are imperfect and separated from God. As I read, I learned that even though no bridge I could ever build would reach God, there was a bridge between us—a bridge built from his side of the chasm to me.
(image of a cross labeled "sacrifice of Jesus" bridging the chasm from "God" to "me").
This bridge was created when God allowed the sacrifice of one perfect life, that of Jesus Christ, in the place of all of the imperfect lives that have ever lived—like yours and mine. This death was a kind of suicide, God himself paying the eternal debt of imperfection in my place. In a moment, I'll share with you the prayer I prayed that week in 1978 to ask Jesus Christ to be my savior.
I just wanted to mention something that I feel is very poignant. All those years growing up, I had focused my theology on the image of the stone alter at my church. But look at another view of the interior of my church. Here above the alter is the most amazing and haunting wooden sculpture of my Lord Jesus dying on the cross for me. It stuns me that every Sunday I looked at this symbol and never understood what it meant—why this person was hanging on the cross for me.
(image of exterior of another church).
I have come to realize that this problem with confusing symbols is not unique to my own upbringing. I was thinking about it recently after I went to a lovely concert at this beautiful church here in Rochester.
(interior image).
This is the sanctuary. Perhaps you have been to this church before. During the concert I was enjoying the message presented in words behind the alter.
(image of hanging iron sculpture).
Then during the concert I happened to look up and see this shocking iron sculpture hanging up near the ceiling above the alter. I looked at it for several minutes before I figured out what it was. Can you recognize it? It's a huge sculptural rendering of the crown of thorns my Lord wore for me as he suffered in my place. Isn't it magnificent? I know a young lady who attends that church and I asked her one day what she thought of the remarkable sculpture hanging over the alter there. She looked at me and said "what is that thing anyway?" It took me suddenly back to my own youth where I had completely missed the significance of a symbol that I had seen hundreds of times.
(Images of sculptures of dying Christ and crown of thorns from the two churches).
When I "Imagine a place..." I think about an environment where we are blessed by many beautiful symbols of Christianity. However, I also think about all the other people who, like me, could look at a symbol every week and fail to understand it. I "Imagine a place..." where we enjoy symbols, but also clearly explain them, and teach the biblical truths they represent.
As I close, I want to share the prayer that I prayed when I came to understand how it was that God wanted to relate to me, as explained in the Bible. Perhaps you have been visiting here many times, or maybe this is your first visit, and you have decided that it is time to find the relationship with God that you have been seeking. Please join me in prayer.
Dear heavenly Father, you know I have lived my life always trying to please you— trying to be good enough to earn your love. I now come to understand that this is impossible—I will never be good enough to come into relationship to you. All of my attempts have been hopeless, and I now give up trying. I have come to understand that YOU have built a bridge for ME through what Jesus did for me on the cross. I now turn from my path, and cross that bridge to you, as I accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. Please fill my life with your Holy Spirit, change me, and hold me as your child, both in this life and forever.
With all eyes closed in an attitude of prayer—what was helpful to me when I made the decision to pray this prayer was to make a gesture of affirmation, signifying that this was a special day of decision. So now, if you have prayed this prayer to become a Christian, please just raise your hand for a moment and then put it down—nobody is looking, this is between you and God. Thank you.
Heavenly Father, we thank you for your indescribable gift. In Jesus' name, Amen.
4.30.02
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