The Road to Redemption
Awakening to the Truth
One day, when I sat down with my professor, the first thing I noticed was the peculiar gleam in his eye and the wry smile he wore like a kid in a candy store. I irresistibly smiled back at him and said, “Professor, you’re looking giddy as a school boy. Either that, or you look like the cat that ate the canary.”
“Do I now?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact you do. What’s happening that has you so cheerful?”
“Cheerful, you say?”
I nodded affirmatively.
“Well, I wouldn’t say cheerful,” the old man continued, “so much as happy to see my favorite crusader.”
“Really? How so?”
“Truth be told, my boy, I envy you, in my more reflective moments—uh, in my more sentimental moments, might be a better way to express it. Yes, I have to admit, I envy you.”
“Envy? Who me?”
This time, the old man nodded back, affirmatively.
Dumbfounded, I said, “Professor, I don’t know what to say. I mean, what brought all this on? Did you and your wife have another one of your discussions? Did she infect you with an unhealthy dose of Christian virtue?”
Letting out a raucous laugh, my professor exclaimed, “Oh, that is rich; certainly not. And what, pray tell, is so shocking about my envying you? You’re a fine young man—a man of conviction, and so … I, naturally, admire how you have maintained your stance, even in the midst of this citadel of secularism.”
Embarrassed, I shrugged and sputtered, “Wow, I really don’t know—uh, I just ... I don’t know what to say.”
Grinning at my awkward reaction, the old man continued: “And as for what brought this on, I think you might be amused. The other day I was driving down the freeway, and I noticed someone had one of those over-sized bumper stickers. You know the kind—one with big, ostentatious letters that screamed, ‘Hey, look at what I believe—come what may.’”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, unable to suppress a grin. “I know the kind.”
“And there it was for the whole world to see: ‘I’m not perfect, I’m just forgiven!’ Isn’t that marvelous?”
Again, somewhat dumbfounded by this, I asked, “You think that’s marvelous? But why? I’d have thought you’d dismissed something like that as misguided balderdash.”
“But that’s just it. Maybe on a different day, I might have done so. But suddenly, quite unexpectedly, I found myself seeing things differently; maybe because I thought of you in that moment, and so I suddenly found myself ‘through the looking-glass.’ Suddenly I found myself reveling in the self-confidence in a proclamation like that—the sheer audacity of it. It reminded me of the reckless abandon of the old Wild West, the days of Manifest Destiny, when folks were a law unto themselves. When folks could do no wrong—in their own eyes, at least—because they were on a mission. They fearlessly carved out the American frontier on their own terms, because they saw themselves as the ‘Chosen of God.’ They were destined for a higher purpose—flaws and all, flaws be damned—so to Hell with accountability as the average person saw it…” The professor’s words trailed off, and as if he were somewhat embarrassed at his spontaneous burst of enthusiasm, he asked furtively: “So, tell me, what’s your take on the matter?”
Story Continues Below
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Story Continues From Above
For several awkward moments, I just sat there, trying to decide how to reply, then I finally had to say something to break the extended silence. “Wow,” was all I could think of at the time, then finally I said, “I don’t know what to say, Professor. I never would’ve guessed you’d have so much to say on the subject. But wow … you … you really do have something to say about it.”
Again, the old man let out a raucous, infectious laugh that had me laughing with him.
“But what do you think?” he asked eagerly, still with that peculiar gleam in his eye. “For once, you and I might actually agree on such matters. Isn’t that marvelous?”
Again, I found myself smiling, as awkward as ever, and still with no real answer to offer up yet. Truth be told: I was so amused at my professor’s opinion in this, that I just didn’t have the heart to tell him that, as much as I would’ve liked to say we were in agreement on this, I just couldn’t.
Naturally, as a Christian, I was in complete agreement that God was perfectly happy to forgive humans who acknowledged their failures and sins. And of course, I also believe that for anyone who comes to a point of remorse, through an act of self-awareness, there arises within us a new desire to “never go down that road again,” as it were. The Scriptures call this the act of repentance. But, of course, what my professor was describing was something altogether different.
Not that I wasn’t glad to hear that the old man actually thought about such things, and that he actually considered the merits of such religiously inspired impulses like seeking God’s forgiveness. It’s just that, to me, at least, he was looking at the matter through what might be described as “rose-colored glasses.” Of course I was all-too-familiar with this idea of Christians aligning themselves with this idea of being “forgiven,” and thus no longer worried about not being “perfect.” But sadly, this seemed like a huge oversimplification of a far more complicated issue. After all, if one were to assume that all Christians exist in a perpetual state of “forgiveness,” then what prevents a person from assuming they therefore have no consequences to future transgressions against God’s law. Clearly, the idea of being the “Chosen of God” is a completely legitimate concept found throughout The Bible. But to anyone who reads the whole book, it’s just as inescapable to see that anyone who abuses divine favor is still in danger of God’s disfavor and subsequent punishment for abusing such a special status.
So, I sat there still, smiling awkwardly, trying to think of how to answer my professor so that I’d both satisfy him and avoid disappointing him at the same time. Then, quite thankfully, there was a knock on the old man’s open door, and so we were mercifully interrupted by another faculty member who had stopped by to speak with the professor. I immediately rose to my feet and excused myself, at which point the old man said to me with a wry smile, “Hey, now, young man. Don’t think you can escape that easily. I still expect an answer to my query. I think you owe me that much.”
“No worries, Professor. I won’t let you down. I’ll get right on it.”
“You do that, my boy, you do that. I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon.”
Reprieved, at least temporarily, I nodded with a sigh of relief, and turned to go, determined as always to formulate an answer worthy of my professor who taught me so well how to investigate such matters.
“Let it simply be asked: Where is the security for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert the oaths, which are the instruments of investigation in courts of justice?”
George Washington
