Recently I went bike riding with a seven year old. The nice thing about riding with a seven year old is that you might not be that good, but your bike is probably better than his and you probably have a bit more experience, so you come out feeling pretty good about yourself. Pretty soon he'll be eight and I'll feel old, but for now I feel pretty awesome.
At one point in the ride I found myself on a trail strewn with fairly large rocks. I know from when I was seven myself that if my tire were to even brush up against one of those rocks the wrong way, it would take my tire one direction while I went the other. But I also remember what a friend who rode dirt bikes told me. He said the secret was to never take your eyes off the path you want to your tires to take. And so I did. I focused on the gaps, moving my eyes quickly from one safe passage to another. I could feel the rocks pulling at my attention. I wanted to see the thing I wanted to avoid. I could also feel myself wanting to forget about the rocks entirely. This section of trail was beautiful and I was missing the scenery. But I looked steadfastly at the gaps and felt my muscles fight me. It seemed as if I could not make such sharp turns, that my tires would slip out from under me. I could not seem to make my arms turn the handle bars. But even as I watched the gap, I watched my wheel go through it. Without understanding how it had happened, I had passed through unscathed.
I was raised to be a good evangelical Christian. Evangelical Christians are taught that they are terrible sinners, completely unworthy of God's love. And yet, we have God's love. We have been saved from our own sinfulness and do not live in a state of hell. Life is full of promises made to us by God. Promises that we will be free of sin, saved from hell, able to live a life worthy of the divine princes and princesses that we are. I was taught that the best way to escape the bondages of sin was to learn to see myself for the new creation that I am through Christ. Since there is no condemnation for us, according to Paul, then we should not condemn ourselves. Since God has removed us from our sins, as far as the east from the west, then we should not dwell on them. Confess them, surely. But move on. Heaven awaits!
Ever since college though, I have always been interested in the orthodox church. They had answers to so many questions I had, inconsistencies I saw in my own tradition. Of course there were many things I couldn't agree with. But on the whole I felt they seemed to understand things in a way I did not and I wanted to know more.
One of the things my orthodox friends are proud of (if I can say that) are their saints. The orthodox place as much emphasis on repentance as evangelicals place on grace. They would tell me with glee in their voices how some of their saints would live what we would consider nearly perfect lives but cry out on their deathbeds that they had not even begun to repent. Since as an evangelical repentance was an experience I had done once but never dwelled on my curiosity was peaked.
But at the same time a life of constant repentance has very little appeal to it. Is that the life we were meant to live by our heavenly Father? At the same time how can I ever truly stop repenting? I was tired of the whitewashed life of the evangelical, pretending as if everything was all right.
I've decided that, as many other aspects of Christianity, this is a matter of balance between two extremes, either of which is a rock or a hard place (if you will). I think a life lived only with promises accepted is the life of a spoiled child. How can the prodigal son ever forget that he was the prodigal son? And yet, it was surely not the wish of the father that he remain in the pig sty. He welcomed him back as a son, not as a charity case.
And so now I find myself on a path towards a life of either unceasing repentance, groveling for the forgiveness I know I do not deserve, and hopeful carefree acceptance of my salvation, so comfortably happy in my father's house I forget where I was just yesterday. On the one hand I find myself trying to earn favor with God through my pleas for forgiveness and never fully accepting it. On the other I trample the price my god paid for my salvation under my comfy slippers as I flaunt my freedom before him and the world.
The goal of course is neither a comfortable life nor even an honest one. The goal is God. And God is in the gap. If I can just keep my eyes on him I will pass through. Do not be tempted to look at the stone which will take me down. Do not be tempted to gaze upon the lovely scenery I am surely missing as I barrel down this trail. Focus on the gap because that is where salvation lies. And somehow, though my arms will resist, I know that somehow my wheel will turn and find its way there.