Can I possibly be wrong? If I read an article that emphasizes the Christian’s sacrificial life, love, zeal, and generosity as vitally important for the future of the church, can I possibly be wrong in thinking something is missing?
When others talk about how important it is to get people active, to discover their gifts, and to carry out their responsibilities as Christians, and until we accomplish that, the church will be ineffective, irrelevant to our times, and unsuccessful, can I possibly be wrong in feeling a lead lump in my stomach?
If I hear a glowing report about a church that is going “great guns,” increasing in every measurable way far beyond what we see in our church, and every appearance is that their people are happy, involved, mission-minded, and multiplying, and they appear to have an approach which works with people, can I possibly be wrong in not trying to adopt their methods?
If an expert sincerely and knowledgably says certain modifications have to be made to accommodate the changes we see so rapidly happening in our world, can I possibly be wrong in clinging to things which not only appear weak, dated, foolish, and ineffective, but actually are puny, old, irrational, and hopelessly contrary to the standards, ideals, and measures of success in this world?
Can I possibly be wrong?
It is a question I ask myself every day. With even a shred of honesty, I have to acknowledge that I have no end of questions to which the answer is, “You’re wrong!” Fact is, I was born wrong. The familiar nursery rhyme has applied to me from day one.
There was a crooked man who walked a crooked mile.
He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile.
He bought a crooked cat which caught a crooked mouse,
And they all lived together in a crooked little house.
The “book” on me is not whether I can possibly be wrong, but that I am continually so. I am wide of the mark. “For there is no distinction: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23) My being wrong is not a possibility; it is the unavoidable.
Is there no hope then for me and the church except to work on love, zeal, and generosity? Am I to get out putty and fill in the gaping holes in my character and conduct? Am I to hope other Christians will cheer me on, tell me how I can do better, and hold up for me examples of folks who have overcome the things over which I have continually fallen?
Am I to exhort myself to get active, discover more thoroughly my gifts, and buck up to my responsibilities as a Christian? Am I to be convinced that until I accomplish this, my congregation, the church that I love will never be effective, relevant, or successful? Can I possibly once get it right and turn the lead lump in my stomach into satisfaction and composure? Can I finally do something of which to be proud?
Should I take the common and accepted advice and begin to think positively and dig until I find a workable approach to finally make ministry “click”? Must I no longer cling to what I held as a child? Is it indeed time for me to grow up, make up my mind to live victoriously, or as the Nike slogan urges -- "just do it!”
I’ve tried.
My critics (most notably myself) would say I haven’t tried enough. And they’re right.
If I promise to try harder, will that do? I’m sure there are many who are patient with me, but patience isn't what I need. It only delays the inevitable—the unavoidable, eventual failure.
Could I possibly be wrong against the Niagara which pushes me to change myself, get the church to change, and finally make something worthy because I'm not looking too good right now?
Yes, I can always be wrong.
My only hope is that God's Word and the assurance of His mercy from the cross is never amiss.
But why should anyone hold to this belief when there is nothing new about it or ground-breaking? The Gospel of Jesus' death and resurrection hasn’t been updated in two thousand years. If our world has seemed to change so much from just a hundred years ago, let alone from Bible times, can the untouched Word of God and the ancient promises it contains make any rational claim to be relevant?
Society has modernized, paradigms are overhauled, values have been given fresh interpretations. And haven’t we just celebrated the Reformation? That sounds like even five hundred years ago the church was given a tune-up.
The Reformation, however, wasn't to upgrade the Gospel but return to it. It was a homecoming, a reception once again of what the institutional church had lost as it tried to progress and grow and be effective and powerful. The Reformation found refuge in justification by grace as a gift through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. That can't be wrong.
I can be frail and flawed. I am frail and flawed. But the Gospel of Christ can never be. Therefore, if it is through the Gospel alone; if the core and character of the church is Christ alone; if the unchangeable truth of salvation through the cross is the beginning and end of our preaching and our practice, then we can never be wrong.
The sober question should be asked, “Can I be wrong?” The Law (including rules, standards, examples, warnings, advice, codes, judgments, paradigms, prescriptions, models, formulas, regulations, tactics, and methods) will always tell me I am. Oh, may such thing then never, ever, ever supercede the Gospel which declares us right and righteous before God.
It is Christ’s sacrificial life, love, and grace which are vital for the future of the church. Confession of Him cannot go wrong.
Whether the world judges God's means of grace to be effective, relevant, successful, or not is beside the point. By Word and Sacrament we receive Christ, and He is never wrong. Even when He appeared weak, dated, foolish, and ineffective; even when He died without followers in apparent shameful failure clinging to the will of His Father, Jesus was never wrong.
Here then is my hope and yours.
Christ. Christ. Christ.
To believe Him and rely on His everlasting mercy can never be wrong.
