When You Think About It, It's a Silly Question

Let's Talk About My Royal Blue, 1976, Convertible Corvette Stingray

I’ve been having trouble focusing this week. I have a goal of one day having a few articles “in the bag” so I can be weeks ahead of my posting schedule. I’m not there yet. Right now I begin to write the next article a couple hours after posting the most recent. But this week it’s been more difficult. I’ve just come off a three-part (the first, the second, the third) of a series about a pinnacle moment in my life. It was a challenge to write for many reasons, and I’m exhausted and needed a couple extra days to figure out what to write about next. It’s not that I don’t have any ideas. Quite the contrary.

I have too many.

Here are some topics or titles swirling around in my head:

Introverts Don’t Know What They’re Missing

God Didn’t Make You

The Great Christian Gaslight

"Only Human?!?” Get Outta Here with that Crap

How I Conquered the Porn Industry

The Two Things That Scare Me the Most

These things bounce around my brain in a tangled web of thoughts and ideas and I don’t know how to prioritize. So, I’ll keep working them out, one at a time.

BUT…

I had a response to a recent article which, if I decipher the intent as a whole, was more about my articles in general than it was that particular post itself.

It was from an old friend and mentor. Someone I know loves and cares about me. Their love for me is the first and last thing they share when we’re together. It would be the same for you, from the moment you first met them.

“Has anyone told you they love you today?”

They use the question as either a salutation or a complimentary close, whichever the circumstances of the conversation dictate. If you were to answer, “Yes,” then you’d be met with something along the lines of, “Good. I want you to know I do too.” If you were to pause or say, “No,” they’d be sure to be the first.

It’s a genuine statement. They mean it. The world needs more love, not less, and this friend of mine is here to see to it that they do their part to bring love into the world.

So, when I received a carefully-worded admonition from them in the form of a comment in regard to my article, I knew it came from a place of love.

What they said was this:

There is nothing wrong with being intellectually and spiritually honest.

However, it is important to realize that we (each of us individually) are one in eight [billion] or so.

The Christian answer to creation and the purpose in life is found in Jesus Christ alone! If we make any other integration except Jesus Christ (the Logos), then we are at risk of allowing that integration point to move as determined by mood or disposition or relative values as to what we perceive as truth.

It is important to be able to praise and give thanks to what we make our integration point.

Hold that thought for a moment, because it brought to mind a comment from another friend in response to an article I wrote called Coming to Terms with Professional Failure. The comment was made in a private message to me, but I share it here anonymously because they’re not alone in their fear.

We can relate to what you have been going through. [...] I am very much a believer of keeping an open mind and to be aware that not everyone’s walk and beliefs are going to be the same. The Lord designs a unique path for each of us and it’s not our job to judge the path of others. However, with that being said I constantly have to ask myself are my beliefs changing because of my faith or because of my wants and own selfishness? Sometimes it’s hard to distinguish.

These comments remind me of an age-old theological debate we’ve had for centuries in Christianity.

Can you lose your salvation?

I won’t get into the weeds with this one. Essentially the question is asking if we can do something egregious enough to fall from the grace of God’s forgiveness. Sometimes, phrased differently we might be asking, “Where’s the line when it comes to sin?”

My response?

It’s a silly question.

Here’s what I mean-

Imagine someone gave me my dream car, a 1976 Corvette Stingray, manual transmission, modified to be a convertible. Let’s make it royal blue, my favorite color. Oh, and let’s give it a white racing stripe flowing down the center of the car. I don’t like racing stripes, but you might. So, we’ve put that there for you.

This car being my dream - and a gift, no less - becomes my most precious possession. To preserve the car, I’d do my absolute best to learn all about it. I’d make sure to only use the correct fuel. I’d learn which soap to use to wash it and preserve the waxed shine. I’d learn how and when to wash and wax it to make sure it stayed pristine. I wouldn’t lend it to anybody I didn’t trust, a list of people which would be quite short. I’d store the keys where I knew where they were at all times. I’d change the oil on time, sticking to the factory maintenance recommendations. I’d be extra careful when I drove it around and wouldn’t take it onto roads I knew to be full of potholes or things I knew would put it at risk. On the occasion when the car incurred damage, I’d work to bring it back to its pristine status. This car would be precious to me.

So, let me ask you a question. If this car was precious to me…

Why would I do anything to put it at risk? Why would I do anything to risk losing it?

Let me continue with the analogy.

As I took care of my car, I began digging deep to understand the engine. I learned how a combustion engine worked, and how gasoline flows from the gas tank, mixes with oxygen in the carburetor, is pulled into to the engine, ignited, and thus provides power. I really like taking care of my car, and learning all about it.

But then one day as I’m driving around town, I got to thinking about how the stereo system sounds like crap. I mean, it works and everything, it’s just old technology. It just can’t provide the listening experience of modern technology. I mean, that radio is based on old information. We’ve made improvements since then, and sound systems are much more efficient.

I start looking into how I might work some of the new technology available to us in 2023 into my 1976 version. The very idea would make some people cringe. “You can’t change it!” They’d shout with all their might, making sure I wouldn’t sully the original. “It’s a sin!” They’d insist.

I understand their point.

But the fact is, we have a 2023 version of the Corvette Stingray. The truth is, when it comes to vehicles it’s more efficient and performs better than the 1976 version. Over the years, professional mechanics, engineers and scientists have worked over every bolt and design and learned how to make a better car. They didn’t do this to destroy the 1976 version.

The 1976 version will always be there, it just won’t ever be able to provide us with the quality the 2023 version does. They didn’t have the technology available in 1976. If they did, they would have used it.

There are many forms of cars which are lacking in substance. In many ways, they cut corners to save money on production, thus increasing their revenue. Or, they put a significant amount of money into the exterior look of the vehicle to the detriment of the vehicle’s performance.

But we’re not talking about just “cars.” We’re talking about the Corvette Stingray ! They didn’t make changes to cut corners, to see what they could get away with. They made changes because they wanted better.

I guess what I’m saying is that I want to be an entirely better car when it comes to my faith. One that has adapted and improved with additional information.

I wonder sometimes, if people who accuse progressive Christians of watering down the gospel, people who say we’re just doing so in order that we might excuse more of our behavior might consider their own motivations for faith. Has my faith just been something I did for eternal security? Is that what it was? How far can I push the line and still not incur the wrath of God? Or did I engage in faith to make the world (and my part in it) better?

For the love of God, people, I choose the latter. It’s not about sin avoidance. It’s about being a better contributor to the world. That’s not always what I’ve found in evangelicalism.

I appreciate the 1976 Corvette Stingray for what it was, but we’ve grown, and we can do better.¹

1. My son is a YouTuber. He’s getting pretty good at it. A few years ago, I told him that if he ever makes a gazillion dollars as a YouTuber, I want him to get me a 1976 Corvette, but with all modern technology. I don’t know that it would ever work. But it’s fun to think about.

As an aside that is barely tangential to this post… Billy Joel is a motorcycle guy. He loves the style of the old bikes but appreciates the newer technology. So, what did he do? He created a shop where they build old-style bikes with modern technology. Check it out here.