Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

Sighing deeply, he dipped his quill in the pot of ink and carefully set about writing the words he knew he must send. His heart was heavy. Broken. It had been since he’d heard the news. Things in Galatia weren’t going as well as he’d hoped. Or prayed. Every day since leaving them to continue his travels and teachings, Paul had prayed for their continued faith and following of Jesus Christ. He prayed they would live like they knew Christ. The real Christ. As eager as they had been to accept the gifts of salvation and eternal life available through Jesus’ death on the cross and resurrection from the tomb, the work didn’t stop there. Real knowledge and acceptance of Jesus Christ and the forgiveness of sins must result in real-life changes. Verbal changes. Visible changes. It was one thing to accept the graciously offered gift. It was quite another to live in the awareness of its reality. That’s where the trouble was. 

According to recent reports, things were a bit of a mess in the church of Galatia. A new, cheaper gospel was being preached. Some of them were falling for it. Being tricked into believing they could buy their salvation with strict adherence to the law. Faith wasn’t necessary. They could do it themselves. If they just acted right in the eyes of humanity, they’d be fine. They weren’t living in the freedom of Christ. Even though they were known by God, they didn’t act like they knew Him. They hadn’t stood fast in what they were taught. They had allowed themselves to be confused. Drawn back to the belief they could buy their salvation with special observances, celebrations, and dedications. They couldn’t. (Galatians 1:6-12; 2:11-21; 3:10-17; 4:9; 5:10)

Everything like that had been abolished. By the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, all the sacrifices and observances had been cleared away. Faith, not works, was the only way to salvation. And it was available to them. Personally. Immediately. Without the special prayers of the priest or the bloody animal sacrifice. The Lamb of God had been gifted to mankind as a final atonement offering. The last and only one humanity would ever need. Through His death, the veil of the Temple had been torn in two giving them the gift of direct access to God the Father through prayer. It was an amazing sacrifice, an enormous gift, but it meant nothing if they didn’t allow it to change their lives. If they were still actively engaging in works of the flesh, yet adhering to the law in an effort to redeem themselves, they’d never inherit the kingdom of God. Following the law, even with the strictest adherence, couldn’t make that happen. Only the blood of Jesus could. (Mark 15:38; Galatians 3:19-26)

No matter how strictly the people of Galatia–or anywhere–adhered to the exacting rules outlined in the law, it wouldn’t save them. They’d call themselves Christians because they were part of Paul’s church, or had been, but their lives wouldn’t look like it. They’d still be busy with their affairs. Literally. They’d be entrenched in idolatry, loving things and habits and desires more than they loved God. They’d place their faith in beliefs that had nothing to do with God. Their hearts would be full of hatred and jealousy, anger and selfishness, envy and evil. Their habits would show what they really were. Promiscuous drunkards with darkened hearts falsely claiming to be Christians because they were always in church on Sunday, never missed a Bible study, and followed every law set forth by the religious leaders of the day. (Galatians 4:8-11; 5:4-6, 16-21)

It wasn’t so. Couldn’t be so. No one could be a true Christian and still be so tied up in works as to forget grace. The grace of God that sent His only Son from the golden halls of Heaven to the darkened walls of a stable. A place where no one recognized Him. No one realized who He was. When at last His deity began to be apparent, they rejected Him. Said it couldn’t be. Their lack of faith, purposeful disbelief, made them miss the miracles they could have seen had they simply believed. As He went out into the world, many chose not to believe in Him. The Pharisees didn’t see it. The Sadducees didn’t believe it. The religious leaders, priests, and kings of the day had no time for it. But. The ones who did believe were changed people. They went out to live lives that proved they believed. Everyone who met them knew they’d met Jesus. (Matthew 13:58)

Zacchaeus was a prime example. Nobody liked him. Not really. If anyone chose to walk with him, talk with him, befriend him, it was for one of two reasons. They were in the same profession or they were hoping not to be swindled. As small as he was, no one wanted to mess with him. At all. No one but Jesus. He made it a point to get in touch with Zaccheaus. When He could have walked by, acting like he didn’t see the small man in the tree overhead, He didn’t. Jesus stopped. Looked up. Met Zaccheaus’ eyes with a look of love and tenderness and called him down. Not for a quick conversation. Not for a stern discussion. Not to point out the error of his ways. No. Jesus called him down so He could meet Zacchaeus. And so Zacchaeus could meet Him. 

That meeting changed his life. Everyone saw it. The old, thieving, dishonest Zaccheaus was gone, replaced by something unheard of in the world of tax collectors. Honesty. Kindness. Generosity. He gave money away. Made restitutions. Did right by the people he’d wronged. Abundantly. He didn’t hold back. He didn’t return only the money he’d taken over and above what was owed. He returned so much more. To the people he’d wronged and to himself. He instilled trust in the people around him and restored dignity to himself. His heart, changed by the encounter with Jesus, would never again be the same. Neither would his life. Zacchaeus accepted the gift of salvation from Jesus, and everyone could see it. (Luke 19:1-10) 

It was what Paul wanted for the people of Galatia, for every church he’d helped to build. What he’d prayed and hoped to see.  He wanted them to be so touched and changed by their encounter with Jesus Christ that their lives were grand exhibitions of their faith. Faith in the complete work of Christ on the cross that brings freedom from the bondage of the law and a life lived to show others they belonged to Jesus. He wanted them to accept the gift of the cross, but that wouldn’t be enough. They also needed to live like it. (Galatians 5:22-26; Ephesians 4:17-32; Colossians 3:1-17; I Thessalonians 4:1-6)

So do we. As easy as it is to be Christmas Christians, excitedly celebrating the birth of Jesus and accepting His gift of forgiveness for all, it is much more difficult to be Easter people. People who dwell in the awareness of the resurrected, living, active Christ. People who stay in that space. People who absorb His presence. Rest in it. Revel in it. People who live every day in such a way it is evident to those around them that Jesus is walking beside them, guiding their decisions, editing their words, changing their actions, and governing their reactions. Yet that’s exactly who we should be. Christians who get excited over the birth of our Savior, who celebrate the fact that He came when He didn’t have to. Humans who understand the reason He came to bear the sin and embarrassment and disgrace of every being to ever walk the earth. People who are willing to sit in the horror and grief of His death on our behalf. Easter people. People who live in the light of the truth that Jesus didn’t stay dead. He rose again. He is alive and active. In our lives. In our world. Even when the darkness closes in with suffocating oppression, Jesus is still moving. He’s still working. The darkness of earth has no effect on His power. Ever. It can’t. He is the light of the world. In us. Through us. When Christmas Christians live like Easter people. (John 8:12; 12:46; Matthew 5:16; Psalm 37:7; Romans 10:9; Revelation 1:18; Luke 18:33; Philippians 2:5)