Emptiness At the Altar, Guilt At the Cross

On entering the sanctuary, one's eyes are immediately drawn to a place above the altar where an enormous but empty gold cross hangs. I saw it every Sunday throughout my childhood. The cross. The place where Jesus suffered and died. For me. "On a hill far away, stood an old rugged cross," we sang. The imagery of wooden splinters gouging the already raw flesh of this innocent Savior who so willingly laid down His life to save mine. In tears I would kneel before this monument, knowing the things I had done, knowing more guilt than joy. I was not what Jesus wanted me to be. I was not who I wanted to be. My place at the rail was the result of many an altar call before my twenties. I wanted to be saved, but it never seemed to "take." The magic of the altar never seemed to stick with me more than a day or two.

Matthew 19:16-22, gives the account of a rich young ruler who comes to Jesus asking what he must do to gain eternal life. In answer to His question, Jesus tells him to keep the commandments. The young man replies (I've paraphrased), "I've been keeping commandments since I was a kid, but it's not working. I still feel empty." I know how he felt. I was going to church. I was memorizing Scripture. I was writing my check. I was being a good girl. And still, I was empty. I accepted every invitation to know Jesus as my Savior, each time telling myself, "This time I've got it. This time it's for real." With every failure, I became convinced I wasn't saved after all. Salvation just wasn't in the cards for me. (Well, it wasn't in the cards, but it was certainly in God's plan.)

I don't remember where or when I first heard the term "rededicating your life to Christ," but it gave me hope. "There are others like me, those who've tried to be Christians, but have failed, those who need to come back to Jesus. I haven't been 'unsaved,' I've just needed 're-commitment.'" Rededication would fix me. Back to the altar I went, but with a new perspective: I am saved, I do belong to Jesus; I'm just backslidden." But after more than a time or two, nothing changed; I finally gave up trying. Completely.

The life I'd been living was a set-up for failure, a trap. And I'd fallen right into it. I believed salvation was something I did. I knew Jesus existed, I didn't want to go to hell, but my view of Jesus ended at the cross. He died so I didn't have to; I should appreciate His selfless gift so much, I would adore Him and want to be good for Him, right? The more good I did, the better person I would grow to be. But every time I sinned, relapse and discouragement. The fact I found no joy in my "Christianity" brought even more guilt. I was one of Satan's great legalistic success stories. Good enough to think I was okay; wrong enough to stay holed up in my secret tomb of shame and defeat.

But the cross is nothing without the resurrection. Jesus' resurrection proves He was worthy to take our place on the cross. Jesus' resurrection is the guarantee we have new life in Him. Jesus' resurrection was enabled and accomplished by the very same power we have, in Christ, to overcome whatever comes before us. Jesus' resurrection establishes the hope we have in heaven. The only emptiness that exists in the presence of hope is the emptiness of the tomb. Jesus' answer to the rich young man was to sell all he had, start from scratch, abandon the trappings of life on this planet, and simply trust Jesus. In my case, starting from scratch meant talking to a Christian counselor, dealing in a biblical way with some personal issues, and being willing to risk all I had to be whole in Jesus. No matter what I lost -- and I did experience loss -- I gained life. Not only because of the cross, but because of Jesus' resurrection.

The cross was not the problem, but my focus on it was an incomplete view of a completed work. The altar was not the problem; it's "magic" existed only in my do-it-yourself brand of salvation. More than anything I needed to know Jesus -- His whole story -- and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings (Philippians 3:8-11) Only then could I experience the fullness and victory of a life lived in Him.