Just Tell Them You’re Not a Christian. Nothing is Worth Dying For.
If you have ever listened to my testimony, you know that when God saved me way back in 1984 (my freshman year of high school), I was a bonafide Christian jerk. Yes, I had heard the distinct call of salvation by faith alone in Christ alone. Yes, I wanted to be forgiven all my sins; have a new heart; be the daughter of God, etc. That was all fine and well and remains the defining moment of my life and the most important thing to me, bar none.
But, unfortunately, along with the true gospel, I also heard the distinct call to be a “good person” and I tried, in my simplistic and immature way, to do just that. This meant I self-righteously stomped down our apartment’s hallway to throw away all of my BMG rock-and-roll cassette tapes. (Click here if you need help to understand the cultural reference.) And this meant that I had all sorts of long, drawn-out “conversations” (air quotes definitely needed because I’m sure my fourteen year-old, knows-nothing “preaching” was neither well-informed not conversational) with my family members in my infuriated, frantic state to “get them saved.”
I remember one conversation in particular with my now-deceased father …
In it, I was trying to explain how important salvation is and what GOOD NEWS the gospel of Jesus Christ is. I talked about the holiness of God and the darkness of our sin and how we needed a Mediator and Savior. I talked about how all of history hinged on the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus; that One Day, we would all face God in judgment; that everything in all of life was to be directed toward The Day, which would be here before we knew it (either with our own death or the return of Christ in glory).
(When I think about how much I must have been interrupting his post-work beer and “Wheel of Fortune”-watching, I really think my dad, especially for a generally angry and impatient man, showed a lot of forbearance toward me as I passionately went on and on about topics that held no interest to him. Even up to his death, my father never indicated to me that he had any interest whatsoever in eternally-important things.)
Still. There I was. 1980’s Tara. Big hair. Parachute pants. Neon jellies galore. Worked up to an impassioned plea, even pulling out the big guns of the examples of the martyrs who gave their lives for the cause of Christ. To this, my dad responded in such a nonchalant, blind way that even my brand-spankin-new-baby-Christian-heart knew was wrong to its very depth. He said something like this:
“Tara. It’s all well and fine for you to believe this stuff about Jesus. If this particular religion means something to you, then great. Go for it. But just remember—if someone ever points a gun to your head and tells you that they will kill you if you keep professing faith in Christ, just tell them you are NOT a Christian. Say whatever it takes to STAY ALIVE because nothing is worth dying for. You can always take it back later.”
Oh, dad. This is simply not true.
And friends? Today? It felt as though that 1984 conversation happened just yesterday, so fresh were the details (the words, the emotion, the very room it took place in) when my preteen daughter asked me pretty much the exact question:
“Mom? Is it really worth it to DIE for Christ? Wouldn’t it be OK to just SAY the WORDS of denying Him, but know all along in your heart that you REALLY love Him?”
(I assume her question was prompted by our reading about Amy Carmichael and my age-appropriate explanation and call to prayer with her and my five year-old daughter re: the things that are happening this very day that are being widely reported in the news and that are making me physically sick as I am driven either to the depths of despair or to the Only Hope.)
Oh, how happy—an uneasy!—my Momma-heart was when she answered her own question with truth, even though she did not know the biblical citation. She said:
“But then again—where would we go if we denied Christ? Where would we turn? What could we ever say?”
Yes, my dear, darling daughter. That is the right question and it leads us to the right answer:
After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him. So Jesus said to the Twelve, “Do you want to go away as well?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.” (John 6:66-69 ESV)
O, my child. I cannot bear the thought of your martyrdom. Like you, I cannot imagine being able to die for my faith. But my hope and my counsel for you is this: God does not promise us grace for tomorrow, but just for the day. And statistically, at least right now, during your young years, as we live life in this home, in this city, in this country, you are probably not going to be asked to die for the faith. Our persecution comes more in being ostracized and labeled as bigoted hate-mongerers for failing to call good something we believe is evil or having the audacity to claim we know the Truth or even that there IS truth to be known.
Still. If one day we are driven to the stake; or if stakes are driven through us or our children. (It is becoming nearly impossible to type now because of my tears.) I believe in faith that God will give us the grace to persevere to the end. Not because of anything in us, but only because of Christ in us, who sustains us.
Tonight, let us pray along with all the saints throughout the ages:
“O Lord God,
Teach me to know that grace precedes,
accompanies, and follows my salvation,
that it sustains the redeemed soul,
that not one link of its chain can ever break.
From Calvary’s cross wave upon wave of grace
reaches me,
deals with my sin,
washes me clean,
renews my heart,
strengthens my will,
draws out my affection,
kindles a flame in my soul,
rules throughout my inner man,
consecrates my every thought, word, work,
teaches me Thy immeasurable love.
How great are my privileges in Christ Jesus!
Without Him I stand far off, a stranger, an outcast;
in Him I draw near and touch His kingly sceptre.
Without Him I dare not lift up my guilty eyes;
in Him I gaze upon my Father-God and Friend.
Without Him I hide my lips in trembling shame;
in Him I open my mouth in petition and praise.
Without Him all is wrath and consuming fire;
in Him is all love, and the repose of my soul.
Without Him is gaping hell below me, and eternal anguish;
in Him its gates are barred to me by His precious blood.
Without Him darkness spreads its horrors in front;
in Him an eternity of glory is my boundless horizon.
Without Him all within me is terror and dismay,
in Him every accusation is charmed into joy and peace.
Without Him all things external call for my condemnation;
in Him they minister to my comfort,
and are to be enjoyed with thanksgiving.
Praise be to Thee for grace,
and for the unspeakable gift of Jesus.”
–“Privileges” in The Valley of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers and Devotions
[This is a re-post from 2013]