God Without Religion_ Can It Really Be This Simple_ - Andrew Farley [7]
It was a religion class taught by a priest, and the student was asking a question I was very interested in. So I stopped dead in my tracks to listen.
“God didn’t treat people that differently in the Old Testament,” the priest answered. “The Old Testament and the New Testament are quite similar in how they portray God’s interactions with us.”
The student seemed puzzled by the answer. But since the professor was a priest, she figured a priest was an expert. I watched her scribble down some notes as the priest moved on to his next point.
Would you agree that God interacts with people similarly in the Old and New Testaments? Sure, God himself hasn’t changed. But as we’ve seen, the contract by which he relates to us is very different. A line of some sort has been drawn. To ignore this is to miss the whole point of Jesus bursting on the scene.
Under the old way, God grew angry at Israel for their sins. Under the new way, we are saved from God’s anger (Rom. 5:9). Under the old, people were burdened with yearly reminders of their sins. Under the new, God remembers our sins no more (Heb. 8:12). Under the old, the Holy Spirit came upon people temporarily for times of service. Under the new, God’s Spirit lives in us forever (Eph. 1:13–14). Under the old, David pleaded with God so that he wouldn’t remove his Spirit. Under the new, God has made us one spirit with him (1 Cor. 6:17). And he’ll never leave us (Heb. 13:5).
The way we relate to God is very different today. There’s been a system change that has made the old way obsolete (Heb. 7:12; 8:8–9). It’s now been totally set aside, because it was “weak” and “useless” and could never make anyone right with God (Heb. 7:18–19; 8:13; 10:8–10). Consequently, there’s only one thing we should be ministering to the church today—the new covenant, nothing else:
He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant—not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life. (2 Cor. 3:6)
“Shoplifter! Shoplifter!”
“We’ve got him on tape! We caught him red-handed!” I said to Aidan’s father. But he wasn’t impressed. “Why would you do this to Aidan? What kind of friend are you to him?” he asked.
I was stunned. I’d imagined Aidan’s father would be proud of us for investigating his son’s behavior and collecting the evidence. My friend Tony and I were in junior high, and we were attending a church our parents founded. We saw ourselves as owners, perhaps even young leaders in the church, even at an early age. We were full of pride and religion and had devised a plan to trap one of our own friends in his wrongdoing.
I brought the tape recorder, and Tony asked the questions. If we could just get Aidan to admit to shoplifting, we’d surely be rewarded.
The Sunday school hour ended, and we had fifteen minutes before the service. All of us kids went down to the convenience store to get snacks and drinks. Our hope was that Aidan would once again show off his shoplifting prowess. This time, we were ready to catch him in the act!
Sure enough, Aidan walked away from the store that morning with “free” goodies in his coat pocket. “What do you have there, Aidan?” Tony asked. Meanwhile, I held my arm out in Aidan’s direction. (I had something secret of my own tucked away in my coat sleeve—the tape recorder!)
By the time we returned to church, we had the evidence we needed. Aidan admitted not only to shoplifting that morning but also to similar crimes in the past.
“Boy, will Aidan’s dad be proud of us for straightening Aidan out!” we thought. But after playing the tape for Aidan’s dad and getting his furious response, Tony and I could only exchange a befuddled look. How could this have gone wrong? Why weren’t we the heroes?
Deep down, we knew Aidan’s father was right. I mean, what had we really accomplished? Nothing we’d done was in love. And the result was that Aidan wouldn’t talk to us for months. We had severed our relationship with him as we sought to “convict” him.
Looking back on the way we treated Aidan reminds me of what happens to people under law.