This year we’re collaborating with writers across the Augustine Collective, a network of student-led Christian journals, to bring you a series of short devotional articles during this season of Lent, the 40-day period prior to Easter. Find this series also published by UC Berkeley’s TAUG and Cornell’s Claritas.
Recently I’ve been thinking about the simplicity of the Gospel. Faithful Christians through the centuries have spent their whole lives plumbing its depths, mining it for profound truths which time and time again have challenged the most fundamental principles held by contemporary society. Yet anyone, even a child, can still comprehend the call of the Gospel message: repent and believe. [1]
It is a wonder that something so simple, which has been “revealed… to little children,” so often eludes the grasp of “the wise and understanding.” [2] In my conversations with non-believing friends, my impatient self is sometimes tempted to burst out, half in desperation and half in frustration, It’s not that complicated—just believe! What could possibly be holding you back?
But when I take a moment to examine my own life, and reflect on how I’ve worked out my faith in Jesus (or failed to do so), it quickly becomes clear that I have no right to ask such a question. While the essential points of the Gospel are simple enough for me to understand, I have a penchant for complicating how it ought to affect me personally. I may be able to recite the Great Commandment to love God and neighbor (Matthew 22:36–39), but constantly reason my way out of giving my time and energy to those around me. I may readily affirm that every good and perfect gift is from God (James 1:17), but manage my money as if I earned it all on my own. I’m a practiced veteran in making excuses for my lack of obedience, an eagle-eyed huntsman in finding obstacles to put in the way of my own path to holiness.
And so it’s simultaneously convicting and refreshing to find in the Bible an example so directly opposite my own. I get this from the portion of today’s lectionary in the Gospels: “After healing the paralyzed man, Jesus went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’ And he got up, left everything, and followed him.” [3]
If I were in Matthew’s shoes and I heard Jesus’s words, a torrent of thoughts would’ve rushed through my head right about then—Who is this guy? Where’s he going, and what’s that have to do with me? What about my job, my family? But that’s not what we get in the text. In reality, Luke recorded the whole encounter in two sentences. There aren’t any questions about the job description of being a disciple, or any excuses regarding his prior commitments—all we see is that Jesus’ simple command was met with simple, unadulterated obedience. Jesus called and Matthew followed. That was that.
The bar has been set for my own response to the continued call of Jesus, and I fall radically short. Like the Apostle Paul, obedience does not come intuitively to me—every act of submission to God involves war in my inner being. “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” There is only one answer: “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” [4] Though I often avoid obedience by overcomplicating it, the simple promise of the Gospel stands unwavering; my sin will never separate me from my Savior. And He will perfect my obedience as I follow Him, childlike, on the journey home.
Isaac Liu is a third-year at UC Berkeley studying English and Music.
[1] Mark 1:15
[2] Matthew 11:25
[3] Luke 5:27–28
[4] Romans 7:22–25
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