The Good News Has Arrived: Understanding God's Gift of Righteousness
Have you ever stood in front of a mirror and noticed something was off? Maybe there was a smudge on your face or something stuck in your teeth from last night's dinner. The mirror did its job perfectly—it showed you exactly what was wrong. But here's the thing: the mirror couldn't fix the problem. It could only reveal it.
This simple illustration captures something profound about the relationship between God's law and our lives. The law acts like a mirror, clearly showing us where we fall short, but it cannot save us. It reveals our condition but offers no remedy. And that's precisely where the good news begins.
Starting From a Broken Place
The book of Romans makes an uncomfortable but essential point: "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." Notice those last four words—"the glory of God." This isn't just about bad behavior or poor choices. It's not merely that we've done wrong things; it's that we've failed to be who we were created to be.
Sin is what we've done. Falling short is who we've failed to become.
This distinction matters because it prevents us from thinking we can simply try harder next time. It's not about fixing a few behaviors here and there. We're starting from a broken condition, a fallen place. Like a car with a faulty engine, the problem isn't just that we're driving poorly—something fundamental needs to be addressed.
Can We Really See God in Creation?
The question of God's existence has echoed through human history, from ancient philosophers to modern scientists launching rockets toward the moon. It's a question that deserves honest exploration, not just comfortable assumptions. What if we could discover evidence of God simply by looking at the world around us? What if creation itself testifies to a Creator?
This isn't about winning arguments or proving points. It's about opening our eyes to what has been plainly visible all along—if we're willing to see it.
The Problem We Must Face
Before we can appreciate any good news, we must first acknowledge the bad news. Until we recognize our condition, we cannot fully understand the remedy offered to us. It's like ignoring the warning signs in your home—the crack in the foundation, the leak in the ceiling. Avoiding the problem doesn't make it disappear; it only allows the damage to worsen.
Romans 1:18 presents us with a sobering reality: "The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all godlessness and wickedness of people who suppress the truth by their wickedness."
God's wrath isn't capricious anger. It's righteous response—the kind of indignation that rises in us when we witness injustice. Because God is perfectly good, perfectly right, perfectly holy, He cannot ignore what opposes His nature. His righteousness demands a response to godlessness and wickedness.
But notice something crucial: we suppress the truth. Like pushing a beach ball underwater, we actively work to keep truth submerged beneath the surface of our consciousness. The longer we suppress it, the less aware we become of what we're doing. Our perception shifts. What once seemed clearly wrong becomes acceptable, even celebrated.
The Sacred Table: Rediscovering the Power of Communion
In a world filled with rituals that have lost their meaning, there exists one practice that has the power to transform us completely—if only we would approach it with the reverence it deserves. Communion, the Lord's Supper, the Eucharist—whatever name we know it by—this sacred moment was never meant to be a meaningless add-on to our spiritual lives. It was designed to be a living encounter with Jesus himself.
When the Extraordinary Becomes Ordinary
Somewhere along the journey of church history, we've allowed something extraordinary to become ordinary. We get excited about worship music, anticipate powerful sermons, but when it comes to communion, we often approach it with casual indifference. We go through the motions, our hearts disconnected, our minds wandering.
Yet consider this: Jesus himself, knowing everything that awaited him—the betrayal, the suffering, the cross—said with deep emotion, "I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer." With everything ahead of him, his desire was to sit at the table with his people. That should stop us in our tracks.
The early church understood something we've forgotten. Their gatherings revolved around the Lord's table. They didn't view communion as something to squeeze into a service; it was the center of their worship. They believed Jesus was truly present among them, that they weren't just remembering him but actually communing with him.