I believe that God has hardwired the human heart to desire and seek identity and purpose. From one ought to flow the other. Once I discover who I am – who I really am – I can embrace the reason I’ve been put on this planet.
We all long to be living for something that’s worth living for.
You and I are looking for a purpose that matters. We desire a clear calling – both to be and to do – that encompasses transcendent and compelling worth. We’re hoping to find some truth that can breathe meaning – real meaning – into the mundaneness of this life. You may be familiar with the famous quote from St. Augustine’s “Confessions” where Augustine prays, “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.” There is a world of liberating and satisfying of truth in that simple admission, and yet we spend much of our time looking for the meaning of life in all the wrong places.
As one who appreciates good literature, I never cease to be overwhelmed by how much common grace can be found in the pages of the classics. I’m thinking today of Victor Hugo, the revered Romantic poet of France. Though not an evangelical believer by any stretch, Hugo penned: “There are thoughts which are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the posture of the body, the soul is on its knees.”
Did you catch that? There is something about us that tilts toward the undeniability of a Creator.
I think that’s what the Apostle Paul meant when he wrote (Romans 1:19-20): “What can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse.” In theological terms, that’s Paul’s universal indictment of the human race. Though the evidence for God is everywhere, literally, our natural inclination is to turn away and run. We try to evade ultimate accountability to such a sovereign God. We want to be God instead. And, for all of our suppression of God’s truth, Paul makes it plain: we deserve nothing less than God’s wrath.
While my mind is still on Hugo, consider a couple of my favorite lines from “Les Misérables,” like this one: “A cannonball travels two thousand miles an hour; light travels two hundred thousand miles a second. Such is the superiority of Jesus Christ over Napoleon.” And this one: “The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves – say rather, loved in spite of ourselves.” In my humble opinion, “Les Mis” presents the timeless struggle between justice and mercy. The relationship between Javert and Valjean symbolizes a conflict that – in real life – can be reconciled only by the Cross of Christ.
But here’s my point. These powerful quotes – and there are many others like them – sound like something we could hear in a sermon at our church. But, when it comes to bringing someone to a saving knowledge of God, the words are woefully incomplete and inadequate. There’s something missing. In fact, despite even the mention of Jesus, the core component of truth is missing.
You and I must make certain that we don’t live our whole lives close to the truth – while missing the truth.
That’s the danger, you see, of spending all of our time enjoying the best that the world has to offer. The very best novels and movies and musicals and operas and poems and masterpieces of the visual arts contain fascinating nuggets of eternal truth, but they all fall short. The best only point to the best.
The moon … and the stars … and the Pacific Coast Highway … and the amazing fingers of a newborn baby are – in and of themselves – insufficient to save. These evidences for God can only condemn. They only leave us “without excuse.” They can stir in us some awareness of our need for a Savior – but they are not enough to make someone born again. They can’t breathe new life into a dead soul.
In literature and elsewhere, themes of hospitality, redemption, and grace can be riveting – I love finding and celebrating them – but we need more. We need the matchless Word of God. “Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Romans 10:17)!
Someone has to come along and tell us the whole truth. Someone has to tell us the bad news that the holy law of a holy God makes clear: We are sinners – one and all, through and through. Someone has to tell us the hopeful gospel truth about Jesus: His nature, His life, His cross, His sacrifice, His death, and His glorious resurrection. It doesn’t have to be PhD-level complicated, but it does have to be complete.
General revelation is not enough. We need special revelation. We need the specific truth of the gospel of Christ. There is much evidence for THE Truth (John 14:6), but people are far too content to pontificate much lesser truths.
For the heart of the matter is, and will always be, a bloody cross and an empty tomb! Jesus – King of Kings and Lord of Lords – is the rest of the story. Without Him, there really is no story worth telling. But with Him, passionate works of art like the story of “Les Mis” become valuable object lessons – relatable conduits – of His grace and truth.
Friends, once our identity is anchored in the Lord Jesus Christ, you and I are called to live as faithful ambassadors of the best news the world has ever heard! There is no higher calling! Our God could have sent the good news through angels, but He has chosen us instead.
“For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:21).
Pastor Charles
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