As both a former Protestant and someone who has a lot of Protestant friends (I do live in the Bible belt after all), I come across Christians who ask me if I am “saved” or “born-again” or if I have “accepted Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior.” In my prior years as a Presbyterian, the answer was a simple, “Yes!” which most often led to a congratulation and a follow-up discussion about Christian life or theology in some way. Now, as an Eastern Orthodox Christian, the answer is not so simple. I often find myself struggling to grasp the right words to say. If I use the phrase, “No, but…” I am often questioned for believing in salvation by works or in “earning my way to heaven.” On the other hand, if I say, “Yes.” I leave the asker of the question with the false impression that I agree with them on topics which Orthodoxy and Protestantism give vastly different answers about.
This is a problematic point of dialogue between the Orthodox and the Protestants, especially if one is not familiar with Protestant views of salvation, much of which are connected to views of God the Father needing to satisfy His wrath by killing Jesus in place of sinners. Orthodoxy has not traditionally understood salvation in this way, and espousing different views of salvation than Protestants often (though not always, thanks Morgan) leads to accusations that one is not a Christian at all from those who are not familiar with non-Protestant theology. Part of the problem is we Orthodox need to be more educated about what different branches of Christianity believe. This, however, is not the main problem.
The main problem is that we Orthodox need to become more expressive and coherent about what we believe. We cannot communicate views that we ourselves do not understand or are practicing. We cannot give others what we do not possess.
Orthodoxy primarily understands salvation as a product of God’s love for humanity, not of His anger. God loves humanity so much that He wraps Himself in human flesh and becomes incarnate in the person of Jesus Christ to redeem humanity. He suffers rejection and temptation, yet remains without sin, thus experiencing a temptation to a greater degree than any other human has experienced (if one gives into sin, one cannot know what the temptation would have been like having endured five more minutes, or five more years for that matter). And, because of His love for humanity, Christ willingly gives Himself up for the life of the world, being subjected to His own creation killing Him. Christ enters into death, descending into Hell and bursting open its bars, setting the captives free. And death, having no right to hold the Creator who is without sin, cannot hold Him. For hell, “took a body, and met God face to face. It took earth, and encountered Heaven. It took that which was seen, and fell upon the unseen.” God rises from the dead, having conquered sin, hell, and death, and offers eternal life to all humanity. Through Christ’s destruction of death, we are given the chance to fully be what we were always intended to be: companions of the uncreated God that are made in His image to become unto His likeness.
Of course, after coming to believe and understand this message, the only question that remains to be answered is how we become unto God’s likeness. The answer to this question in Orthodoxy, although simple, is much more difficult to live out than the Protestant answer. The Protestant answer generally goes along the lines of, “That’s it! If you believe in Christ, you are instantly redeemed. God no longer sees your sin, but Christ’s righteousness in place of it.” But in this view, it is God who fundamentally changes instead of humanity, for it is God who changes His mind about the nature of the creatures He has created. This cannot be the case, for God, being eternal and ineffable, does not change His mind; He is the one who created logic. In fact, St. Paul the Apostle states, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.” directly contradicting this view (Hebrews 13:8).
The Orthodox answer is much harder to accept, yet is ultimately better for one’s spiritual health. Orthodoxy would state that one spends their whole life becoming like Christ in response to God’s grace given to humanity. Stated differently, the entirety of life in the Church is about coming to understand that Christ loves you and coming to love Christ. This work is a long and difficult path that lasts an entire lifetime.
Of course, what I just stated assumes that most Christians do not love God, for how can one love Christ if one has to learn to love Christ? When this idea is introduced, it often causes outrage in those who have not heard this idea before (most notably in myself when I first heard it). But anyone who has come to examine their own sinfulness will see that their own life and actions confirm this view. Anyone who has been to confession more than once in the span of a few months will realize that they more or less confess the same things. How can you love Christ if you continue to transgress His commandments on a daily basis? You cannot. As Christ, Himself said, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” (John 14:15).
The conclusion I was forced to come to is that I do not love God. This conclusion is best encapsulated in the novel The Pilgrim Continues His Way, a 19th century Russian novel:
By diligently looking into myself and examining the disposition of my soul, I became convinced that I do not love God, that I have no love for my neighbor, that I have no faith in spiritual realities, and that I am filled with pride and ambition. By thoroughly studying my feelings and actions, I actually found all the following in myself…
I do not love God. For if I did love Him, then I would ceaselessly think of Him with genuine pleasure, and each thought of God would bring me joyous delight. On the contrary, I far more frequently and far more willingly think about earthly matters, while thoughts of God are difficult for me and give rise to inner aridity. If I loved Him, then conversing with Him through prayer would nourish me; it would delight me and draw me into unceasing communion with Him. Yet it’s quite the reverse- not only do I take no delight in prayer, but I find it difficult to pray. I struggle with reluctance, I am weakened by laziness, and I am ready to be distracted by any insignificant matter, just to shorten my prayers or even to stop praying altogether. When I am occupied with empty activities, time flies unnoticeably; but when I turn my thoughts to God, when I place myself in His presence, each hour seems like a year.
These realities are not easy to accept, but if you are anything like me, you will find yourself relating to almost everything the author says in the passage. However, if one were left alone with this message, one might think that Christianity is indeed a hopeless faith.
But such is not the case. On the contrary, Christianity gives us great hope to continue to struggle to love God. As St. John the Apostle and Theologian writes, “In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.” (1 John 4:10). Furthermore, we are given confidence that God Himself will give us the strength to begin to love Him, with St. Paul the Apostle stating, “And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 1:6).
Thus we will struggle our entire lives to love God, increasingly relying upon His strength and grace, and not our own. Thus we shall come to understand what St. Ephraim the Syrian said in the 4th century:
“Glory be to Him, Who never felt the need of our praising Him; yet felt the need as being kind to us, and thirsted as loving us, and asks us to give to Him, and longs to give to us. His fruit was mingled with us men, that in Him we might come near to Him, Who condescended to us. By the Fruit of His stem He grafted us into His Tree.”
Although the work is long and difficult, this is a God one can indeed come to love. May God grant us strength and endurance in this work.
