Though there are countless variations, there are really only two kinds of religion in the world. The first is goal-oriented and driven by motivation. It says there’s something great out there that’s within your reach, and if you work hard enough, chase success, live a good enough life, and accomplish great things, you’ll earn that great glory. This is what most of the world’s religions are like; in fact, it’s even how the atheistic world runs. But there’s a second kind of religion, one that doesn’t strive after a goal. Not because it’s too weak to achieve anything great, but because it has come to terms with the fact that it simply can’t pull it off.
Not much is more uncomfortable than dealing with the weight of your own inability. Our very value and self-esteem are at stake. It’s almost as if we’re programmed to think we only matter if we can achieve. But when the truth of our own sinfulness hits us, and we realize that we’re simply incapable of reaching God’s standards no matter how hard we work or how desperately we try, it feels like giving up your childhood dreams. And it really is no fun to admit that you cannot reach your goal.
Paul has spent so much time in his letter dealing with the topic of sin because so many people are reluctant to admit the bitter truth: we absolutely cannot win the religious game. We can never make ourselves moral or impressive enough to please God. No human being can obey the law well enough to deserve the Lord’s favor. Hopefully, the Israelites’ constant failures in the Old Testament should warn us not to think too highly about our own chances of doing any better. Any religion focused on working and earning your way up to God is bound to lead to disappointment.
Where does your hope for Heaven lie? To what do you credit your assurance that you’ll make it there? It’s all too easy for us to fall into the trap of placing our hope in our own works, whether they be going to church, voting the right way, being kind to people, you name it. This is the trap of thinking too highly of ourselves. But it took thousands of years, from Adam to Malachi, to prove that the first kind of religion, striving after some goal, can never actually work out. But then the second kind of religion knows that our hope for Heaven must lie elsewhere. If our good works cannot get us to Heaven, we must rely entirely on a Savior to bring Heaven down to us.
