The Messy Rebirth

Many doctors will agree the two most traumatic and frightening events in life are birth and death. These two physical activities are not romantic or graceful, but messy, painful and unflattering. There’s nakedness, blood, struggle and panic. As followers of Jesus, we do both at once. Therefore, the Christian walk is bound to be turbulent.

When we talk of being “born again” we often have in mind a quick event like that of a physical birth. We envision the event to happen in one (earthly) day, such as the day a Christian decides to believe. But the Bible refers to this rebirth as a process that unfolds here on earth. That is why Paul refers to those in Christ as being saved, and those who are not in Christ as perishing (2Cor. 2:15, ESV). And with this rebirth, comes the gradual death of our old selves (Matt. 16:24).

Thus these two heavy spiritual events are happening at the same time for the believer, a birth, and a death – no less messy than the physical counterparts. (An excellent allegory of this process is found in John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress.)

Here’s what I mean. When a person comes to understand his own wickedness, and realizes he needs help, the good news of Jesus is the beginning of new life for him. He will find that all his corruption and wrongdoings are wiped off his slate, and he gets a fresh start. This forgiveness results in the joy we know. We know life with the creator is unfathomable ecstasy, and the alternative to Jesus is guilt, shame, filth, wretchedness and crime. We sing because we don’t want to be dirty, but clean, and we have been cleansed. But, after time passes, the new believer will realize he is not yet finished dying to himself. He still has sinful impulses and often must bitterly resist a hunger to do wrong. If he gives to temptation, he is heartbroken. If he resists, he is perplexed and wearied. Life becomes an undulation of joy of salvation, and disappointment over fleshly desires. At times it can be difficult to rest in forgiveness when there is still the relentless desire to do wrong.

If you struggle through this kind of perplexing tension, you can be sure the work of salvation is in you. For, the beginning of rebirth is not self-gained perfection, but only the desire to be like Jesus and be good. If you have the desire, Jesus is working on you. We see Paul struggling with this very problem: “For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out” (Rom. 7:18). But our flesh is dying, and it won’t go down easily. It will cause us grief as long as we occupy our old husks. Many scholars believe Paul’s famous thorn in the flesh was a sinful impulse (2 Cor. 12:7). It agonized him so much he wouldn’t leave Jesus alone about it. The reply he got was, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (verse 9).

Thus we are faced with a beautiful phenomenon of God’s character: He wills us not to sin, but can use our dying flesh to perfect the rebirth we are experiencing. Although we may not fully know why God works this way, we can surely know he understands us, because he walked with us. Because of this, there is mercy enough when we stumble. As long as we hate the falling, we can be sure he will always be ready to help us back up. No one put it better than C. S. Lewis:

“[God] wants [his people] to learn to walk and must therefore take away his hand; and if only the will to walk is really there, he is pleased even with their stumbles” (p. 40).

Unfortunately, this rebirth is very unflattering. In involves becoming conscious of our own nakedness, helplessness, and weaknesses. We will wail, moan and cry. We’ll flail our pudgy spirituals limbs about. We'll need our diaper changed very often. But God will continue to care for this new creation of his. Because our desire is to be with him, he is happy to hold our hand until we can walk on our own in maturity, on the other side of this life.

Reference:

Lewis, C. S. The Screwtape Letters. New York: HaprerCollins, 1942.