Skeptical of Sanctification

"The Lord is risen!" we cried on Sunday as the Easter lillies decorated the sanctuary and the organ burst into "Jesus Christ is Risen Today."  A full sanctuary of worshippers dressed in pastels, children sitting in the laps of their grandparents and college students home for a short break.  It was a joyful celebration of our risen Lord, and certainly a wonderful first Easter here for me.

On Easter evening, after returning from an afternoon with our family, I logged into Twitter and found this tweet from the Rev. David Lewicki, pastor of North Decatur Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, "As of yet, no one has answered the main mystery of Easter: how do you get from Easter Sunday to a changed life come Monday?"

That is the challenge of Easter.  We hear that the world is turned upside down because of the empty tomb, the powers of sin and death are defeated, our past is redeemed and forgiven, and we are a changed people.  I rose on Monday morning, however, and felt mostly the same as I had on the previous Monday before this year's Easter celebration.  I felt the same as I have the last twenty-something Mondays after an Easter celebration.

I feel no more "holy" than before, no more just and loving and compassionate.  I still wrestle with my judgmentalism and anger, my self-image issues, etc. etc.  So what's the deal?  What good is Easter really?  Is it just an assurance of my eternal home with the saints in light but means nothing for day-to-day existence now?

Christianity has always, however, believed in the power of the Easter good news to change our way of life now.  We see it in the stories of the New Testament, particularly in the book of Acts but also hear stories in Paul's letters about the way in which the power of the resurrection reorders and reshapes lives.  This transformed life, this living by new principles and priorities, is called "sanctification," a growth in grace.

The Westminster Shorter Catechism provides a concise definition of what we mean by sanctification:
Sanctification is the work of God's free grace, whereby we are renewed in the whole (wo)man after the image of God, and are enabled more and more to die unto sin and live unto righteousness.

The challenge in this, however, is when we feel like we aren't actually "dying to sin" and "living unto righteousness."  When we make our cry, "Lord, I want to be a Christian" and yet still recognize our daily failures to live into the "image of God" in which we were created.

As I have pondered the catechism the last two days, I did find some hope for this renewed life, and it comes in the very first clause, when we are reminded that sanctification is "the work of God's free grace."  How often I feel like it is "up to me" to grit my teeth, clench my fists and "be good already!"  Maybe sanctification doesn't begin with our efforts but with our openness to God's presence in our lives, God's power to change us.  Maybe it begins with silence and prayer. 

Maybe it begins with trust and the long view, that we are simultaneously sinners and saints, seeking to die to self and live for God.  That is my Easter prayer, a prayer to be open to God's work in my life, and to trust that sanctification is real, that transformation is occurring, on the Monday after Easter, and each day hereafter.

Lord, I Want to Be a Christian