For What Purpose Are We Saved?

I'll be the first to say that perhaps I don't really understand the heart of evangelical Christianity. I believe there is great good there, certainly they have a zealous fire that many areas of the church lack.

But when I hear them talk—whether at home in the US or here in Japan—some part of my soul gets a little more crushed.

“I tell you, in that night there will be two in one bed. One will be taken and the other left. There will be two women grinding together. One will be taken and the other left." Luke 17:34-35

The pastor who I heard speak on this verse (and similar verses) has been ministering in Japan for 50 years. He interpreted this verse to mean that before Jesus comes, exactly 50% of Japan must be saved, because literally one will be taken and the other left when Jesus comes. He proceeded to break down Japan's population versus the Christian population and lay out a math story problem about how many people each Christian should reach out to save. He threw in the comparative factor that many thousands came to believe in Jesus per day when Jesus was preaching and later when his disciples were preaching. He also held up comparisons with revivals in Africa where tens of thousands were at a revival meeting and asked, "Why not Japan?"

On the one hand, I heard his breaking heart of fifty years under the jokes and energetic delivery. I wanted to hold his hand and say, "Don't be discouraged, Pastor. Seek God's face."

But on the other hand, I felt ground to dust yet again. It feels like the same thing I have heard on and off my whole life.

And I would ask back to all the evangelicals, with broken hands outstretched, "For what purpose are we saved?"

From the outside, what I hear sounds like, "We are saved in order to save others who will in turn save others."

I can already hear the rebuttal, perhaps, that no, we reach out to save others that they may be SAVED.

Saved from what? From hell and separation from God after this life? That is very good, but both of those also exist here and now. More often than not, the evangelical model feels like it cares only for the hereafter and not the here and now.

That's not all that the Master came for. He came to bring the Kingdom of Heaven into the HERE and the NOW because hell was, is, and for a long time will also be HERE and NOW. Where there is disease, demonic oppression, mental illness, trauma, suffering, and sorrow, hell is also here.

Jesus touched the lepers—those with highly communicable disease. He touched the societal outcasts. He saw and restored those desperate invisibles. He rebuked sin, but stretched out a hand to society's most deplorable sinners. He tore down death's dominion and dragged at least three humans back from it in his lifetime. He cast out innumerable demons hounding his children with physical and mental ailments.

Why did people follow Jesus? To be saved in the next life? I don't think so. I think they followed him because he reached deep into their pain and touched it and restored them. I think they worshipped him because he broke shackles they didn't even realize were there. I think they loved him because he first loved—saw, measured, deemed precious—them.

But I don't think we talk about that much anymore because it's messy, not easy to reproduce, and it certainly doesn't scale well. Not to mention, we're not even sure how to access that kind of authority anymore. We're too busy running around saving people to seek first his kingdom—to seek first the face of the one we supposedly love.

I am confused as hell about how to relate to Jesus lately. He's done powerful things in my life that I find to be irrefutable in my own experience. On the other hand, I'm walking through a silent desert, crying out for water. But if I ever come out the other side, I'll tell you what kind of evangelism I'd like to be entrusted with.

I'd like to open a coffee shop. A small, restful coffee shop out in the Japanese countryside where the population is aging out and shrinking and forgotten. I'd like to make it a place where patrons can fall asleep if they feel the urge, with comfortable seating everywhere, handmade afghans, and a cozy-clutter feel. It'll be mostly decaf or non caffeinated hot beverages and maybe a couple trays of baked treats for the day. Cold lemonade and iced cocoa in the summertime. Slippers on offer.

And there will be a fairly prominent sign somewhere that will say something to the effect of, "If you are troubled and would like someone to talk to, or someone to pray over you, please ask at the desk."

And when someone asks for that, I would pass off my apron to someone else for a time and go sit with the person over a cup of warm something and do just that.

It will probably take a couple forevers before the town residents even consider opening up like that to an outsider. It takes time. It's messy. It doesn't scale. But what are they being saved for, if not to experience the deep, relentless, abiding love of the Father that sees and knows their pain and can draw forth from it the most fragrant beauty? What are they being saved for, if not to fall in love with their Creator?