ALL IN

2 Chronicles 11:1-13:22; Romans 8:26-39; Psalm 18:37-50; Proverbs 19:27-29

“But he was an evil king, for he did not seek the Lord with all his heart.”

“No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us. And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

“If you stop listening to instruction, my child, you will turn your back on knowledge.”

Boy, it sure seems that Scripture has a different definition of “evil” than mine! “That which is morally bad or wrong, or that which causes harm, pain, or misery” always seemed like a perfectly good description of the problem. However, a careful look at Scripture compels me to admit looking at the concept all wrong. Certainly, there is such a thing as affirmative evil, just as there is affirmative good. But the resemblance and any balance between the two ends there, because in addition to being assertive, Scripture also teaches that evil is a default position. Evil is what we choose when we do not actively and aggressively choose good. Evil is what we do when we do not actively do good. Yikes! But there’s no arguing with the Bible. Rehoboam “was an evil king, for he did not seek the Lord with all his heart.”

We need to be very clear on this, I think. It may be a matter of life or death. Evil is the result of spiritual inertia. There is no middle ground with the Holy Spirit, no gray area. Something is either positively good or it isn’t. If it’s not good, it’s evil, period. “Evil,” as the Lord defines it, is just the absence of wholehearted good. Apathy or abstention are not options when one deals with Christ. We are in the family, or out. And being out is an evil place to be, by definition.

I’m not sure I ever truly understood this spiritual truth until I started playing with fire one day. Literally. Well, with a candle, anyway. I noticed it was a whole lot easier to see the light of a single flame from far away than I expected. That glow allowed me to navigate around barriers I never would have seen, as long as I was patient enough to allow my eyes to adjust to it before moving. But the converse was also true: the absence of light was an evil thing indeed. Try as I might, there was just no way to see where I was going or to avoid stumbling. So I learned two things. First, it doesn’t take a whole lot of light to dispel the darkness. Second, though, if the light goes out, we are quickly overwhelmed and lost. In the same way darkness is the absence of light, evil is the absence of good. Without some source of external power or combustion that makes us good, our lives can never be lights, and the night will eventually triumph.

But wait! No less than the Lord of heaven itself has called us the light of the world. How can that be? None of us is smart enough, spiritual enough or wise enough to ever be affirmatively good all the time (at least, not in this life). Even trying to be is fraught with danger, as any honest person will admit they are not always anything like good. We know we can never work our way into heaven. So how does Jesus get away with calling us the light of the world? Again, the lesson lies in the candle. The candle itself is not the source of the light; it is fuel for the light. In fact, left to burn long enough, little will remain of the candle but some residual goo and char. The candle itself is used and consumed by a force – heat – much greater than itself, but only in combination with the candle does the heat radiate light.

No wonder the Holy Spirit works on us by working through us. Like heat to a candle, it is His interaction with His people that brings light to the world. I suspect, though, an even deeper truth. In His infinite love and grace, while using us to bring His Light to a dark and broken world, Christ also consumes anything in us that is not worthy of His Light. That could be a scary thought, until we remember there is no fear in love, and that in Christ, all things are made new to live forever.

In poker, there’s a term that signifies ultimate resolution, “All in!” The player puts all he has into the pot, betting on one last shot at fortune or failure. Lose, and nothing’s left. Win, though, and a proverbial new life is the reward. No doubt there will be those put off by any gambling metaphor. But those who know the game understand “all in” for what it is: the last gasp of a player out of options. It is exactly the bet Christ asks us to make on Him. He invites us to put our faith completely and totally in Him. There can be nothing half-hearted about an all-in commitment to Christ. Only such a radically sold-out position allows the Holy Spirit complete and unfettered access to use us as we were created to be used. Some may fear the purification of the Flame. But for those who feel that way, Paul has an answer:

… I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.

We have nothing to fear from the flame. But we will lose much in the darkness.