Aliens in America: Day 37

Bloody Aliens 

‘As aliens, live in reverent fear’ (1 Pet. 1:17). 

The bloviating (think ‘blow hard’) of this election season––across both sides of the political aisle–– evoked Macbeth’s famous lines: “It is a tale/Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, / Signifying nothing.” 

So much said by so many (getting on X was a glimpse into Elon’s feverish psyche). Yet, I gained little from this onslaught of political pontification: a lot of sound and fury, a whole bunch of nothing. 

What a contrast to the life of an alien! Jesus imbues us with an electrifying fear of Himself, an awe-full reverence that lends significance to how we live as strangers in this strange land. 

I’m no stranger to an empty way of living. We are all naturalized citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven, ones whose membership came at an inestimable cost. ‘For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect’ (1 Pet. 1:18-19). 

Honestly, I received a pretty good inheritance from my ancestors (thanks, Mom and Dad, who are growing increasingly ancestral each passing day!). Their love for Jesus and His body infused my childhood with meaning: I knew, from a young age, that God and Church mattered, essential realities that can shape and inform every facet of life. 

Don’t get the wrong impression: I was no model of Christian piety as a kid. My alienation was sourced not in Kingdom living but in a dissonance between what I knew to be true about Jesus and His body and what I experienced each day, even each Sunday at church. 

I grew up in a fine fellowship, but like most, the youth group was cliquey, and I was on the outside looking in. My parents were at home in church; I was at a junior high dance, sitting alone on the bleachers. Sure, I was surrounded by intimate Vineyard worship and some attuned youth leaders—one in particular loved me well—but it wasn’t enough to overcome the deep isolation I felt. 

My empty way of life wasn’t as exciting as others: no rockstar partying for this awkward adolescence. Instead, I just went through the motions of my supposed ‘Christian’ life, knowing Jesus was important but not knowing Him at all. In lucid moments, I felt imprisoned by the gap between the songs and my sullen existence. It wasn’t a dramatic hell, but still hell. Sin and death trumped the Savior.  

My conversion came a few years later.  I got involved in a young adult group focused on intercession and worship (at the very least, going through the motions got me in the door!).Each night, I spent hours in the prayer room, surrounded by young, earnest intercessors. There Jesus won me over to Himself.  

Unexpectedly, one night, the truth descended from head to heart. That Jesus, the spotless Lamb of God, shed His perfect blood for me and plunged into hell, my hell, so that I could be His forever, shifted everything. Though integrating that epiphany took some time, the shift was concrete and real. (Parents, take heart: Jesus knows your kids need the eyes of their heart opened. He’ll do what you cannot).   

Everything I knew to be true about myself, Jesus, and His church was transformed by His bloody refulgence (Once again, thanks, Dad!) Something ineffable and exhilarating about the sacrifice of Calvary–– His visceral love for me––granted me membership within His body. I was His. I belonged.  

What an inheritance! From emptiness, I entered the life and light of His kingdom. The wounded Lamb dignified me beyond measure, and His blood spoke the better word over my life. My exile wasn’t over but it took on new meaning. I was no longer alienated from the Body but stood with the Body alongside fellow aliens awaiting our heavenly home.  

It fueled me with Kingdom oil: my devotion and fellowship became fragrant through His costly victory. 

Back to the election season. Its sound and fury still unsettles me. Especially disconcerting are some Christians, fellow members redeemed by His blood, who have lionized Trump as a Christ-like figure leading America into the next Great Awakening. Trump as Savior is a tale signifying nothing. May we never compromise our hope in the only One who can save us.  

Let’s all recalibrate by returning to Jesus, allowing His blood to reorient us toward our eternal home. Where politics have left us empty, let’s surrender anew to the Lamb who was slain to conquer our sinful alienation. Only Jesus can endow our newly-made-alien lives with richness. His immeasurable sacrifice reaches to our hell and raises us to heaven. 

‘Jesus, may we never lose our wonder in the Blood, the marvel of Your plunge into hell to get us out of there. Open the eyes of our hearts AGAIN to revel in Calvary. Forgive our blasé faith in the foundation of our freedom. Forgive too any way the election has siphoned off hope, or been misplaced on a person. Reorient us around the only One who can save us.’   

‘Jesus, You are the King, and we are first citizens of Your Kingdom. Would you free us for You in this election season, not to hide but to shine? You’ve always asked nothing less from Your elect whom You have made ‘strangers in a strange land’ (Ex. 2:22). Here we are, a people who don’t know what to do but who look and listen to our King. 

“Father of all holiness, 

guide our hearts to You. 

Keep in the light of Your Truth 

all those You have freed from the darkness of unbelief. 

We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son.”’ 

Amen