Why Christians should choose to recognize their powerful potential on earth rather than shy away from it. Original analogy by Eric Knopf. Development by Chrissa Trudelle.
Many Christians today are afraid to admit they are powerful. In fact, the culture of commercialized Christianity even makes a point to keep us acutely aware of our so-called insignificance. We inscribe bracelets with the words I am second; we sing lyrics referring to ourselves as a wretch, and we keep key chain slogans with the reminder of “I am nothing.” The motives may be well intended, but the endless striving to cite God for all glory has turned into a “plagiarism paranoia.” We live terrified that we might partake in unintentional, unlawful glory stealing. As result, we shy away from acknowledging the extraordinary power Christ intended for us to have.
See, the incredible transformation after salvation does not shrink you into nothingness. Rather you are now empowered, and equipped with everything necessary, to expand and fulfill God’s will on earth. God gives you His spirit without limit, His power to crush the enemy, His peace that transcends understanding, and His wisdom in all things. You are seated as a co-heir with Christ in heavenly realms, and Jesus gives you the keys of the Kingdom. Sadly, many of us hide those keys in a drawer—right next to the I am nothing charm bracelet—and never unlock anything. This is the spiritual equivalent of being given the keys to a Ferrari and never taking it out of the garage. Picture the scenario below to let the implications of your “key choices” sink in….
Part II: The Story
One day, your good friend Diego knocks on your door brandishing a set of keys to a stunning new Ferrari. Diego cannot stop raving about how this Ferrari has already changed his life forever. He urges you to get off the couch, take a stand, and walk yourself to the dealership. Your forehead wrinkles in skepticism. The Ferrari owners you knew in the past berated you with harsh judgments about your honda civic, and quite frankly, many of them seemed a little depressed.
But maybe Diego will be different, you think to yourself, he’s a good friend, and his intense passion about Ferraris really is intriguing. Landing on a compromise between skepticism and intrigue, you resolve to secretly watch Diego’s Ferrari experience unfold and then consider the possibility for yourself. That night, like a kid on Christmas eve, you sleep by the window waiting to watch Diego peel out of his driveway in a beautiful blur of ferrari destiny.
Days go by, and much to your bewilderment, Diego doesn’t actually drive his ferrari. He never goes joyriding at speeds without limit. He doesn’t offer to pick up girls for dates, or drive in the carpool group. He doesn’t cruise to farmers market on Sundays, so obviously, there is no fruit in his house. But it’s not as though Diego neglects the car. On weekends he spends hours shut inside his garage, peering under the hood in a sincere Ferrari improvement effort. He installs new speakers, lowers the tires, and even bejewels the hubcaps. The vehicle is truly state of the art. The keys however, remain chained to his keyring far away from the ignition.
One day, a family emergency arises and you assume this situation will allow for an exception. Horrified, you call Diego and ask if you can use his car to visit your sister in the emergency room. Diego says no; he’s in the middle of Ferrari maintenance accountability group right now. But he assures you that he and the other Ferrari owners will brain storm automobile solutions and he also encourages you to come check out the group next week. Hanging up the phone, you shrug in confusion. You’re happy Diego found something he truly cares about, but after watching the state of his life—you’ll stick with your Honda Civic, thank you very much.