By Jeff Scoggins

I learned to water ski when I was fairly young. I don’t remember the circumstances of when or where I learned but, thanks to the permanent impressions of terror, the actual experience of waterskiing the first few times lives vividly in my mind. 

No one forced me to learn to ski. I chose to. But as I clung to the towrope for dear life I shook from head to toe, partly from cold but mostly from nerves. For comfort I sang “Jesus Loves Me” through clenched teeth during the whole ride. And I fell often. But after crashing, choking, and sputtering I insisted on trying again.

I felt proud the first time I skied without falling. I planed up out of the water all by myself, sang “Jesus Loves Me” several times, and then let go near the dock, sinking slowly and easily into the water. I was ecstatic—at least until I told someone. I don’t even remember who it was. “I skied without falling even once!” I announced grandly.

Whoever I graced with this information looked at me for a moment and then said matter of factly, “That means you aren’t skiing hard enough.”

I understood him and took the advice to heart, not only for waterskiing but also for life. I had been merely hanging on trying not to fall. I never crossed the wake. I didn’t look around me. I didn’t try to kick up water with my skis. I just let the powerful boat pull me along in my cautious, narrow comfort zone, all the while imagining that I had arrived at skiing perfection. Truth is I didn’t even realize what skiing could be until I started pushing the edges of the safe zone further and further.

One of the arguments for living the Christian life is that it’s a pretty good life. We say, “Even if I’m wrong about what I believe I would still choose to live like I do as a Christian because it’s a good way to live.” In one sense that is true, as it relates to being kind and loving to others, living a healthy lifestyle, etc. But it can’t be entirely true, otherwise Paul would not have said, “If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men…” (1 Cor. 15:19).

Apparently Paul wouldn’t have chosen to live as he did if what he believed was a myth. Should we believe that Paul would have chosen a debauched life otherwise? Should we believe that Paul would have cast himself headlong into selfishness, lust, and riotous living? Somehow I doubt that. Paul was referring to the beatings and imprisonments and the fierce opposition he constantly faced as a result of his beliefs and his efforts to share them.

I imagine Paul would be shocked if someone said to him, “Christianity is a good life. I would still live as I do even if I’m wrong about everything.” It wouldn’t surprise me at all to hear him reply in effect, “Then you’re not living the Christian life hard enough.”

If we are not encountering opposition as a result of what we believe then it’s entirely possible we don’t believe it very much. Jesus said that in life with him we would encounter persecution just as he did. If we take Jesus at his word what does it mean if we’re not facing opposition of one kind or another? <over>

A word of caution, though. While it’s true that those truly living the Christian life will be resisted (the devil will see to that), it is also true that those operating like the devil, in spite of calling themselves Christians, will also be resisted, (God will see to that). Opposition alone does not indicate that we are living a faithful Christian life.

Still, a complete lack of opposition does indicate something very important. If we are unopposed as Christians then Satan must not be concerned about us damaging his kingdom very much.

If everything you believe as a Christian turns out to be false, “If it is only in this life that you hope in Christ,” are you to be pitied more than everyone or is it a pretty good life as it is? Are you skiing hard enough?