Slideshow image

Not long ago, I came home from work and found my girls at the supper table. My wife needed a breather, so I made them a deal: finish your food, and we'll go outside and play.

One daughter cleaned her plate in record time. I'm fairly sure she licked it.

The other wouldn't take a single bite.

Any parent knows the corner I was in. I couldn't leave her behind, because the whole point was to give my wife a break. But I couldn't reward disobedience either. So I went to the pantry, came back with a Pop-Tart, and made my final offer: "Take one bite of this, and you can go outside."

She grabbed the Pop-Tart, took a bite, and handed it back. "Great," I said, and turned to open the door.

When I looked back, my sweet girl, whom I love more than breathing, had spit that bite out and fed it to the dog.

So you be the judge. Did she take a bite? Technically, yes, and it would hold up in court. Did she obey me? Technically. But did she really obey? Not even close. She was getting by on a technicality.

I've thought about that moment a lot, because I see myself in it. God has given every believer the victory. The question is what kind of victory we're living.

Winning by Technicality

There's more than one way to win. Sometimes you outplay everyone, and the victory is clear to everyone watching. Other times you win on a technicality.

If you've watched combat sports, you know how hollow that feels. The tournament comes down to the two best competitors. The match is fierce, and then it ends because one fighter stepped out of bounds once too often. The winner goes home with the medal and the title, but nobody in the arena feels like they saw a real victory.

Many of us live our Christian lives that way. We have the title. We've technically obeyed. But our lives don't look much like a win.

A Gold Medal on the Wall

In the 2000 Olympics, a Wyoming farm kid named Rulon Gardner did the impossible. In Greco-Roman wrestling, he beat Aleksandr Karelin, the Russian champion who hadn't lost in thirteen years. It's still one of the greatest upsets in Olympic history.

Imagine visiting Rulon's house right after he won that gold. You'd see purpose everywhere: in what he ate, when he slept, how he trained, and how he carried himself. His life matched his victory.

Now imagine visiting years later. After his competitive career ended, his weight climbed to 474 pounds. Picture him in his recliner, where getting up takes real effort, with a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, pointing at the wall and saying, "I'm an Olympic gold medalist."

He'd be right. That medal was never in question. But the life he was living no longer matched the victory he had won.

I don't tell this to speak ill of him. I tell it to honor him. Rulon went on The Biggest Loser, lost 173 pounds, and fought his way back to health. That comeback is what makes his story worth telling.

Here's the point for us. God has already won the victory, and it's settled. You don't have to strategize for it, fight for it, or lose sleep over it. If you're in Christ, it's yours. But does your life match it? Or are you in the recliner, pointing at the wall?

Sounding "Bibly"

Technical Christianity has its own vocabulary, and some of it sounds very spiritual.

Have you ever heard someone say, "I love them, but I don't like them"? (If you've said it yourself, you can keep that between you and the Lord.) It may be the most "technically" phrase a Christian can use.

Suppose I told a friend at church, "I don't like you at all. You're so annoying. But I love you, because the Bible says I have to." Then suppose I tried to give him advice. Would he hear a word of it? Of course not. It isn't genuine, and people can always tell.

The love Scripture commands is agape. It isn't a feeling we wait for. It's a sacrificial love that puts someone else above ourselves. You can't hold someone in contempt and call it agape. That's a technicality dressed up in Bible words.

My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth.
— 1 John 3:18

Forgiveness works the same way. "I forgive you, but I'm never speaking to you again" isn't forgiveness. Think about how God forgives you. He forgives constantly, and your fellowship with Him stays unbroken. He doesn't bring up your sin later or let last week's failure hang over this week's prayers. His forgiveness restores, and that's the forgiveness He calls us to extend.

The same thing happens on Sunday mornings. God commands us not to forsake the assembling of ourselves together, and being in church matters. But He didn't stop there.

Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.
— Galatians 6:2

For most of us, Sunday is the only time we see our church family. If we don't encourage someone today, ask how they're really doing, or offer to carry a burden, when will we? When our church started small groups, I found myself thinking, I had no idea you were going through that. Once I knew, I could pray for them, encourage them, and help. That takes intention. It's the difference between showing up and living the victory.

A First-Round Knockout

And what a victory it is. When God won, He wasn't hoping the judges would rule in His favor or waiting for someone to step out of bounds. He stepped into the ring, and it was a first-round knockout. Nobody needed a scorecard.

And having spoiled principalities and powers, he made a shew of them openly, triumphing over them in it.
— Colossians 2:15

God doesn't mince words. There's no loophole to exploit, no rule to appeal, and no question about who won. By His grace, we share in that same victory.

Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.
— Romans 8:37

But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
— 1 Corinthians 15:57

When I say "loser," I'm not insulting anyone. If there's a winner, there's a loser, and this fight has both. Those who stay on the losing side are in real danger. But they don't have to stay there, and God has sent us to tell them so.

That's why the winner shouldn't live like the loser. If I'm living in light of the greatest victory ever won, my life should show it. When it doesn't, something feels wrong, because something is wrong.

The Victor Doesn't Fear the Conquered

One of my favorite accounts in Scripture shows what living in that victory looks like. In 2 Kings 6, Elisha and his servant wake up to find the city surrounded by an enemy army. The servant panics: "Alas, my master! how shall we do?" In other words, we're finished.

Elisha doesn't flinch.

Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them. And Elisha prayed, and said, LORD, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the LORD opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha.
— 2 Kings 6:16–17

God didn't just send horses. He sent horses and chariots of fire. Our God is magnificent.

When we live by technicality, we sound like the servant: We're surrounded. We're outnumbered. There's no hope. The believer living in the victory sounds like Elisha. His eyes are on God, and he knows the enemy has already lost.

For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.
— 1 John 5:4

Think about it: the conqueror doesn't fear the conquered. The fight is over, and the other side is out cold.

Yet we do fear them. We fear rejection. We worry we'll be a bother, that people won't listen, or that sharing the gospel will make things awkward. If that's you, you're not alone. I've felt it too.

But everyone wants to know what the winner knows. People study champions' training routines because they want to win too. The victor isn't shy about sharing what worked.

Suppose I warn my daughter not to drink an entire gallon of milk. She tells me I don't know what I'm talking about, drinks it anyway, and spends the evening sick. Was I the fool for giving good advice? No. She should have listened.

We need to tell people about this victory. If they reject it, that's a tragedy they'll one day regret. But if we never tell them, that's on us. When I let fear of the conquered silence me, I'm not living in the victory God has already won and given to me.

Living the Victory This Week

God made this as simple as it could be, because He already did the winning. Our part is to live in it. We have the tough job of being winners for the rest of our lives.

The jury isn't out, and we're not waiting on a verdict. The question isn't whether God won. The question is whether your life shows it.

Here are three ways to trade a technical victory for the real thing this week:

  • Name your technicality. Is there someone you "love but don't like," or someone you've "forgiven" but won't speak to? Ask God to replace the loophole with real agape, then take one step toward that person.
  • Carry one burden. Before next Sunday, reach out to one person from your church family. Text them, call them, or take them to coffee, and ask how they're really doing.
  • Share what the winner knows. Pray for one person at work, at school, or in your neighborhood who is still on the losing side, and ask God for the courage to tell them about the victory you're living in.

If you've trusted Christ, you can't lose. The victory is already yours. What's left is choosing what kind of victory you'll live. Don't settle for a technicality. God won absolutely, and that victory is yours to live in, with every breath.