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Morning Reflection
June 25, 2026
The Heart of the Matter
“[The Creed] reflects the New Testament ‘gospel’ itself, which in shortest statement is not ‘Jesus was crucified for us,’ but ‘Jesus is risen.’”
Robert Jenson: The Triune Story
Reflection by Peter Vanderveen
Martin Luther chose a propitious time of year to nail his 95 theses on the door of a church in Wittenberg, Germany. It was October 31, and I suspect that even in 1517 AD there was a greater audience willing to pay attention in the fall rather than the summer. Perhaps I’m not as brave. It’s the end of June and people are eager to be at ease, and I’m only posting one thesis, which is not of my own discerning. And my emphasis might not be wholly in line with what Robert Jenson meant. But, nonetheless, Jenson’s statement alerts us to one of the most critical pivot points in Christian faith.
Much emphasis is often placed on the cross. This is understandable because it was a devastating moment of our own making, wholly within the realm of human misdeeds. Jesus’ crucifixion is identifiable as historical, and, therefore, can be taken as plausible and real. It shows us how evil we can be and, correspondingly, how committed God is to being in relation with us. Even death does not defer God’s love. God sacrificed himself on our behalf. That’s an astounding devotion.
But this emphasis can easily lead to a faith that primarily makes demands, such as a similar sacrifice from us – as if the cross demands our redress. It can highlight our guilt or, more ominously, the guilt we ascribe to others (for what they have done), burdening us with debts that we feel obliged to work off, which can raise anxieties over what is ultimately required of us to earn God’s favor.
All of this shows a resistance to granting the resurrection the full scope of its effect.
And this resistance is understandable, too, because the resurrection is well outside the realm of everything that is measurable in our lives. There’s no evidence for it, and we can’t claim, in the same way as the cross, that it was an historical event. We had no part to play in it. This was God’s act alone, beyond the reach of our best imagining. So, in response, we often retreat to matters that seem more tangible and pressing, matters that we believe we can have a hand in solving.
But this is to miss what Christianity truly offers, which is not a set of obligations but freedom, and not attendance to all the ills of the world but to a beauty in life that has no limit. Instead of guilt, we are gifted with the promise of peace. In place of division, marked by ever-metastasizing accusations of difference, we are invited into communion with one another, friends and enemies alike. We can’t force this or demand that others comply: this is all God’s doing. Our chief responsibility is simply to receive this grace as grace.
And yet, this alone changes everything. Instead of living out of our past, trying hopelessly to make amends for all that has happened leading up to our present, Christianity offers us the possibility of living toward our future, defined as salvation. Our times need this kind of reformation.
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