Category: Guilt

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Buyer’s Remorse

That feeling you get in the wake of making a large or extravagant acquisition has a name. It’s called Buyer’s Remorse. A person purchases a house, or one that is more expensive than was budgeted, begins second guessing the investment. Buyer’s remorse. The memory of the best vacation ever begins washing away once the bills start piling up. Buyer’s remorse. Investing in a huge diamond ring to present to that special someone when your gut and your friends tell you it’s a mistake, and in a moment of doubt you think they might be right. Buyer’s remorse. Or buying a vehicle where the smell of the new car quickly evaporates when something goes wrong with it, and you have no extended warrantee. Buyer’s remorse.

My dad might have experienced some form of buyer’s remorse when he traded in our family Ford station wagon for the Buick version of the same car. The 1964 Ford Country Squire was a practical and steady car for a family of five kids. The best part of the car was the tailgate window. Dad placed a makeshift third row seat in the tailgate that faced the back window. The seat was wooden and covered with Naugahyde, and never included seat belts. Deanna and I, and sometimes David, sat in the back and watched the road behind us. For long trips, Dad packed the tailgate so that old couch cushions were positioned for Deanna and me to play, read, fight, or sleep. I have good memories of that car, but eventually a car needs a replacement.

Dad feared that the Ford, which was leaking oil, was not going to pass an inspection. Feeling the pressure, he traded it in for a Buick Estate Wagon. The upgrade included power windows and locks as well as a third row bench facing forward with seat belts. At the time, dad loved Buicks. But the car was a lemon, and my father regretted making the purchase. Confiding in me when I was learning to drive, he said, “Given what I know now, I should have held onto the Ford.” Clearly, what dad experienced was Buyer’s Remorse.  

Paul tells the Corinthians that we were “bought with a price” (1 Cor. 6:20). Such language finds its origin in the marketplace venue of the slave trade. When a slave is sold, either informally to another owner or formally on the auction block, he or she is sold for a certain price. The going rate. That slave now belongs to someone else, and their lives must conform to the new owner’s wishes. Paul’s point is that we Christians were on the market and were purchased by God. We are under new management and the price paid was his Son. More to the point, Paul says that our bodies must be used to honor God, our new owner, and not the selfish self-satisfaction of our own passions and desires.

God purchased us. He took a good long look at us. He kicked the tires and checked under the hood. He weighed his options. He read the warranty and ordered a copy of the Carfax. He even took us for a test drive. When he made his decision, he purchased us, and now we belong to him. That is such good news, except for one problem. He got stuck with a lemon, and when we look at the fine print of our lives, it’s clear that God has buyer’s remorse. At least from our perspective.  

One doesn’t have to go to far away from Corinth to conclude that God had second thoughts. And if he didn’t, he should have. Corinth is nothing but a mess of buyer’s remorse, and 1 Corinthians is replete with examples. The church seemed to find every reason to divide, especially since they quarreled and were filled with jealousy (3:3). Such strong disagreements may be the reason they were so divisive. Each loved their own favorite preacher (1:12; 3:4), believing their pastor was a better leader, communicator, and more spiritual than the others. They supposed that their specific Spiritual Gift was more valued than other member’s gifts, never realizing that the individual parts made up the whole (12:25-26). Besides, love is the gift to pursue (12:31b; 13:8-9). And while they were gathered around the Table for the Lord’s Supper, a table intended to unite the believers, the social economic disparity was clear: the wealthy kept the poor away (11:18-22). And beneath all this divisiveness, two families were airing their dirty laundry, tangled in a public legal court battle against each other (6:1-11).

From there the troubles worsen in Corinth. The members bought into a casual carnal mindset (6:12-20), and it’s possible to directly link it to idolatry (10:21-22). One man was having a sexual relationship with his stepmother, and the church is glossing over it as if it’s normal or acceptable behavior (5:1-2). The marriages were in trouble (7:1-40) while their assembly time was chaotic (14:26-33a). They denied the resurrection of the saints, philosophizing that it had already occurred (15:12-19).

By the time one opens the Second letter to the Corinthians things are certainly no better. The infighting, divisions, and idolatry are still present (12:20-21), while the church had broken its promise to collect monies as relief for the Judea famine (8:10-11). At its core is their rejection of Paul as their leader, believing he had not only broken his promise to them, but also deceived them about the money collected for the Judean famine relief. The very one who introduced them to Jesus and brought them the gospel is now discarded because he wasn’t the flashy celebrity they were seeking.

The church in Corinth was toxic, and clearly the source for church hurt. I would never place my membership there, and you wouldn’t either. And if God called me to minister to them, I just might find the belly of a big fish a safer environment than Corinth. With all the chaos and dysfunction running through the church, I can’t help but think God had his head in his palms, shaking his head, regretting while experiencing buyer’s remorse.

Thankfully, that is not God’s perspective, it’s mine. I can be judgmental. Pointing the finger is easy until I realize that three fingers are pointing back at me. And if someone were to peel back the layers of my life, I’m sure they might have buyer’s remorse. And like the Corinthians – and you – I stand in need of God’s grace and mercy, and not his judgment and justice.

This is what makes Paul’s words so powerful, when he says, “Now it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ. He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come” (2 Cor. 1:21-22).

When Paul talks of “standing firm,” he draws from a marketplace terminology that reflects the validity of a sale.* In this case, we are the product purchased by God. The sale is final and cannot be returned. By dropping three statements** capturing a moment in time, he strengthens the purchase invoice. First, he says, “He anointed us.” The Old Testament is filled with moments where God had prophets, priests, and kings anointed. They were anointed by oil, chosen intentionally and always with clear thought. God knew what he was buying when he anointed someone, and the same holds true when he bought us. Though we were not anointed with oil, but with the Spirit. And dare I add that the word “anointed” is the verb form of the title for “Christ.” Let that sink in, God’s not throwing that term around for nothing. Secondly, “God set his seal on us” to show we are his possession. In ancient times the seal was often a signet ring worn by a king. It was used to certify a document, ensuring that the paper came from the King. In our own western world, we might think of branding cattle to show ownership. Cue Toy Story’s Woody and look for Andy’s name written under his boot. God has placed his seal, the Holy Spirit, on us signifying we belong to him, and he’s not getting rid of his possession. And thirdly, God “put his Spirit in us as a deposit.” A deposit is a down payment that guarantees more to come. God has given us a piece of himself and promises to make good on completely giving us his Spirit. In the future, he will fill us to the full of himself.

The truth is God knows what he is getting with us. He knows our failures, our brokenness, and our sinful shortcomings. But he bought us with his Son and he has absolutely no buyer’s remorse. Next time you buy something, and you regret doing so, remember that you may experience buyers remorse, but God doesn’t.

Eventually, my dad ditched the Buick Estate Wagon. Swallowing his ego, and noting his family was shrinking, he bought a Volkswagen Rabbit. It was the car I learned how to drive. The Rabbit was the VW Bug replacement car, but never as cute or fun as driving the Beetle. It had four cylinders and could go from 0 to 60 in about six minutes on a good downhill grade. Dad loved big cars, and he wore a brave smile driving this little car around town and on trips. I’m sure, deep down, Dad had buyer’s remorse, especially since he could have had a V-8. I would have. But here’s the thing. For a variety of reasons, we experience buyer’s remorse, God doesn’t. God has invested too much time and effort into securing our salvation to worry about if we are a good, worthy purchase.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

* William Baker, 2 Corinthians, College Press NIV Commentary (Joplin, MO: College Press, 1999), 90.

** These statements are aorist past tense participles, pointing to something that happened to us in the past that holds future ramifications. That “something” is our confession and baptism.

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The Freedom to Play in Grace

Anyone who has been around sports knows that a coach has favorites. Right or wrong, he trusts certain players to play. Those players, who perform under the favor of the coach, play without fear. They know that their coach will not remove them from the game no matter the errors they commit. Other players, who are not under the coach’s grace, play in fear. You can see it in their timidity. You can see it in their eyes after committing an error. They look directly at the bench to see if the coach will send in a substitute. When the coach does substitute, the player steps off the court or field in shame, as their chin rests upon their chest. How much better will a player play knowing the coach will not yank him off the field for making mistakes?

My collegiate coach was the epitome of success. By my senior year our cross-country team had won the conference meet seventeen years in a row and twenty-four out of twenty-five years. Oddly enough, his background was basketball, not running. When he began his coaching career, he coached basketball. As much as he loved to play the game, he hated coaching because he despised taking kids out of the game for committing errors. He hated seeing the fear in their eyes. Loving the value of sports, he shifted to running where each runner could excel on his/her own merit. He taught self-discipline and inner motivation. He encouraged us to keep our moral and spiritual lives as disciplined as our running, for he understood the stranglehold that guilt and shame have on people and its debilitating impact on athletes. He wanted us to run in grace, not guilt.  

In a performance-based environment, success is tenuous. Fear, guilt, and shame tend to hold the upper hand and fuel motivation, a fuel like using diesel to a car needing unleaded gas. Fear gnaws at people believing something dangerous will occur or that failure is around the corner. Guilt, real or imagined, captures the emotional aftermath of failing. Shame is the painful feeling of humiliation. All of these are real, and we’ve all experienced them at one time or another. Fear: ask a child who has seen the anger in a parent about to respond to their defiance. Guilt: ask anyone who has ever been pulled over by a cop. Shame: ask anyone who had to make the amusement park “walk of shame.” Fear, guilt, and shame are interwoven into the fabric of this world, and no matter how hard we try, we cannot escape those feelings.

Church is supposed to be a different story. Jesus never motivated out of fear, guilt, or shame, instead he motivated people out of freedom and grace. They had a choice. We always have a choice. The younger brother in Luke 15 was allowed to walk away while the father never shamed him for leaving, or for that matter, for returning home. Zaccheus was never guilted into giving away his wealth but did so in freedom and grace. It wasn’t the fear of Jesus that caused Peter to sink into the sea, but the fear of the waves. Still, the church has used fear, guilt, and shame to motivate members to attend services, to participate in ministries, to keep them on the straight and narrow, and to give their lives to Jesus. Let’s be honest, if you provide too much freedom and grace, what’s the end result? Oh, that question in an of itself is rooted in fear.

The Corinthian church needed motivation to change. It was a mess. A big, dirty mess. It’s not the kind of church you want to bring home to meet the family. The church was imploding from division. They divided over their favorite preacher. They divided over spiritual gifts. Their divisiveness exploited the socio-economic tension, of all places, at the Lord’s Table. At least one family was embroiled in a lawsuit against another family. They saw themselves as wise when they acted foolishly. They prided themselves on embracing a man who was sleeping with his stepmother. Idolatry held the church in its clutches. They demanded their rights while claiming to follow a Savior who gave up his rights. That’s just Paul’s first letter. His second letter may be even worse. Idolatry still had its claws clenched into their lives. They had bailed on promises made to Paul to collect monies to send as aid to the Jerusalem church. They allowed a third party to come between them and their preacher, maligning Paul’s character in the process. What I know about the Corinthian Church is that I wouldn’t want to preach for them, much less be a member of that community. And if you were honest, you wouldn’t either.

Paul could have employed fear, guilt, and shame. He could have. If I was in his shoes, I would have. I would have reached deep into the Jonathan Edwards sermon that we are nothing more than being held in the hands of an angry God, standing on the very fringes of hell’s fire. More fear. More guilt. More shame. More control.

But Paul is not me. He confronts the sin in Corinth head on, but always as a pastor who loves his flock. And here, while he is defending himself against the accusation that he breaks his promises, he appeals to a promise-keeping God who himself creates an environment of gracious freedom by removing the fear, shame, and guilt from the equation. He’s not bringing in a substitute, he’s playing the team he’s called. Here is what Paul says,

Now it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ. He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come (2 Cor. 1:21-22).

Paul tells us that God makes us stand firm. We do not secure ourselves, but God makes us secure and steady in Christ. It’s all on God. At our strongest, we are too weak to play or to fight. To underscore this, Paul gives us three descriptions of God’s power. He does so in very strong, definitive wording that is unmovable.

First power: God anoints us. Anointing was common for healing. More importantly, prophets and kings were anointed as being set apart for service under God. The word used here for anointing is the same word for Christ, carrying with it Messianic overtones. One might say, since we are anointed in Christ we are linked to him for his purpose. All of God’s promises are fulfilled in Christ where we are the recipients.

Second power: God puts his seal of ownership on us. A seal is an official emblem by a lord, governor, or king. By placing his seal on us, likely a reference to the Holy Spirit, we now belong to God. We are now in his possession. Remember the Toy Story moment when Woody checks the bottom of his boot to find Andy’s name? Woody knows he belongs to Andy. More importantly, Andy realizes that Woody belongs to him because his name is on his boot. Essentially, God is looking to see if he has sealed us with his Spirit, and those whom he has belong to him. No one else.  

Third power: Paul uses marketing or banking terminology of earnest money. Suppose you are shopping for a car, and you find it. Your dream car. You want it, but don’t have the money. In a bind, you make arrangements to secure the car with a downpayment. The dealer or owner holds the car until you come back with the complete amount. The downpayment guarantees full payment. Similarly, God giving us his Holy Spirit is only a down payment guaranteeing that when he returns, he will make good on his payment, and we will be filled to the full with his Spirit.

All of this effort by God to anoint us, to seal us, and to giving us a deposit guaranteeing what is to come is the means for us to play in grace. If Paul argues to the dysfunctional Corinthian church that God is creating the freedom to succeed, what does that say about you and me? It’s like we can’t fail.

The summer after I graduated from high school, I worked for a man who owned a gas station about a half a mile from where I lived. His little gas station had a good reputation in the community and for all accounts he was a successful businessman. He was a Korean War vet who ran his business like a min-military unit. He barked orders and made his employees toe the line; mistakes were not tolerated. He had mystery shoppers who came to the station for service just to report back to him. In Oregon self-service pumps were banned and attendants pumped the gas for the customer. We had to wash every windshield and ask to check the oil. The station had to be kept neat and clean, and when it wasn’t he let us know in no uncertain terms his expectations. We kept busy, and if we weren’t busy, we created work to do or looked busy because attendants sitting around was not a look he wanted. When our tills were short, he took it out of our paycheck. I was the recipient of numerous berating’s that summer. I learned a lot from him, I grew to appreciate and respect him, but if truth be known he operated out of fear. His employees, those hired to pump the gas, did not respect the man and often feared losing their jobs at any given moment.

Four years later I spent the summer in Nashville, Tennessee living with my brother to spend more time with Cile. My summer job was working for a small cookie company. The owner discovered his grandmother’s recipe for chocolate chip cookies and began to market them. By the time I was hired they had moved to a small warehouse and made a half-dozen kinds of cookies: chocolate chip, white chocolate, butterscotch, peanut butter, et.al. With convection ovens and industrial mixers, my job was to mix the dough and bake them. The owner of the company expected and anticipated that mistakes would be made. Cookies break and recipes get botched, and the boss would simply say, “I’ve ruined plenty of batches, you know where the garbage can is.” I loved working for this boss and because his work environment was built-in with a freedom to fail, I gave him my best.

As evident from these verses from 2 Corinthians, God is more like the second boss than the first. He has created an environment for us to play with freedom in grace so that we can give him our all without fear of failure. Even when we do fail him.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)