Driving through town today, past various stores and businesses, I saw a sign that said this:
As far as I could tell, it was in front of a furniture store, so I vaguely wondered what kind of security we're talking about. Online privacy? Identity theft protection? Psychology of small, fearful children (they'll check all 32 pacifiers, blankies, and other security items)?
Maybe it means physical locks--on your house, your car, your business. Are we talking about job security (32 signs you're about to get fired)? Maybe it's about your personal habits when you're a foreign tourist, to avoid pickpocketing.
And why 32 points? Is that how many vulnerabilities we have? I'm pretty sure I could name more than 32 insecurities in my life, limb and psyche. (Presumably they have exactly 32 products to sell.)
Life is insecure. And at no time are we more cognizant of this than when we get news, as I did this morning, of a sudden and unexpected death.
A gentleman we've seen at church for years, who taught our child's Sunday school class, whose family we've watched grow up across the aisle, passed away unexpectedly in his sleep. He was not elderly or in poor health.
What kind of security matters to him this week?
I didn't know him well. Maybe he would've passed a 32-point checklist. Likely his doors were locked, his passwords protected, his professional reputation polished, his fuzzy blanket snuggled up close.
But I do happen to know that this gentleman had a different kind of security. It gave him an anchor of hope in life, and a passage to freedom and glory in death. He did not have a checklist of 32 accomplishments, virtuous qualities, or noble deeds. In fact, his security checklist had exactly one item on it.
This man trusted in Jesus to forgive his sin.
He knew he was hopeless to measure up to God's divine, holy standard. He knew his only hope was trusting in Jesus Christ alone--His perfect life and substitutionary death by which sinners can be saved from God's just wrath. He had recognized the futility of his own effort to be good enough and thrown himself on God's mercy.
He trusted in Jesus to forgive his sin.
My friends, here is your free 1-point security review.
We prefer to believe in a God who's nice but not a God who's holy. Holy means gloriously unstained and perfect. He must and will punish sin. Otherwise He would cease to be Himself.
But ever since Adam and Eve we have been an imperfect people. In fact, compared to the holiness of God, we're not only imperfect, but wretchedly, and blindly, depraved.
What then can be done? Holy God; fallen people.... it is utterly hopeless that we should ever earn our way into His acceptance.
Thanks be to God; He has made a way. One way; one point on which our everlasting security rests or fails: Jesus.
In Jesus' death, God's wrath was fully satisfied, "that He would be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus" (Romans 3:26). We take refuge in Jesus' self-sacrifice, or we hope our 32 good points will cover our stained souls.
The gentleman I mentioned was called to account suddenly one night. I assure you, 32 points would not have been enough--for him or for us. We need much more than that. We need the One.
What are you trusting in?
Bearing shame and scoffing rude,
In my place condemned He stood;
Sealed my pardon with His blood.
Hallelujah! What a Savior!
Philip P. Bliss, "Hallelujah! What a Savior!"
