There is an old story about Albert Einstein. He was going around the country from university to university on the lecture circuit, giving lectures on his theory of relativity. He traveled by chauffeur-driver limousine.

One day, after they had been on the road for awhile, Einstein’s chauffeur said to him, “Dr. Einstein, I’ve heard you deliver that lecture on relativity so many times, that I’ll bet I could deliver it myself.”

“Very well,” the good doctor responded. “I’ll give you that opportunity tonight. The people at the university where I am to lecture have never seen me. Before we get there, I’ll put on your cap and uniform and you will introduce me as your chauffeur and yourself as me. Then you can give the lecture.”

For a while that evening, everything went according to plan. The chauffeur delivered the lecture flawlessly. But as the lecture concluded, a professor in the audience rose and asked a complex question involving mathematical equations and formulas. The quick-thinking chauffeur replied, “Sir, the solution to that problem is so simple I’m really surprised you’ve asked me to give it to you. Indeed, to prove to you just how simple it is, I’m going to ask my chauffeur to step forward and answer your question.”

What I’m asking you to consider is not anything as simple as the theory of relativity. Do you think I said that wrongly? I repeat. I’m not going to talk today about anything as simple as the theory of relativity.

Now I don’t know much about the theory of relativity really, but I know it’s something we can learn. We can learn it with our minds.

I’m talking about something far more difficult, something we can’t learn with our minds. It’s a matter of faith. We come to know it in the places of our heart--being alive in Christ.

Off and on for over a dozen years, my morning ritual has included a word to myself. Sometimes I speak it aloud, sometimes I simply register it in my awareness. Sometimes I make it a liturgy, repeating it over and over again to a breathing-in-and-out exercise, “[Maxie], the secret is simply this: Christ in you! Yes, Christ in you bringing with Him the hope of all the glorious things to come.”

This is Phillips’ translation of Colossians 1:27, addressed to me personally. If there is a growing edge in my life, and I pray God there is, it is at this point: I’m seeking and discovering the experience of the indwelling Christ. I have come to believe that this is the key to Christian experience, certainly the key to authentic Christian piety and spirituality--to be alive in Christ.

It is interesting to me that Paul in all his writing does not tell about his Damascus road experience in descriptive detail. Luke records that dramatic event in the Acts of the Apostles. Paul doesn’t recount an outward description of the experience--being struck down by a blinding light and hearing the voice of Christ. Rather, he talks about the meaning of that experience and almost sings about it in exulting joy: ‘I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal 2:20, RSV).

What an unbelievable, breathtaking, possibility! Listen to it: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me, “ -- an extravagant claim -- we could pass it off and not pay too much attention to it, if this were an isolated instance in Scripture. But this is the language Paul uses throughout his letters.

In Christ -- in union with Christ -- Christ in you -- are the recurring words in Paul’s vocabulary. Variations of that phrase occur no less than 172 times in the New Testament. Paul ‘s definition of a Christian is a person in Christ: “if any one is in Christ he is a new creation, the old has passed away, behold, the new has come.” (II Cor. 15:17).

And it’s not only Paul who uses that language. Do you remember Jesus’ allegory of the vine and the branches in the 15th chapter of John? He tells us who the Father is and who He is in relation to the Father. And then He tells us who we are in relation to Him. “I am the real vine; my Father is the vinedresser. He removes any of my branches which are not bearing fruit and He prunes every branch that does bear fruit to increase its yield. Now, you have already been pruned by my words. You must go on growing in me and I will grow in you. For just as the branch cannot bear any fruit unless it shares the life of the vine, so you can produce nothing unless you go on growing in me. I am the vine itself; you are the branches. It is the man who shares my life and whose life I share who proves fruitful. For the plain fact is that apart from me you can do nothing at all.” (John 15:1-5, Phillips).

Extravagant -- but reality! Simple but not simplistic! Jesus came for one purpose and one purpose alone--to bring himself to us and in bringing himself to bring God. Not only does he justify us by providing full pardon for our sin, he indwells us to give us the power to be and do all those things God requires us to be and do. The message of justification by faith is our evangelistic proclamation which must never be diminished. It is crucial. However, it is not complete. And that’s why we Wesleyans have a great contribution to make to theology and Christian understanding.

We talk about becoming Christian in ways like “accepting Christ,” inviting Christ into our lives,” “receiving Christ as Savior,” “being born again by allowing Christ to be born in us.” Whatever the language, the faith and experience is that as we confess and repent of our sins, we are forgiven. We are justified, accepted by, and enter into a new relationship with God who then lives in us through the power of his Spirit as the indwelling Christ.

So it’s a common theme in Scripture, one of the most exciting possibilities offered us Christians -- to be alive in Christ. What does it mean? How might that happen? What would be the result of our being alive in Christ?

I

First of all, it means that not only is the presence of God in Jesus Christ experienced only on occasion ; the indwelling Christ is to become the shaping power of our lives. Let me say that again: not only is the presence of God in Jesus Christ to be experienced only on occasion, the indwelling Christ is to become the shaping power of our lives.

Let me picture that possibility. I have a friend who is a Benedictine monk. The way we live out our lives is vastly different, but I feel a real kinship, a oneness of spirit with Brother Sam. One of the most meaningful memories, to which I return often in my mind, is an evening he and I spent together alone, sharing our Christian journeys. The vivid highlight of that evening, still alive in my mind, was his sharing with me the occasion of his solemn vows, the service when he made his life commitment to the Benedictine community and the Monastic life -- a commitment that included the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience.

In that service of commitment, he prostrated himself, covered in a funeral pall, before the altar of the chapel in the very spot where his coffin will be set when he dies. The death bell that tolls at the early parting of a brother sounded the solemn gongs of death. Then there was silence -- the silence of death. The silence of the gathered community was broken by the singing of the Colossian word (Col. 3:3) which was a part of our scripture lesson today: “For you have died and your life is hid with Christ in God.” After that powerful word, there was more silence as Brother Sam reflected upon his solemn vow. Then the community broke into singing Psalm 118, which is always a part of the Easter liturgy in the Benedictine community: “I shall not die but live, and declare the works of the Lord.” (Psalm 118:17)

After this resurrection proclamation, the liturgist shouted the word from Ephesians 5:15: “Awake you who sleep; arise from the death, and Christ will give you light.” Then the bells of the Abbey began to ring loudly and joyfully; Brother Sam rose; the funeral pall fell off; the Abbott brought the white robe of the Benedictine order and placed it upon him; he received the kiss of peace from all the brothers and was welcomed into that community to live a life “hidden with Christ in God.”

It is a great liturgy of death and resurrection and is a symbolic reenactment of the Christian experience. When Brother Sam and I shared, I relived in vivid memory my own baptism in a rather cold creek in rural Mississippi in September. Paul gave powerful witness to it over and over again: “I have been crucified with Christ; I am now alive in Him.”

To be a Christian is to change. It is to become new. It is not simply a matter of choosing a new lifestyle, though there is a new style. It has to do with being a new person. The new person does not emerge full-blown. Conversion -- passing from death to life -- may be the miracle of the moment but the making of a saint is the task of a lifetime. The new process of saint-making is to work out in fact what is already dynamic in principle. In position, in our relation to God in Jesus Christ, we are new persons. Now our condition, the actual life that we live, must be brought into harmony with our new position.

A man once said to Dwight L. Moody, “Sir, I am a self-made man.” Moody replied, “You have saved the Lord from a very grave responsibility.”

Paul contended that he was a new creature perfect in Christ Jesus (Col. 1:28), created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness (Ephesians 4:24), -- renewed according to the image of Him who created him (Col. 3:10). Nothing less is the aim of the Christian life, and Paul uses a striking word to describe our new life in Christ. I referred to this word in the liturgy of Brother Samuel. “For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God “ (Col. 3:3).

Can you image a more stupendous claim -- that we can live our lives in Christ -- that Christ can live in us? Do you hear what I’m saying? This is extravagant, radical, but I believe it is at the very heart of the Christian faith.

II

Now the second thing that being alive in Christ means is this: what Christ has been and done for us we must be and do for others. Do you need to let that sink in? What Christ has been and done for us we must be and do for others.

I remember one of the last Emmaus weekends in which I participated. I was moved to tears of sadness and joy as a young woman, six months pregnant with her second child, through stifled sobs, shared her experience. She’d come to the Emmaus weekend an emotional wreck. Had I not known some of her same feelings, and had I not spent countless hours counseling people in the same ravaging, destructive dilemma, I would have found it extremely difficult to believe her confession. She was a beautiful person, alive in personality, attractive in every way, having all those things the world counts important going for her. Yet she said something like this: “I have felt ugly inside, unworthy, undeserving of the love of my husband and my little boy. I’ve had terrible thoughts about suicide because I don’t know how I’m going to love this little one soon to be born. I have felt so unlovable and incapable of love myself.”

Then she smiled broadly through her tears, her face was radiant and her eyes danced with joy as she shared the experience she’d had during that weekend. For the first time in her life, she experienced acceptance and she accepted the fact that God loved her unconditionally. She said that the presence of Christ in that community throughout that weekend had become real in her own life, affirming her, and thus she could go home to accept the love of her husband and son and wait with joyous anticipation for the birth of her new child, knowing that she would be worthy of that child’s love and could love the child without reservation.

That woman’s confession is made over and over again. It makes the point so vivid: what Christ has been and done for us we must be and do for others.

Think about it. How has the love of Christ been most real to you? Has it not been through the love of others? To be sure we must receive the forgiveness of Christ Himself -- but isn’t it true that the dynamic of that forgiveness, especially for those who are being introduced to Christ and to the Kingdom community -- isn’t it true that they can begin to know what that forgiveness is all about if they experience it with some other person. So, in love, in forgiveness, in acceptance, we make real the presence of Christ to others.

You remember that old poem:

Christ has no hands but our hands to do His work today;

He has no feet but our feet to lead men in His way;

He has no lips but our lips to tell men how He died;

He has no help but our help to bring them to His side.

What Christ has been and done for us, we must be and do for others.

III

I’ve said two things. One, not only is the presence of God in Jesus Christ to be experienced only on occasion, the indwelling Christ is to become the shaping power of our lives. Two, what Christ has been and done for us we must be and do for others. And now, this word.

Now, a third truth: to be alive in Christ is to allow the working power of God in the past to be brought into the present. Here is the paramount miracle: that God’s working power in the past can be brought into the present. That the living Christ is present now to forgive our sins, to heal our diseases, to energize our spirits, to cast our demons, to inspire our weary hearts, to guide our stumbling feet, to reconcile our relationships.

Do you believe that? Or has the faith become a practice of religious duty -- a cold, mental assent to specify truth -- a formula of belief that leaves your day-to-day living untouched, unchanged. When Paul wrote to the Ephesians, he broke out in this singing prayer in that first chapter: listen to him -- (Ephesians 1:18-20) “I pray that the eyes of your understanding be enlightened; that you may know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the exceeding greatness of His power toward us who believe, according to the working of His mighty power, which He worked in Christ when He raised Him from the dead and seated Him at his right hand in the heavenly places.”

Do you get that? The power which raised Jesus from the dead is available to us. That’s what Paul is saying. I’ve seen that power at work, and so have you. Why don’t we exercise our faith and claim it more often -- the working power of God in the past brought into the present.

I was thumbing through a folder not long ago -- a folder in which I keep very special things -- notes and letters that people have written me. Some fantastic stories that challenge my life. Things that I just want to hang on to and refer to now and then. In that folder I came across a letter. It was from a woman I had met at a conference where I was speaking and leading a workshop on prayer. As the session was about to begin, six women came into the room together. There was something special about those women -- it was not the way they were dressed or how they looked -- it was how they related to one another and how they participated in the group. I came to know very little about them during that day-long workshop, only that they were a part of a prayer group that met every Tuesday morning at 6:30 for study and sharing and praying together. After that conference, one of these women wrote me a letter. Listen to a part of it:

“I thought you might be interested in our group of six -- obviously thoroughly enjoying the Lord and each other.

One, an alcoholic, given the simple medicine of love -- last drink November, 1973.

One, whose husband left her with two boys -- he living here with a “fancy lady” -- she making it alone by the power of Christ.

One, who has just won a battle over cancer.

One, who has just gone through the anguish of placing her mother in a nursing home due to advanced arteriosclerosis.

One, whose husband had an affair -- now both ladies are in a prayer group, praying hand in hand each week.

One who was on the verge of a nervous breakdown before coming to Junaluska, NC, now praising the Lord.

She concluded her letter by asking, “How is that to prove that joy and peace are in the Lord while life grinds on?” Then she added a rather humorous sentence, “Bet you wonder which is which -- but that’s the secret.”

Those women have made the magnificent discovery that you and I know but really need to practice more -- the conviction that the working power of God in the past can be brought into the present.

Rehearse what I’ve said. To be alive in Christ means:

1) not only is the presence of God in Jesus Christ only to be experienced on occasion, the indwelling Christ is to become the shaping power of our lives;

2) what Christ has been and done for us, we must be and do for others; and

3) the working power of God in the past is to be brought into the present. Someone wrote of Mother Theresa: “She gave her life first to Christ then through Christ to her neighbors. That was the end of her biography and the beginning of her life.” So I’m going to continue my ritual, “Maxie, the secret is simply this, Christ in you, yes, Christ in you, bringing with Him the hope of all the glorious things to come.” Maybe -- just maybe -- my biography will end and my life will begin -- as I become more alive in Christ.