I often hear people my age and older (including me!) speak of the past in dripping sentiment – sometimes almost blindly so. The music of a certain decade, the fashion of an era, the architecture of a long gone time, etc…, it’s an easy temptation to not only embrace but evangelize for. When we’ve venerated a past practice or moment, we don’t just love it we tend to want everyone else to agree with us about it.

I like the design and look of many old cars (not much beats a ’63 corvette or a ’67 Mustang), and seeing them evokes a certain kind of feeling. However, to say, “that’s when they made real cars” is a dangerous expression because until the mid-60’s that amazing vehicle probably didn’t have power steering or a seat belt (and certainly not an airbag or navigation system we’ve grown so fond of). So it was “real,” – real dangerous. Rose colored glasses allow us to see great things about previous times all while we overlook the lack of air-conditioning, hot water heaters and Prime 2-day shipping.

This is a form of cognitive bias called the nostalgia effect. It is a way of thinking about the past with more fondness than the comprehensive facts of the past probably support. It’s easy to call them “the good old days” when we are only remembering the 20% of those days that were simpler, slower or objectively better. And this is not just a cultural or social phenomena, it is also a spiritual one. Christians are not immune to this, and part of Luke’s account of the Jerusalem Council reveals this.

Acts 15 is a fascinating view of the early church and the way its central influence was called upon to clarify what was happening in places outside of Jerusalem.  And, as has been the case in many instances since then, there was an argument at a church business meeting.

All of this had to do with whether Gentile believers who had not grown up in Judaism or under the Law of Moses had to now adhere to the law as a part of their new life in Christ. Paul and Barnabas travelled to Jerusalem to advocate for the Gentiles and seek clarity through dialogue with the apostles and elders. And as these two missionaries were traveling to the meeting they began testifying, telling the stories of salvations and signs that God had performed in the cities they travelled through. Upon their arrival in Jerusalem they seem to have continued with much of the same passion as “they declared all that God had done with them” (Acts 15:4).

At this point in the timeline of Acts 15 it’s important to remember we are basically reading about believers in Jesus. This is not everyone in Jerusalem, these are exclusively people who have received the finished work of Christ on the cross for their salvation. Which makes verse 5 much more interesting than it should have been. 

But some believers who belonged to the party of the Pharisees rose up and said, “It is necessary to circumcise them and to order them to keep the law of Moses.” – Acts 15:5

What is the immediate response to Paul and Barnabas’ testimonies? Unsurprisingly, it is a  group standing up to say, “these new believers have to do everything we do or else they aren’t with us.” It seems the church in the beginning was not so different than the church today; too often good news will find some group of people so narrowly focused on what they prefer that they wind up strangling enduring triumph with tiresome technicalities.

The voices Luke cites here are plainly cited. The author of Acts wants us to be crystal clear as to the identity of these joy-thieves who couldn’t wait to pipe up and speak of circumcision and the Law of Moses. They were “some believers who belonged to the party of the Pharisees.” Look at the dichotomy of the description.

• They were “believers.” They were following Jesus, the very term indicates they had enough confidence to walk by faith and submit to the Spirit’s work in them.
• But they also were those who had “belonged to the part of the Pharisees.” So it seems they were not merely seen for who they were presently but they were also clearly known by who they had been.

These words should simultaneously shock us and send us running to a mirror. There is a strong temptation to believe we have left behind all of the baggage of who we used to be once we knelt before Christ. And nothing clarifies our assumptions about our freedom like finding ourselves in a situation where someone who has done less than us is being given equal status as us.

And a powerful truth emerges with strong clarity: as we follow Jesus, it is far easier to leave behind the things we know were bad than it is to leave behind the things we thought were good. 

It’s not difficult to see how salvation might require me to cease my drunken pillaging of innocent lives on Friday and Saturday nights. It is, however, more difficult to see how God might be just as ferociously determined to purge my heart of the way I believe being born in a free country or being able to change my own oil makes me more valuable than the Christians who vote for socialized medicine or the believers who spend too much time on the weekends playing video games when they ought to be working on home improvement projects.

It seems those who had “belonged” – see how it’s past tense – to the party of the Pharisees were still struggling with the sufficiency of Jesus. And that’s not clear because they mention the Law, it’s clear because the Law is the first thing they mention. They do not first celebrate with Paul and Barnabas. They do not first ask questions about how the Spirit moved in the Gentile cities. They immediately launch their own arsenal of nitpicks before they’re wiling to lift their hands in worship.

And before I (and maybe you too) get too judgmental, I have to remember this is probably not a one-time, past-tense event. It’s probably a wise diagnostic for every Christian to reflect and meditate on. Because what we considered “good” about ourselves before Jesus saved us might be far more adversarial to the Gospel in our lives than what was “bad” about us. Identifying and then looking closely at those “good” mindsets and behaviors to make sure we haven’t added something to the sufficiency of Jesus or superimposed some kind of cultural morality over the ways of the Kingdom of Heaven is hard work, but it’s purifying work.

I have a suspicion that many of us are holding onto our definitions of “good” even after we have supposedly exchanged good for God. And that doesn’t mean Jesus doesn’t love us. However, it does mean we might be missing some opportunities to celebrate and rejoice because we are so busy trying to do God’s job for Him.

It’s not hard to fall into the temptation of trading freedom for law even after we’ve received God’s grace in full measure. It’s as easy as taking something we know to be good and instead of being satisfied with it as it is, we try to replace the radical nature of God’s love with the moralistic behavioral system that makes us comfortable.  And then we are reminded, there is a difference between comfort and sanctification. Which is to say there is a difference between the past where God has brought us from and the future He is leading us into – not just earth to heaven, but old to new and life to death.