Christian Sanctification: In “Theory,” It’s Easy

One of my all-time favorite quotes comes from the late baseball great Yogi Berra: “In theory, there’s no difference between theory and practice. In practice, there is.”

Yogi’s wisdom applies just as well to Christian sanctification as it does to baseball—or even quantum superposition. There’s often a wide gap between theory and practice.

Here’s how that gap has been revealing itself to me lately.

In theory, once we become believers, we are justified in God’s eyes. The old man is gone, the new man has arrived, and we’re walking confidently down the sanctification trail. Life is good.

It’s even better when the sun is shining and I’ve got my sunglasses and flat cap on, a John 3:16 t-shirt, shorts, and Jesus sandals—or Asics. This is how I attend simple church and walk as an ambassador of Christ. I take “come as you are” quite literally.

But God has a sense of humor.

Over the past few days, He’s turned my simple-church park into a nine-degree Texas deep freeze—and my sanctification trail into a sheet of ice.

No problem. I’ll just stay inside my warm home office and write in this journal.

Except first, I run into computer problems that should have a simple solution. My jaw tightens. I’m annoyed. I take two steps backward on the sanctification trail.

Grumble.
Grumble.
Grumble.

The old man may be gone, but he’s not completely out of sight. He’s like a pesky shadow. I think of the Apostle Paul counting his trials as pure joy. Really?

I paste a half-hearted smile on my face, head to the kitchen for a snack, make a pit stop—and discover the toilet is frozen. The space heater I planned to use to thaw the pipe quits the moment I turn it on. That space heater is only thirty-five years old! Junk, I tell you.

Off to Walmart for a new one. Sold out. Thank God for Home Depot.

Driving back home, I become painfully aware that my attitude might qualify me for the Anti-Christ MVP Award for the day. Terrible.

And then—almost without warning—a joy and relaxation sweep over my mind and body. The toilet nearly fixes itself. Problem solved through what I can only call Divine Assistance.

I grab my snack, return to my computer, completely forget the earlier computer problem, and write this journal entry.

Maybe God doesn’t expect us to be perfect every day any more than Yogi Berra could bat a thousand. Maybe the Apostle Paul had his grumbling moments alongside his joy in tribulations. And maybe—just maybe—God even uses something like quantum superposition to remind us that where we focus our heart, our lived reality tends to follow.

Perhaps theory and practice finally meet when we are simply walking with Jesus.

At the very least, the journey is far more enjoyable when we keep a sense of humor—and don’t take ourselves quite so seriously. 🙂