red pills and word vomit

Agent Smith: Do we have a deal, Mr. Reagan?

Cypher: You know, I know this steak doesn't exist. I know that when I put it in my mouth, the Matrix is telling my brain that it is juicy and delicious. After nine years, you know what I realize? Ignorance is bliss.

Agent Smith: Then we have a deal?

Cypher: I don't want to remember nothing. Nothing. You understand? And I want to be rich. You know, someone important, like an actor.

Agent Smith: Whatever you want, Mr. Reagan.

From The Matrix (1999)

Cypher was one of a few in the movie exposed to the reality of the human captivity. After choosing to accept the "red pill" and leave the facade behind, he discovers that reality requires him to address the gravity of the situation. The humans in captivity are unknowingly dependent on his team to set them free. The work is not glamorous -- it is survival.

When Cypher is given the opportunity to betray his team and return to the ignorance of the matrix, he asks for his knowledge of the truth to be taken away. He determines that it was better to live bound and happy than to be free and burdened.

*************************

My relationship with God has been a never-ending exposure to the truth and gravity of the worldly condition. At eighteen, I lived in a happy bliss: adhering to a "higher" moral code than others, but fully willing to explore certain joys that gratified my flesh. Had I progressed in this manner, I would have likely attained many of the luxuries the world covets, and sought little else to satisfy my eternal needs.

When the Holy Spirit filled me in the fall of '97, I willingly accepted the door that led to His grace and truth. The slow building of my spiritual discernment allowed me to keep one foot in the world as I explored the mystery of God. But as I began to see with eyes that knew the hearts of men, His love for creation prevented me from turning away any further.

Nine nights out of ten, I am eternally thankful for being ruined.

It is on the lonely nights -- the nights inhabited by only my Father and my relentless enemy -- that I begin to doubt. I ask myself, "What would have happened had I left the truth alone? Would I be out dancing with friends? Would I be sharing a meal with my kids? Would I be independently wealthy, with the means to fund my own institutional ministry?"

"Would I be happy?"

Cypher died before returning to the matrix, but his enemy never intended to fulfill his end of the bargain. He had already come to the point of no return. It makes me think of Judas Iscariot after his betrayal of Christ: given the silver he had "earned" to return to normal life, he couldn't shake his exposure to the Son of God. Whatever happiness Satan had offered was empty and lethal.

Christ doesn't offer me the option to return to my ignorance, even though it may often seem appealing to my flesh. I honestly believe that this is what the writer of Hebrews eludes to in 6:4-6.

It is impossible for those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy Spirit, who have tasted the goodness of the Word of God and the powers of the coming age, if they fall away, to be brought back to repentance, because to their loss they are crucifying the Son of God all over again and subjecting him to public disgrace

I recall hearing the arguments regarding eternal security with this passage, but I think we shortchange the writer's intent if we consider this a word about salvation. I believe that the writer understood that those fully exposed to the wonder and truth of the Holy Spirit cannot shake what they have tasted. This isn't about praying a prayer. Truly standing in the presence of the Almighty ruins the believer's ability to live according to the worldly facade. To know the truth -- to be filled with the Spirit -- and consciously reject it for the deception is impossible. An attempt to do so leads to a worldly misery and a spiritual grief known to few men.

I present this because there are days when the enemy would try to deceive me in this way. He asks me what life was like before my redemption, and how many friends I had. He asks if I would have willingly chose Christ and stood on the mountain of God had I known what I was accepting.

This is not elementary spiritual warfare. He is battling for my soul, and he intends to kill me.

My favorite passage in Jeremiah acknowledges this very battle. The NIV titles this passage "Jeremiah's Complaint," which I find a little callous. Jeremiah firmly speaks the truth of his ruin, the ensuing fallout, and what he must do as a result:

O Lord you deceived me, and I was deceived; you overpowered me and prevailed.

I am ridiculed all day long; everyone mocks me.

Whenever I speak, I cry out proclaiming violence and destruction.

So the word of the Lord has brought me insult and reproach all day long.

But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot. (Jeremiah 20:7-9, emphasis added)

Jeremiah admittedly had no idea what he would bring upon himself by following the Lord. His decision had made him an outcast to the world.

Like Jeremiah, I didn't fully count the cost when I walked into this journey. But God's word and His truth is so wonderful and life changing, that I have no option but to release it to a world that despises Him. Satan would have me regret my decision, but my understanding of this world and of the war I wage does not allow me to seek the ignorance that was stripped from my eyes. This is also a matter of life and death, and the captives are depending on me and others with open eyes to release them from their sentence. I must release the fire within my bones and preach of the wondrous grace of my Jesus.