The Savior’s Mission as told by Stephen E. Robinson in Believing Christ
Romans 3:23 tells us, “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God” and author Stephen E. Robinson affirms bluntly: “I sin every day, and so do you. We fail to be perfect on a more or less regular basis . . . [and yet] we cannot be allowed to dwell in the presence of God, sinful and imperfect beings as we are.” This dichotomy—“the alienation of imperfect humans from their perfect God”—often causes distress, worry and anxiety, and sometimes even depression and hopelessness.
Robinson’s book shows that the “good news” that the angel shared at Christ’s birth was not merely that Christ had come, but that Christ himself was the means of bringing us back into alignment with God. “Though separated from God, there IS a way we can become one with him again.” This unifying or one-ment is called Jesus’s Atonement. Robinson further says, “Not only must we believe that he is who he says he is, we must also believe that he can do what he says he can do. We must not only believe in Christ, we must also believe Christ when he says he can clean us up and make us celestial.”
Some people “mistakenly feel that in order for the Atonement to work in their lives, they must first become perfect through their own efforts. To illustrate this misconception, Robinson shares the Parable of the Bicycle, something that happened in their family a few months before.
The Parable of the Bicycle
One afternoon after work as I sat reading the newspaper, our oldest daughter, Sarah, who was then seven years old, came up to me and said, “Daddy, can I get a bike? I’m the only kid in our neighborhood who doesn’t have a bike.” I mumbled some kind of general and nonspecific assent, but Sarah lifted up the paper and looked me in the eye. “How, and when?” she asked.
Now it would not have been easy for us financially to buy Sarah a bicycle at that particular time, so I tried to stall her. “I’ll tell you what, Sarah,” I said. “You save all your pennies, and pretty soon you’ll have enough for a bike.”
“OK,” she said, and she went away—I was off the hook. A few weeks went by, and I was once again sitting in my chair after work, reading the newspaper. This time I was aware of Sarah doing some chore for her mother and being paid for it. Then she went into her bedroom, and I heard a sound like “clink, clink.”
“Sarah, what are you doing?” I asked. She came out of her bedroom with a little jar in her hand. It had once been a maraschino cherry jar, but she had cleaned it up and cut a slot in the lid. On the bottom of the jar were a bunch of coins. Sarah showed me the jar and said, “You promised that if I saved all my pennies, pretty soon I’d have enough to get a bike. And Daddy, I’ve saved every single one!”
Well, she’s my daughter, and I love her. I hadn’t actually lied to her. If she saved all of her pennies, eventually she would have enough for a bike. But by then, she would probably want a car. In the meantime, sweet little Sarah was doing everything in her power to follow my instructions, but her needs were still not being met. I was overwhelmed. “OK, Sarah,” I said, “let’s go downtown and look at bikes.”
We went to every store in Williamsport. Finally, in one of the big discount stores, we found it: the Perfect Bicycle. From halfway across the store, she knew it was The One. She ran and jumped up on the bike and said, “Dad, this is it. This is just the one I want.” She was thrilled.
Then she noticed the price tag hanging down between the handlebars, and with a smile, she reached down and turned it over. At first she just stared at it; then the smile disappeared. Her face clouded up, and she started to cry. “Oh, Daddy,” she said in despair, “I’ll never have enough for a bicycle.” It was her first bitter dose of adult reality.
The bike, as I recall, cost over one hundred dollars. It was hopelessly beyond her means. But because Sara is my daughter and I love her, I have an interest in her happiness. So, I asked, “Sarah, how much money do you have?”
“Sixty-one cents,” she answered forlornly.
“Then I’ll tell you what, dear. Let’s try a different arrangement. You give me everything you’ve got, the whole sixty-one cents, and a hug and a kiss, and this bike is yours.”
Well, she’s never been stupid. She gave me a big hug and a kiss and handed over the sixty-one cents. (Then I had to drive home very slowly because she wouldn’t get off the bike!)
Robinson goes on, It occurred to me that this was a parable for the atonement of Christ. You see, we all want something desperately—we want the kingdom of God. But the horrible price—perfect performance—is hopelessly beyond our means. At some point in our spiritual progress, we realize what the full price of admission into that kingdom is, and we also realize that we cannot pay it. And then we despair…Only then can we fully appreciate the One who comes to save.
At that point, the Savior steps in and says, “So you’ve done all you can do, but it’s not enough. Well, don’t despair. I’ll tell you what, let’s try a different arrangement. How much do you have? How much can fairly be expected of you? You give me exactly that much (the whole sixty-one cents) and do all you can do, and I will provide the rest for now. You give me all you’ve got and a hug and a kiss (that is, make this a personal relationship), and the kingdom is yours! Perfection will still be our ultimate goal, but until you can get it on your own, I’ll let you use mine. What do you say? Between the two of us, we’ll have it all covered. You will be one hundred percent justified.” Believing Christ (Deseret Book, SLC, 1992), 2-33