I received a joke in my e-mail at home the other day. But my computer died. So I'll try to recreate it as best I can from memory, because it bears repeating.

A man dies and meets St. Peter at heaven's gate.

He receives a cursory welcome and Peter fills him in on the entrance requirements.

"You need 100 points to pass through the gates of heaven."

"Fine," replies the man, ready to tally up his considerable score.

"I have been married to my wife for 50 years, and never gave a thought to straying," he boasted.

"Excellent," Peter said. "Two points."

"Two points?" the man replied. "That's all?"

Shaking his head at the penurious value, the man brings up his next point getter.

"I gave generously to the poor."

"One point, said Peter, marking it down.

"I went to church every Sunday, memorized every hymn and won a prize in children's church for memorizing the most verses," the man continued, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"One point."

"One point? That's all?

"Why, this is preposterous. At this rate, the only way I'll get into heaven is by the grace of God!"

"100 points," Peter exclaimed, "Welcome home."

The point system. A check-off guide to Christianity. How many good deeds are needed to counter the considerable weight of a bad deed? When is good good enough?

It's an age-old question. And many minds sharper than mine have tried to answer it. Massive trees have been felled in magnificent forests to hold the words of the wise in this matter. Endless lists have been written into tradition to help guide the heaven seeker on his way.

Do this.

Don't do that.

OK then, do this and don't do that again.

Or, do this and if you do that again, come back, and do this again.

Then there's the "if you've done this, and this, and this and keep doing this, we'll make sure you get to heaven."

I even encountered a teaching that said that only a certain number of believers would actually get to heaven. And it was a precise, but meager, number. They would get there, according to the teaching, by their good works and their righteousness. I knew I would never, ever make that cut and was forced to end the study. Further independent study revealed the error in their thinking and I was able to discard it as a false teaching. I pity those who stopped studying there. I'm sure many walked away, knowing they too could never make that cut, deciding that heaven simply wasn't for the likes of them. I shudder to think of their hopelessness.

Jesus warned his followers repeatedly about false teachers and false teachings. And he repeatedly turned them back to what he said, what he did, what he taught.

And this wasn't namby pamby Nancy-boy stuff either. Read through the Gospels. Read through the Sermon on the Mount beginning in Matthew 5. It's short, to the point, and it is a powerful lesson on living a life that pleases God. And it is an impossible list.

Anyone who reads it with a modicum of honesty will soon find himself, as I did, standing off in the corner, beating their breast, crying, "God, have mercy on me, a sinner." (Luke 18:13)

The man at heaven's gate stumbled upon the truth out of sheer frustration. He kept his list, checked it twice, and just knew he was good, surely good enough, to achieve the 100 points necessary to gain access to heaven.

I had to throw away my score card years ago. My debt is more than I can ever pay.

Back to the basics -- back to Scripture, back to discover precisely what Jesus said, what Jesus did.

First and foremost, every day, in every way, no matter the circumstances, he trusted God.

To provide.

To protect.

To defend.

To heal.

To be -- when all else was said, and done -- God.

And then, he went about his Father's business. He lived in obedience to his Father, humble before him, even to the point of death.

This bears repeating, every day of my life, because I can never be good enough:

"God, have mercy on me, a sinner." Luke 18:13 (NIV)

Things you won't see in heaven: Score cards