Boldly Weak
It is hard to tell people I am a Christian. To make that claim, I feel I need to have my act together, and I don't. I feel I can't struggle with deep character flaws, and I do.
I can be insensitive and quick-tempered even toward people I love most. I can be selfish and judgmental even when I have the advantage. I can be jealous and greedy even though God has given me everything. And this list is only a sample.
Am I a hypocrite if I say I believe in God yet do the things Jesus preached against? Is that not the very definition of a hypocrite? Can I be a Christian if I keep on sinning?
For all my shortcomings, I fear becoming like the Pharisees: professing belief in God, but living a corrupt life (Matt 23). At times, it feels more moral to hide my faith than to profess it, knowing I don't look like the God I say I believe in. I don't want to perpetuate any reputation the church has for being a band of hypocrites.
My usual response is to try harder to get my life in order, hoping one day I'll reach a point where I won't feel like an actor talking about God. I stay faithful to every rule and moral standard I can.
The trouble is, trying my best to look good for God has done little to mature me into a person of love. More often, it leaves me frustrated, confused, and judgmental.
My usual response is not right, nor is it effective (Romans 7, 8:3). It is the path of guilt and shame and the heavy burdens of religion. It is not the gospel. (John 3:17)
But if trying harder is not the solution, what is?
The story of Apostle Peter offers encouragement.
From the start of Jesus' ministry, Peter was not one to doubt Jesus or himself.
He was the first apostle to declare Jesus was the Son of God (Matt 16:16). He was the only disciple to step out of the boat to walk on water with Jesus (Matt 14:29). He was the loyal friend who cut off a man's ear in defense of Jesus (John 18:10).
Though Peter had his shortcomings, boldness was not one of them.
Yet despite his strong faith, he would eventually betray every ounce of resolve he once had.
In a moment of weakness, the first to declare Jesus as the son of God would deny ever knowing him (John 18:25). In a moment of weakness, the only to walk on water with Jesus would would fall away at his friend's loneliest hour (Luke 22:61). In a moment of weakness, the one who drew another man's blood for Jesus would not be able to stay awake as his savior prayed blood and tears in the garden (Matt 26:40).
The one who promised never to abandon his Lord would do exactly that.
Fortunately, the story doesn't end in tragedy.
Jesus is resurrected, and through a beautiful scene of redemption, he reconciles with Peter. In a moment of love, he forgives his bold friend's weakness and shows him his destiny (John 21:17-18). It changes Peter's life and the history of the world.
Before Jesus' crucifixion, Peter was strong in his faith. But it was not his strength that made him the rock upon which God would build his church (Matt 16:18). It was only the complete exposure of his weakness--seen, forgiven, and redeemed by Jesus--that set him free to love to the point of death.
When Peter's boldness was no longer rooted in personal strength but in weakness, he opened the doors for God's power to flood his life. Power to bring healing, forgiveness, and love into the world around him.
The man who once hid from Jesus' persecutors would go on to spread his Rabbi's message of love, though it cost him imprisonment and eventually his life. For his words, Peter would end up dying on his own cross upside down, for he did not deem himself worthy to be crucified upright like his savior.
Maturity of our faith is not marked by the vigor with which we defend it or the confidence we have in our resolve to follow Jesus, but in our humble willingness to be led where we would rather not go for the good of others (John 21:18).
To enter into God's Kingdom, we do not need to be perfect, only aware that we are not. Indeed, the surprising requisite to enter is not virtue but repentance (Matt 3:2).
He can redeem our weakness and use it for good. However, if we never let go of the illusion of our own strength, we leave little room for him to be our strength. (2 Corinthians 12:10)
Jesus has compassion for the vulnerable, like the sick and the undeserved, like the criminals. The ones who have great debts but are forgiven much. The ones who work the least but are given the same payment as the rest. The ones who know they need him.
It seems the only people he does not offer much help to are those who deny needing any (1 John 1:10).
When the religious establishment questioned the people most easily labelled "sinners," he defended them:
Who loves more? The one who is forgiven little or the one who is forgiven much? (Luke 7:42)
Who needs a doctor? The healthy or the sick? (Matt 9:12)
Will you be stingy because I am generous? Should you be jealous because I am kind? (Matt 20:14-16)
Pride in the form of denial is the great obstacle between patient and doctor, debtor and forgiver (Psalm 138:6). God is not one to push freedom onto those who don't see themselves as enslaved or to heal those who don't see themselves as sick. (John 8:31-38)
Perhaps the opposite of a saint is not a sinner, but a good person who cannot see the depths of their sin. (Luke 15:7)
The path away from the Pharisees and toward the saints is lined with lanterns of grace. It is walked by those who do not cover their sin for fear of its exposure, but those who let the light illuminate sin for fear of its obscurity from the only one who can heal it.
Entrance to this path does not require merit or virtue but only the humility to admit I have no merit or virtue of my own.
It is gospel at its core. We are utterly broken, he is utterly good, and he covers our brokenness with his goodness. For everything we are and everything we aren't, we are welcome in the Kingdom of God, weakness and all.