There are few moments more socially humiliating than the denied high five. You walk through a group of people, see a friend in the crowd and throw up a big five, but alas, the so-called friend misses the gesture and you are left with your hand in the air. You have one
and only one option - the head scratch. If you can convince any witnesses that you really intended the scratch all along then you are safe, but you just know that everyone saw the denial, the rejection. You are a fool. The cover-up scratch failed, and you are humiliated, exposed, a goofy wretch.[He then explains that, as a Christian, he tended to cover up his weaknesses and issues, not wanting anyone else to see his sin. And his friends began to turn away from him because they couldn't relate. They saw him as fake, "like a mannequin in Christianity's window display." He goes on to say...]
I internalize and cover up my sin and weakness because I fear that any failure on my part implies a failure of Christianity. I must be perfect; otherwise Christianity is just a big flop, exposed as an elaborate hoax. The pressure is on and I must perform so that Christianity looks like a good buy.
This assumption is the exact opposite of the gospel. It is anti-gospel. To say that my failures somehow discredit Christianity completely disregards the cross! What pride and hypocrisy! Out of death we are made alive in Christ and our new identities are not bound up in our own righteousness, but rather the righteousness of Christ. It is by His perfection that we are presented as spotless before the Father. And while the Spirit does begin its healing work on our hearts, it is forever the work of Jesus that makes us children of God. I no longer have to disguise my sin for fear of nullifying the gospel. The gospel, rather, nullifies my sin, and frees me up to live as though transparent. The world can see through me - can see that I am needy and that there is a savior who triumphs over my brokenness.
It is not in my goodness that I truly relate to my friend. We relate to each other in confession, in our common condition.
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3 comments:
That is such an interesting perspective, and yet also a very common phenomenon. I can see how there are vestiges of good intentions within that.
Personally I fell on the opposite side of the spectrum in high school: I didn't want any of my friends to have any indication that I was a Christian for fear of standing out and appearing different than them. I really just wanted to fit in and so instead of trying to show Christianity in the form of perfection, I wanted to make Christianity appear indistinguishable from the non-Christian world. As you might imagine this mentality comes with it's own set of pitfalls and lifestyle that is very non-biblical.
Perhaps both of these mindsets share the common factor of fear... and The Bible says that "there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear".. hmmm, more thoughts to ponder...
Justin,
Very interesting...I see what you're saying. I guess most of us have experienced one side or the other of this struggle to live out our simultaneously justified and sinful existence in community. But I'm not so sure that you and Matt were struggling with altogether different things. Sure, the image you put forth is completely different, but in both cases the problem is pride. Or as you said so well, fear. Even for you, in putting aside your religion to be "cool," the problem (I'm guessing) was your strength more than your weakness. Everybody has their strategy (born out of fear) for avoiding coming to grips with who they really are. So, for instance, if we put you two into Jesus' story about the Pharisee and the tax-collector, you were actually both the Pharisee (as are we all until we are shattered to pieces by the law). So you chose two different paths, but to the same end - setting yourself apart and being "strong," when all God wanted was to for you to beat on your breast and say, "Lord have mercy on me a sinner." But, I guess to agree again with the heart of your point, tax-collector-ism is no better than Pharisee-ism of course. No matter your struggle, you experience the truth of the gospel only when you are laid bare.
I find myself resonating with Justin these days, but perhaps in a slightly different way: I don’t think I’m afraid of being seen as different (not 100% sure about it, though), but rather I go to great—sometimes even harmful—lengths in an effort NOT to alienate my friends from the gospel. I cuss, joke, and drink with them, all in an effort to demonstrate that Christ-followers can be real, imperfect people who can say bad words and have beers (when legal).
Then at times I step back and ask myself, “If the presence of Christ is the transformative, heart-altering, identity-defining force that I know it is, why do I look and sound just like those who don’t know him?” Where’s the “transformed life”? I realize that I’m afraid that the gospel won’t succeed unless I trip over myself to show my friends that I’m a real, rough-around-the-edges, mistake-maker like them—and not a mannequin in the window of the “Christianity store”. That means I’m basically saying that without my careful help, Jesus—the Gospel—is in danger of failing.
I know that Christ came first and foremost to change our hearts, not our habits and behavior. But I also know that “out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks” (Luke 6:45).
Maybe I need to focus less on altering or tailoring my habits and behaviors—let God produce the fruit—and focus more on accepting, embracing, and sharing God’s radical, life-altering love.
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