A pastor acquaintance of mine once came in and collapsed into the chair across from where I was sitting with another friend. He looked at us and said, “I’m done. I don’t want to be a pastor anymore.” He was tired of wearing the masks. I told him, “Don’t play the games,” but I wasn’t that religious about it. I think he thought I was joking—or that I was crazy (I get that sometimes.) But I was deadly serious.

Church should be the place where sinners gather to lick our wounds and encourage one another with the Gospel. Instead, church is a costume party, and everyone’s dressed as the best person there. As someone has said, it truly is the most dishonest hour of the week. There have been plenty of times that I felt like I could be more honest with the gas station attendant than with my congregation.

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of playing games.

I’m a sinner, and not just in the winking way we acknowledge that before other Christians. I’m corrupt to my core. (You too, by the way.) I sicken myself with the things I do and think and say. Most moments of most days I doubt my worth and would probably corrupt myself further just for a moment of your acceptance and friendship. My neutral gear is to run away and hide. Things get hard, I’m not going to seek you out, I’m going to be in a hole, feeling sorry for myself. I’m getting better, but not because of trying harder.

Grace frees you up. Before, it was all about keeping rules and looking good. No matter what was going on inside, I needed to keep up appearances in front of the lost, because that was my witness. And I didn’t want to send a poor soul to a fiery eternity in Hell by not always pretending everything was great, did I? There was so much guilt I couldn’t stand it. And all that smiling and pretending only served to either convince people we were lying (because some can see right through our masks) or that there was no way at all they could be good enough to come to God (because they believed our lies.)

People used to come up to me as a pastor and talk about how great my marriage, life and relationship with God must be. I would often just laugh. But sometimes I just couldn’t let the compliment pass and I pretended like it was true. Then I’d spit out some nonsense about praying more or studying the Scriptures more diligently. While they were applauding me, I was tumbling down the mountain of a crumbling marriage and church.

I did so many things wrong that I can't even begin to recount them all. But I won’t pretend to erase it, because of the Gospel. It’s important to me to stand up and say I'm screwed up, because very few people do. I’m good at the religious game. I could slip into that role and play it like a champ. To be clear, I’m capable, but not able. The longer I was in that world, the more I realized that playing the game—while it would give me longevity among certain Christians, as well as admiration—was downplaying the Truth.

The gospel saved my life years after the Good News of Jesus saved my soul. I had a high view of my sin and a low view of the gospel. I would sin, and find myself ashamed before God once again. I couldn’t imagine that he was so patient that I couldn’t out-sin his grace. Could it have been that I just had a high view of myself? How foolish was I to think that I could out-sin God’s love? Writing those words, words that once brought me to my knees in fear and shame… Now they make me want to dance in giggling joy at the silly idea of out-sinning God’s ravenous love—the core of the Good News.



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I saw an info-graphic type deal on Facebook today that, to sum it up, said ethics is not something one has to be a Christian to have. That’s a fact. But, that the argument has to be made at all shows that we Christians are somehow proposing that only Christians can be truly ethical.

That’s just not true.

And it’s fairly easy to empirically show that it’s not true. (Do I really have to waste precious space explaining that non-Christians do good things, too?) So the question becomes why we would be so vested in spreading the lie.

I’m glad you asked.

We espouse Christianity as a life of rules one must follow to appease a watching, angry God. Therefore, our faith is then about doing moral things. And if that’s the case (and it’s not), then how moral we are dictates how close we are to God. So, to imagine a world where a non-believer can be just as moral as a Christian seems ludicrous because “being better” is the domain of Christians.

That’s a corruption of the message of the Bible, but if one believes it then it becomes crucial to think the falsehood that non-believers cannot be moral.

There are lots of non-Christian jerks, and there are lots of Christian jerks. (The fact that there are lots—and lots—of Christian jerks alone should bear witness to the fact that we believers don’t have an ethical leg up on anyone else.) Ethics are everywhere…

…And ethics is not the message of Christianity.

The above is a message of fear, and faith in Jesus is the opposite of that.

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because he first loved us.” 1 John 4:18-19

The Christian faith is about love. To put a finer point on it—God’s love. The message that Jesus gave for us to tell has zero to do with our own morality or ethics. As a matter of fact, it is a message which demolishes any notion we might have that our goodness means a thing (and that's part of the reason we hate the message of grace). The Good News of Jesus only makes sense after one understands the very bad news that our very nature separates us from God and that there is nothing you or I can do to earn God’s love. But that’s why God came. That’s why Jesus chose crucifixion and shame—his great, ridiculous love for us. 



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We seem to believe that guilt is the ultimate motivation. “If you really loved God, you’d come to church more often… you’d stop smoking… you’d give more.” Guilt is our go-to when we need or want something. No, not just in the church, but certainly there. We Christians know how to use it to our advantage. And that's not a good thing.

THE GUILT LEASH

Guilt is not an emotion that we should want to rid ourselves of. While it's not pleasant, it serves positive social and moral functions. It motivates us to right wrongs and to repent. But guilt is a weird emotion, and so potent that it can become dangerous in the wrong hands.

I love talking to people who have just discovered grace--that God's love is unearned. A lot of silly, superficial "rules" go out the window and the freedom is dizzying. They are like newborn chicks, and I mean that in the best possible way.  They go boldly at times, but at others they are hyper-conscious of their surroundings, nervous that they might be taking grace too far.

Like with most of our learned behavior, a lot of it has become such a part of who we are that we don't see it as negative until someone else points it out. A lot of times, all those curious chicks need is permission to be free. Guilt so warps us that we don't even know what freedom looks like. We're so used to the pull of that guilt leash that we're always waiting for its sudden yank against our necks. With God, there is no leash, only loving arms.

You feel guilty? Go to God. Still feel guilty? That's a lie.

GUILT IS AN ALARM

Guilt serves much the same purpose that pain does in the body. If you've got an awful ache in your gut or your big, Fred Flintstone toe, then that's probably pointing to an issue that needs to be taken care of. Guilt is even a type of pain. And it's presence signifies that there is an issue that needs to be resolved.

Maybe you were rude and you need to apologize. 

Perhaps you took something when someone wasn't looking.

Could be that you gave in to temptation again.

Guilt. It's a sign you should do something about it. But what if you already have and you still feel guilty?

People who have lost limbs often talk about an odd, phantom pain where that appendage once was. Is that pain real? Your brain thinks it is. That's sort of how unhealthy guilt works. You've apologized, you've returned the stolen merchandise and you've asked forgiveness. There may be some actual consequences to your actions that you need to take seriously (jail, for instance), but guilt is over and done.

REGRET, NOT GUILT

Guilt is a proclamation. It is the firm fact that we have committed a wrong. Regret is simply the knowledge that you messed up coupled with a desire to do better next time. It is a permanent mental stop sign against that behavior. It's not the same thing as guilt at all.

But do you see how stinking amazing it is to no longer be found guilty of that which we are clearly guilty? That's God's forgiveness.

It should be the kind of forgiveness we strive toward as well.


People will be quick to remind you of your sins. And you will want to spiral and feel guilty all over again. You can still have regret over your actions, and act accordingly--as is healthy--toward a wronged individual. (For instance, if you stole from someone, you will have to work long and hard to earn back their trust.) But forgiveness crushes that heavy weight of guilt on your shoulders to bits and whisks it away forever.

So, understand, if you still feel guilt, it's just a lie.

Our false guilt is a symptom of other's need to control.
Our false guilt is a symptom of our need to control.
You can't be in control. Life doesn't work like that.
It's okay to be where you are. 

You can't be good enough to gain God's favor. The Creator of the Universe stepped into the Creation, becoming a man, perfect, sinless, to become sin and die in our place. Do you think He would have gone to such lengths if less porn and praying more would have cut it? 

The Good News is that Jesus' death and resurrection made forgiveness possible. Not just a little forgiveness until the next time you botch it up. All the forgiveness. Jesus traded his perfection for our sin because of his great love for us. That means, if you belong to him, you're clean. 

No more useless guilt. 

The only guilt you should allow in your life is that which sends you back to God when you mess up. If you screw up, you're going to feel it, and guilt can make you run from the one against whom you've sinned. But not if you know that He will always be there with open arms. Your forgiveness is a foregone conclusion. Repentance just brings you back to him after you mess it up.

No condemnation. I'll say it one more time: Guilt brings you to God, then it's done it's job. If you're forgiven, and you're still feeling guilty, that's a lie. Don't let someone steal your freedom. Don't let them control you.  





(unaltered) Photo credit: drp used under CC License