Not a Christian

Those who leave everything in God's hand will see God's hand in everything.
~ Unknown

I am a Christian. If church was giving out certificates for perfect attendance, I wouldn't receive one. If God was giving out awards for best behaved, I wouldn't receive one. If the stars spelled out the name of the most generous givers or the most selfless servants, I wouldn't be among them (our pastor would; not me). But I am a Christian just the same. I am a person who believes the Bible is true, it reveals the character, plan, and work of God to all mankind. I believe that Jesus died, suffering every bit of the penalty I deserved for my sin, paying my debt in full and in return, He gave me His righteousness; He rose from the dead, the Firstfruits of many --myself included, proving His life, His blood, was the one and only sufficient sacrifice for sin. It is that clean slate, if you will, my new identity and the presence of the Holy Spirit in me, that emboldens and empowers me to live as Christ lived, loving others as He loved me. It is the work of God the Father, through Jesus Christ, His Son, by the power of the Holy Spirit. In my power I come up woefully short. It is in unlikely moments-- moments of weakness, rebellion, ignorance --that I often think I'm starting to look most like the Christian I want to be. 

Going back to the days of my childhood, sitting quietly in Sunday school, careful not to wrinkle my best dress, I wanted to be good; I wanted to please God and my parents and my teachers. But those days are few before the world begins to label you with names like "teacher's pet" and "goody-goody," and you realize that to gain the acceptance of your peers (which, on the average, outnumber your teachers by twenty to one) you must lose the approval of adults on some level. I wasn't prepared make sacrifices. I remained good in school and quiet in church, but when the grown-ups weren't watching I did all I could to prove I was not good and quiet. I was a fake and I learned to be --I thought-- pretty good at it. On the surface, I passed for a Christian, but I was not a Christian.

Fast forward twenty-five years, two marriages, two children, two divorces, lots of frustration and striving, even more guilt and weariness, to a time when I finally threw my hands up in surrender. Weakness, rebellion, ignorance left me decimated. On the surface, I was a mess; I didn't pass for anything much --certainly not a Christian. But I was the most authentic me I'd ever been. All the things I believed about God, now in the wreckage of my decisions, I promised to trust. I had no place to go but before the throne of God --homeless. I had no one who could save me from myself or even knew just how bad and how fake and how lost my self was --alone. I couldn't do anything to survive that kind of brokenness, much less make anything great out of it --weak. I'd been smacked squarely in the face with my arrogance, my do-it-yourselfism, my self-indulgence, and had learned the hard way that I had no idea what I was doing --ignorance and rebellion. But, I was a Christian. I am a Christian.

C.S. Lewis said, "The Christian does not think God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because He loves us." And I'm trusting Him to continue making me good. I am leaving everything in His hands and walking in a life planned by the One who loves me like no other. And if I appear broken or put together or frazzled or pious or tired or jealous or gracious --however I appear-- I will trust God to do whatever it takes in me to make me look more like Him, inside and out. Because I am a Christian.

Photo courtesy Mark Sutherland