Approachable Saints
Tonight, I would like to talk about approachable "saints." I know that "saint" is a loaded term, affected both by language and tradition, so for the purpose of this evening's post, feel free to start from whichever definition you feel most comfortable:
Okay, I never considered things in quite those terms, but nonetheless, that's the essence of what I thought people were referring to when they talked about being a "mature Christian". A mature Christian measured up like Mary Poppins: "practically perfect in every way." Consequently, by such a definition, I never became a mature Christian. I never stopped to think that by such a definition, I would never become one. I never stopped to think that my own definition of Christian maturity was standing in the way of my maturity by discouraging growth. I was burdened by tremendous guilt that grew heavier and heavier with each passing year. I was living a lie, believing myself doomed to die for my sins.
Jesus never preached this message. The Bible doesn't preach this message. The Gospel is "good news". Jesus calls us to be perfect, knowing that most of us find this quite difficult. He doesn't call perfectly healthy people, but the sick, the frail, the hurting, the lonely, the fearful, the sorrowful, the poor. Jesus doesn't say fix yourself up and then you can call yourself a Christian. He says that His grace is sufficient to heal and make us whole.
Whatever your definition of the term, every "saint" was born a "sinner." When I finally realized this after many years of study, I found myself freed from guilt and prepared to follow Christ simply out of love for Him (rather than guilt).
I am one of the worst of sinners. I am guilty of nearly every sin known to mankind, if not in deed, then at least in my thoughts. Even so, as an avid student of history, I know that I am not the only one. I am in good company: Samson, King David, King Solomon, Jonah, Saint Peter, Saint Paul, Saint Thomas, Saint Augustine, and Saint Francis of Assisi, to name a few. Even, a quick read of my favorite Christian author, C.S. Lewis, reveals his life-long struggle with selfishness.
These heroes of the faith inspire me, not because they were "practically perfect in every way," but because they are approachable. They were real people, not "dead sinners, revised and edited." When we idealize them, we make them less inspirational, less approachable, less accessible, less human. In my Book, the only perfect person was Jesus Christ, the carpenter from Nazareth.
So, I've quit monitoring my progress and giving myself a failing grade. Instead, I'm taking each day at a time, confessing my sins to the Lord, asking for His grace to overcome them, and growing a little more aware of how far I have yet to travel on my journey. I trust He has been and will be my Fellow-Traveler, walking beside me every step of the way.
God's grace is sufficient for me...and for you too. I love you all.
- a Christian,
- a canonized Christian,
- a person called to holiness,
- a believer who has died and gone to heaven,
- a very virtuous Christian, or
- a martyr for the faith.
Okay, I never considered things in quite those terms, but nonetheless, that's the essence of what I thought people were referring to when they talked about being a "mature Christian". A mature Christian measured up like Mary Poppins: "practically perfect in every way." Consequently, by such a definition, I never became a mature Christian. I never stopped to think that by such a definition, I would never become one. I never stopped to think that my own definition of Christian maturity was standing in the way of my maturity by discouraging growth. I was burdened by tremendous guilt that grew heavier and heavier with each passing year. I was living a lie, believing myself doomed to die for my sins.
Jesus never preached this message. The Bible doesn't preach this message. The Gospel is "good news". Jesus calls us to be perfect, knowing that most of us find this quite difficult. He doesn't call perfectly healthy people, but the sick, the frail, the hurting, the lonely, the fearful, the sorrowful, the poor. Jesus doesn't say fix yourself up and then you can call yourself a Christian. He says that His grace is sufficient to heal and make us whole.
Whatever your definition of the term, every "saint" was born a "sinner." When I finally realized this after many years of study, I found myself freed from guilt and prepared to follow Christ simply out of love for Him (rather than guilt).
I am one of the worst of sinners. I am guilty of nearly every sin known to mankind, if not in deed, then at least in my thoughts. Even so, as an avid student of history, I know that I am not the only one. I am in good company: Samson, King David, King Solomon, Jonah, Saint Peter, Saint Paul, Saint Thomas, Saint Augustine, and Saint Francis of Assisi, to name a few. Even, a quick read of my favorite Christian author, C.S. Lewis, reveals his life-long struggle with selfishness.
These heroes of the faith inspire me, not because they were "practically perfect in every way," but because they are approachable. They were real people, not "dead sinners, revised and edited." When we idealize them, we make them less inspirational, less approachable, less accessible, less human. In my Book, the only perfect person was Jesus Christ, the carpenter from Nazareth.
So, I've quit monitoring my progress and giving myself a failing grade. Instead, I'm taking each day at a time, confessing my sins to the Lord, asking for His grace to overcome them, and growing a little more aware of how far I have yet to travel on my journey. I trust He has been and will be my Fellow-Traveler, walking beside me every step of the way.
God's grace is sufficient for me...and for you too. I love you all.
Good word of encouragement Danny Boy! I need a quick reminder of this more often than I actually get it.
ReplyDeleteWell said.
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