Abounding Grace

Ready for a cliché? Nobody’s perfect.

Earth-shattering, isn’t it? I bet you’ve never heard that one before.

It’s one of the most common truths out there. It is impossible for a human being to be perfect. All we can ever be is better, but better will never reach its end. We can never get our better to reach perfect. It’s just part of being human.

Recently, I’ve encountered a new level of imperfection, if that makes sense. And it’s been opening my eyes to one of the most powerful and painful and wonderful things I’ve yet experienced.

Growing up, I always had a list of things that I swore I would never do. You know, things that we swear to ourselves and to other people that we would never ever do. Things we couldn’t possibly ever do. And we believe that. We believe we’re incapable of doing something so awful. We believe that we’re a good enough person that we would never fall to that level. We believe that we’re somehow better than other people–better than the people who have fallen there.

I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one with a list like that. And there’s nothing necessarily wrong with having one. It’s good to not want to do bad things. The bad part?

What happens when you do one of those things?

It doesn’t matter which one. All that matters is that it was on the list. It was something you didn’t think yourself capable of doing, but you’ve done it. Maybe you’re still doing it.

It’s one of the oldest traps in the book, I think. We make the list to make ourselves feel secure in our “good”-ness. We say, “At least I haven’t done any of these things.” And we think this is fine. What we don’t realize is that by making a list of things we don’t think ourselves capable of doing, we’ve practically drawn a map for Satan, leading him right where he can land the most damaging blows.

What better way is there for him to discourage us and bring us down? Tempt us into doing the things on our lists until we actually do them, and then drive the knife into our hearts by pointing out that we’re hypocrites. We’re not the good person we thought we were. We’re despicable. We’re garbage. And then take it a step further. Get us to do it again. And again. And again. And suddenly this thing we swore we’d never do becomes something we’ve done many times. Something we can’t stop doing.

And the real grand slam? Make us feel so horrible about ourselves–make us feel so guilty about what we’re doing–that we feel too ashamed to bring it to God. We feel like we can’t show our face.

Bam. Suddenly, our relationship with God is practically non-existent. We’re stuck in this dark pit and we can’t get ourselves out.

We can’t get ourselves out. We’re not perfect, remember? By ourselves, we’ll never be perfect. But there is one way we can be made perfect.

Yes. The Cross. Insert Sunday School lesson explaining how Jesus died for our sins. I don’t mean to make light of it–it’s the most powerful part of our existence, the most important event in the history of the world. But I don’t want this to be a sermon. Here’s what I’m getting at:

That lesson I’ve been learning? It’s about what it is to be human and what it is to be a human saved by the Cross. To be human is to be flawed, and imperfect, and sometimes good but sometimes very evil. To be a human saved by the Cross is to be all those things and still be made clean by the one who is the definition of perfect. To be made clean over and over and over again.

To be a human saved by the Cross is to be one of the scoffers in the crowd at Jesus’ crucifixion and to still be embraced and loved and saved by that same Savior.

When I accepted Christ ten years ago, I made a commitment to follow Jesus Christ and live my life in a way that glorifies and honors God. And don’t get me wrong, I felt the power of the Cross and what was done for me. That part wasn’t lost on me. But I would argue that I didn’t truly understand it yet. Because I had my list, and I had never done a single thing on it. I didn’t know yet what I was truly capable of.

I firmly believe that you can never truly understand the wonder and depth and power and beauty and love of the Cross until you’ve realized just how completely imperfect and flawed you are. Only when you’re eyes are opened to the kinds of despicable and awful things you are capable of doing–and perhaps have even done–will the meaning of the Cross truly move you the way it was meant to.

Only when you’ve done your unthinkable. Only when you’ve become the monster you’ve always despised. Only when you see what evil you’re truly capable of. Only when you realize that you’re still loved the same by a perfect God. And only when you understand that Christ still died for you, fully knowing what you were capable of.

Only then will you truly understand the power of the Cross.

I’m capable of so much evil. And I’ve done evil I never thought myself capable of.

But I can still hear God calling my name, telling me to come back to Him. Telling me that I don’t need to come to Him perfect. Telling me He loves me just the same.

Why are you striving these days?
Why are you trying to earn grace?
Why are you crying?
Let me lift up your face
Just don’t turn away

– Tenth Avenue North

“…but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more.”  – Romans 5:20