HEELCATCHER

Being a Christian does not mean that you do not have doubts. In fact, the absence of doubts would eliminate the need for faith.

Of course, let me first clarify something about faith.

Faith is not belief in something contrary to the evidence. That may be the definition of “faith” in our culture but it certainly isn’t the faith talked about in the Bible.

Luke began his gospel by stating his meticulous interviewing of eyewitnesses and his desire to write an accurate historical account. He did extensive research on the life of Jesus so that you may know the certainty of those things in which you were instructed (Luke 1:1-4).

Luke’s gospel and the Acts of the Apostles have been thoroughly tested archaeologically and historically with over eighty independent verifications of Luke’s accuracy in the Roman world. Sir William Ramsey, world-renowned archaeologist at Oxford University, stated:

Luke is a historian of the first rank; not merely are his statements of fact trustworthy… this author should be placed along with the very greatest of historians.

And the apostle Paul emphatically said that if Jesus Christ did not historically, bodily rise from the dead, then the whole faith of Christianity is a sham and those who follow it are basically the most pitiful people in the world, believing a giant hoax and a grand illusion with no value (1 Corinthians 15:12-19).

So faith is not belief in fairy tales that make you feel better. That is called gullibility or stupidity.

Biblical faith is trust.

It is recognizing that at the end of the day, we all have to trust something…someone.

We can only know so much. Our reason can only take us so far. We are limited. We are easily deceived. We are not in control. At some point, we have to put our confidence…our trust…our faith somewhere outside of ourselves.

I have always been a person of curiosity. I am generally introverted, reflective, introspective. I think about everything…sometimes overly so. Getting this mind to rest can be a challenge.

When I was young, I had a sense of God’s existence but I didn’t know Who He was or what He wanted from me. I feared death. I feared non-existence. This whole “meaning of life” thing seemed pretty important…pretty overwhelming…pretty confusing.

When I trusted Christ at the age of 12, life started to make sense. I began to see the world in a new way. My life had purpose. It was part of a bigger story. But getting to know God can still be a challenge. The “eyes of faith” are hard to develop. After all, how do you relate to an invisible, transcendent, omnipotent, incomprehensible God?

I started to have doubts. Is God really real? Is He really there? How can you know for sure? Is there truly life after death?

Big questions. I can’t think of too many bigger ones to ask.

I became interested in reading about the Christian faith, exploring the Bible, studying Christian history and philosophy, learning about other religions, pursuing truth.

I came to three conclusions that answered my doubts.

I actually told these three conclusions to a young lady dying of cancer who asked me for re-assurance of her faith…at a time when what you believe is put to the test.

1. This world is too incredible to have gotten here by chance.

Look around. Really look around. Be amazed by the immensity, complexity, and beauty of the world around you. Consider the information packed in your DNA. Observe the amazing design of your body…the incomprehensible reality of your very consciousness. Realize that the world around you is essentially energy held in place by a power that no one can explain. You can attribute all of this to random chance if you want…but realize that that is a decision of faith and not science. Science cannot explain how absolutely nothing became the incredible world that you see. We can argue about the particulars but there is no doubt in my mind that the heavens declare the glory of God and the earth shows forth the work of His fingers (Psalm 19:1).

2. The Bible is too unique to simply be the word of men.

Whatever you think of it, there is still no more unique book in the world than the Bible. The most read book…the most translated book…the most influential book in history. Written by over forty different authors over more than one thousand years…three different original languages…and yet unified in its story. God creates the world and humanity. Humanity disobeys and falls into sin. The world descends into greater and greater chaos. God announces a plan of redemption…through a family, through a nation, through a Seed. A baby born into the world that He actually made. God visited humanity…as a human! Not to judge but to save. To die for our sin. To conquer death. To offer us new life. To redeem our bodies. To redeem the earth. What is lost in Genesis 3 is regained in Revelation 21. The story is complete…and we are part of it.

3. Jesus Christ is too extraordinary to be an ordinary man.

Again, whatever you think of Jesus Christ, He is still the most extraordinary man to walk this earth. Born in poverty…in an obscure town…to a subjugated people. He didn’t write a book…didn’t command an army…didn’t hold any political office or position. He died at the age of 33…executed as a criminal in the Roman empire. His only remaining disciples fled in cowardice…hid in fear. Until three days later when He rose again from the dead. The message preached over and over by His disciples was simple and direct…Jesus died on the cross for our sins and rose again bodily on the third day to demonstrate His power over sin and death. Christianity would have stopped in a heartbeat if someone could have found His body, proved the whole thing was a hoax. Instead the formerly cowardly disciples became a force to be reckoned with…willing to die for their eyewitness testimony of the resurrected Lord. And they literally changed the world…with a message that eventually reached me two thousand years later.

I can still have doubts. I still wrestle. I still struggle to understand the Bible…the sufferings of this world…the apparent absence of God in times of need…the “inner workings” of prayer…the overt failures and faults of those who claim to follow God…and how all this fits together in the chaotic craziness of this life.

But like Simon Peter, I come back to this simple declaration of faith:

Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. Also we have come to believe and know that You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God. (John 6:68-69)

Where else can you go? Who else can you trust? What else can you put your hope in?

What solution do you have for death?

Ultimately you have to put your faith somewhere.

As for me, I cast my lot with the Nazarene, the resurrected One, Jesus the Messiah.

I am perfectionistic. Maybe even a little OCD. Crooked pictures bother me. I hate finding spelling errors. I walk through our auditorium during the week and straighten out chairs.

Part of it is probably my personality…some from my family background and experiences…some from just plain weirdness (or maybe I should say “uniqueness” to make it sound better).

I remember the beginning of my sophomore year of Bible college. The first chapel service was focused on “praise reports” from the past summer. My classmates began standing up left and right talking about successful ministries…exciting mission trips…changed lives. I sat there thinking about my summer. I served as a youth intern in my home church. I expected to impact the church…I expected to pack out some Bible studies…I expected to change the world. Instead, my Bible studies barely drew a handful. My planned activities pretty much bombed. And I got chewed out by the pastor in front of the youth for a fairly innocent 19-year-old youth intern mistake.

I sat there feeling like a failure.

It certainly wasn’t the biggest failure in the world but in many ways it was an awakening in me that “success”…in ministry and in life…would be a whole lot more elusive and disappointing than I originally thought.

That same feeling of failure would continue to plague me at different times in my life.

Failing in competitions. Failing in sports. Failing in relationships. Failing my own expectations. Failing the expectations of others.

Failing as a son. Failing as a friend. Failing as a husband. Failing as a father. Failing as a man.

Just plain failing to measure up.

I have discovered that behind the drive to be perfect…to be successful in the eyes of others…is often a dreadful fear of failure.

In John 16:8, Jesus says that when the Holy Spirit comes, He will convict the world of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment.

This is the inner witness of God’s Spirit…in the heart of every individual who enters this world.

Righteousness. There is a righteous standard.

Sin. I fall short of it.

Judgment. I will be held accountable.

The Spirit works in concert with our consciences to amplify this inner awareness that there is a right way that we should act…there is a type of person that we should be…and we simply don’t measure up.

The universal ability to give excuses demonstrates this truth. No one has to teach you how to make excuses. It comes naturally to the human heart.

In the book, Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me), social psychologist Carol Travis notes the following:

Most people, when directly confronted by evidence that they are wrong, do not change their point of view or course of action but justify it even more tenaciously. Even irrefutable evidence is rarely enough to pierce the mental armor of self-justification.

We hate being confronted with our failures…our mistakes…our selfish acts….so we become tenacious perfectionists, superficial succeeders, expert excuse-givers, master blame-shifters, critical comparers, self-deceived self-justifiers.

But the Spirit’s work of conviction…that nagging sense of falling short…is not meant to condemn…but to awaken.

We do fall short.

We do fail.

We are not the people that we are supposed to be.

But there is hope. There is a Savior. There is One who met the righteous standard…who bore our sin..who received our judgment.

His name is Jesus.

For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. (2 Corinthians 5:21)

Or put another way…

God made Jesus Christ, the only Perfect One who walked this earth, the full bearer of everything in us that fell short of His perfect standard…by taking our sin on the cross…out of His incomprehensible love…in order that He could freely give us the gift of righteousness…forgiveness…redemption…beautiful perfection…in Christ.

It is a divine exchange.

My failures for His perfection.

My sin for His righteousness.

My condemnation for His freedom.

My shame for His glory.

My death for His life.

That nagging sense of failure can still hit me. Almost every day as a pastor…as a Christian…I can feel like I fall short.

Not living the way I am supposed to.

Not loving the way I am supposed to.

Not leading the way I am supposed to.

God’s grace does not give me an excuse to fail. It does not add to my self-justifying ways.

Rather it gives me permission to admit my failures…and to know that I am still loved.

And it gives me power to overcome my failures…and to keep moving forward with joy.

Like a child learning to walk.

My Father does not scream at me whenever I fall.

Instead He smiles, picks me up, dusts me off, and sets me back on my feet…to learn to walk in His holiness…to learn to walk in His love.

Here is a simple dose of reality: You are not perfect. You are not perfect in your thoughts…in your motives…in your words…in your actions. That means that every day….really every moment…you fall short in some capacity. Maybe you think you don’t fall short as much as the person next to you…but you still fall short. And your critical critique of your neighbor implicates you even more.

So the question is not “do you fail?” rather it is “what will you do with your failures?”

As for me…I am going to run to the One whose love never fails.

Our world likes to paint with broad strokes. Categorize people. Put them in a box. It’s common to all of us. We can’t possibly know the intricacies and idiosyncrasies of every person we meet…so we slap a label on them so that we know how to identify them…how to think about them.

But we miss so much when we do this. We miss the heart. We miss the uniqueness of each individual. We miss our common humanity.

I chose the three descriptors above…conservative…evangelical…pastor… because they would be the common terms used to pigeon-hole me into a particular segment of our society. But they do not define me as a person. They only scratch the surface.

In around AD 400, Augustine wrote his classic, Confessions. It was revolutionary for its time. It was part autobiography…part philosophy…part theology…part psychology. Autobiographies existed back then but most of them exalted the author, downplayed weaknesses, framed them as heroes. Augustine instead exposed his weaknesses, his doubts, and his struggles…and exalted the sovereignty, grace, and mercy of Jesus Christ.

In the spirit of Confessions, I wanted to write a few of my own confessions at this stage in my life…having lived 51 years…and at this stage in my Christian life…having trusted Christ around 39 years ago.

Confession #1. I don’t have it all together.

I guess that should go without saying. None of us have it all together. But there is often a misconception that pastors somehow don’t struggle with every day problems, that they have some kind of special spiritual immunity that insulates them from anxiety, depression, discouragement, doubt.

As Christians, we often reinforce this misconception.

In our image-based culture, we try to portray the Christian life as a never-ending source of joy and happiness. “Who has problems? Certainly not us! We are believers in Jesus Christ!”

Believing in Jesus is almost seen as a “happy pill.” Become a Christian and you will feel better, live longer, have a better marriage, have well-mannered kids, and never lose your temper while stuck in traffic.

Christian maturity is oftentimes equated with stoicism. In other words, the more mature you are as a Christian, the less emotion you are to have in the face of the difficulties and tragedies of life.

Suck it up. Chin up. Cheer up. Cover up.

Wherever this view came from, it didn’t come from Scripture. Some of the greatest saints in Scripture had the biggest failures…and experienced the most intense of emotions.

David was described as a man after God’s own heart…not because he lived a perfect life…far from it (just ask Uriah)…and not because he lived like a robotic, emotional-less stoic in the face of life’s difficulties…not even close. David’s psalms cry out to God with intense emotion, pain, honesty, and tears.

Save me, O God! For the waters have come up to my neck!
I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing.
I come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me.
I am weary with my crying.
My throat is dry.
My eyes fail while I wait for my God. (Psalm 69:1-3)

Moses cries out:

I am not able to bear all these people alone, because the burden is too heavy for me! If you treat me like this, please kill me here and now–if I have found favor in Your sight–and do not let me see my wretchedness! (Numbers 11:14-15)

Job laments:

Why did I not die at birth?
Why did I not perish when I came from the womb? …
Why is light given to him who is in misery,
And life to the bitter of soul,
Who long for death, but it does not come? …
For the thing l greatly feared has come upon me,
And what I dreaded has happened to me.
I am not at ease, nor am I quiet;
I have no rest, for trouble comes. (Job 3:11, 20, 25-26)

In the New Testament, Saul…the self-righteous, have it all together, angry, zealous Pharisee…becomes Paul, the apostle…who boasts in his weaknesses…weeps for his countrymen…despairs of his life…and feels all of the emotional burdens and concerns of the churches that he planted and ministered to.

Bottom line…

Coming to Jesus does not make you “feel better” …it makes you feel more deeply.

It doesn’t deaden your heart…it awakens it.

It doesn’t numb your emotions…it enlivens them.

And in the security of grace…in the incredible realization that you are loved with an everlasting love…you are finally free to be honest with yourself…honest before God…honest with others.

Security allows vulnerability.

Vulnerability allows intimacy.

It is the gospel of Jesus Christ that brings us to a simple realization: I don’t have it all together.

I am impacted by sin.

I am dysfunctional.

But, God in His grace, through Jesus Christ, has loved me, saved me, adopted me, embraced me, changed me.

Not so that I can pretend that now I have it all together. But so that I can freely admit that I don’t.

So that in my dysfunction, I can lean upon His wholeness.

In my woundedness, I can find His healing.

In my anxiety, I can rest in His sovereignty.

In my weakness, I can experience His strength.

In my life, I have come face to face with anxiety, depression, and discouragement on many occasions. Being a pastor does not make me immune from these experiences. Indeed, to be a true shepherd of souls I should expect them.

It is the broken vessel that learns to stay under the faucet of God’s ever-flowing grace…and it is through the cracks that God’s blessings can stream out upon others.