I imagine you’ve thought about dying or about the what-if’s of how you might die. I do. And I honestly hate thinking about it. I think I’m invincible just like my five-year-old son does. You do too. I’ll tell you why.
We rarely think about the fact that we all should be dead already. Let’s zoom out and remember something—the wages of sin is death. And, oh have we sinned. And there’s a holy God out there who cannot be near sin. So what are we left with?
Most world-views would have us look within ourselves to find the solution. Or perhaps we can crawl up the heavenly ladder of piety in order to persuade the deity that our good outweighs our bad. But there is no security in that. None.
Entering into Our Story
Yet, like C.S. Lewis notes, “[God] comes down; down from the heights of absolute being into time and space, down into humanity; down further still . . . [to] the womb . . . down to the very roots and sea-bed of the Nature He has created” (Miracles, 115). God coming down changes everything. Jesus enters into our broken, weathered, distressed, war-torn world and forever became what humanity has wished they could be, but never could. Jesus became a messy human, with messy hair, bad breath, leg cramps, and hunger pains all while remaining completely sinless, perfect, and divine. This makes no sense if you think about it in terms of other worldviews we chase. But now we’re onto to something because we have to ask the paramount question. Why did he come down and enter our story?
I remember J.D. Greear summarizing Christianity with four brilliant words: “Jesus in my place.” This is where it all comes together. This is where everything changes. This is the why.
But inside the church we tend to categorize sinners far too often. Jesus never categorized sinners. We as his Church and his Bride have too often strayed far and are guilty of this. We can’t forget the whole story of Christianity is about a lost bride being rescued by her groom. The point to remember is that we’re lost without our Redeemer.
Yet within too many church walls we see the fingers pointing (implicitly) at those who are suspect of being sinners. There are those who are suspect and those who are not. If you open up about your sin, you may be quarantined and labeled as suspect. (I recently heard of someone who confessed their sinful thoughts at a men’s accountability group and within 24 hours the pastor of the church had called the police for a sex crimes case to be opened! I’m not kidding.)
Embracing Sinners
Sinners don’t need to be quarantined. They need to be embraced. They need to be welcomed, not ostracized. When sinners inside the church feel categorized, they feel the need to generalize their sin. And like my friend Sarah Taras says, “When we speak of our sins in a general sense, we speak of the gospel in a general sense.” And she adds that speaking of the gospel in a general sense doesn’t help anyone. The gospel speaks to us specifically and draws us out of our comfortable sins and leads into the shining, brilliant, loving light of Jesus. He speaks to us not in a general sense, but in real, tangible way. He reminds us that our skeleton sins can be “thrown onto the street” so to speak, because all that we’re scared of has already been known by the All-knowing One and still draws near to us.
Because of the gospel we can draw confidently into church circles and be open about our sins because we have a true heart “in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water” (Heb. 10:22)
We can stand among the suspect (because we all are) and be confident in the absolution the cross of Christ offers. That sin, yes that sin, is covered in the blood of Christ and is forever forgotten in the sea of forgetfulness. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
Forgiveness is comprehensive. The gospel announces forgiveness is total and final. Once this grips our hearts, we find healing together as wounded, death-sentenced sinners having cried out for mercy and received it in full. We’ve been carried by the Great Physician out of our death camp, embraced so tightly, and seated right next our Heavenly Father who is lavishly smiling.
My friend Kimm Crandall says it best. “May we be brave enough to be the first to ‘raise our hand’ when someone shares their sin. Let’s have the gospel guts to struggle together.”
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Jeff Block (@JeffBlock) is claimed by Christ, united to Leanna, and father to Asher and Corban. He serves with First Baptist Church of Lemon Grove in San Diego, CA. He holds a B.A. in Journalism and an M.A. in Theological Studies. He writes, blogs, and talks about the gospel of grace a lot. He is a contributor at Dropping Keys and writes regularly at Bridging the Gospel and tweets unabashedly at @JeffBlock.
Originally published at Bridging the Gospel. Used with permission.