Are we happy plastic people under shiny plastic steeples
With walls around our weakness and smiles that hide our pain?
But if the invitation's open to every heart that has been broken,
Maybe then we'd close the curtain on our stained-glass masquerade.
— Casting Crowns, Stained Glass Masquerade
Wake up, Christians!
How many times have I heard the phrase, "There but by the grace of God go I" referring to the depravity of the human heart? You hear about murders, rapes, robberies, and the list goes on ... and you think soberly to yourself, "only the grace of God has preserved me from such wickedness." WHAT ARROGANCE! That thought comes from the heart of the Pharisee in the temple, thanking God that he is so much more righteous than "that tax collector over there". Thank you, God, that my slacking off at work isn't as evil as the Bank of America robbery! Thank you, God, that my lust isn't as wicked as John Doe's adultery! Thank you, God, that my unbridled temper is less sinful than the latest drive-by shooting!
The harshest words Jesus ever spoke were not to "sinners" or unbelievers — they were to the religious leaders of his day, to the Wesleys and Luthers and Sprouls and Grahams and Spurgeons — the men that all the world revered for their righteousness. He did not revile their good works or their godliness. He reviled their arrogance and hypocrisy — the arrogance and hypocrisy that I see in so many Christians today. As you read this, you who "asked Jesus into your heart" at the age of five or six, you who grew up in a Christian family, you who would not dare to steal cookies from the cookie jar, you who teach Sunday School and attend every prayer meeting and travel on mission trips twice a year, you who have been praised openly and secretly for your godly life ... do you not realize that your wickedness is every bit as damning as Esau's and Judas's and Hitler's and Cain's? Can you not see that YOUR blasphemy, YOUR malice, YOUR lust, YOUR greed, YOUR hatred, YOUR envy, and YOUR rebellion against the God of the universe is what put His Son on the cross? Who cares what John Sinner says or does? If you only knew your own heart, you'd be on your knees imploring God for forgiveness and begging John Sinner not to hate you for the evil in your heart.
I have seen in many people's lives — including my own — a fear to be open, a fear to admit brokenness, a fear to acknowledge that (guess what) CHRISTIANS ARE NOT PERFECT! Where does the fear come from? It's the fear of being rejected by those who are somehow "more godly", the fear of being despised for sharing the radical depravity of the human race, the fear of becoming a victim to Christian arrogance. And I am sorry to say that I have also seen the justification for that fear; I have seen Christians who more quickly judge behavior than character, who will judge the heart by the actions instead of the actions by the heart — Christians who would (in analogy) scold someone for attempting suicide rather than offer their own shirt as a tourniquet.
We need Christians who are strong enough to admit their weaknesses, Christians who are willing to expose their flaws, Christians who can say, "The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?" The church is desperate for believers who put aside their arrogance, take up their cross, and follow CHRIST instead of their own filthy rags of self-righteousness. Christians who know they're broken need friends who know their own brokenness. Then only are we safe to acknowledge our brokenness and so seek healing together.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer says so excellently in his essay on Confession and Communion,
According to Jesus’ promise every Christian believer can hear the confession of another. But will the other understand us? Might not another believer be so far beyond us in the Christian life that she or he would only turn away from us without understanding our personal sins? Whoever lives beneath the cross of Jesus, and has discerned in the cross of Jesus the utter ungodliness of all people and of their own hearts, will find there is no sin that can ever be unfamiliar. Whoever has once been appalled by the horror of their own sin, which nailed Jesus to the cross, will no longer be appalled by even the most serious sin of another Christian; rather they know the human heart from the cross of Jesus.
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