Well, to each his own. I chose my path, you chose the way of the hero. And they found you amusing for a while, the people of this city. But the one thing they love more than a hero is to see a hero fail, fall, die trying. In spite of everything you've done for them, eventually they will hate you. Why bother? --The Green Goblin, Spiderman
Heroes fall.
All the time.
Especially in the church.
The list is a long one from televangelists to ordinary, everyday pastors. Something comes along and knocks us down. Two of the biggest hero slayers: sex and money.
Recently, one of my heroes of the faith was knocked down: Ravi Zacharias. If you travel in the circles of apologetics, you know who I am talking about.
Ravi was world renown. He preached and lectured throughout the world. He was seen on university campuses. He was invited to lecture halls. He spoke in large congregations and at conferences. He portrayed himself as a man of integrity; a man who had been radically changed by God's grace; a man who often said that his "hungers" had been changed drastically.
And I have no doubt that this was the case. I have no doubt that Ravi had been radically changed. I have no doubt in the sincerity of his commentary.
But there was a secret Ravi kept; a secret hidden where very few saw. There was a hunger that still ate at him and gnawed in his being. It was a hunger that only was revealed after his death, and he was not able to speak to it or deal with the consequences of it. He will no doubt answer to Almighty God, and I hope that he was truly convicted of God's grace--for that grace will cover him as it covers all of us who are both saint and sinner at the same time.
Sexually inappropriate behavior now haunts the legacy of Ravi and has tainted much of his work. It shouldn't, but purity codes die hard. Public Christians are still held to a different standard than others. And when you break those standards, it can be brutal.
Again, it shouldn't be, but this is reality. It is a reality that we clergy must face head on. No matter how many times we want to say that we are just like everyone else, and we are; we are not held to the same standards.
And I think we should be as open and honest as possible to tell folks, "Look, we know that we are supposed to be above reproach. We know we should be pillars of morality, justice, and a model of the godly life. We know every bit of this, but we are still saints and sinners. We will eventually break those high standards."
You see, sometimes a spotlight shines into the inner darkness where we hide those secret sins, and they are brought into the open. It's not a pleasant experience for us or for those who look up to us. And so we must admit our imperfection. We must admit our brokenness. We must continue to admit our status as redeemed sinners, not perfected sinners.
This is one of the reasons I am glad to reside in the Lutheran faith tradition. Our namesake, Martin Luther had sins of his own even after his transformation due to grasping the knowledge of grace. A quote is often attributed to him, "I know in baptism the Old Adam is to be drowned, but I discovered that he is a good swimmer."
Indeed, the Old Adam is a good swimmer. Even though our appetites are changed by grace, the sinful appetites still reside, and they depart waiting for an opportune time. And when they hit, they are merciless! It does us no good to pretend that they are not there. It does us no good to tell others that we are not tempted. It does no good to tell others that we are completely and totally transformed.
We are saint, but we are also still sinner.
So, why bother? If we are still a sinner; if we are bound to fall; if we are bound to face public scrutiny for that falling and failing; why preach? Why teach? Why continue to put ourselves out there in the public's eye?
Because it's right.--Spiderman, in response to the Green Goblin
Because it is the right thing to do, especially if you have experienced the grace of God; especially if you have experienced the call of God; especially if you know that your life has been radically altered by the love of God in Christ Jesus. It's the right thing to do.
God uses sinful human beings to convey His message, not because we are perfect but precisely because of the opposite: because we are imperfect. Face it, the vast majority of people know their imperfections. They cannot (and they oftentimes do not) relate to someone who believes they are perfect. They know (despite the lie that they are often told), that they are not perfect the way they are, and they want someone who understands that. They need to see that there is hope for imperfect people; that there is redemption; that there is acceptance and love. Not that anyone's flaws are ignored or even condoned, but that those flaws are eventually transformed into absolute beauty.
The Christian message is taken by imperfect people to other imperfect people. Imperfect people who have been imbued with a sure and certain hope that even though at this time they are still imperfect; they still struggle with sin and desire; they still do not measure up; God has radically changed them by grace, and they do not rely on themselves in becoming perfect. They rely on God changing them. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes rapidly. And in their imperfection, they point to and give glory to God.
Because it's right.
Even if they fall.
Because God picks them up.
Every time.
Every.
Single.
Time.
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