[N]one can trust in the merits of Christ, till he has utterly renounced his own.
— John Wesley, Salvation by Faith
This is so hard.
We are so good at polishing our own resume. We do such a good job listing off our own merits. We spend so much time telling ourselves “I am good enough” and “I deserve to be happy” that we cannot easily say “I am a sinner.” Indeed, some of us cannot say it at all and are upset at the notion that we need to.
I meet so many Christians who cannot comprehend the idea that they are sinners or that they need a Savior.
Other people, yes. But not them.
They have never murdered anyone or committed adultery. They go to church. They pray. They give. They do good works. Surely, this is enough. This is what they have been taught by example it means to be a Christian. Surely, Jesus must smile when he looks upon them.
We fight our whole lives to get ahead and prove we are worthy. As a result, we often cannot admit the one true thing and the first most necessary thing for our salvation — that we are sinners. We cannot admit that we need saving. We feel entitled to heaven and can explain why we deserve to get in. We do not worship God. We worship ourselves.
It is the most heart-breaking thing I see as a pastor because I know it is all sand.
I know the day will come for each of us when we look death in the eye, and in that day we will discover that there is only one foundation strong enough to support us. We are not enough. I am not enough. I need a Savior because I am a sinner, full of pride and self-righteousness. My resume means nothing. Only Jesus Christ can save me.
There is nothing more heart-breaking as a pastor than seeing someone who imagines themselves to be a Christian finding out in the midst of a hurricane that their confidence has been built upon the sand of their own self-righteousness rather than the solid rock of faith in Christ. I’ve found no work more difficult, more challenging, or more holy, than getting on my knees with someone as the waters rise and digging through that sand to find that rock. I wish I had time and skill enough to do this better. I am repeatedly humbled by the importance of the work and my limitations in doing it. I am constantly reminded that without the grace of God, we would all drown.
There is nothing more heart-breaking as a pastor than seeing the ones who never found that rock and got carried away by the waves when the sand beneath their feet gave way. There are a many things I need to learn to do better as a pastor. This is the one area I most feel at a loss — helping people to see, to understand, and to embrace the most basic truth of our faith. We are sinners. We need a Savior.
But I will keep digging so long as God and the United Methodist Church call me to dig.