As you read this, if you would openly admit that you are a Christian, would you say that you consider God as more of the angry man upstairs that judges your every move, or a kindhearted friend that knows you and loves you well? Did you grow up being taught that the more you pray or give the church money the more stuff God will bless you with? Would you say that you “know all the Sunday-school answers” to questions that your pastor poses but don’t apply them in your day-to-day life? Do you mindlessly recite lyrics to hymns that don’t push you to see Jesus as your all-powerful and caring Savior? Do you see the time you set aside to read your devotional as something you have to check off your list instead of a challenge to grow personally? As you walk to the place you meet others for Bible study, does it seem like everyone gives shallow answers and doesn’t take a genuine interest in whatever it is that is going on in your heart?

What has happened to the authenticity this world is looking for -- the depth, the searching, the knowing? Where has our desire -- my desire -- run to in order to discover intimacy? Why do we not hold tightly to the promises and commands that the Word of God lays out so clearly?

As followers of Christ it can be so difficult to not get stuck in a cycle of fakeness. Others who don’t understand the delight of what it looks like to be in a relationship with Jesus probably don’t even want to try. Why? The church (which is literally the body of Christ) has become a place to criticize, gossip, condemn and exclude when it was always intended to invite, restore, allow room for error and growth, be a place for healing. Sometimes, we Christians get so caught up in the “letter” of the law that we miss the point of the “principle” behind the law.

We are supposed to love people well -- serving them, pushing them to grow, inviting them to respond to the glory of what God did to offer them a personal relationship with him. Yet we are broken. We are depressed. We are liars. We talk about people behind their back. We inflict pain. We are angry. We are anxious. We are jealous. We interrupt and shove an agenda. We are in a hurry. We are seemingly self-reliant. We are terribly selfish. We are perfectionists. We are self-help authors. We are caught in sexual sin. We wear masks. We are not transparent. We are SO lost.

Here’s the thing. People who are self-proclaiming Christians are not perfect. They aren’t even anywhere close. They are just as broken as the rest of humanity. They could never measure up to the expectations they hold for themselves or others. Isn’t that the intriguing part of it all, though? That this faith offers hope and rescue from the perpetual mess-ups. Comfort in pain. Laughter in dark times. Community in loneliness. Strength in weakness. And none of this is their own. Alone, apart from an all-present, never-forsaking, incredibly generous and merciful God, these Christians are nothing. But because Jesus paid the price for their mess-ups, they are seen as blameless. Words like cleansed, worthy, spotless, forgiven, adored, cherished, and set free all come to mind as words to describe the transformation that’s taken place.

So what is an action step that someone who claims to love God could take? What could I do to help eradicate this facade of “having it together?” I think maybe a first step could be allowing margin in everyday conversations for active listening. Listen to what others have to say. Listen to what your mentors are advising you to do. Listen to what God directs you to do. Then be moved to action. Don’t just sing songs. Don’t just read words. Don’t just say one thing and do another. I think Christians have a lot of work to do. I have a lot of work to do.

I deal with unforgiveness, a short temper, impatience, bad thoughts, anxiety and a lot of other things. What do I do? Do I just say that I can’t fix anything so “why try?” Honestly, sometimes I do, sometimes I feel that way. But, the flipside is that I can learn to be authentic. I can learn to listen well to every word my God has laid out in his scriptures, commit them to memory. I can learn to apply the truth that I know and in turn, become a woman of my word. I can help point others to God’s strength in my weakest and most dark moments. I can learn to believe at a heart level that my Jesus is my everything -- not just a 15 second before-meal pre-programmed prayer, a $50 check placed in the offering, a half-hearted “how was your day?” nor a reading of the Bible as an organizational obligation.

I can learn that my Jesus who gave everything he had, ultimately his LIFE, to save, rescue and chase after me wants me to just admit I need his help. I can learn to just say his name (out loud!) and know he is there, regardless of my circumstances. I can learn to listen and engage and love hard. He was the ONLY perfect example. The ONLY hope for me to strive to be like him amidst failure and difficulty. I am not perfect. But the God I serve is, and he is more than willing to remind me of his love and mercy that is renewed literally every day, every morning, every moment. I can learn to press on and lean into HIM.