Moses committed murder and fled. In terror. Alone.
Saul hounded Christians to their death. Blinded he shed his righteousness. Became Paul.
David lusted after a woman not his wife. Slaughtered to have her. Yet, the Lord led him beside still waters. Restored his soul.
Between these three flawed, broken men we have one sea parted to set the Israelites’ free; one giant slain with a slingshot and stone; and the man God used to spread His story to everyone not born a Jew.
Three sin filled men were used by God in their despicable states to change not only their contemporary civilizations, but also to impact the future of humanity throughout generations.
To fulfill His purpose.
What does this say about our God? The vision of an ancient, white haired arbitrator glowering in fury from a throne up on high anxious to spew fire and brimstone doesn’t fit. The hypothesis doesn’t hold up in light of the historical evidence we possess.
Who has God used with success throughout history?
The fallacy that Christians hold themselves out as better, elevated, set apart, sinless, more worthy does not hold water with Christ. We are only qualified through the blood He shed.
We are set apart by Him because of what He did for us. We are undeserving. The whole point of grace.
What does this say about our own spiritual resumes? The whole less than worthy pill is a bitter one to swallow. As importantly, what does this say about the excuses we lean on? You know the ones. How we make ourselves feel better for not picking up our own cross and following Him. His lead. His direction. His purpose for our lives.
The clouded rose color glass we gaze through when considering our own social responsibilities. When we sugarcoat our impact in the world. Right now.
We don’t like being contemplated imperfect, but on the flip side the whole unworthy thing is surely an excellent excuse for not loving our neighbors as ourselves. It’s a fantastic crutch for why we don’t tell more people about our God. Why would they believe me? They know me. They know I’m a disaster half of the time. God wants someone else to do that. He didn’t mean me. He couldn’t have meant me. He knows I am a mess. Look man, I’m a spiritual sloth. No way He’s talking to me.
He means you.
Yes, you, too.
God uses the flawed.
God uses the broken.
God uses the sin filled.
God uses the despicable.
What if we find that God recurrently fulfills His plan through damaged beings because it’s those of us who are broken, rotten and undeserving who feel best the magnitude of gratitude for a perfect love.
People with empty hands lift them.
God uses the willing.
“even though I don’t know what your plan is; you make beauty from these ashes. Here’s my broken hallelujah.”