The Imperfect Disciple: Grace for People Who Can't Get Their Act Together

by Jared C. Wilson

When I ask, “What comes to mind when you hear the word discipleship?” I’d love to hear people answer more along these lines: “Believing God has a plan for me even when I’m afraid he doesn’t.” “Believing God loves me even when I feel like nobody else does.” “Trusting that God is doing something for my good even though my life has always been terrible up till now.” “Following Jesus even though my feelings speak more loudly.” “Denying myself in order to do what’s right although I don’t really want to.” “Imagining a time when I won’t hurt as much as I do now.” “Imagining a time when my spouse or child won’t hurt as much as they do now.”

I tend to believe that most of us do not truly treasure Jesus until we’ve run out of alternatives to him, until every last option has turned up dry. And think about this: What if Jesus actually brings us to the very moment of these no-more-rope situations in order that we might actually, finally trust him?

Maybe you have struggled with great shame over some things in your life. Maybe you have sins that come back to haunt you, recurring sins in your life that you can’t shake, or habits hard to break, or rumors from others about your history, or problems that persist to this day for sins you long ago repented of. That’s some of the hardest stuff, isn’t it? You’ve confessed, you’ve repented, you’ve moved on, but the shame persists. Maybe it’s the consequences of your sins that are daily reminders of your past and regular temptations to doubt that you’re forgiven. Or maybe you’ve got constant accusers throwing your sins back in your face. You need to hear the gospel words of Zephaniah 3:19: “I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and I will change their shame into praise.” You need to hear the promise of Romans 10:11: “For the Scripture says, ‘Everyone who believes in him will not be put to shame.’”

If you are still dealing with shame, you need to know that when you have come in faith to the Lord for forgiveness, your sin has been paid for by the blood of Jesus on that cross, where he was hung naked, receiving your shame in front of everybody, including those who tortured and mocked him and made jokes about him. And when you come in faith to the Lord for forgiveness because of his cross, not only does he pay for your sin, forgive your sin, and throw your sin into the void to forget it forever but he now responds to you with delight. His eyes don’t narrow at you, glowering. He’s not sizing you up. No, his eyes sparkle at his children.

It’s interesting how often the areas of our inner selves we strive the most to hide from Jesus are the ones he’s most interested in. And it’s amazing that these things about ourselves we hope he doesn’t see are the very things he means to cover with his grace.

This is really the point of following Jesus—to become like him. And in order to become like him, as Paul says in 2 Corinthians 3:18, we must behold his glory.

Truly, I think one reason we aren’t captivated by Christ’s glory is because we have a diminished capacity to be captivated by anything big. We are preoccupied with small things. And, in fact, we somehow have an inverted sense of measurement in that big things seem to us small or familiar while small things become big to us, at least in terms of our time and attention and energy. It is the fun-house mirror–effect of daily living in a consumeristic culture where we are inundated with all kinds of media and now even carry that media around in our pockets along with our gospel and find ourselves pulling out that media more often because we sense there will be something newer, more vital, more exciting, more entertaining, more applicable to our situation somewhere among its endless clicks and pages, while that gospel seems so one-note and familiar. Our screens give us a constant stream of things to look at but very little to see. Then we do eventually pull that gospel out and, well, it looks a little smudgy, doesn’t it? So here’s what we need to do: turn some things off. Put some things down. Don’t just do something, sit there.

But until we learn to simply sit there, to be still, to be settled, to look at the great big world around us, to consider with wonder all these incredible humans made in God’s image, to look at his endlessly fascinating creation in long, steady concentration, we will continue in spiritual myopia and spiritual boredom. When our vision is constantly occupied by small things, we are tempted to yawn more at the glory of God.

God did not make us to “feel good inside” (or outside) all the time this side of heaven; he made us to share in the sufferings of Christ, that we might also share in his resurrection.

Luke 24:27 tells us, “And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself.” Jesus preached a message about himself, using the entire Bible. What can we learn from this? That all of Scripture either points to Jesus’s life and teaching or emerges from it. All of it. To know God we must know Jesus. And to feel Scripture well we must see Jesus between its lines and at the beginning and end of its many trajectories. He is there, all over the place, and Christians committed to following him closely will seek the glorious enlightenment of the disciples on the road to Emmaus.

When you’re in the Old Testament, wherever you are, ask yourself questions like, “What does this say about Jesus? How does this point to Jesus? Did Jesus ever quote or refer to this? What is the importance of this in the light of Jesus?” In the New Testament, finding Jesus in the Gospels is easy, of course, but making the Jesus connection in the Epistles is vitally important.

The point of the Christian life is not self-improvement or more Bible knowledge but Christlikeness.

First Timothy 2:5 tells us, “For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.” This means that Jesus bridges the gap our sin creates between God and humanity, and because sin encompasses more than just our behavior but also our natural separation from God, and because Jesus’s atoning work satisfies more than just the penalty of sin but also reconciles us to God, it means that his intervention covers both our weak prayers and our unprayed prayers. I am not making this up. Even better, not only does Christ’s sufficiency cover the insufficiency of our prayer life, he himself is praying for us. Take a look at Hebrews 7:25: “Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them.” Jesus’s sacrifice and resurrection and exaltation mediate salvation to us and sustain that salvation. He is always interceding for us. His work is an eternal prayer to God on our behalf, and if the prayer of a righteous person is very powerful (James 5:16), then the prayer of Jesus, the very righteousness of God incarnate in man, is all-powerful. And this prayer is made on our behalf. But wait, it gets better. Can’t think of what to pray, how to pray, when to pray, or what to pray for? The Holy Spirit has you covered, just as the Son does. Paul writes: Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself interc...

Self-help doesn’t help. My self is the problem. How can my self help my self?

Biblically speaking, the power of our obedience and the source of our holiness is not our efforts but the finished work of Jesus Christ. It’s God who works in us to will and to work (Phil. 2:12–13). Our good works were ordained beforehand (Eph. 2:10). The same gospel that empowers our conversion empowers our sanctification (Titus 2:11–12; 1 Cor. 15:1–2; Rom. 8:30). It is Jesus who both authors our faith and perfects it (Heb. 12:2). It is God alone who is faithful both to start the work in us and to complete it (Phil. 1:6).

And if this God who is ordaining all things can be trusted—if he is good and loving and also just and wise—who are we to be impatient with the way things are going? Who are we to be impatient with others? Do we reckon God incapable or incompetent to appoint the kings of the nations, to predetermine the course of our days and years, to make sure that all ends up the way he wants it all to end up?

If the God of our salvation is sovereign, we can relax. It doesn’t depend on us. The world is not what we make of it. I can stop fuming about the lady in front of me in the grocery store express line with forty-six more items than the allotted ten. I might have freely chosen this line but God saw this moment coming. He predestined this very circumstance. If I believe that, I can be patient.

As I get older, I see more of my own sin and thus become more humble. As I get older, I see more of my own flaws and thus become more patient. As I get older, I see more of my own weakness and slowness and inadequacy and thus become more gentle.

Suffering. When hardship comes, when sickness comes, when trouble comes, our true selves are revealed. What we really worship is revealed. Stress does this too. Irritations. Inconveniences. People and circumstances frustrating our wish dreams, interrupting our self-established agendas, challenging our self-styled sovereignty. Every time we lose our temper, we show our true self. “Oh, that wasn’t me!” we plead. “I’m so sorry, I lost my temper. I wasn’t myself.” Yes you were! That was the real you, finally. That was the realest you’ve been! Losing your temper is losing the pretense that you’re actually a good person.

The real you is the you who comes out in times of trouble. As Charles Spurgeon said, “Trials teach us what we are; they dig up the soil, and let us see what we are made of.”2

Paul says we carry our treasures inside ourselves as if in “jars of clay” (2 Cor. 4:7). Why? Because we are fragile, and when we are broken what’s inside is revealed. What we worship shows through.

I am weak. If I hear anything long enough I will start to believe it. This works for gospel words too. So I stop listening to myself and start talking to myself, preaching to myself. I am not who they say I am; I am who God says I am, and I don’t have to be an Osteen fanboy to say that and think that. I just have to be a Christian.