John Crist, Jesus Christ, and me, too

Tuesday morning I got an email I’d been waiting for: the pre-sale code to buy tickets for John Crist’s upcoming comedy tour in which he was finally spending a few days in the Pacific Northwest. Between my family and my in-laws, seven of us had plans to see him live. Within a few clicks I’d secured our tickets.

The next evening I got a completely unexpected email: “In an effort to focus on his health, John Crist has made the decision to postpone his 2020 tour dates.”

A quick Google search painted the rest of the picture for me.

I am heartbroken.

Heartbroken to hear of yet more women who were treated like playthings instead of people. Heartbroken to hear of yet another well-known Christian desecrating the name of Christ. Heartbroken to know that the world has more ammunition to hurl at the “hypocrites” that claim to follow Jesus, and heartbroken to know that so many Christians are simply feeding that ammunition into their hands by openly shaming a sinner while preaching grace.

If there’s one thing I know about the Church (and perhaps this could be broadened to Western culture on the whole) right now, it’s that there are acceptable sins and unacceptable sins. There are the sinners we shun and there are the sinners we seek. There are testimonies we don’t want to hear and salvation stories we’d rather silence because their content teeters toward what we consider “not okay.” Leave your sinful addictions out of it, please, until you’re completely cured - we don’t want to hear about how God is transforming you right now, it’s the finished product we care about!

But any of us who are being self-aware on this walk with Jesus know that there are no finished products this side of the Kingdom of Heaven. There are only ugly, clumsy, moment-by-moment transformations that happen with three steps forward and two steps back.

I am grieved over John Crist’s sin. But I am hopeful for the opportunity the Church has, right now, to paint a portrait of Jesus with her response. We have a choice at this crossroads: We can respond in bitter unforgiveness and total abandonment of this man and drive deep-seated shame even deeper into the watching men and women whose sins also fall under the category of “not okay,” or we can respond with the same love and grace we ourselves have received from Jesus through no merit of our own, and watch opportunities for true healing arise.

I know that we fear being seen as licentious, permissive, or dismissive of the evils that have been committed. I feel very deeply the responsibility to honor God’s holiness by taking sin seriously. But taking sin seriously does not have to mean shaming someone for what they’ve done. It is not shame that transforms people - it is forgiveness. Shame may, for a short time, inspire them to try harder to fight their sin, but Jesus didn’t come and die so that we could try harder; He came to utterly annihilate the power of sin and death on our behalf with the power of grace. There is now, therefore, NO CONDEMNATION for those who are in Christ Jesus.

One day, Jesus was dining in the home of a Pharisee named Simon - an upright and God-fearing man - when a disreputable woman came in off the streets of the city. She wasn’t invited - she wasn’t the kind of person this Pharisee would ever have wanted in his home, lest she defile his pure standing before God and render him ineligible to participate in Temple worship. But she had heard Jesus was there, and she wanted the opportunity to bless Him with a gift.

Simon could only look on in horror while this disgusting sinner defiled Jesus with her touch, her tears, her hair. The heavy scent of the perfume she used to anoint His feet couldn’t mask the odor of her sinfulness. This Man could hardly be a prophet, the Pharisee mused, or He would know this woman was a sinner.

Jesus answered Simon’s smug thought with a question: “A moneylender had two debtors: one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they were unable to repay, he graciously forgave them both. So which of them will love him more?”

Simon answered, “I suppose the one whom he forgave more.”

[Jesus] said to him, “You have judged correctly.” Turning toward the woman, He said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave Me no water for My feet, but she has wet My feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss; but she, since the time I came in, has not ceased to kiss My feet. You did not anoint My head with oil, but she anointed My feet with perfume. For this reason I say to you, her sins, which are many, have been forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, the same loves little.” Then he said to her, “Your sins have been forgiven.” Those who were reclining at the table with Him began to say to themselves, “Who is this man who even forgives sins?” And He said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

Luke 7:43b-50

The woman in this story was unacceptable. Her many sins were on the list of “not okay” - they were the kind that made people not even want to associate with her, lest she taint them in the eyes of others or the standing of God. And yet it was not being shamed and avoided by the religious that transformed her; it was being loved and forgiven by Jesus. He responded to the holy aloofness of Simon the Pharisee with the rebuttal: “NO CONDEMNATION.”

No one took sin as seriously as Jesus: it cost Him everything. And yet no one consistently refused to shame sinners the way Jesus did, either.

When a shamed and sinful woman is offered the redemptive power of a gracious love, she transforms into a beautiful vessel of that gracious love toward others. And we have the opportunity to see this same transformation in the lives around us if only we will respond to brokenness like Jesus does.

If any of you are heartbroken by the news about John Crist, as I am, I beg you to consider a few things as you respond:

• Shame drives sin deeper into secret. When we publicly shame John Crist’s conduct, we do not solve the evil or prevent anyone else from struggling with the same sins - we simply communicate that if they ever dare to be honest, we will condemn and disown them. Their sins, instead of coming into the healing light of community and forgiveness, sink deeper into the dark where they can fester and grow. Do we want to see our brothers and sisters and selves transformed and made whole, or are we more comfortable sitting here in whitewashed tombs full of rot and death, as long as the outside looks nice?

• How you respond to this distant celebrity figure is training wheels for your response when the sinner is someone close to you. And one day, no matter how well-cushioned your Christian bubble, it WILL BE someone close to you. It’s very easy to drop a fallen celebrity like a hot potato and think nothing of it, but what about when it’s your child? Your sibling? Your spouse? Every person in your life is a sinner with ugly stuff in their past and present. Grace is something to start practicing NOW.

• Every testimony is a testimony-in-progress. Yours. Mine. John Crist’s. When we leap over one hurdle, another is only a few strides away. This race is life-long, and if we’re waiting for the finish line to celebrate God’s work, we’ll miss out on it completely! God is working NOW, in me, in you, and in John Crist. Testimonies don’t have to be wrapped up in bows with a “happily ever after” to be testimonies - and in fact, God’s magnificence usually shines brightest when we are at our smallest. If we are faithless, He remains faithful. That is a testimony.

• Remember what kind of characters make up the pages of your Bible. You need not think hard to find examples of many believers and instruments of God who had heinous sins on their record. We may be quick to throw John Crist under the bus and yet somehow manage to see men like Abraham (who sold his wife twice to save his own skin and raped his maid) and David (who abused his power in order to commit adultery with Bathsheba and then had her husband murdered to make himself look better) as heroes of the faith. The point is that no one is righteous. Were these crimes despicable? Yes. Were these men loved by God? Also yes. The same paradox is true for all of us, and this is the heart and soul of the Good News! We come with no goodness to recommend us and yet He loves us anyway, even to death.

None of this is to minimize or dismiss the pain that John Crist’s actions have inflicted. The human beings his sin has harmed matter deeply, and they too need to be received with love and care. Unfortunately, the harm done to these specific women is but one piece of what has been revealed to be a deep and far-reaching cultural wound. It touches all of us in some way, and so we cry out for God’s comfort and abundant grace.

Are you a woman who has been objectified, belittled, or used? Me, too.

Are you a person who has been disillusioned with religion because of the rampant hypocrisy you see? Me, too.

Are you a sinner who fears that not a soul would be left by your side if they “really knew”? Me, too.

Are you a Christian who has been let down by a person of faith you looked up to? Me, too.

Are you a broken human taking three steps forward and two steps back every day on a testimony-in-progress that sometimes seems like purposeless wilderness wanderings? Me, too.

Are you left with no one to hope in but Jesus, the One who already bought your victory and has declared NO CONDEMNATION over you? Me, too.

be the church

Confession: I haven’t gone to church consistently in months, and not a single time in the last 6-8 weeks. Summers are always hard on my church attendance of themselves, and at the end of this one I threw a new job into the mix and didn’t realize there was such a high likelihood that I’d be scheduled to work every single Sunday morning for weeks on end.

This has brought up a lot of questions for me, and shed light on some of my deeply-held beliefs. In my family growing up, there was no such thing as missing church, unless we were very sick or out of town; in all other cases, Sunday mornings from 9:30am to 12:30pm were permanently booked. It was one of the rituals of our lives, as natural as eating breakfast or feeding the animals. There was no “I don’t feel like it” or “I’m too busy” - it just was what it was.

I have relaxed this standard a little as an adult, but never have I actually been away from a Sunday morning service entirely for this long. And I didn’t know it would have as much of an impact as it has.

It has made me wonder: What is a Christian, if not the person who faithfully goes to church every Sunday? Have I, in fact, spent the last twenty-five years of my life equating “Christian” with “church-goer”? What is it that makes me a Christian if church-going is no longer a regular occurrence in my life, and I haven’t lately set foot in that building?

I’ve never consciously thought to myself, “A Christian is someone who goes to church on Sundays, and people who don’t go to church every week can’t be Christians.” But even so, the last several weeks have felt like something of an identity crisis. They’ve jolted me into reality and forced me to face the uncomfortable notion that perhaps I was box-ticking to fit the acceptable mold, not following in the footsteps of Jesus for His glory.

Maybe I’ve mixed up going to church with being The Church.

When I read my Bible, I find that ritualistic attendance to a particular building at specified times is certainly well-represented, but that building is the Tabernacle or the Temple, not a church. I find that as the story goes on, God Himself came to earth and tabernacled with us as a human being, and that the Bible now calls us the temple of His Spirit. The Church does not seem to have a building, Biblically speaking - it just has people.

Even the verses most often used to call people back to church are verses about people, not about a physical place:

Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds, not forsaking our own assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another; and all the more as you see the day drawing near.

Hebrews 10:23-25

Notably, in the verses just before this passage, entering “the holy place” and Christ as “priest over the house of God” are mentioned. But there is clear a shift from the discussion of familiar physical objects to the revelation of far vaster spiritual implications as the author of Hebrews tries to help his Jewish readers understand Christ’s role in their long tradition of Temple-located worship. The holy place, now, is not a corner of a building behind a veil; it is the presence of God Himself to which we all have access by the blood of Jesus. The veil has been torn in two. The house of God is no longer a building, but a body.

Indeed, let us not forsake assembling together, for we need the encouragement of other believers in our lives - and undoubtedly, traditional Sunday morning church services are one of the more obvious and efficient ways to give and receive it. But they are not the only way, and I worry that if we think so, knowingly or unknowingly, we may forget that church is not a place we go. It is something we are, and that identity is a reality seven days a week. What about the believer who needs encouragement today, even though it’s Friday? Should we wait to offer it until we go to church, or could we be The Church with them in this present moment?

I have particularly ached in recent weeks for the housebound Christians, for whom getting out early on a Sunday morning is no longer a viable option due to age or illness or extenuating circumstances. It’s very difficult (arguably, Biblically impossible) to be The Church alone, and I hope we are sensitive to the fact that sometimes we must bring The Church into the homes of those who can’t bring themselves to church. Jesus said He dwells “where two or three are gathered” in His name (Matthew 18:20) - “assembling together” doesn’t have to be all of us to be sacred. For me, it’s been life-giving to meet with other Christians by nontraditional means: A brunch for newer attendees at the pastor’s house; a couple of one-on-one meetings with friends and mentors to talk about the things of God; a four-hour Bible teaching workshop; a few days with my family and in-laws, all of them believers.

In all of these instances, I experienced the love and encouragement that the book of Hebrews says is to be characteristic when the people of God meet together. In all of these instances, we were The Church, though we were not “at church.” Jesus was there in the midst of us.

This coming Sunday morning, I will (Lord willing) get to go to church for the first time since early August. I’m so, so excited to go to the church building and be with the whole congregation in song, worship, prayer, and learning. But even if that remains a rare occurrence in months to come, I can still be an equally dedicated “living stone” in the House of God (1 Peter 2:4). I can still find ways to do my part as a member of the Body (1 Corinthians 12). I can still be The Church as a wholehearted follower of Jesus’ steps.

It’s the highest and most humbling encouragement to remember that God’s will and God’s mission in the world don’t hinge on me, or on my perfect attendance to “my” congregation. We are but one tiny segment of a movement that spans the ages and the globe. The Church is alive and well, and I get to be a tiny part of it no matter where I am. I praise God for that.

Lord, to whom shall we go?

I’m going to begin by assuming that everyone reading this knows who Joshua Harris and Marty Sampson are, and the news that they’ve recently made. If you don’t, read this and this.

It’s not easy to watch iconic Christian leaders crumble. I was particularly impacted (for better or for worse, but that’s a discussion for another time) by Joshua Harris as a teenager, and his public renunciation of his faith in Jesus Christ left me with a lot to process about my own roots in the Church and journey with Jesus.

Some of it is not easy. Like one hundred percent of church-attending Christians, I have experienced pain there, pain that has been inflicted on me by other believers. That’s sad, but that’s life until the King returns - we will hurt each other.

Like ninety percent of church-raised children, I have been very sure of what I believe until the day came that I wasn’t. I have experienced doubts and fears, and that’s hard, but that’s life until the King returns - faith is not yet sight.

And like an untold number of Christians in this age, I have wondered what it means to love others and tell them how lost they are at the same time, when it feels like the only voices speaking are those of self-worshiping license or self-powered hypocrisy. That’s a wild pendulum to ride, but it also seems to be the ride of choice, because it’s always easier to shout from an extreme than to dodge the hazards of interpersonal nuance.

I don’t know the whole story of why Joshua Harris left the faith. I would imagine that immense pain, doubts, and exhaustion helped to pave the way.

And there is just one passage of Scripture that keeps echoing in my mind:

“… The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and are life. But there are some of you who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the beginning who they were who did not believe, and who it was that would betray Him. And He was saying, “For this reason I have said to you, that no one can come to Me unless it has been granted to Him from the Father.”

As a result of this many of His disciples withdrew and were not walking with Him anymore. So Jesus said to the twelve, “You do not want to go away also, do you?” Simon Peter answered Him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life. We have believed and come to know that You are the Holy One of God.”

John 6:63b-69

I think there’s room in following Jesus to acknowledge that others on the journey sometimes hurt us - and sometimes excruciatingly so. I think He is gracious and understanding with our biggest, scariest doubts. I think the complicated messiness of trying to love people enough to not leave them in their sin is something we all get tired of after awhile.

But I will not turn off His way, because honestly - to whom would I go? It is He who holds eternal life - the Holy One of God.

A mentor and friend recently inspired me to imagine what my life would be, right now, without Jesus - and what I saw in that imaginary world made me so thankful that I don’t live there.

Without Jesus, there would be no refuge from the misery of sin, guilt, and shame. I would live with those ugly entities for all of my days. I’m an over-thinker and a people-pleaser, and it is only Jesus who sets me free from the unnecessary burdens I often carry - and even redeems the necessary ones with His blood. Only Jesus says, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Without Jesus, all the good relationships I treasure would evaporate, from my marriage and my family to my closest friends and spiritual mentors. Yes, I’ve been hurt in the community of the faith, but I’ve also found healing there. Perhaps there would be other relationships, but none with the iron strength of bonds wrought in Christ’s blood.

Without Jesus, where would this deep-thinking, endlessly-learning spiritual seeker find her rest? God made me with too much thirst for what is real and true to be satisfied in the vanities that other philosophies can offer. I would have spent my life searching and yet returned void, hopeless, despairing.

My view of Christianity is not rosy or naive. I am the first to challenge and question any idea, belief, or tradition that is presented as truth, and I am not afraid to acknowledge the incredible harm that some individuals in some churches have done. I’m against hiding sin, sweeping pain under the rug, telling people to band-aid their wounds with more Jesus, or rebuking doubts. I don’t think there’s a right denomination or a right translation of the Bible or a black side and a white side to every moral issue.

But I do know that there is nowhere to turn for what fills the void in the human soul except Jesus.