The Exhausting Pursuit of Being a Good Christian

Oct 8

Written By Ryan Fredrich

I wonder if we have unintentionally made sanctification the center of the Christian life.

Not because holiness is unimportant. It is.

Not because sin does not matter. It does.

But because we have slowly shifted our eyes from Christ to ourselves.

We begin measuring our spiritual lives with questions like:

Did I pray enough?
Did I read enough?
Did I serve enough?
Am I sinning less?
Am I growing fast enough?
Am I doing enough for God?

Without realizing it, Jesus becomes the means while our spiritual progress becomes the goal.

The gospel slowly becomes less about what Christ has done and more about what we are doing.

And that is exhausting.

A person can be deeply committed to church, constantly serving, reading their Bible every day, fighting sin, and still quietly believe that God's smile rises and falls with their performance.

We may say that we are saved by God's grace, but then live as though we are sustained by our own effort.

Saved by Jesus. Maintained by us.

Forgiven by grace. Changed through pressure.

But that is not the rhythm of the New Testament.

Again and again, the apostles pull our eyes away from ourselves and back to Christ.

Paul writes that our lives are "hidden with Christ in God" in Colossians 3v3.

He declares that there is now "no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" in Romans 8v1.

Hebrews 10v14 tells us that by one offering Christ has perfected forever those who are being sanctified.

Notice the order.

Before Scripture calls us to do anything, it reminds us what Christ has already done. Before it speaks about our obedience, it establishes our identity. Before it tells us how to walk, it reminds us where we stand.

It tells us to look outside ourselves to Christ.

The Problem Is Not Sanctification

I am not arguing against sanctification.

I am not suggesting that Christians should become comfortable with sin or indifferent toward holiness.

I am arguing for the biblical engine of sanctification.

There is a difference between transformation and behavior modification.

Behavior modification asks, "How can I make myself behave better?"

Transformation asks, "What happens when the grace of Jesus reaches the deepest places of my heart?"

Behavior modification can teach us how to speak Christian language, avoid visible sins, attend church regularly, and maintain a respectable image.

But only Jesus can capture the heart.

Sometimes church culture becomes almost entirely focused on sin management.

Stop doing this. Start doing that. Avoid those people.

The Expulsive Power of a New Affection

Thomas Chalmers famously described the "expulsive power of a new affection."

His point was that lesser loves are not ultimately defeated by staring at them, obsessing over them, or merely commanding ourselves to stop wanting them.

They are driven out when a greater love takes their place.

We do not overcome sin merely by staring at sin.

We overcome it by encountering a greater Savior.

That is why simply telling people, "Stop sinning," has limited power.

Fear can keep us from sinning for a while. Shame can produce temporary compliance with the rules. Religious pressure can make people look impressive.

But only grace can transform what we love.

When Christ becomes more beautiful, sin begins to lose some of its attraction. When we see what Jesus has done for us, obedience stops being a desperate attempt to earn His acceptance and becomes a grateful response to the acceptance we have already received.

Real holiness is not manufactured through fear.

It grows in the soil of grace.

But even here, we have to be careful, because our hearts are incredibly skilled at turning everything into another work.

We can hear, "Become captivated by Christ," and immediately think:

I guess I need to love Jesus more.

I need to be more amazed.

I need to feel more spiritual.

I need to become more passionate.

I'm probably failing at grace too.

Suddenly, beholding Jesus becomes another item on the spiritual checklist.

Even rest can become something we believe we are failing to do correctly.

Even grace can become a law.

That is why the answer is not, "Try harder to love Jesus."

First John 4v19 says that we love because He first loved us.

Our love is a response. It is awakened by His love.

We cannot manufacture awe through spiritual determination or force our hearts to feel something they do not feel.

The Holy Spirit is the One who opens our eyes to the beauty of Christ.

Our calling is not to produce a certain emotional experience.

Our calling is simply to keep coming back.

Remain in Me

In the final hours before the cross, Jesus did not give His disciples a complicated system for spiritual improvement.

He said, "Abide in Me."

Remain in Me.

Stay with Me.

Trust Me.

Receive from Me.

In John 15v5, Jesus says that He is the Vine and we are the branches. He tells us that the one who remains in Him bears much fruit, because apart from Him we can do nothing.

Jesus never tells the branch to strain harder to produce grapes.

A branch does not wake up every morning anxiously thinking, "I need to make fruit today."

It simply remains connected to the source of life.

Life flows from union.

Fruit grows from abiding.

Maybe we have taught Christians to inspect their fruit more than enjoy the Vine.

We stare at ourselves. We measure ourselves. We compare ourselves. We anxiously evaluate whether we are becoming better Christians.

Jesus gently lifts our chin and says, "Remain in Me."

The primary call of the Christian life is not to do more for Jesus. It is to trust in Jesus, to rest in Jesus, and to continually return to Jesus.

That does not mean the Christian life is passive. Abiding is active dependence.

It is waking up and confessing:

Jesus, apart from You, I can do nothing.

You are my righteousness.

You are my wisdom.

You are my holiness.

You are my strength.

You are my life.

But even our abiding does not become the foundation of our security.

Our hope is not found in how tightly we are holding onto Jesus.

Our hope is found in how securely Jesus is holding onto us.

The Christian life is discovering, over and over again, that Christ has never stopped holding onto us.

There will be days when your heart feels cold. Days when prayer feels difficult and Scripture feels dry. Days when you stumble into the same sin you thought you had conquered.

The invitation does not change.

Come back.

Not because Jesus left.

Not because you must earn your way home.

But because your Savior is still there.

The Righteous Still Fall

Proverbs 24v16 says, "The righteous falls seven times and rises again."

Notice what it does not say.

It does not say the righteous never fall.

It says they rise again.

That is the Christian walk.

We stumble. We fall. We fail. We repent.

And we get back up and trust our Savior again.

The Christian life is not a straight line of uninterrupted improvement. It is not a slow graduation from weakness into self-sufficiency.

It is a lifetime of returning to Jesus.

The righteous person is not the person who never falls. The righteous person is the one whose hope is outside of themselves.

They rise because mercy is still available, because their righteousness was never based on flawless performance, and because Christ remains faithful even when they have failed.

We do not get back up to prove that we are strong.

We get back up because our Savior is gracious.

We confess. We receive mercy. We take another step.

Then sometimes we stumble again.

And Jesus is still Jesus.

Until Christ returns, the battle between the flesh and the Spirit remains.

Our flesh does not slowly become a well-behaved Christian. It remains opposed to the Spirit. It still reaches for control, pride, lust, anger, self-righteousness, comfort, and unbelief.

The flesh never waves the white flag.

That does not mean Christians do not change. The Holy Spirit truly transforms us. New desires are awakened. Real fruit grows. Sinful patterns can be broken.

But we never reach a point in this life where we no longer need grace.

We never outgrow dependence.

We never graduate from Jesus.

A Recovery Meeting for Sinners

Over the past few years, I have felt and believed that church should function more like a recovery meeting for broken people than a country club for good Christians.

There was a saying I remember hearing in church when I was growing up:

"I don't drink, smoke, or chew, or go with girls who do."

It was usually said tongue in cheek, but I wonder if it revealed more about our understanding of the Christian life than we realized.

Somewhere along the way, being a good Christian became associated with the things we didn't do.

We don't drink. We don't smoke. We don't swear. We don't hang around with the wrong people.

And while there is certainly wisdom in how we live and the choices we make, I wonder how often we have confused outward behavior with genuine righteousness.

We became pretty good at identifying the sins we didn't struggle with while quietly hiding the ones we did.

Pride. Self-righteousness. Lust. Greed. Bitterness. Unbelief.

It's easy to feel like a pretty good Christian when the measuring stick is someone else's sin.

But the gospel doesn't divide the world into good people who behave and bad people who don't.

It tells us that we are all sinners in desperate need of a Savior.

And the moment we begin finding our confidence in the things we don't do rather than in what Jesus has done, we've taken our eyes off the very One who makes us righteous.

Think about the atmosphere of a recovery meeting.

People walk into the room already admitting that something is wrong. No one is there to pretend they have mastered life. No one is shocked that another person is struggling.

People tell the truth because everyone understands what it means to need help.

What if church felt more like that?

Not because we celebrate sin.

Not because we rename darkness as light.

Not because repentance does not matter.

But because we all acknowledge the same reality:

We are broken and sinful people who desperately need Jesus.

The church should be the safest place on earth for sinners to tell the truth.

Instead, it can sometimes become the place where people feel the greatest pressure to hide.

We know the right words. We know when to raise our hands. We know how to smile in the lobby. We know how to say that we are blessed.

Meanwhile, marriages are hurting. People are addicted. Parents are overwhelmed. Teenagers are confused. Leaders are exhausted.

Christians are battling lust, pride, jealousy, anger, anxiety, greed, bitterness, and unbelief.

But so many are afraid to admit it because church can feel like a gathering of people auditioning for the role of "good Christian."

That is not the gospel.

The ground at the foot of the cross is level.

The addict. The gossip. The proud. The anxious. The sexually broken. The self-righteous. The pastor. The elder.

The person who became a Christian yesterday and the person who has walked with Jesus for fifty years.

We all come the same way.

Empty-handed.

Needing grace.

Receiving grace.

Living by grace.

The irony is that the more secure we become in God's love, the more honest we can become about our sin.

We no longer have to hide, pretend, or convince everyone that we are doing well.

We are free to say, "I am struggling."

Not because grace excuses sin.

But because grace gives sinners a safe place to stop pretending.

He Is Not Ashamed of You

This is what I desperately want Christians to understand.

If you belong to Jesus, God is not looking at you with the disappointment you may have learned to expect.

He knows your weaknesses. He knows your struggles. He knows the sins you are ashamed to admit.

And He has not changed His mind about you.

Hebrews 2v11 tells us that Jesus is not ashamed to call us His brothers and sisters.

Think about that.

Jesus is not ashamed of you.

If you are in Christ, you are not merely forgiven and tolerated. You are loved. You are accepted. You are His beloved child.

And yes, your heavenly Father is pleased with you in Christ.

Not because your obedience has been impressive. Not because you've finally become the Christian you should be.

But because Jesus is your righteousness.

God's fatherly love does not mean He is indifferent to our sin. He loves us too much for that. He corrects us, disciplines us, and continues His work in us.

But His correction is not rejection.

His discipline is not condemnation.

And His love is not hanging in the balance, waiting to see how well you perform tomorrow.

Jesus has already settled the question of your acceptance at the cross.

Grace All the Way Down

The gospel is not merely how we enter the Christian life.

It is how we live the Christian life.

We are saved by grace.

We are sustained by grace.

We are corrected by grace.

We are restored by grace.

We are sanctified by grace.

We are carried home by grace.

Grace is not simply God's response when sanctification fails.

Grace is the way God sanctifies us.

The call is not to become increasingly impressed with our own progress. The call is to keep returning to Christ.

And even that return is upheld by His faithfulness.

Philippians 1v6 says that the One who began a good work in us will carry it to completion.

Hebrews 12v2 calls Jesus the Author and Perfecter of our faith.

He is not simply the One who started our salvation and then handed the project over to us.

He is the One carrying it to completion.

That means you can rest.

You can trust Him.

You can stop anxiously measuring your spiritual performance and wondering whether you are doing enough to keep God pleased with you.

Before you served Him, He loved you.

Before you obeyed Him, Christ died for you.

Before you ever accomplished anything for His kingdom, your Savior had already declared, "It is finished."

We do not serve to become loved.

We serve because we are loved.

We do not pursue holiness to earn God's favor.

We pursue holiness because His favor has already been freely given to us in Christ.

The gospel does not produce lazy Christians.

It produces free Christians.

And free Christians often become joyful servants because they are no longer trying to earn what Jesus has already secured.

So maybe the question is not, "How can I become a better Christian?"

Maybe the better prayer is simply:

"Jesus, thank You for always being faithful, even in my faithlessness."

The branch does not anxiously count its grapes.

It remains in the Vine.

The sheep does not survive because of the strength of its grip on the Shepherd.

The Shepherd holds the sheep.

The Christian rises after falling, not because their faith is always strong, but because their Savior is always faithful.

We stumble still. We fall still. We fail still.

But we keep getting back up and trusting in our Savior.

Not because we have finally mastered the Christian life.

But because Jesus has never stopped being enough.

We do not graduate from grace.

We go deeper into it.

And the deeper we go, the more we discover that Jesus was never merely the doorway into the Christian life.

Christ is our life.

Ryan Fredrich