I have recently enjoyed a number of conversations with folks who have not stepped foot in a church for quite some time – or, in fact, they never have. Inevitably the question is asked of me, “So what do you do?” and I get this “oh no, now they will not want to talk to me” feeling. “Pastor,” I reply. I’m not good at fudging the response as some pastors do when they reply, “I work with people.”
At this point, I frequently observe that the person with whom I am conversing immediately sees me differently. Sometimes they apologize for any bad language they may have been using, other times they lean in and ask a nagging theological question. Even before becoming a pastor, I found that when I shared I was part of a church community, it would often change the way someone interacted with me. And when it did, I noticed the change often happened because the other person somehow saw me as holier or more saintly than most – an assumption that always feels incredibly awkward for me. I know my sins all too well. The last thing I or you or any of us need is to be considered “holy” – the baggage is too much for our brokenness to ever live up to. We might accept that some consider us “good” or “trying our best,” but holy has a glow that perhaps some saints of old can live under, but certainly not us.
My wrestlings with ‘saintliness’ and ‘holiness’ light has made me greatly appreciative of Eugene Peterson’s new book on the Letter to the Ephesians entitled Practicing Resurrection: A Conversation on Growing up in Christ. In it, Peterson observes Paul’s opening: “To the saints of Ephesus…” Right off the bat, Paul calls these folks – ‘saints.’ No qualms about it. And Paul knows, like we know, that “adultery and addictions, gossip and gluttony, arrogance and propaganda, sexual abuse and self-righteousness are as a likely to occur – even flourish – in congregations of Christians as in any school or college, any bank or army, any government or business” (Peterson, 80). Saints. Holy people. That is how Scripture unashamedly defines the hodgepodge of sinners known as the church.
Peterson then goes on to explain why we’re considered saints in God’s eyes. It has nothing to do with our virtue, accomplishments or appearances. Those things could never attain to sainthood. “Saint” is Paul’s designation for the people of God because, “he is retraining our imaginations to understand ourselves not in terms of how we feel about ourselves and not in terms of how others treat us, but as God feels about us and treats us” (78). In God’s eyes, we are saints because of what God in Jesus Christ has done and is doing in us. We are saints because the light of Christ is in us – and that is an eternal, ever-abiding gift whether we feel it or not, whether we live up to it, or not.
To be sure, my next conversation with someone outside the church will not entail me responding, “I see that you consider me a saint – and it’s true!” That may not be received well at first. But knowing that God designates me – and you – as saints allows us to explore the wonder and magnitude of God’s grace. “Me – in all of my sin – a saint?! Holy!?” It is too wondrous, too ridiculous, too beautiful – just too pristine for my common brokenness. And yet… let your imagination play with that and discover anew just how amazing the grace of God is. This is no easy task – it is remarkably hard for most of us to accept such a sheer gift. Nevertheless, in God’s eyes, “holy” is not baggage, but a gift that says Jesus is at work in our lives. The more we seek to fathom the wonder of God’s grace in Christ Jesus, the more we realize that a grace this amazing cannot help but be shared in word and deed.
-Pastor Bobby
