The Freedom of Authenticity

If there’s one thing that has always bothered me about all people, but especially when I see it in the church, it’s quite simple: those who pretend to be someone that they are not. I’m not just pointing out what I see in others because I also, unfortunately and painfully, see it in myself.

This may sound weird to you, but I enjoy being around those who are completely unchurched and, for all intents and purposes, without God. Don’t get me wrong and don’t check out yet: I absolutely love God’s bride, the church. I love the people of God and I’m thankful for the local church. But there’s something beyond refreshing about being around those who literally have no inhibitions and nothing to hide. Those who simply own who they are and make no attempts to explain away their mess or justify what they’ve done. Of course, I also quite enjoy the company of the unchurched and unsaved simply because they are the ones who need the gospel most. But attached to that is this allurement of honesty, almost like I’m peering into something so foreign to who I am, causing me to be fascinated and embarrassed at the same time. Like some kind of accidental sociological picture that I’m in awe of, but at the same time, a picture that I don’t have a category for. What I see in those who have no interest in the things of God, is very often, an authenticity and transparency that I see very little in the church.

And that bothers me. Because I don’t think it’s healthy and I don’t think it’s biblical. One example of this would be Paul in Romans 7, one of my favorite texts in all of Scripture. And I think it’s a text I’m drawn to for several reasons, the most important being that Paul isn’t afraid for people to see him as a wretched, wicked screw-up. He’s not interested in painting a beautiful “Monet” of himself so that the whole world will find him stunning and put-together. Instead, he just says: “Look, I’m a messed up guy and literally nothing good comes from me.” Maybe not that casually, but here’s the text. “For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. (19) For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing.” Do you see it? Doesn’t it make you breathe a little easier? This is PAUL we’re talking about. Not perfect by any means, but when it comes to faith in Christ and striving for holiness, Paul is a giant and I am a dwarf. And yet, he is unafraid to lay all of his underwhelming cards on the table, in order to be authentic and to say: I’m constantly doing things I know I shouldn’t do and the things that I want to do (for the Lord), I never seem to do those things.

Instead, he goes on to say later on the chapter, that whenever he wants to do what is right according to God’s standard, evil lies near by, waiting to stifle Paul’s good desires and to make him a captive, a slave, of sin. And he finally gets to the end of this diatribe and says in verse 24, no doubt screaming in his soul at this point, “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” Who indeed. Authenticity on display. Genuine “fed-upness” with this freaking battle that will not let him rest.

Obviously Paul is not of the world; in fact, he is a Christ-centered, God-honoring servant of the Lord, who went through countless hardships and persecution to share the gospel. But one thing Paul had in common with those who are not God’s people, was that he wasn’t afraid to reveal the good, the bad, the ugly, and the absolutely horrendous about himself. Because the truth is, for Paul and for myself and for you, even what we reveal about ourselves will never even come close to presenting the tragedy inside us. It’s worse than we care to think. It might even be worse than we know, this sin that wages war in our inmost parts. Put another way: if the only answer to our sin problem was the brutal murder and death of the God-man, Jesus Christ, then I would say that our sin is much worse than we could ever imagine.

So what’s the point? What I see in Paul, I long to see grown and matured in myself. I need authenticity in my life and I believe the church would only be helped, not hindered, by more authenticity, not less. Rather than pretending we are something that we are not, why not take Paul’s approach and fully admit that we are constant failures, who seem to be growing in Christ at a turtle’s pace, which is being quite generous in my case. Why not lay it all out there and stop pretending?

Remember that question Paul asked, about his wretchedness and about who could possibly rescue him from his body of death (strong words but authentic words)? Well the text doesn’t end there, because Paul already knew the answer to the question, which is what empowered him to be authentic in the first place. The very thing (or person) that enabled Paul’s forthright, bare-souled authenticity was the answer to his question. What enabled Paul to live a life of stripping naked his soul for the world to see was a man who had already taken all of these things upon himself on a cross. And Paul’s answer to his own question is unbelievable. “Who will save me? Who can help me? I’ve been honest here and I’m putting myself out there that I do not have it all together. I am not well, I am not good, I am not righteous, I cannot seem to succeed in fighting sin, I do not feel like I am growing. I cannot save myself, so somebody else will have to.”

Enter hope. Enter rescue. “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” Enter Christ. Enter the redeemer. The redeemer who paid it all so that you and I can admit our sin authentically, strive through our struggles openly, run to the grace of Jesus boldly, and rest in the hope of glory thankfully. None of those things can be found when all I can say at the end of the day is, “Well, at least I hid it well.” Jesus is a far greater Savior than you are a sinner. It’s not a question of whether or not that is true; it is a question of whether you’ll be honest enough to admit it.