Honest Sinner Quotes

It is the most counterintuitive aspect of Christianity, that we are declared right with God not once we begin to get our act together but once we collapse into honest acknowledgment that we never will.

Having spent time around "sinners" and also around purported saints, I have a hunch why Jesus spent so much time with the former group: I think he preferred their company. Because the sinners were honest about themselves and had no pretense, Jesus could deal with them. In contrast, the saints put on airs, judged him, and sought to catch him in a moral trap. In the end it was the saints, not the sinners, who arrested Jesus.

sometimes the best thing we can do for each other is talk honestly about being wrong.

Truth is an honest saint, ignorance is a helpless scholar, vice is an uncaring sinner, and love is a kind sage. Knowledge is the path, understanding is the way, wisdom is the highway, and enlightenment is the destination.

You are the wild Door to my peace Because you are an honest sinner I see you as my priest You can be my compass If you let me be the maze Come as vision in my night I'll become the shade in your days

Reasons why I should tell Zenny I love her right now: 1. I love her. 2. She needs to know. 3. She likes the honest guy thing. 4. An old nun told me to. Reasons why I should wait to tell her: 1. She’s bent over a sink.

I realized that sometimes the best thing we can do for each other is talk honestly about being wrong.

There is an expectation that we can talk about sins but no one must be identified as a sinner: newspapers love to describe words or deeds as “racially charged” even in those cases when it would be more honest to say “racist”; we agree that there is rampant misogyny, but misogynists are nowhere to be found; homophobia is a problem, but no one is homophobic. One cumulative effect of this policed language is that when someone dares to point out something as obvious as white privilege, it is seen as unduly provocative. Marginalized voices in America have fewer and fewer avenues to speak plainly about what they suffer; the effect of this enforced civility is that those voices are falsified or blocked entirely from the discourse.

Now I was, as they said, become godly; now I was become a right honest man.  But oh! when I understood these were their words and opinions of me, it pleased me mighty well.  For, though as yet I was nothing but a poor painted hypocrite, yet, I loved to be talked of as one that was truly godly. 

Every one of us can honestly claim that "worst of sinners" title. No, it isn't specially reserved for the Adolf Hitlers, Timothy McVeighs, and Osama bin Ladens of the world. William Law writes, "We may justly condemn ourselves as the greatest sinners we know because we know more of the folly of our own heart than we do of other people's." So admit you're the worst sinner you know. Admit you're unworthy and deserve to be condemned. But don't stop there! Move on to rejoicing in the Savior who came to save the worst of sinners. Lay down the luggage of condemnation and kneel down in worship at the feet of Him who bore your sins. Cry tears of amazement. And confess with Paul: "I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life" (1 Timothy 1:16)

I do not doubt that you are a good woman, but the very fact that you are so righteous might be the reason Nomsa could not be honest with you. Sinners have more forgiving ears than saints.

Having spent time around “sinners” and also around purported saints, I have a hunch why Jesus spent so much time with the former group: I think he preferred their company. Because the sinners were honest about themselves and had no pretense, Jesus could deal with them. In contrast, the saints put on airs, judged him, and sought to catch him in a moral trap. In the end it was the saints, not the sinners, who arrested Jesus.

And if ever you wanted to quit your impatient girl truly, and our little story had to be stored away in a room that's only sometimes remembered, that's still a room I'd want, and I'd go there now and again, like some room in an old hotel on a seafront someplace where two sinners did something they shouldn't. Do you mind what I am telling you? It is the God's honest truth. Even if I never saw you or heard from you again, you'd already have been the miracle of my life.

It is one thing for me to claim that God has changed me; it is quite another for those around me to acknowledge that I have truly changed. You and I are sinners. Moreover, we are self-deceived. We do not see ourselves accurately. Every one of us thinks more of himself than he ought. We are in desperate need of brothers and sisters who will tell us the truth. More importantly, we need to be the kind of people who acknowledge that truth. If my brothers and sisters in Christ continue to tell me something about myself that I do not see as true and accurate, I must come to a place where I trust the body, looking at me objectively, more than I trust myself, looking at me subjectively. This is especially true when we are dealing with people who know and love us, those who live and serve in close proximity. Praise God for loving Christian spouses, siblings, and even children in whom both the Spirit of God and a willingness to be lovingly honest abide.

When religion does not move people to the mystical or non-dual level of consciousness9 it is more a part of the problem than any solution whatsoever. It solidifies angers, creates enemies, and is almost always exclusionary of the most recent definition of “sinner.” At this level, it is largely incapable of its supreme task of healing, reconciling, forgiving, and peacemaking. When religion does not give people an inner life or a real prayer life, it is missing its primary vocation. Let me sum up, then, the foundational ways that I believe Jesus and the Twelve Steps of A.A. are saying the same thing but with different vocabulary:   We suffer to get well. We surrender to win. We die to live. We give it away to keep it.   This counterintuitive wisdom will forever be resisted as true, denied, and avoided, until it is forced upon us—by some reality over which we are powerless—and if we are honest, we are all powerless in the presence of full Reality.

Is this a case of “Do as I say, not as I do?” The reader has a perfect right to ask the question, and I have a duty to provide an honest answer. Yes. It is. You need only look back through some of my own fiction to know that I’m just another ordinary sinner. I’ve been pretty good about avoiding the passive tense, but I’ve spilled out my share of adverbs in my time, including some (it shames me to say it) in dialogue attribution. (I have never fallen so low as “he grated” or “Bill jerked out,” though.) When I do it, it’s usually for the same reason any writer does it: because I am afraid the reader won’t understand me if I don’t. I’m convinced that fear is at the root of most bad writing.

There are no situations we cannot get out of, we are not condemned to sink into quicksand, in which the more we move the deeper we sink. Jesus is there, his hand extended, ready to reach out to us and pull us out of the mud, out of sin, out of the abyss of evil into which we have fallen. We need only be conscious of our state, be honest with ourselves, and not lick our wounds. We need to ask for the grace to recognize ourselves as sinners. The more we acknowledge that we are in need, the more shame and humility we feel, the sooner we will feel his embrace of grace. Jesus waits for us, he goes ahead of us, he extends his hand to us, he is patient with us. God is faithful. Mercy will always be greater than any sin, no one can put a limit on the love of the all-forgiving God. Just by looking at him, just by raising our eyes from our selves and our wounds, we leave an opening for the action of his grace. Jesus performs miracles with our sins, with what we are, with our nothingness, with our wretchedness.

Let’s be honest: our world offers us mixed signals about what kind of Force is at work behind the scenes.

Though, if I’m honest, the sight of blood smeared across a pretty girl’s bed gets me fucking hard.

She wanted to be mad tat e saw through her, but his mouth could honestly turn a nun into a sinner.

It's the pattern of the times. Were you expecting honest justice? There's none. It's a new world now. It eats you up, sinners and saints, all alike.

I actually find questions a lot more interesting than answers. Questions are usually honest while answers are frequently BS. A question is a starting point, a door that swings open and invites a host of ideas

Getting honest with ourselves does not make us unacceptable to God. It does not distance us from God, but draws us to Him—as nothing else can—and opens us anew to the flow of grace. While Jesus calls each of us to a more perfect life, we cannot achieve it on our own. To be alive is to be broken; to be broken is to stand in need of grace. It is only through grace that any of us could dare to hope that we could become more like Christ. The saved sinner with the tilted halo has been converted from mistrust to trust, has arrived at an inner poverty of spirit, and lives as best he or she can in rigorous honesty with self, others, and God. The question the gospel of grace puts to us is simply this: Who shall separate you from the love of Christ? What are you afraid of? Are you afraid that your weakness could separate you from the love of Christ? It can’t. Are you afraid that your inadequacies could separate you from the love of Christ? They can’t. Are you afraid that your inner poverty could separate you from the love of Christ? It can’t. Difficult marriage, loneliness, anxiety over the children’s future? They can’t. Negative self-image? It can’t. Economic hardship, racial hatred, street crime? They can’t. Rejection by loved ones or the suffering of loved ones? They can’t. Persecution by authorities, going to jail? They can’t. Nuclear war? It can’t. Mistakes, fears, uncertainties? They can’t. The gospel of grace calls out, Nothing can ever separate you from the love of God made visible in Christ Jesus our Lord. You must be convinced of this, trust it, and never forget to remember. Everything else will pass away, but the love of Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Faith will become vision, hope will become possession, but the love of Jesus Christ that is stronger than death endures forever. In the end, it is the one thing you can hang onto.

If you asked me whether what I have done in my life defines my life, I would answer, "No." That's not to diminish my sins or humble-bumble my successes. It is simply to affirm a grace often realized only in the winter of life. The winter is stark but also comforting. I am, and have always been, more than the sum of my deeds. Thank God. If asked whether I have fulfilled my calling as an evangelist, I would answer, "No." That answer is not guilt-ridden or shame-faced. It is to witness to a larger truth, again more clearly seen in my later days. My calling is, and always has been, to a life filled with family and friends and alcohol and Jesus and Roslyn and notoriously good sinners. If asked whether I am going gently into old age, I would answer, "No." That's just plain honest. It is true that when you are old, you are often led where you would rather not go. In a wisdom that some days I admit feels foolish, God has ordained the later days of our lives to look shockingly similar to that of our earliest: as dependent children. If asked whether I am finally letting God love me, just as I am, I would answer, "No, but I'm trying.

Truth is an honest saint, ignorance is a helpless scholar, knowledge is a kind sage. Understanding is an honest saint, uncertainty is a helpless scholar, wisdom is a kind sage. Awareness is an honest saint, apathy is a helpless scholar, intelligence is a kind sage. Time is an honest saint, life is a helpless scholar, eternity is a kind sage. Nature is an honest saint, mankind is a helpless scholar, enlightenment is a kind sage. Hope is an honest saint, wrath is a helpless sinner, love is a kind sage. Prudence is an honest saint, greed is a helpless sinner, charity is a kind sage. Compassion is an honest saint, vengeance is a helpless sinner, forgiveness is a kind sage. Contentment is an honest saint, envy is a helpless sinner, peace is a kind sage. Virtue is an honest saint, vice is a helpless sinner, love is a kind sage.

When we came to Christ, it was humility to honestly assess ourselves as sinners. To go back and say that’s still who we are is to deny what Christ did for us. Doing that is no longer humbling ourselves, it’s undercutting the resurrection power God has given us to live like Him.

To be alive is to be broken. And to be broken is to stand in need of grace. Honesty keeps us in touch with our neediness and the truth that we are saved sinners. There is a beautiful transparency to honest disciples who never wear a false face and do not pretend to be anything but who they are.

To be alive is to be broken. And to be broken is to stand in need of grace. Honesty keeps us in touch with our neediness and the truth that we are saved sinners. There is a beautiful transparency to honest disciples who never wear a false face and do not pretend to be anything but who they are. Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel

You seem disappointed that I am not more responsive to your interest in "spiritual direction". Actually, I am more than a little ambivalent about the term, particularly in the ways it is being used so loosely without any sense of knowledge of the church's traditions in these matters. If by spiritual direction you mean entering into a friendship with another person in which an awareness and responsiveness to God's Spirit in the everydayness of your life is cultivated, fine. Then why call in an awkward term like "spiritual direction"? Why not just "friend"? Spiritual direction strikes me as pretentious in these circumstances, as if there were some expertise that can be acquired more or less on its own and then dispensed on demand. The other reason for my lack of enthusiasm is my well-founded fear of professionalism in any and all matters of the Christian life. Or maybe the right label for my fear is "functionalism". The moment an aspect of Christian living (human life, for that matter) is defined as a role, it is distorted, debased - and eventually destroyed. We are brothers and sisters with one another, friends and lovers, saints and sinners. The irony here is that the rise of interest in spiritual direction almost certainly comes from the proliferation of role-defined activism in our culture. We are sick and tired of being slotted into a function and then manipulated with Scripture and prayer to do what someone has decided (often with the help of some psychological testing) that we should be doing to bring glory to some religious enterprise or other. And so when people begin to show up who are interested in us just as we are - our souls - we are ready to be paid attention to in this prayerful, listening, non-manipulative, nonfunctional way. Spiritual direction. But then it begins to develop a culture and language and hierarchy all its own. It becomes first a special interest, and then a specialization. That is what seems to be happening in the circles you are frequenting. I seriously doubt that it is a healthy (holy) line to be pursuing. Instead, why don't you look over the congregation on Sundays and pick someone who appears to be mature and congenial. Ask her or him if you can meet together every month or so - you feel the need to talk about your life in the company of someone who believes that Jesus is present and active in everything you are doing. Reassure the person that he or she doesn't have to say anything "wise". You only want them to be there for you to listen and be prayerful in the listening. After three or four such meetings, write to me what has transpired, and we'll discuss it further. I've had a number of men and women who have served me in this way over the years - none carried the title "spiritual director", although that is what they have been. Some had never heard of such a term. When I moved to Canada a few years ago and had to leave a long-term relationship of this sort, I looked around for someone whom I could be with in this way. I picked a man whom I knew to be a person of integrity and prayer, with seasoned Christian wisdom in his bones. I anticipated that he would disqualify himself. So I pre-composed my rebuttal: "All I want you to do is two things: show up and shut up. Can you do that? Meet with me every six weeks or so, and just be there - an honest, prayerful presence with no responsibility to be anything other than what you have become in your obedient lifetime." And it worked. If that is what you mean by "spiritual director," okay. But I still prefer "friend". You can see now from my comments that my gut feeling is that the most mature and reliable Christian guidance and understanding comes out of the most immediate and local of settings. The ordinary way. We have to break this cultural habit of sending out for an expert every time we feel we need some assistance. Wisdom is not a matter of expertise. The peace of the Lord, Eugene

You once lived in sin and loved it. Do you now desire deliverance from it? You were once self-confident and trusting in your own fancied goodness. Do you now judge yourself as a sinner before God? You once sought to hide from God and rebelled against His authority. Do you now look up to Him, desiring to know Him, and to yield yourself to Him? If you can honestly say “Yes” to these questions, you have repented.… And remember, it is not the amount of repentance that counts: it is the fact that you turn from self to God that puts you in the place where His grace avails through Jesus Christ.

It is of the prophetic ministry of the church to teach people that we are sinners. Think of church as lifelong learning in how to be a sinner. We may be conceived in sin, but we fail to be cognizant of sin without the grace of God. The "sins" of non- Christians tend to be rather puny. For Christians, sin is not so much inherent in the human condition, though it is that; rather, sin is the problem we have between us and God. It is rebellion against our true Sovereign, an offense against the way the Creator has created us to be. The gospel story that we are forgiven-being-redeemed sinners is the means whereby we are able to be honest about the reality, complexity, and perversity of our sin.  

If you’re like me (and pretty much everyone else on earth), you’ve had an imperfect experience of church. Legendary pastor and author Eugene Peterson has observed, “Every congregation is a congregation of sinners. As if that weren’t bad enough, they all have sinners for pastors.”1 Or as the saying goes, “If you ever find a perfect church, please don’t join it because you’ll wreck it.” Many people of faith have become disillusioned by even the idea of church. I feel that tension as well. Eugene Peterson has also made this painfully honest observation: “There’s nobody who doesn’t have problems with the church, because there’s sin in the church. But there’s no other place to be a Christian except the church.”2

Preaching that confronts racism: • Speaks up and speaks out. • Sees American racism as an opportunity for Christians honestly to name our sin and to engage in acts of detoxification, renovation, and reparation. • Is convinced that the deepest, most revolutionary response to the evil of racism is Jesus Christ, the one who demonstrates God for us and enables us to be for God. • Reclaims the church as a place of truth-telling, truth-embodiment, and truth enactment. • Allows the preacher to confess personal complicity in and to model continuing repentance for racism. • Brings the good news that Jesus Christ loves sinners, only sinners. • Enjoys the transformative power of God’s grace. • Listens to and learns from the best sociological, psychological, economic, artistic, and political insights on race in America, especially those generated by African Americans. • Celebrates the work in us and in our culture of a relentlessly salvific, redemptive Savior. • Uses the peculiar speech of scripture in judging and defeating the idea of white supremacy. • Is careful in its usage of color-oriented language and metaphors that may disparage blackness (like “washed my sins white as snow,” or “in him there is no darkness at all”). • Narrates contemporary Christians into the drama of salvation in Jesus Christ and thereby rescues them from the sinful narratives of American white supremacy. • Is not silenced because talk about race makes white Christians uncomfortable. • Refuses despair because of an abiding faith that God is able and that God will get the people and the world that God wants.

But when he deals with the Winner that [Jesus] is the most romantic, in the sense most real. The world had always loved the Saint as being the nearest possible approach to the perfection of God. Christ, through some divine instinct in him, seems to have always loved the Winner as being the nearest possible approach to the perfection of man. His primary desire was not to reform people, any more than his primary desire was to relieve suffering. To turn an interesting thief into a tedious honest man was not his aim. He would have thought little of the Prisoner's Aid Society and other modern movements of the kind. The conversion of a Pharisee would not have seemed to him a great achievement by any means. But in a manner not yet understood of the world he regarded sin and suffering as being in themselves beautiful, holy things, and modes of perfection. It sounds a very dangerous idea. It is so. All great ideas are dangerous. That it was Christ's creed admits of no doubt. That is the true creed I don't doubt myself.

A friend I’ll call Kate took an Introduction to Theology class. Her professor told the class to “write their personal creeds.” For the next week, Kate kept writing and rewriting. She kept asking herself, “What do I believe?” As she honestly reflected on that question, she realized that she believed many things. At the same time, she couldn’t say how strong any of these beliefs were. Should she have a “definitely believe” category, along with sections for “probably believe” and “might believe”? Should she have a “I believe usually, but not necessarily today” category? She struggled with what she thought she believed versus what she acted like she believed. The assignment took a great deal of her time and energy.   After a week, the paper came due. Kate took a deep breath and turned in a handwritten copy of the Nicene Creed, the great orthodox faith statement of the church. She told her teacher that some days she believes the creed with her whole heart. On other days, she isn’t so sure. But the creed isn’t about her. It’s about the faith of the whole church. On the days that she believes it all, she’s in harmony with “the great cloud of witnesses” (Hebrews 12:1). On days when she doesn’t believe it, those witnesses carry her along. The creed shows that we’re all in this together. It’s not a consumerist document; it’s not based on what’s popular or unpopular. It’s the confession of the saints and sinners, martyrs and betrayers.

There are good qualities in every soul. We seldom meet any one who is wholly determined to do wrong, though there are some who deliberately abandon themselves to lives of sin, and lose all regard for virtue and integrity. From such we should keep our distance, because, unless it is our duty to associate with them, they will probably do us more harm than good. Most people, however, are trying in their own way to do right. They fail in many things, because they are not strenuous enough, or do not know well enough how, to do what they ought. . . . It is important that we should accept all light when it is given to us. If we learn a law and neglect to obey it, we do ourselves an injury. No law was ever given by the Lord that could not be obeyed. In some cases obedience is imperfect, because we are imperfect. Not many of us love our neighbors as ourselves, and until we have had more training and experience than we now have, we are hardly able to do so. The laws, however, against stealing, murdering, taking the name of Deity in vain, partaking of such things as are forbidden by the Lord, and [not] withholding what we owe Him in tithes and offerings, we can obey perfectly if we will. The honest endeavor to obey the whole of the law is the only means of obtaining the safe, well-balanced character so necessary for us all. If we neglect any part, we hinder our growth. It is well to keep in mind that sooner or later we must come into harmony with all the commandments of the Lord. . . . A man should be clean and sweet and pure in all his habits; he should also be firm and reliable, industrious and progressive, brave in advocating the right and defending the weak. To be all this, he must study himself and discover is faults and the best remedy for them. He should be merciless in acknowledging his mistakes to himself and the Lord, and to others if they are concerned. Nothing destroys more quickly this power to improve than his turning a deaf ear to conscience, and excusing himself by others' failings and the frailty of the flesh. And when he becomes conscious of his wrong, as a consistent man, he must turn about in earnest and do better. . . . The Lord is ever ready to forgive a repentant sinner, who seeks him aright, even if the sins committed have been many and great, but he does not wish us to live in sin or disobedience for a single moment, just because he can forgive. If we love him, we will keep his commandments, not those that are easy for us alone, but them all. [Improvement Era, May 1903, 483-484]

Very often I will avoid the truth until my face goes red like a toddler avoiding her nap; until limp limbed, she finally stops flailing and falls asleep and receives rest—the very thing she needs and the very thing she fights. When someone like me, who will go to superhero lengths to avoid the truth, runs out of options—when I am found out or too exhausted to pretend anymore or maybe just confronted by my sister—it feels like the truth might crush me. And that is right. The truth does crush us, but the instant it crushes us, it somehow puts us back together into something honest. It’s death and resurrection every time it happens.

Real saints are rare to be found in the world, but there are plenty of sinners to go around—you know plenty of them, and if you’re honest, you’re probably one of them. So don’t fall for cheap lines like: “Our side is all good, and theirs is totally evil!” Real life is a lot more complex than that.

The Bible teaches that we are all sinners (Rom. 3:23), and our marriages are affected by sin as well. Yet we must remember that no marriage is beyond the saving grace of God. If He can save us from our sins and spiritual death and give us eternal life through His Son, He can bring restoration, healing, and peace to our lives and relationships here on earth. If you are facing trials in your marriage or you know someone who is, encourage them to visit a godly counselor who will honestly and lovingly point out the truth of God’s Word and try to preserve their marriage in keeping with His will.

The liberal’s problem is his misunderstanding of the true nature of God. He begins with love instead of beginning with holiness. The death of the “Lord’s goat” shows the necessity of a death to pay for sin. I used to say, “God owes no man anything,” but I was wrong. God owes every sinner the wages of sin, namely death as the penalty for sin. God is honest and will pay the earned wages.

Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief’ (1 Tim. 1:15 NKJV). Not I was chief, but I am chief. Or ‘I am the worst’. This is off our maps. We are not used to someone who has incredible confidence volunteering the opinion that they are one of the worst people. We are not used to someone who is totally honest and totally aware of all sorts of moral flaws – yet has incredible poise and c

To the extent that we ignore (or run from) our own sinfulness, we will be unable to care for other sinners. We will be unable to extend forgiveness to others until we are honest about the extent to which we are forgiven.

An honest sinner is better than a deceitful priest.

Remember that you are sinners as abominable as the Publican, wherefore do you, as you have him for your pattern, go to God, confess, in all simple, honest, and self- abasing, your numerous and abominable sins; and be sure that in the very next place you forget not to ask for pardon, saying, "God be merciful to me a sinner." And remember that none but God can help you against, nor keep you from, the damnation and misery that comes by sin.

While there are consequences for disobedience, God rescues those who are willing to take an honest look at their sins and seek forgiveness.

Paul calls leaders not merely to be humble and self-effacing but to be desperate and honest. It is not enough to be self-revealing, authentic, and transparent. Our calling goes far beyond that. We are called to be reluctant, limping, chief-sinner leaders, and even more, to be stories. The word that Paul uses is that a leader is to be an “example,” but what that implies is more than a figure on a flannel board. He calls us to be a living portrayal of the very gospel we beseech others to believe. And that requires a leader to see himself as being equally prone to deceive as he is to tell the truth, to manipulate as he is to bless, to cower as he is to be bold. A leader is both a hero and a fool, a saint and a felon.

And what those honest atheists grapple with is what every sinner grapples with, what all of us grapple with, burdened consciences that point to judgment. Our calling is to bear witness.

Reasons why I should tell Zenny I love her right now: 1. I love her. 2. She needs to know. 3. She likes the honest-guy thing. 4. An old nun told me to.

Everyone has fights. Every marriage is a constant workout. If you care about someone, if you’re passionate for them, if you truly love them, you’re honest with them and . . . and you disagree. Sometimes it gets pretty awful, but it’s honest and it’s raw. It hurts. But that’s life.

There are many ways to bring a person to their knees, figuratively and literally. I was being honest when I said I don’t want to break Adalina, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see her give in to her soft, submissive side. I want to see vulnerability in her eyes. I want to see fear. I want to see love.

This cramped little space that stank of earth and smoke and sweat, that dripped water during every hard rain, and whose floor was often a half-frozen soup of mud and sunflower seeds and straw, now seemed to him more comfortable than Ketterling’s HQ could ever be, and he knew why. Here, surrounded by the weapons hanging from nails by their straps, the boxes of hand grenades, the cut-down artillery shells filled with cigarette butts, the crumpled moisture-bloated magazines and greasy playing cards, one lived an honest life. You couldn’t get that back home anymore. The radio and the newspapers were full of lies that would have been insulting even if the streets hadn’t been full of rubble and the air with the shriek of air-raid sirens, and it wasn’t enough for the government that the people merely endure it all, bombs and lies, without objecting. They had to believe the lies, had to parrot them back with sickly smiles plastered on their faces, lest they be branded defeatists and be taken away. It wasn’t like that here. Nickolaus wanted it to be, but it wasn’t. Here, a man might be hungry, he might itch with lice, he might sting with pain from cuts that never healed, he might be empty-headed with fatigue and half-deafened from noise, but he always knew precisely where he stood—with his comrades and with the enemy. There were no intrigues, no politics, no flag-waving. A man never looked you in the eyes and told you black was white, or worse yet, demanded that you agree that black was white. There was no need because he had already asked you to die for him, and once you had agreed, what need was there for words?

Be respectful, be honest, ask sweetly, and hold yer head up if he says no.

there is so little of our own maturity and growth that we actually superintend. “I cannot transform myself, or anyone else for that matter. What I can do is create the conditions in which spiritual transformation can take place, by developing and maintaining a rhythm of spiritual practices that keep me open and available to God.”1 We give grace accessibility to our hearts when we engage in intentional spiritual practices. One important spiritual practice is the practice of confession. As Andy Crouch writes, As for Christians, well, we really have just one thing going for us. We have publicly declared . . . that we are desperately in need of Another to give us his righteousness, to complete us, to live in us. We have publicly and flagrantly abandoned the project of self-justification that is at the heart of every person’s compulsion to manage perceptions. . . . This means telling the world—before the world does its own investigative journalism—that we’re not as bad as they think sometimes. We’re worse. . . . If we’re being honest about our own beauty and brokenness, the beautiful broken One will make himself known to our neighbors.2 Confession allows us to be the worst of sinners and yet remain confident that God is committed to us still. Holy desire is best

He hates sharing. Honestly, the guy either has a boring sex life or no imagination. You can’t say pussy or cunt without his face turning red.

If we are to love the sinner yet hate the sin, we have to be honest about both.

I needed to find out who the second guy in the photo is,” I answer honestly. “I know who it is,” her father speaks. I turn to face him, and demand, “Who?” “The owner of this house,” he states through gritted teeth. “Which is?” I snap. I need him to get to the fucking point. “Your father.

From the Bible, he found the truth of a just God, wrathful against rebellion and sin, but gracious toward repentant sinners. Eric was forced each evening to look honestly at his own heart. The words in the Bible had awakened something inside him.

It is an attempt on the part of a backer and wrecker of the system to share his anguish with his countrymen. An inside sinner is honestly trying to share his pains. I will be immensely happy if the discerning sections of the people wake up to the need of democratising these key institutions of the nation and safeguard the constitutional liberty of the people.

And let's be honest. Sometimes, Jane, you can be a real bitch. - Agent Gabriel Dean

The world had always loved the saint as being the nearest possible approach to the perfection of God. Christ, through some divine instinct in him, seems to have always loved the sinner as being the nearest possible approach to the perfection of man. His primary desire was not to reform people, any more than his primary desire was to a relieve suffering. To turn an interesting thief into a tedious honest man was not his aim. He would have thought little of the Prisoners’ Aid Society and other modern movements of the kind. The conversion of a publican into a Pharisee would not have seemed to him a great achievement. But in a manner not yet understood of the world he regarded sin and suffering as being in themselves beautiful holy things and modes of perfection. It seems a very dangerous idea. It is — all great ideas are dangerous. That it was Christ’s creed admits of no doubt. That it is the true creed I don’t doubt myself. Of course the sinner must repent. But why? Simply because otherwise he would be unable to realise what he had done. The moment of repentance is the moment of initiation. More than that: it is the means by which one alters one’s past. The Greeks thought that impossible. They often say in their Gnomic aphorisms, ‘Even the Gods cannot alter the past.’ Christ showed that the commonest sinner could do it, that it was the one thing he could do. Christ, had he been asked, would have said — I feel quite certain about it — that the moment the prodigal son fell on his knees and wept, he made his having wasted his substance with harlots, his swine-herding and hungering for the husks they ate, beautiful and holy moments in his life. It is difficult for most people to grasp the idea. I dare say one has to go to prison to understand it. If so, it may be worth while going to prison.

To be justified is to be declared righteous in the sight of God, fully legally exonerated in the divine court, based entirely on what another (Jesus) has done in our place. But our hearts are wired in such a way that we constantly drift from a moment-by-moment belief in this full exoneration. That heart resistance to complete acquittal before God based on what Christ has done became codified in medieval and then Roman Catholic theology. The Reformers such as Luther and Calvin recovered and rightly recentralized the doctrine of justification, and every generation since then has had to rediscover this doctrine afresh for themselves. It is the most counterintuitive aspect of Christianity, that we are declared right with God not once we begin to get our act together but once we collapse into honest acknowledgment that we never will.

The truth is that, except for the aforesaid stars who dwell apart, we all have the potential saint and the potential sinner, the hero and the coward, the honest man and the dishonest man within us.

I couldn’t relate to the God your mother preached about. I didn’t understand her God.” She paused for him to respond; when he didn’t, Marlissa continued. “The God your mother presented was condemning and judgmental. Her God was full of rules and regulations, and He didn’t love you unless you followed this long list of rules. You couldn’t make any mistakes; you had to be perfect to serve her God. Your mother preached about a loving God, but her God didn’t require her to love sinners like me. I was never good enough for her. I’m still not. To be completely honest, I didn’t want the God she was selling.” “But I wasn’t like that with you,” Kevin spoke up. Marlissa heard the depth of his pain, and saw the turbulence as anger and hurt collided together in his eyes. “I was always there for you even after . . . after you rejected me.” M

Conviction, as uncomfortable as it may feel, is the mutual friend of sinner and saint.

Darrel, let me ask you a question and I want the whole truth. What do you think about God?” He let out a hesitant laugh. “I’m afraid I don’t give him much thought.” “But you believe in Him?” “I guess so, most of the time. Look, Ruth, I want to be totally honest with you. I don’t see many signs of there being a God. Not one who is caring, anyway. I lead a good life so if there’s a place called heaven, I’m sure I’ll make it.” “You don’t know you are a sinner?” “Have I cheated a little on my income tax? Or maybe told a lie or two? Of course, who hasn’t? But I’ve never murdered anyone or stolen anything. No, I don’t think I’m a sinner.” “A lie is a sin, or cheating the government. You have to realize, Darrel, every one is born with a sinful nature. It’s only through Christ we are made right with God. Through the blood shed on the cross, He took everyone’s sin on himself. Now we can be pure in front of God, because we’re forgiven.

A Prayer about Normal Trials Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, as was necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. (1 Pet. 1:3–7) Heavenly Father, today I need a fresh supply of persevering grace, for the “all kinds of trials” of life are sapping my spirit and weighing me down. I need to be reassured that you are refining my faith and not just ignoring me. I feel tired, weary, disillusioned, and a simmering anger is emerging in my spirit. A part of me just says, “Buck up, you woozy whiner!” But I think the gospel offers a better way. Honestly, I’m embarrassed to even speak of my trials, because I didn’t go to sleep hungry or thirsty last night, I didn’t hear gunfire echoing through my neighborhood, there’s no plague pillaging my community, I don’t live with the fear of my children being sold into slavery, and my government isn’t threatening the exercise of my faith. These are realities with which many of my brothers and sisters in Christ live on a daily basis. For me, it’s more like swimming in a pool of tiny piranha just nibbling away at my joy, energy, and peace. Please give me grace perfectly suited for the demands and the dailiness of normal life—in this body with aging joints and a leaking memory; among fellow sinner-saints who, like me, love inconsistently; in unresolved stories from the past and present of brokenness and weakness; in the face of minor injustices and a lack of common mercies; when cars, plumbing, air conditioners, and other stuff just break; when people don’t say “thank you,” people drive like maniacs, and pets pee on the carpet. Lord, in all these things, I want your hand and heart to be at work. I want to know what a man of faith looks like, not just when I am praying for daily bread or facing a firing squad but when I’m living out the implications of the gospel in the daily messiness of normal life. I pray in Jesus’ tender name. Amen.

I have to say, after talking to my friend, it was hard not to feel like I have the better deal at Liberty. Sure, it’s frustrating not to be able to relieve sexual tension, but with that option off the table, I’m free to be totally transparent. The whole interaction feels more honest, more straightforward. In the words of I Kissed Dating Goodbye, “our entire motivation in relationships is transformed.” I’ve said things to Aimee tonight that I would never say to girls back in the secular world for fear of alienating them. Strange things to say to a girl who looks really beautiful—like, “You look really beautiful.

So who is the real Jerry Falwell? Is he a rabid, hate-spewing fundamentalist? Or is he a dutiful family man, a talented preacher, and a competent administrator? Was John McCain right when he called Dr. Falwell an “agent of intolerance” during the 2000 presidential campaign? Or was the Wall Street Journal right when, in 1978, it described him as a “man of charm, drive, talent, and ambition”? Well, in a way, both are right. In fact, that’s the overwhelming impression I get from the time I’ve spent watching Dr. Falwell this semester and talking to him this afternoon: he’s a complex character, but he’s not hiding anything. He may be a blundering, arch-conservative provocateur, and he may spew anti-gay venom more often than most people brush their teeth, but I honestly think he believes every word he preaches, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he really does stay awake at night worrying about the homosexual agenda, the evils of abortion, and the imminent spread of liberalism. He really does think America needs to be saved.

Through table fellowship Jesus ritually acted out His insight into Abba’s indiscriminate love—a love that causes His sun to rise on bad men as well as good, and His rain to fall on honest and dishonest men alike (see Matthew 5:45). The inclusion of sinners in the community of salvation, symbolized in table fellowship, is the most dramatic expression of the ragamuffin gospel and the merciful love of the redeeming God.

But, what of the man who is conscious of considerable moral imperfection, perhaps of the habit of grave sin, and is at the same time sincerely desirous of spiritual growth? Is he to relinquish the quest for spiritual knowledge until he has first reformed his conduct? By no means. As a matter of fact, any attempt to improve himself morally without spiritual growth is foredoomed to failure. No more can a man—to use Lincoln’s phrase—raise himself off the ground by pulling on his own bootstraps, than the sinner can reform himself by his own personal efforts. The only result of relying upon himself in such cases will be repeated failure, consequent discouragement, and probably ultimate despair of doing any good. The one thing for such a person to do is to pray regularly, especially at the actual time of temptation, and to throw the responsibility for success upon God. He must carry on in this way, no matter how many times he may fail; and, if he continues to pray, and especially if he prays in the scientific way, he will, as a matter of fact, very soon find that the power of evil has been broken, and that he is free from that particular sin. To pray scientifically is to keep affirming that God is helping him, that the temptation has no power against him, and constantly to claim that his own real nature is spiritual and perfect. This is ever so much more powerful than merely to invoke the help of God. In this way moral regeneration and spiritual unfoldment will go hand in hand. The Christian life does not require that we possess perfection of character, or else, which of us would be able to live it? What it does require is honest, genuine striving for that perfection.