And the Day I Stopped Being a “Good Christian”

I have wanted to write this post from the day my blog began.  This is the reason I chose the name for my blog. There is meaning behind it–and a story.  I sat down to write out this post many times over the past three years, but the words just never came.  Perhaps that was because I wasn’t writing the whole story. And it wasn’t until recently that I realized that I was trying to tell you about the beginning of something without explaining the ending of something else.  

Before I get into the significance of “My Alabaster Flask,” I have to explain to you the end of the American Dream.  Now don’t get excited; this is not a political statement or post. I am not saying the American Dream has ended for America, just for me or really for my family.  And it was a choice we made; we walked away from it. This is also not a reflection on our feelings toward our home country. I LOVE America. Maybe more now that I have left it than ever before.  

The American Dream was never our goal, so to speak, but when you grow up hearing the propaganda of the “white picket fence,” the “let freedom ring,” the “pursuit of happiness,” it is easy to get wrapped up in pursuing it.  Especially because none of it in itself is bad. And by all the standards, we were living out the American Dream.

Blake had a great job, and he was moving up the corporate ladder.  We had a beautiful house in a great neighborhood. We had friends. We had a social life.  In so many ways, we had it all. We also had an amazing church life. I taught at our Lutheran preschool.  Abby attended the same day school. We loved our church friends. They were family. Those were the days! They were great days.  We truly had it ALL. We were succeeding at the American Dream and being “good Christians.”

That right there was the problem.

I no longer believe you can be a good Christian.  In a way, I see it as an oxymoron. At least not in the sense that I used to refer to the phrase “good Christian.”  The idea where you silently check the boxes of tithing, church attendance, helping the less fortunate, attending Bible study, doing devotions, reading your Bible, and all the other Christiany things.  When you think you are doing well at living the Christian life, that is when you don’t have a clue at all. You don’t get what it means to follow Christ. At least that is what was true for me. The American Dream, being a “good Christian,” checking all the “right” boxes, was fantastic.  I loved that life. I miss that life. I enjoyed that life. Because it was

Comfortable.

I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.  Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. Romans 12:1-2

There are a few words in these verses that should make a “good Christian” cringe.  “present your bodies as a living sacrifice…that by testing you may discern what is the will of God.”

Sacrifice and testing are not comfortable.  They are not easy. They are not great. They are hard.  To be a good Christian, you have to be following God’s will for your life and doing it well.  When life is comfortable, it is easy to believe you are succeeding. I did. I was teaching little kids about Jesus every day.  And I loved those kids. And I was a good teacher. I enjoyed that job. I was part of the church. I led Bible studies for the parents.  I volunteered in church activities. I was doing it all, and it was good stuff. And the more I did well, the more I didn’t need a Savior.  I didn’t need a Lord, a Redeemer, a Healer, or a God. And the scariest part of the “good Christian” American Dream life was that I didn’t even notice.  The whole time I truly believed I was following God’s will. I was acknowledging I was sinful, but I wasn’t really. I thought I was on a good path. I didn’t realize that making my life about what I thought God wanted could even push God out of my focus.  But it did.

It took throwing away the American Dream, giving away all of our possessions, moving to another country, letting God direct our path, and saying “Here God, You take over,” for me to realize:

How much I NEED God.  

And I HAVE needed Him this much my entire life.  I just didn’t see it. I didn’t get it. I never understood how greatly I needed Him when life was comfortable.  When life was easy, when I was succeeding, it appeared that I could do it all just fine.

Let me tell you how I am doing at this missionary gig living in another country:  I could possibly be the worst missionary and the biggest failure in the history of missionaries.  That is not an exaggeration, friends. I don’t got it here. None of it. It is not figured out. I am not making progress.  It is one failure after another. I don’t got any of it. The only part of me that is not failing at being a missionary is that I am still here.  I have not quit. But EVERYTHING else – nope, don’t got it.

But, you know what?  I am not alone. There are a number of my fellow missionary friends who at one time or another have said or thought the same thing.  And it is only after laying all of our flaws and failures and weaknesses on the table because we have been humbled SO MUCH by our own limitations that we find God.  We find His strength, His grace, His plan, and our need for a Savior. A Savior who has always been there but has gone unnoticed and unappreciated for far too long in our lives.

But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  -2 Corinthians 12 :19

If I couldn’t see my own weakness, how could I see His strength?  How could anyone else? What witness was my life to anyone looking at me if all they saw was ME, the “good Christian?”   

I was reading through a Bible study with one of my favorite mentors.  She was a missionary in Venezuela for over twenty years. She, along with her husband, led the first short term team from our church to the Dominican Republic.  Blake was on that team. Then again two years later we both went with her. She is one of those women you look at and think, “That is who I want to be when I grow up.”  She was also one of the biggest influences on our decision to be missionaries.

So one day, after we were missionaries, back when I was pregnant with Ella, we sat down together and read through the story in Luke seven of the sinful woman.  

Jesus was invited to dinner at the home of a Pharisee.  While He was sitting at the table, a sinful woman barged into the house.  She began crying and washing the feet of Jesus with her tears. She wiped them with her hair and then anointed them with oil from her alabaster flask.  

If Jesus was visiting my town, what would I do?  The old me, the “good Christian,” would invite Jesus to dinner.  I would throw a very respectable dinner party. I would invite my “good Christian” friends to join us. Our children would be on their very best behavior.  I would make sure the food was perfect, the china was washed, and the house was spotless. I would prepare the very best for my Lord. But never in a million years would I have interrupted anyone else’s dinner party by barging in as an emotional pile of tears and plop myself down at Jesus’ feet.

Imagine my surprise when I realized I had grown up to be a Pharisee.  

And it wasn’t until I moved to the mission field and began to uncover my own weaknesses did I even realize that is who I was.  I am NOT a good Christian.

Luke continues with Simon saying to himself, “if this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner.”  

And Jesus answered him.

I love when Jesus answers those out loud who think thoughts to themselves.  Because that is me. I will sit silently judging and drowning in my own negativity, while others think I am being quiet.  I need to realize that Jesus hears my ugly thoughts. And He would answer me out loud, too.

Jesus answers Simon with a parable.  He talks about a moneylender forgiving debts.  The greater the debt, the more love the debtor had for the moneylender. This is the same with us.  The greater the sin forgiven, the more love we have for a Savior – love that makes you throw yourself down at the Savior’s feet, weeping while creating a spectacle of yourself.

This is where it hit me. I didn’t see how big my sin was.  My sin was not less. My sin was still great when living my comfortable, American life, but I was blinded by my pursuit of happiness, blinded by being a “good Christian,” blinded by success.  I was blinded and could not see my sin in its entirety.

I needed to be stripped of all that stuff and comfort to understand the vastness of my sin.  The debt that has been paid for me is large.

My favorite part of being a missionary is this understanding.  Seeing myself for who I truly am. I am not a good Christian. There is no such thing.  There are only miserable sinners of whom I am one of the most miserable. I am a failure.  I am weak. I am a sinner. I am imperfect. Because of this, I understand my need for a Savior.  I understand the power of God’s grace for me. I understand the depth of His love. I understand that it is unimaginable.  And this is a beautiful gift. This is what I have gained in the mission field. There are no “good christians.” There are only miserable sinners redeemed by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.

“…but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more, so that, as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness leading to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Romans 5:20

An alabaster flask is a semiprecious stone that was cut and shaped into a container – most likely small and beautifully crafted.  It held sweet-smelling oil or perfume. It was worth a great deal of money. Perhaps this was her prized possession. This was what she brought to Jesus’s feet.  This was what she emptied out before Him, not caring that she was in someone else’s house or crashing someone else’s dinner party, not caring that she was being whispered about for her emotional outburst.  She was solely focused on pouring out her love and devotion to the One who had forgiven her debt. Her love was great because she knew her sin was great as well.

It is my constant prayer that I approach my Lord and Savior with the same unashamed, emotional outcry of love and devotion that the sinful woman had.  My alabaster flask is my comfort zone, my need to be liked, my desire for pretty things, my pursuit of happiness, my American dream, my social status, and everything that blinds me from seeing the ugly truth of my sin and my desperate need for a Savior.    

My alabaster flask is my reminder to lay down my pride and weep at my Father’s feet because His grace abounds and His love for me is great.  My debt has been paid. My sins, which are many, have all been forgiven.

“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope,  and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” Romans 5:3-5