No, you aren't a "broken sinner"

False Hope, Poisonous Comfort, and Low Bars

I was scrolling Facebook the other day, when they put one of those annoyingly noticeable algorithm-selected reels in my feed entitled “What I eat in a day as a personal trainer.”

As I try to be nutrition-aware, I gave it a click. The “influencer” went on to describe how she eats all kinds of junk and finishes every day with dessert, totaling what I would estimate to be 2500 to 3000 calories.

Unsurprisingly, she would be classified as overweight to borderline obese.

Now, there are three kinds of people who make up the audience for such a video. 

First, there are those who aren’t really health-conscious anyway. They might not click, and even if they do the information won’t move the needle much for them. 

Second, there are those who are serious about their health. This group will know immediately that this particular personal trainer cannot help them.

And, finally, there is her target audience, and the only kind of person on which her pitch will work. It is the type who knows they should be health-conscious but also doesn’t want to change in any conceivable way or put forth any effort. 

She affords these people the opportunity to comfort themselves in their inaction. “See, I can eat Lucky charms and pizza every day and be healthy. This lady on TikTok does and she’s a personal trainer.”

The advice may kill them, but at least they’ll be comforted.

Those who are truly seeking to be healthy know there is little sense in paying for a trainer who is in the same shape they themselves are already in. If you are looking for someone to show you the way to fitness, it naturally follows that you would want somebody who has clearly been that way himself.

To the person truly seeking better health, an overweight personal trainer is utterly useless.

And that’s exactly why the modern church is so feckless.

We want the lost to feel perfectly comforted when they come to us.

“We’re all broken sinners!”

“It’s not hard—just love God and love others (and we’ll let you define that however you want).”

“We’re just like you!”

As with the personal trainer’s pitch, this messaging will also have three audiences:

It will be totally ignored by those who weren’t interested in religion anyway.

It will be utterly useless—off-putting, even—to those truly seeking Christ.

And it will be lapped up by the carnally-minded.

Like a person trainer who tells you you don’t have to give up your daily donut, this will have a great appeal to those who want to remain exactly as they are and be comforted that that’s just fine. 

“We’re all broken sinners” is religion’s version of “Healthy at any size.” 

And, in similar fashion, it’s literally killing people.

It’s time we get back to holiness. We were called to be holy, set apart, different. Our message is not “We are just like you.” Our message is “We were just like you, and now by the grace of God we are something entirely different and entirely better” (1 Corinthians 6:11).

This is not arrogance. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. We are better than we were because He made us better when we were incapable of ever doing it ourselves.

For someone to walk with God for decades only to tell the lost, “I’m just like you” is a slap in the proverbial face of the Holy Spirit. And rather than being encouraging to the lost, it would be the most depressing thing they could ever hear.

Why? 

Imagine how crushing it would be to spend hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars in the gym only to have before and after pictures that can’t be distinguished from each other.

Likewise, it would be just as crushing to walk into church and discover that after decades in the faith people still consider themselves broken sinners. What a hopeless message and a powerless religion.

Instead, our message is that you will be accepted as you are, and if you continue on in faith you’re going to be changed into someone who is truly holy.

Now, here’s the kicker. 

You may be picturing a smiling Joel Osteen or a rhyming Steven Furtick on stage offering these words of false comfort. But the rot reaches into even our most conservative churches.

Even if a congregation never utters the word “broken” and doesn’t have a boilerplate “Love God, Love Others” website, if they aren’t showing people how a holy lifestyle would require change, they’re telling them the members they are healthy at any size. They’re preaching comfort to people in their unhealthiness. 

This is exactly why I’m fed up with “Love God, Love Others.” Yes, it’s an abbreviated version of the two greatest commandments (Mark 12:28-31). Oddly enough, Jesus told the scribe who accepted this teaching He was “not far from the kingdom” (12:34).

Translation? It’s a great start. You’re getting warmer.

But when we stop there, we end up with the official slogan of theological minimalism. What does God want me to do with my home? My body? My career? My money? My words? My relationships?

Most churches are shrugging their shoulders and saying, “Uh, well… Love God, love others.”

This is why we can tell the world “We’re just like you” - because we aren’t interested in being who God commands us to be in these areas. We stick with the generic and the minimal in order to have broad appeal and keep our numbers up.

But Jesus said “If you love me, you will keep My commandments” (John 14:15). Somebody has to tell us how, and that somebody had better be able to show us how, too.

Preachers, elders, teachers - that’s OUR job. If you’re going to be followed, you had better do what the unfit personal trainer couldn’t:

• Rouse people from their unhealthy comfort

• Set the example that there’s a better way

We have to be the “personal trainers” whose lives show that there is a path to holiness, and we can help them walk it.

We’re not trying to be “just like” anybody here on earth. We’re trying to be just like Jesus. And we’re trying to show people they can be just like Him, too, thanks to the cross, the open tomb, and the Spirit poured forth.