A Confession

                If you've been a part of a fellowship community for any length of time, you've probably had a few exemplary models of “real” faith in your life. You know, the “giants of the faith” you've always been enamored by. Maybe they are authors or songwriters. Maybe they are fellowship leaders. Maybe they are elders and lay leaders who seem to have been around forever.

                While it is a great blessing to have such witnesses and examples in our lives, I’m afraid we sometimes do a disservice to our souls by over-extolling these “giants.” I’m sure you know what I mean. I don’t mean that extolling the faithful is a bad thing. It’s a good thing (and a biblical thing, too). And I don’t mean that we end up idolizing them (though this is not a good thing, nor a biblical thing). What I’m afraid we do instead is create a mental barrier between ourselves and those whose faith we've deemed “real.”

                Can we be honest about this for a minute? Isn't it always a temptation to compare ourselves to other believers? Isn't it always a struggle not to view some as “better” than ourselves? Worse still, isn't it a temptation to let ourselves believe that those people—those “real” believers—don’t struggle like we do?

                Maybe you can hear yourself saying things like, “He’s such an amazing servant and he loves people so well. Surely he doesn't struggle with loving anyone, like I do,” or, “Wow, she is so gifted in articulating truth. Surely she doesn't ever doubt what she believes, like I do.”

                I think if we’re honest we've probably all been here at one point or another. And I see why. It’s tough to live next to somebody when you feel like they don’t struggle with your struggles. Maybe you struggle with understanding the word, and you often feel that your faith isn't very strong for that reason; maybe you look at another person who has great depth in the word, and you feel that somehow your faith is of lesser importance than theirs, and that the Father is probably more satisfied with them than with you.

                Or maybe you struggle with other things. Impure thoughts. Addictions. Spending  time in intercession (without getting distracted). Being more disciplined. Putting faith into practice. Sharing your testimony. Articulating. Envisioning. Encouraging. Serving.

                And maybe in your faith struggles you tend to hold others up who seem to “have it all together.” You might begin to convince yourself that they don’t struggle like you do. And maybe it’s because of what you see or hear them doing. Maybe they’re in ministry. Maybe they’re really generous. Maybe they’re wise. Maybe they’re serving overseas.

                I have a confession to make, and I hope I can speak to and for both sides of this issue: to those who feel that they face insurmountable struggles that other believers do not, and to those who are unknowingly lifted up for supposedly “having it all together.”

                The truth is, I have a number of “heart problems,” and Cambodia is great at pointing them out. I easily lose my patience. When I lose my patience I lose my temper. I resent the people around me—the ones that I write home about, “because I’m here to reach them.” I have a lot of bitter thoughts due to cultural or logical differences. I become angry when plans go awry and things don’t get done (even if they aren’t really that important).

                I also have doubts. I struggle with a lot of things that are written in the word. I struggle sometimes to believe in the goodness or the faithfulness of the Father. I struggle to believe that he really can—or really wants to—reach these people. The ones I write home about, “because he’s called us to bring the good news.”

                I struggle to be faithful. Faithful in study. Faithful in interceding. Faithful in leading my wife. Faithful in serving my teammates. Faithful in being the witness I am called to be. Faithful in pursuing and loving the Creator of the universe.

                I struggle with idolatry. I get distracted. I waste precious time. And sometimes, I don’t even seem to care.

                The good news is that the Helper is always here to correct my step: if I am angry, he points out my selfishness; if I am doubtful, he points out my lack of trust; if I am faithless, he points out my restlessness; if I am idolatrous, he points out my rebellion. He corrects each of these in love, and calls me back to himself.

                Here’s the point of saying all this: no matter who you emulate, they struggle. That speaker you love to listen to struggles. Your small group leader struggles. That guy who knows every verse struggles. That gal who sings like an angel struggles. That elder who’s been around for half a century struggles. That person serving overseas doing things you tell yourself you could never do struggles. Nobody’s arrived.

                So this is my plea for all of us: let’s not hold each other up so much that we end up putting ourselves down. Let’s not compare our progress with another’s. Let’s not say in our hearts, “Why did you make me like this?”

                Instead, let’s rest in the great gift of our imperfections, because it is exactly those struggles that make our King so glorious, because he promises us all that his grace is sufficient for us, because his power is made perfect in our weakness. He is the one working and serving in every situation, not us. He knows I struggle in Cambodia with things like anger, selfishness, doubtfulness, faithfulness, and idolatry. He knows that I am nothing, apart from him. And he will never stop teaching me that I am nothing, so that I can finally realize that anything good and pure in my life exists only because he himself exists in me, and he exists in me because he loves me, and gave himself for me.

                May he teach you today to glory in your weakness, and to praise him for his perfect works in you.

-Ryan