When I was a much younger preacher, I was occasionally asked to offer an invocation, a prayer, at the opening of my hometown’s City Commission meetings. Once my part was done, I often stayed around for a while just as an interested citizen to see what was going on that might be interesting.
On a few rare occasions, I found myself at a meeting where “condemnation hearings” were on the agenda, and they were indeed interesting. The city couldn’t condemn (and order torn down) somebody’s dilapidated building without going through due process, which is certainly as it should be.
But the time had to come when the owner, some of them as dilapidated as their decaying buildings, either cleaned up the mess or ran out of time and excuses (though the excuses could be entertaining). Eventually, for the good of the city and all of us who preferred not to live in a slum, the order was pronounced: Condemned! None too soon for most of them.
So, surprise! Condemnation is not without its positive aspect. But I’m thinking right now about a type of condemnation that is not positive at all, a feeling that I’m afraid oppresses us all from time to time and, some folks, almost continually. It’s the nagging suspicion that we simply don’t measure up. As individuals, as family members, as students, as employees, as… you name it.
I hope you had parents whose love was unconditional, who wanted the best for you but whose love you knew was there always, through successes and failures. Priceless! But too many folks have had parents whose love was, or at least, felt, “transactional” or conditional.
Maybe you have a great boss whose support you can count on. But too many people work for bosses whose management style is more bull whip than affirmation and haven’t given a real compliment to anyone since the Carter administration.
So, it’s rather ironic—stay with me here—that before we can hear the truly good news of Christ, we need to hear this news: no one measures up. Not by themselves. No one.
“Ah, but I’m so religious, I measure up.” That’s a lie.
“I keep all the rules, so I measure up.” Another lie.
“Well, at least I’m closer to the mark than you are.” Lie. The best person you’ve ever known or heard of is in the same leaky boat we’re all in. Mother Theresa. The Apostle Paul. No one measures up completely. (Read Romans 7 to hear St. Paul’s take on this. In fact, I dare anyone to seriously read Romans, grapple with its truth, and not find it life-changing.)
Oh, we can try to lower God’s standards. Folks of the toxically religious sort (not all is toxic) pick a few pet rules they can keep and ignore the really hard ones, the ones that are hard to measure but truly affect souls. Pharisees in all ages pick their favorite rules and look down on others. It’s a game. A lie. A delusion.
So, the Apostle Paul calls us all out. In Romans 3, he says, no less than three times, as if— exactly as if—he’s trying to call us out, trash all of our excuses. “No one is righteous; no, not one.”
If we don’t, if we can’t, measure up on our own even to our standards, much less God’s, where does that leave us?
In a bad spot. In deep need. So, the apostle himself cries out, “What a wretched human I am! Who will set me free?” (Romans 7).
Then he rings out the answer that takes the focus completely off of us—off of our bad-ness and off of our supposed goodness: “Thanks be to God! God did [what no law code and what no human effort can do] by sending his own Son.”
The perfect sacrifice, the Son “measured up” completely, and those who trust in him partake fully in the pardon and the power only he brings.
“A continuous, low-lying black cloud” hung over us (Romans 8:1, The Message). Guilt and fear and, yes, condemnation. And if being right with God was something we scraped and struggled to attain by our own effort, it would make a sad sort of sense to live in fear, always feeling condemned—or working very hard to ignore that nagging uncertainty.
But if he has done the work, always, fully, and forever, then our task is not to earn something that can only be received as a gift. Our job, and a full time job it is, is to trust him. A life lived to honor and thank him is the only proper response. No more fear. Joy, security, peace, deep hope, freedom.
And the focus? It’s never on us. When we do poorly, we know we are forgiven, and he lifts us up to move on. When we do well, we know who empowers that, and we thank him. We’ll find we won’t have a self-righteous leg to stand on. No, but we’ll have two good legs to dance on.
The focus is where it should be. The worship is where it should be. No more games. And now? No condemnation.
“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1).
If you want a condemnation hearing, you won’t find it regarding anything God builds. I’d suggest a good worship service instead. A song or a few there. And a song in your heart.
You’re invited to visit my website, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!
Copyright 2023 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.