On Weakness Christianity

There are two reli­gions call­ing them­selves evan­gel­i­cal Chris­tian­ity today: Strength Chris­tian­ity and Weak­ness Chris­tian­ity. Strength Chris­tian­ity is that reli­gion which places both feet squarely on the Bible and pro­claims, “I am strong. I sought the Lord. I’m a believer. I’ve turned away from sin. I read my Bible and pray every sin­gle day. I’m for God!” Weak­ness Chris­tian­ity, by con­trast, places both knees squarely on the Bible and says, “I am weak, but the Lord has sought me. I believe, but help now my unbe­lief. I fail and am bro­ken by my con­tin­ued sin­ful­ness. Have mercy on me, Lord, and grant me favor, for apart from you I can do nothing.”

Those who pur­sue Strength Chris­tian­ity will never find joy in God, for they will never find God. Our Father refuses to be approached in that man­ner. They will find only increas­ing reli­gious pride and secret hard­ness of heart. On the out­side, they will project a pic­ture of right­eous­ness. They’ll have it all together. They’ll be spir­i­tual. But only on the outside.

For those who stum­ble across the rare jewel of Weak­ness Chris­tian­ity, how­ever, there is pro­vi­sion beyond what we can pos­si­bly imag­ine. Our suf­fer­ing, our fail­ures, our weak­nesses and dis­ap­point­ments all gain an incred­i­ble spir­i­tual sig­nif­i­cance. God never says he’ll be glo­ri­fied in our reli­gious accom­plish­ments. But he does promise that his power will be made per­fect in our weak­ness (2 Cor 12:9).

Need­i­ness is the heart of bib­li­cal reli­gion. When we hon­estly lay our bro­ken­ness before God, we’re sur­prised to see a rad­i­cally dif­fer­ent mes­sage in the Bible. While we had per­haps expected a to-do list from Holy Writ, a pro­gram to make us right­eous, or a divinely sanc­tioned self-help book, we instead see a shock­ing mes­sage that cen­ters on our God and his grace to his bro­ken peo­ple not about us and our per­for­mance and expected rewards. And when we approach God in brokenness—Weakness Christianity—we find a rad­i­cally dif­fer­ence vision for prayer. Prayer is not some­thing we do—a per­for­mance designed to get some­thing from God. Instead, it’s merely a free and hon­est con­fes­sion of our need­i­ness to God and our spo­ken reliance upon him for each and every bless­ing. When you stum­ble upon Weak­ness Chris­tian­ity, you real­ize that true reli­gion is all about God’s grace, not about our devo­tional consistency.

Per­haps this has never hap­pened to you. But I’ve found con­tem­po­rary Chris­tians are often more con­cerned about my â??rela­tion­ship with God’ than with my rela­tion­ship with God. Whose idea was it to define the sum total of my rela­tion­ship with God as my devo­tional con­sis­tency? Your quiet time is not your rela­tion­ship with God. Your rela­tion­ship with God—or, as I pre­fer to say, God’s rela­tion­ship with you—is your whole life: your job, your fam­ily, your sleep, your play, your rela­tion­ships, your dri­ving, your every­thing. The real irony here is that we’ve become accus­tomed to pigeon­hol­ing our entire rela­tion­ship with God into a brief devo­tional exer­cise that is not even com­manded in the Bible.
Greg John­son, Free­dom from Quiet Time Guilt

(Note: I did not write this.)