I'm A Jerk

I'm a jerk.

Today I found out that columnist Robert Novack has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. And the first thought that went through my head was, "Well, it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."

Now, why in the world would I tell you that?

Because years ago I was joking with a non-Christian friend about the lame nature of Christian subculture and, more specifically, Christian t-shirts. And he asked what an appropriate Christian t-shirt would be. And I responded: I'm A Jerk (front) That's Why I Need Jesus (on the back)

To which he responded, "Come on, you're not a jerk."

But I am a jerk. Frankly, jerk isn't a strong enough word, but we try and keep this blog PG.

I think bad things. Not only that, but I actually draw comfort from bad things. I talk bad about customers after I smile to their face, I ignore my son when he's looking for attention and I'd rather be reading, I make excuses not to know my neighbors or help the poor or befriend those who might make my life messy.

I read that some columnist whose opinions strike me as harsh and hateful has been diagnosed with a brain tumor and, for a second or two, I'm more harsh and hateful than he has ever been.

And that's why I'm a Christian. Not because I got my life together or because I'm nicer than the average bear, but because I'm selfish and petty and lazy. Because I'm a jerk.

My friend Derek once said that "those without sin don't need a Savior." And yet we Christians go to great lengths to keep our sin as hidden as we can. We want people to know all that Christ has done for us without them finding out all we've done. But my buddy Derek has it right. "The best thing that could happen to us," he once said, "would be to have our worst thoughts and actions broadcast on the evening news."

Jesus once encountered a woman who had made some sinful choices in her life. She did her best to keep this from him, but he quickly and lovingly exposed her sin. He proceeded then to offer her forgiveness that only he could offer and a new life and new choices. The encounter ends with the woman running into the city and exclaiming, "Come meet a man who told me everything I ever did."

Why? Why is that good news? Why is it necessary for us to be so exposed? Why share my sin with you? Why admit that I had this moment of schadenfreude at Robert Novack's expense?

It isn't a giving in to emotional voyeurism. It isn't an embrace of "radical honesty." It's just that Christians are too often involved in a massive cover up we like to call "everything's fine." It's "I'm OK, you're OK" with a Jesus twist. 

But I'm not OK and you're not either and that's why Jesus had to come and die and raise again and forgive our sin and teach us a better way. Because I'm a screw-up. I'm a jerk.