The worst people I know parade around their wide array of one-week mission trips, their near-perfect church attendance (the only time they vacated their pew was when they were away on mission trips), and their purity rings. They're the first to tell you about all the good things they've done in Jesus' Name. They're also the last people to ever confess that they even needed Jesus in the first place.
For them, Christianity is cultural.
The worst people I know are the first to condemn their struggling brothers and sisters, but will be damned before they try to help anyone out from the mud, lest they get their lovely pure-white cashmere sweater dirty in the process. Assisting others in any capacity is something they have disdain for — unless they can show their good deeds off somehow.
They hold their hands high during worship and post Christian music lyrics on their Facebook walls while they do nothing to live those lyrics out. They share all the status updates for events at their church, but live a life filled with lies the moment they leave church grounds.
The worst people I know condemn everyone who's had sex before they were married and flashed their purity rings as they proudly exclaim, "I'm waiting until marriage, just like God said to." That is, until they have sex with their high school sweetheart; after which they subtly slip off their purity ring, put it in a jewelry box in the back of their closet, and talk about how virginity is overrated. Or, they crow about how "God forgives," which conveniently seems only to apply to the sins they have committed.
They grow loud and bold when questions surface about how to live a Godly life, shouting out answers like "alcohol and drug-free!" but grow quiet when the verses about sexual purity are brought up; or when the verses about Jesus drinking wine are revealed. Jesus is convenient. Nothing more.
The worst people I know go to Costa Rica and China in the summertime, writing off their excursion as a "mission trip" like it's tax deductible in the church of good works. Even if they only spent one day in an impoverished village handing out the water bottles they've always taken for granted—the water bottles they pull out of their refrigerator at home and drink half of before throwing it in a trash can.
These trips don't change them, and they go back to their upper-middle class colleges with their friends who act righteous and continue to pretend they have the slightest idea of Who God is.
Except, they'll never sacrifice anything for Him.
The worst people I know subscribe to convenient Christianity. God fits into the little peg in their life that they have created for Him. He's nothing more than a far-off deistic source of pervasive "goodness." The Bible applies when they are comfortable with it applying, but it is simply something to ignore when it doesn't fit in with their status quo.
I have more respect for a blatant atheist than I do for these people. At least atheists, despite what might be a hatred for Christianity, don't lie about who they are. At least they're all in with something they believe.
The worst people I know are Christians.
But so are the best people I know.
The best people I know are honest. The best people I know will cry in a conversation with you because they're so grieved by their sin; their brokenness, and so in awe of the sacrifice Jesus made in spite of them. The best people I know say, "Hey, I'm hurting," and don't try to hide it.
The best people I know weave stories of their mistakes and share them with the world, telling about how their lies, their darkness, their worst fears and insecurities were shattered at the hands of a Father Who loves them. The best people I know tell stories of a love far greater than this world can create, contain, understand.
The best people I know take the Bible for what it is, not what they want it to be. They detest their sin. They are open about their weaknesses because they know that Christ shines in spite of them. They lay down their lives for others year-round, not just on a one-week mission trip.
The best people I know do their best to exemplify Christ wherever they go. The worst people I know only use Christ when they need a crutch.
The worst people I know are like Caiaphas. The best people I know are like Paul.
I may not be one of the best people I know yet, but I thank God for the day I stopped becoming the worst person I knew. I'm broken, but I no longer try to hide all my scars. I desperately pray that I never go back into the shadows again.
Soli Deo Gloria.
