If You Invented a Religion

What if you could invent a religion?  You’d probably make its central figures heroic and virtuous. All the characteristics we wish we had.  This is true of most ancient religions and mythologies.  They are typically a picture of a peoples' aspirations more than they are of reality.   

I only know of one religion that is scandalously sober in its assessment of its key leaders.  Only the faith named for Jesus, the Christ, has such a scathing view of her adherents.  

Cyclical self-deception.
Cowering fear.
Blatant denial and unbelief.
Foolhardy hubris.

(See the example of one man:  Matt. 14:31; Mark 14:66-72; Luke 5:8; Galatians 2:11-14)

These followers are clearly inferior. They appear to make a mockery of the faith they profess.  Except unlike every other religion, this God seeks them when hopelessly lost.  He receives them when they fail so obviously.  

This is one of the compelling curiosities of Christianity.  My best education in the Christian faith has not come in a classroom or by lecture.  I’ve been schooled most effectively when I reach my finite limits.  When dogged by doubts and frustrated by fear.  When struck by the flawed face in the mirror.  When embarrassed by my own impulsive pride.  

Only in this religion is there anything close to a cross and a God who would choose to go there.  Only here does a God sacrifice for failed followers who prove to be fools.  

Your flaws are cause for you to fall breathless at the foot of the cross and find incomparable strength and love.  I could not invent such a religion, but I believe it.