- “Look at how much I give to charity.”
- “Look at how hospitable I am.”
- “Look at the level of my theological knowledge.”
- “Look at how often I share the gospel with others.”
- “Look at what a good marriage I have.”
- “Look how successful my business is.”
- “Look at how I’ve resisted pornography or adultery.”
- “Look at the fact that I homeschool my children.”
- “Look at how I never curse or swear.”
- “Look at how many short-term mission trips I’ve been on.”
- “Look at how consistent my personal devotions are.”
- “Look at my willingness to lead a small group.”
You and I tend to want to point to anything we can to prove that we are not lawbreakers, but law keepers. Yet the whole argument of the Bible is that if we were able to keep the law with perfection and consistency, Jesus would not have had to come. The sad reality is that alone, none of us is righteous. None of us measures up. None of us has any power whatsoever to keep the law so consistently as to achieve acceptance by a completely holy God. So it was essential that Jesus would come and live in a way that none of us could ever live, to die the death that we all deserve to die, and to rise, defeating sin and death. Hope is never to be found in your performance, no matter what actions you are able to point to. Sin is your infection, and without the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, it is also your demise. It is inescapable and morally debilitating, and it will lead to your death.
So abandon hope in your own righteousness. Abandon the delusion that somehow you can measure up. Run to the place where hope can be found and throw yourself again today on the grace of Jesus. He did what you could never do so that you would be welcomed into the arms of a righteous God and be fully accepted even though, in reality, you are anything but righteous. How can God accept you and not compromise his own righteousness? He can do this because Christ’s righteousness has been credited to your moral account. Now, that’s amazing grace!
For further study and encouragement: Hebrews 2:10–18