You're so 'real' and other cynical lies I sometimes believe

Why do we hate good people?

For instance, the Orlando Sentinel is asking "What has Tim Tebow done to deserve all the hate?" and suggesting that maybe we hate him BECAUSE he ‘practices what he preaches,’ or maybe we hate him because so many other people love him. The world around us is convicted by the love (and moral goodness) that flows out of a true Christ follower. The life of a good person puts those outside of Christ "to shame."

It’s normal for people outside of Christ to hate those who practice moral goodness (John 15:18), so we all expect it. But within the Christian church we expect something different: to love goodness, to celebrate victory and to desire to live holy lives (Ephesians 5:1). One would think that the church would celebrate this kind of life and those kind people, wouldn’t you? But we usually don’t.

For some reason people who strive to walk in obedience to Christ (and are having some measure of success at it) seem to be intimidating to the rest of us. We can’t seem to relate to their success or moral goodness and that makes us begin to secretly hate them. When we finally do hear of some area of weakness (or sin), there’s actually relief somewhere inside us because we found out that they’re “real,” too. “At least I’m not THAT bad,” we think, or “See, it’s normal to sin.” (Isn’t that a twisted mindset!)

The disclosure of sin is not a joyous thing—ever. When David’s sin was disclosed (2 Sam 12), he first burned with anger about the sin (v. 5 when he thought Nathan was describing someone else’s sin) and then Nathan provided a hot rebuke, exclaiming, “You are the [sinning] man.” The story continues with David weeping on the floor because he has realized the depth and breadth of his heinous sin “against the LORD.” And Nathan did not end the story with good feelings and a, “You’re so real, David. Thanks, I feel better about myself.”

Sometimes when I am struggling to obey God in a certain area I find happiness when I hear about someone else struggling, too. I feel better knowing I am not alone. There is a word for that: sin.

There is joy in heaven because of repentance, not disclosure. There is joy in heaven because of the reality of forgiveness that flows from our merciful Savior at the cross. There is joy because of Christ.

Nobody in heaven ever apologizes for Christ’s perfections or secretly hates Him.

The next time I hear about the imperfections of a fellow Christ-follower, I want to weep with them and for them (and I hope you’ll weep with me for my sin), longing that at least in the “fellowship of believers” we expect victory, not defeat. Obedience, not disobedience. Maturity, not excuses. Then we’ll be men being transformed into the image of Christ.