Surviving Sexual Brokenness

I am angry at culture for taking control . . . and I am angry at Christians for yielding it. We refuse to see the mold that grows on the lies, turning them sickly green and poisonous . . . and in our own fears, we extend the shelf life of the lies.
Perceiving the struggler as a creeping contagion, we fortify our walls, retreat to the safety of our churches, demand rapid evidence of repentance, shrug at the scraped knees and elbows of the fallen, lay out plans, measure progress, pronounce judgment and rejoice that we have protected the flock from the wandering sheep by herding them into a circle. Do we not understand that rejection feeds the fire? These are not wildflowers.
"He was not really a sheep. He was a wolf."
So, there is this second lie. The first, which sends the sexually broken down the path to darkness is the one the world provides: "You are who you are."
The second lie is the one the church too often tells us: "If you were really a Christian, you would not have this problem."
What a comfortable and dismissive lie it is. Let's just take the moldy bread and wrap it in an opaque cover and hide the decay.
But wait? Isn't that true?

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! -- II Corinthians 5:17.

Certainly.
But what of the man or woman who is a Christian and yet struggles with the multi-layered, multi-faceted sin of sexual brokenness -- homosexuality, idolatry, adultery? Or, heaven forbid, the Christian who gossips, or lies, or judges, or cruises pornography before approaching the pulpit or teaches a Bible study to tell others how to live, or has sex after the prom before heading to church on Sunday, or plans a hasty marriage to hide a pregnancy?
We have so many planks in our eyes; we don't know whether to build a mightier temple or a stronger barricade.
As if people were gracing some grand forest, we like to fill our pews with flowering redbud trees that demonstrate the beauty and glory of God's greatest work. They get the attention, the praise, and the "so-glad-to-see-yous." Not so comfortable to have beside us are the hardwoods -- the hard cases that are trying to work their roots into the soil, searching for water -- hiding the bumps on the branches in hopes of being given a little more time to come forth in new life. Maybe a couple here and there truly died in the harshest of winters, but most are just in need of the light and warmth of the Son. We're neglecting the landscape. Many individuals and families -- greatly treasured and loved by Christ, who died for them as much as for the most pious among us -- are hurting and being stunted . . . and it is not necessary.
Like a bulging can, or a piece of rotting fruit, these lies have gone long beyond their shelf life. In our denial of the power of Christ to open his arms to every seeker, we have sent them searching elsewhere into a culture that will tell them Christ Himself is but a myth. Live and let live . . . for tomorrow we die.
The lies of culture and the lies of the church are both in dire need of a recall. Truth is the fertilizer of faith, and faith is what we claim to live by. Yet . . . when we approach the broken as if there is nothing that can be done for them here . . . our faith falls on fallow ground. Nothing grows. Nothing changes. And then we want to say it is not our responsibility anyway. They're the ones who are all messed up. If you really feel that comfortable with who you are, you should be more zealous than anyone with helping those who have fallen.

He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." -- Matthew 17:20

Faith and truth are God's products . . . and they never expire.
God can use the church to heal His people. But first, we need to heal the church. Instead of hiding from the world, we need to pull back the curtains and take a wider view. He created it all.
Even the broken reflect his touch.