It’s interesting how quickly something that once seemed solid can suddenly feel uncertain. Maybe that’s one reason faith in Jesus Christ matters so much in a world where almost everything else can change.
A job can change. A relationship can change. People we respect can disappoint us. Institutions we thought would always be there can lose our confidence. Even our own plans and opinions can look very different a few years down the road.
I’ve lived long enough to know that very few things in this life stay exactly as we expect them to.
And yet we naturally look for something solid to hold onto. We want to know that somebody has things under control. We want some assurance that tomorrow will make sense.
The problem comes when we put our faith in something that can change.
Christianity Turns Our Thinking Upside Down
One of the things I have always found compelling about Christianity is how different it is from the way we naturally tend to think.
We admire people who get ahead. Jesus talks about serving.
We want to be first. Jesus says the first will be last.
Our natural reaction when someone hurts us is often to hurt them back. Jesus talks about loving our enemies.
We associate strength with having control. Yet throughout Scripture, God repeatedly works through people who are weak, frightened, flawed, or completely outmatched.
Then there is the cross.
If we were designing a religion ourselves, I doubt many of us would write the story this way. The promised Messiah is rejected by His own people, mocked, beaten, and publicly executed like a criminal.
Paul understood how strange that sounded.
“But we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles.”
— 1 Corinthians 1:23 (NIV)
What appeared to be defeat was not defeat at all.
At the very center of Christianity stands something the world would have looked at and called failure. Yet Christians look at that same cross and see the place where Christ did for us what we could never do for ourselves.
That changes the way we look at almost everything else.
That same upside-down picture of greatness can be seen throughout Jesus’ life. In The King Who Came Without Earthly Status, I reflected on how differently Christ entered the world from the way we normally think about power, position, and importance.
The Bible Doesn’t Clean Up Its Heroes
There is something else about Scripture that has always struck me. The Bible is remarkably honest about people.
David did some terrible things. Peter denied that he even knew Jesus. Thomas doubted. The disciples argued among themselves about who was the greatest. Paul had once persecuted Christians.
Those details could have been left out.
They weren’t.
The Bible doesn’t seem interested in protecting the reputations of its characters or presenting them as polished religious heroes. We see courage and faith, but we also see pride, fear, doubt, failure, bad decisions, and sin.
That feels a lot more like the world I know.
After decades of working with people—and simply being one myself—I’ve learned that even very good people can get things wrong. People can be sincere and still make mistakes. Someone can be strong in one moment and struggle in another.
Scripture doesn’t hide that reality.
And maybe that is part of the point. Christianity was never built around the idea that the right human being would finally come along and get everything right.
It is built around our need for Christ.
We Can’t Fix Ourselves
This may be where Christianity runs most directly against our instincts.
Most of us understand the idea of earning something. Work harder. Do better. Fix the mistake. Make up for what we did wrong.
There is nothing wrong with that kind of responsibility in everyday life. In many areas, that is exactly what we should do.
But it doesn’t solve our deepest problem with God.
The Gospel isn’t a story about human beings finally becoming good enough to reach Him. It is the story of God coming to us in Christ.
That can be difficult to accept because it requires admitting something about ourselves: we cannot save ourselves.
We can improve our behavior. We can learn from mistakes. We can become wiser with age. Hopefully, we become more patient, generous, and compassionate along the way.
But none of that makes us righteous before a holy God.
That is why the cross matters.
Salvation is not an achievement we eventually earn after accumulating enough good decisions. It is something we receive because of what Christ has already done.
There is something wonderfully freeing in realizing that we don’t have to make ourselves the hero of the story.
Don’t Put Your Faith in Something That Can Change
That brings me back to the world around us.
The decisions we make with our lives matter. Our families matter. Our work matters. Money matters. Leaders matter. Governments matter.
Christians don’t have to pretend otherwise.
We can care about our communities. We can vote. We can work hard. We can build things, solve problems, raise families, help people, and try to leave something worthwhile behind.
But none of those things is God.
And they cannot provide what only God can provide—not another person, a career, a bank account, an institution, a movement, a political leader, or even our own ability to figure things out.
Perhaps some of our disappointment comes from expecting temporary things to give us permanent security.
They simply can’t.
Scripture gives us a remarkably simple contrast:
“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.”
— Hebrews 13:8 (NIV)
There aren’t many things in life about which we can say that.
Faith in Jesus Christ When Everything Else Moves
I don’t think peace comes from finally reaching a point where everything around us makes sense.
I’m not sure that point ever arrives.
There will always be another problem, another uncertainty, another decision, another person who disappoints us, and probably another situation where we discover that we didn’t understand nearly as much as we thought we did.
Faith doesn’t make those realities disappear.
It does give them a different place in our lives.
We can care deeply about what happens tomorrow without asking tomorrow to provide our hope. We can respect people without placing them on a pedestal. We can work toward good things without believing everything depends upon us.
And when something we counted on changes—as things eventually do—we may discover that the foundation underneath us never moved at all.
Christ is still Christ.
Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
Maybe the question isn’t whether the things around us will change. We already know they will.
Maybe the better question is what we have been asking those things to give us.
Security? Peace? Hope? Something we can finally count on?
Those are heavy expectations to place on anything temporary.
And maybe there is some peace in realizing they were never meant to carry them in the first place.
Christ was.
To God be the glory.
More Straight Talk on Faith
Want More Real-Life Faith?
Looking for more straight talk about faith—without the sugarcoating?
If you’re searching for real-life encouragement and honest faith, check out my book, YOUR HOUSE IS ON FIRE: Christianity… From a Firefighter’s Perspective. It’s a short, straightforward read—something I wrote for regular folks, maybe especially guys, who want a no-nonsense look at faith that applies to real life. I often think of it as my own “tract”—just a simple way to point people to hope and honor God.
If it rang true for you or made a difference in your life, leaving a quick review on Amazon may help someone else who’s looking for the same kind of hope.
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