My Christian walk has been more of a stagger

Working out in a hotel gym recently, I felt quite intimidated by the array of shiny, hi-tech exercise equipment. I opted for what I thought would be the simplicity of a treadmill, and was delighted to find I could not only do the physical workout but choose from hiking a variety of famous mountain trails, courtesy of a video monitor. Now I was puffing and panting my way across the Pyrenees, despite being in Birmingham. Marvellous. 

There was also a nifty additional onscreen feature. A device displayed other walkers from around the world, who appeared as avatars, some ahead of me, others walking towards me. But then I noticed that one of the oncoming walkers looked rather like me. The resemblance was striking – the same stranded peninsula of a hairstyle, the same crooked nose. It was me: marching briskly towards…me. 

Two questions rushed through my mind. Firstly, how did this seemingly innocuous piece of gym equipment capture my photo and insert it into the onscreen software? Secondly, what would transpire when the real me bumped into the oncoming me? 

Then it happened. Just as me and me were about to collide, the onscreen version of yours truly simply disappeared. The avatar didn’t step aside or wait for me to pass. In a second, the me that was in the way of me was gone. 

It got me thinking. I’ve been hiking another steep trail for more than 50 years now. When I began navigating the pathway of Christian discipleship, I thought it would involve a brisk sprint to a summit of maturity. I wanted instant transformation, the fruit of the Spirit blossoming in a millisecond, super-sainthood downloaded at fibre optic speed. But as a follower of Jesus, my walk has been more of a stagger. I wanted to be a spiritual Usain Bolt. Instead, I’ve often felt like Mr Bean with a Bible. 

At times, I have become utterly weary of myself. I’m very well acquainted with the flawed soul that I am. I’d love to pray for hours uninterrupted by naps, be impervious to the whispers of temptation and even learn to love reading Leviticus. Alas, maturity seems to take a while. Or a lifetime. 

I’m not alone in my frustration with aspects of me. When I read the words of the apostle Paul, there’s much I can’t identify with. His passion and commitment are intimidating. But then I hear the confession he made to his friends in Rome, and I’m right there with him: “Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me…what a wretched man I am” (Romans 7:21,24). It seems there were times when Paul was also exhausted with being Paul. 

At times, I have become utterly weary of myself

Perhaps you feel similarly. But while honest self-appraisal is vital for all of us, self-loathing is not. Decades of ministry have shown me that some begin the Christian race with an optimistic sprint and then run out of steam, not so much disappointed with God, but with themselves. 

But there is hope. After lamenting his own shortcomings, Paul went on to point to Jesus, who patiently journeys with us in our stumbling. Paul asks a rhetorical question, and provides a beautiful answer: “Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 7:24-25).

Jesus the deliverer calls us to hate sin, not ourselves. And surely he walks slowly with us, shaping us, albeit gradually, into his likeness. When we stick close with him, change is not only possible but inevitable. Yet weak, foolish and prone to wander, we are deeply loved by Jesus, just as we are. Fuelled by love, we press onward then, and upward.