I was thinking today about what it would be like to write a book about my work life. Okay, look, if you don’t think that would be interesting, you obviously have never ridden a bike through a frozen yogurt store or chased customers out the door and ran into the window while doing so.
But, my first thought about writing the book was: If I do this, I’ll need an alias.
Because I want to publish books about Jesus, right? And I didn’t want all the stupid things I do associated with my name. Wouldn’t wanna hurt my reputation when people go to look at Christian books. And besides that, I would lose my job so hard.
It hit me so hard. How many times in my life have I wished I could use an alias? “Wouldn’t wanna hurt my reputation as a Christian, buuuut I would love to do this right now.” Am I right? How many times would I have done dumber things than I’ve already done if I knew my name wouldn’t get around for it? You know I wished I was using an alias that time I had to chase a kid down for stealing my phone and I called him everything the Bible says not to call someone.
But that’s the thing: Being a Christian isn’t about living up to a standard, and hiding yourself when your best efforts aren’t enough. It’s about being transformed. It’s about making mistakes, and being honest about them. It’s about having no shame, even when we fail, because we have forgiveness in Christ. And there’s no need for an alias, because when others see your life, they’ll see your mistakes, yes, but they’ll also see the transformation. They’ll see you get up and do better the next time. And that’s when they’ll wonder what you have that makes you so different. If they only saw you when you were perfect, how would they ever have an example of the work of the redemption of Christ?
No, don’t flaunt your sins to the world, hoping they’re inspired by how forgiven you are. But for the love of God, don’t try to compartmentalize your life to make some think you’re perfect and others think you’re the dumbest person alive. Just be your mistake-making, forgiven, perfectly imperfect self.