“The heroic deeds of those great worthies do not comfort the church so much as their faults and bruises do.”
– Richard Sibbes

I’m not sure who started the ill-conceived notion that our earthly heroes needed to be perfect. There is only one perfect Hero, and His name is Jesus. He doesn’t need to share that position with anyone else. Trust me, He’s got it covered. This fact, however, leads me to an interesting question: Is there a role for our flawed earthly heroes to play?

I suppose we could decide to throw them all out. That’s actually not the worst idea. I can see how something like that might help remove some hidden idols. But do remember, if we decide to take the route of keeping only the perfect heroes, that only leaves us with one. We might start by throwing out Jonathan Edwards, but we’ll need to plow right on through to George Washington, Martin Luther King Jr. and C.S. Lewis. You can also say goodbye to Harry Potter, Iron Man, and every other beloved pop-culture icon. They’ve each had their own share of disappointing moments. It would be downright hypocritical of us to keep around the messy lives of fictional characters while simultaneously tearing down every flawed real-life person. If this is the approach to earthly heroes you’d like to take, I won’t stop you. I just ask that you be consistent.

For those of us who find that path a bit too dark for our liking, we need to stop and consider what role it is that these archetypal heroes play. We’ve already pointed out that they are not intended to be any sort of equivalent to our perfect Savior (perhaps with the exception of a character like Aslan, who quite literally is intended to represent a Christ-figure in the world of Narnia). You might begin to come up with quite a lot of good reasons to keep these heroes around, despite their flaws. They can still inspire. They can show us what it means to persevere. They can show us how to fight and overcome our demons. They can powerfully demonstrate personal redemption. They can do a million different things for us, and I’m quite sympathetic to most of them. I’ve even written about some of those reasons. But there is another reason, one that is precious to me, though it may be counterintuitive. To exemplify this reason, I must turn to our “heroes of the faith”. The most despicable sins of Christianity’s prominent historical figures — the sins for which there is no excuse — allow me to believe that I am not beyond redemption.

“Peter denied Him, but He denied not Peter.”
– Richard Sibbes

I need to hear the stories of sinful Christians. I’m certain God agrees, because His Word records some of the most grievous sins of His people. I’m not referring to something like Paul’s persecution of the Church before his conversion. Paul’s sins before coming to Christ are a beautiful demonstration of God’s mercy and love towards someone who is lost. A conversion story like Paul’s is powerful, but it is not necessarily as personal to someone like me. I was born into a Christian family, and cannot remember a time where I myself was not trusting in Christ for my salvation. The moving Pauline testimony of a wayward life suddenly put right is just not the story God crafted for my life.

Though I have no memory of a time when I was fully separated from Christ, I have much more shameful sins to which I must confess. These sins leave me clinging to the stories of David and Peter to experience the comfort of God’s love. David and Peter remind me that even the sins committed after conversion can be forgiven. When Paul was persecuting the Church, he could plead ignorance. I, however, have no such plea. I am defenseless in the court of God’s law. I have the full counsel of God before me when I commit my crimes. There is no excuse, and if I follow this downward spiral of despair I might conclude that there is no forgiveness. But CS Lewis explains that this is precisely when real forgiveness kicks in, and God is in the business of real forgiveness: “A great deal of our anxiety comes from not really believing in [the forgiveness of sins], from thinking that God will not take us to Himself again unless He is satisfied that some sort of case can be made out in our favour. But that would not be forgiveness at all. Real forgiveness means looking steadily at the sin, the sin that is left over without any excuse, after all allowances have been made, and seeing it in all its horror, dirt, meanness, and malice, and nevertheless being wholly reconciled to the man who has done it. That, and only that, is forgiveness, and that we can always have from God if we ask for it.”

“There is a very real sense in which the Christian is worse than the heathen…But there is only one sense in which he is worse; and that is not in being positively worse. The Christian is only worse because it is his business to be better.”
– G.K. Chesterton

This is why throwing out theological figures like Luther, Edwards, or Whitefield because of their great sin is so disheartening to me. These are the only kind of people, and the only kinds of stories, that can give me true hope. They give me hope because they remind me that my hope was never in them, but in the grace and mercy of God. You might look back on them and doubt their faith, wondering how a Christian could ever do such things. I look back and hope that their faith was real, because then there may be hope for me yet. When I read of their sin, I know that if God could forgive them, then He can forgive me. Their stories, just like the stories of David and Peter, shout with trumpets and cymbals that God will not cast me out, even for my grossest sins. They remind me that God’s forgiveness is bigger than my biggest failures. They speak tenderly to me of God’s faithfulness in my faithlessness.

“The gospel is not just for unbelievers.  It is also for us, because we’re still sinners – saved sinners to be sure, but still sinners in need of the daily assurance of God’s forgiveness through Christ. As we experience His love through His forgiveness, our hearts are drawn to Him in this filial fear, and we stand amazed at His love.”
– Jerry Bridges

What reason, then, do we have for keeping around our sinful heroes? You may look up to them and be inspired by their greatest deeds. You may be encouraged to know that even your failures do not inhibit you from fighting on to be better tomorrow. But I would ask that you also stare deeply at the ugliest parts of their lives. Do not attempt to gloss over the skeletons in their closets, rather try to see them in all their “horror, dirt, meanness, and malice”. We are not interested in whitewashing, and neither is Scripture. And as the pedestal onto which we’ve placed these beloved men and women begins to crumble, and our eyes are drawn to follow them down as they fall, I beg of you to peel away and look back up again. Look up and see that the sky has suddenly become so much brighter than it was before. Now, everything is finally clear. The heroes you thought were shining into the darkness of this world were more like the moon reflecting the light of the sun. With them out of the way, the only thing left is the real Glory.

I’d like to conclude by asking a favor of you: Even as you catch a glimpse of the only one who is worthy of all praise, please don’t condemn those old spiritual giants too harshly. Don’t trample them beneath your feet and act as if their inexcusable sins are conclusive evidence of their place in hell. I hope that you can believe that God’s mercy was enough to save them, even if their faith was smaller than a mustard seed. But if you cannot, if you must line them up at the gates of hell for their atrocities, I would once again not try to stop you. I just ask for consistency. So please, let he who throws the first stone take aim at the one I believe to be the most deserving: me.

“The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.”
– 1 Timothy 1:15

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