• It is stunning and disheartening to watch a career such as Gen. Petraeus’s end in dishonor (his words), or a life such as Joe Paterno’s end in shame. The list could be much longer, of course. We might be tempted to think the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit would make us immune to some similar collapse, but we know better. We’ve seen prominent Christian leaders go down the same road, and if we hadn’t there would still be the likes of King David and the Apostle Peter: eminent men whose failures were common knowledge in their own lifetimes.
• It was the English Reformer, John Bradford, who gave us the phrase, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” He uttered those words as he watched a group of criminals being led to execution. The original was more personal: “there, but for the grace of God, goes John Bradford.” It’s one of those rare expressions that has held its meaning down to the present; we use it in humility to signify that we share all the depravity and potential guilt of the one who got caught.
• It’s this healthy understanding of human depravity that leads us to take Peter’s words seriously: “Brethren, be sober, be vigilant, for your adversary the devil prowls about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour” (1 Pet 5:8). The Greek words for “sober” and “vigilant” can both be translated as some expression of “be watchful” or “stay awake.” I have no doubt Peter wrote them from a place of pain and regret over his failure in Gethsemane, when he slept, and his denial of Jesus later that night. At some point after the crucifixion, Peter figured out that Jesus’ words, “watch and pray so you will not fall into temptation,” were not strictly about that moment in the Garden, but a warning for all that was to come — and there was a lot to come.
• Of course, Peter is our assurance (one of many) that there can be a life for us on the other side of failure and weakness. There is no life for us, ultimately, no hope, apart from God’s willingness to redeem us and work with us as sinners. But this is a truth that can either weaken or strengthen us. It weakens us when we decide, even before beginning, that we will not give the last full measure, not “run the race with perseverance,” not “resist to the point of shedding our blood” (Heb 12:1-4), because we know we can be forgiven for mediocrity. It strengthens us when we understand we have a High Priest who can “sympathize with our weaknesses” and so give us “grace to help in time of need” (Heb. 4:14-16).
• It is this grace, not of forgiveness but of the power of God given to the weak, that will permit us to keep our character, our witness, our ability to fight to the end. Remember, this is warfare. There will be casualties. If you misinterpret and invoke “grace” as permission to be mediocre, you are never in the battle and you risk nothing. If you choose to fight, you run the risk of being a casualty. It’s possible the enemy will make a special target of you, and there is the possibility you will fall. So be it. If the alternative is a life “entangled in civilian pursuits” (2 Tim 2:4), that person is already among what Mark Dever calls “the vertical dead.”
• I have chosen to fight, but every time I see someone fall, no matter how wretched or repugnant their fall may be, I feel and know it in the core of my being: “there, but for the grace of God, go I.”