We had friends some years ago who had a three-legged cat. A men’s group that I led met at their house so I actually saw the cat, doing his normal three-legged cat thing. I was always afraid to ask them too many questions about the poor animal, whether he was born this way or whether this fate fell upon him due to an unfortunate fit of rage by his owners. (I didn’t want to end up the same way as the cat, in case it was the latter; I’ve grown rather accustomed to my appendages and hope to keep them for quite some time.) And the funny thing was that he had adapted to his situation. He had learned to walk and run and get along with only three legs.

I had only seen this cat in the house, so for illustration’s sake, let’s say that he never goes outside and that he never interacts with normal, four-legged cats. Now let’s say the cat can talk (not really a stretch, given that he already has only three legs). And let’s say the cat and I were to have a conversation something like this:

Alan: Hey cat.
Three-legged cat: Yeah. What do you want?

Alan: Do you miss your leg? Don’t you wish that you had four legs like other normal cats?
Three-legged cat: What do you mean “miss my leg”? And what do you mean “normal”? I am normal.

Alan: But you walk funny. And you really can’t run as fast or as well as you could with four legs. You know, you’re supposed to have four legs.
Three-legged cat: No, I’m not.

Alan: Yes, you are. Don’t you want to live up to your potential? Don’t you want to be all the cat that you can be? Why are you pretending that you are normal when you only have three legs?
Three-legged cat: Look, if you don’t get out of here and leave me alone, I’m going to call the cops.

Now, I realize that this illustration is not something you normally encounter. (Please tell me this is not something you normally encounter.) But I use it to make this point: Only a fool pretends that everything is okay when it obviously isn’t. You know, Christianity is the only belief system that allows us to really be honest. We don’t have to close our eyes to reality. We don’t have to pretend that we’re okay when we are not. We don’t have to pretend that three-legged cats are normal.

Honesty compels each of us to admit that deep down something is wrong with everything. We look around and see relationships that don’t work. That couple that you thought would never get a divorce, does. That friend who appears to have it all together is addicted to pornography. That perfect family has a bulimic daughter. And then we notice that being messed-up hits closer to home than we would like to admit. Why do I bark commands at my children as opposed to caringly instructing them? Why can’t I stop myself from looking lustfully at women? Why am I never satisfied with what I have? Why do I always want more, or different, things? Why do I get depressed so easily? Etc.

Oddly enough, it is the holiness of God that lets us admit this. In Isaiah chapter 6, the prophet Isaiah was confronted with the holiness of God, and it was that holiness that was the context for Isaiah to admit his sin, his “undone-ness.” The holiness of God allows us to look at our sin, our struggles, our temptations, our failures, our messed-up-ness, and not pretend that they are not there. We can look at ourselves and our sin and admit that we are not right. Isaiah did. You see, God never chastised Isaiah for admitting to being a sinner, undone. In fact, God did just the opposite. He cleansed him and forgave him. You see, our sin does not drive God away; it moves him to action. The heart of a father goes out more to a child in trouble than to one who is okay. Jesus himself said that he came to seek and to save that which was lost, that he came for the sick, not the healthy. And this is the gospel.

The gospel is good news; it is good news of deliverance and salvation and healing and restoration. And the implication behind words like deliverance and salvation and healing and restoration is that we are in a situation from which we must be delivered, a predicament from which we must be saved, a sickness from which we must be healed. We are a prodigal who must be restored. As the hymn Amazing Grace says, “We were lost, but now we’re found. We were blind, but now we see.” The message of Christianity allows us to be honest enough to admit that we are lost and blind and in need of deliverance and salvation and healing and restoration.

We’re messed up. We are not as we should be. We are three-legged cats. To pretend otherwise is foolish. To act as if all is well is to stiff-arm the grace of God. And it is only when we admit so that God comes to our rescue.

So my point is this: Your sin is not a hindrance to the work of Jesus in you; it is the very reason for the work of Jesus in you.