In a first season Lost episode, one-hit-wonder rock star Charlie, while in the initial stage of kicking a heroin habit, mentions feeling useless. When you can hardly make it an hour, or a day without a fix, or if you are constantly reminded of the shameful things you have done, or if you have emotional issues that continually pester your life, or if you find yourself doing the very things you “do not want to do”—it’s not far from feeling useless.
In this scene, where the group’s leader, Jack, is trapped from a cave-in, the screenwriters capture a paradoxical truth. In many minds and especially within modern idealistic Christianity, someone like Charlie is perceived to be useless. Accordingly, he has not achieved a position where God could use him. If only he tried harder, cleaned up his act and got fully sanctified, then he could be God’s useful instrument. Only at that holy point, will the holy God be able to do anything with his then holy life. This modern perception, which has existed in the church for a long time, holds people captive, still.
Yet the script dialogue does not disappoint in offering another lens. Even though Charlie is an addicted, out of control mess, he is not useless. Ironically, it’s non-believing skeptic Jack, who points this out. The doctor listens to the warped thinking of Charlie, knowing he is a user and counters the false conclusion, saying, “Do you think you are useless? You are not useless. You came in here to help me—that was no small thing.” Jack’s reasoning is sound. It’s plain for all to see—not only did Charlie courageously climb through the crevice to save him, but also reset his out-of-joint shoulder, and then spots a moth that leads to their escape.
Behold a profound ennobling truth: lost, addicted, shamed, messy, flawed, broken, hurting, sinful people are not useless! Is it possible this secular show knows this more than the church? I recall a conversation with an up-and-coming leader, who told me how critical it was that Christians live their faith exceptionally before sharing it. Though I am all for living our faith, I explained why I disagreed with that notion, rather staunchly.
Part of my ministry is discipling new believers. Are you surprised to hear that most have major issues? Some have serious ongoing sins that will take years to process and grow out of. Was he suggesting that God would not use their new faith to reach others, because they had not reached a maturity standard? Can you imagine God withholding his use of the Samaritan woman’s words due to her ongoing relationship problems? (John 4:17–18; 39). Friends, our God is not so ungracious! He chooses to use us despite our deficits.
Upon hearing my thoughts, the leader softened his stance. Let’s be honest here for a moment. Even the most mature Christians have sins. Most are hidden. The pastor struggling with pride, anger, envy or lust in the mid-week doesn’t come to confess on Sunday (perhaps that’s another sin.) Thus, his people perceive that he is doing better than he really is. Does God, therefore, restrict his Spirit when he steps into the pulpit? The Lost script is correct. Charlie may be a mess, but that does not mean he is useless. He is, after all, still a human being with wide-ranging, God-given capabilities and potential.
And there’s another thread of truth in the episode. Charlies’ life, spirit and recovery are bolstered by his newfound utility. Buoyed by the day’s events, the usefulness feeling ignites the courage for a greater life—evidenced by when he later tosses his coveted stash! Don’t all of us need higher purposes to pull us upward? I know I do!
As a final thought, I wonder if in our zeal to be perceived righteously, if we have lost sight of a more foundational principle. God blesses humility. He sometimes does more at the low ebbs of our lives than he does in the high peaks of our pride. In ministry, I am amazed to see how much he uses the honest confessions of broken, hurting, searching people like Charlie, and me. He may limit our influence scope, until he can cut us down at the knees, making us right-sized and truly dependent (2 Cor 12:6–10). Then, ministry becomes about him and his power, and not us, and our goodness. And when we enter this sweet surrender—watch out!
Christian friend, do you think you need to be perfect for God’s anointing? Must you be exemplary before bringing your faith to others? Don’t buy the lie! It’s not consistent with God’s grace. All we really need is to avail ourselves. If we are humble and available, the God who is powerful in our weaknesses—will prove just how resourceful we can be!