It has been a privilege these past few days to teach at a local retreat. People come from all over to enjoy the lakeside setting and beautiful environs. We have talked about the incredible message that Jesus Christ himself brings, not only in his person, but also in his teaching.

The teaching we’ve looked at has been the unique parables of Luke. We’ve had our hearts swell in thinking of limitless love as Jesus comes to a beat-up world and ministers mercy as the Good Samaritan (Luke 10). We have marveled at the shameless grace that the Father has for lost and shameful sinners in the Prodigal Son (Luke 15). We’ll wonder at our new identities in Christ put forth in Luke 16, and see how the whole Bible sings of Jesus, Old Testament and New.

In the midst of all this wonder, amazement, marvel and worship… we still are so fallen.

In a way that is a surprising statement. I’m interacting with people who have been Christians for 20, 30, 40 years. If anyone has a chance at being a present-day picture of total restoration, it is these marvelous saints. But they are as fallen as ever.

It is easily seen physically: almost all of the saints at the retreat are over 60. Two-thirds have hearing aids. Many use walking devices. The pianist has arthritis. Bodies are failing, not improving. The life-boats of our confidence in our own bodies are going down. Strength is waning; faculties are declining. We can only hope in the reality of a risen savior who will give real lasting resurrection bodies free of decay and disease.

It is harder to see spiritually. But our misguided hopes are quickly unearthed there as well. We long to brag on our kids and put our hopes in how we raised them. ‘My son has started his own business,’ one proud mom announced to me. Yet even that achievement comes, in further questioning, in the context of a broken marriage, hurt grandchildren, and a turning from church life. ‘Well, my grandchild is a missionary,’ says another, leaving out that the mother and father of that missionary are no longer following Jesus.

The things we desperately want to boast in turn out to be… less than what they should be. No matter what position we are in, what we desperately need to stand on is… the grace and knowledge of Jesus Christ. He is our perfection. He is our righteousness. He is our sanctification. He is our only hope.

That seems to be true maturity that years of living brings. An ever-increasing steadfastness, an increasing reliance on the grace and knowledge of Jesus Christ. He is our only hope.

May our other hopes be seen for what they are: empty and fallen. At the same time, may our ever-increasing growth in the depth of our salvation lead us toward amazing acts of love and mercy ourselves, as we respond to the wonder of what has been really, truly done for us in Jesus.

Hold the center, friends. In His faithfulness is our salvation. And in him is life abundant – now and forever.