THE NECESSITY OF GRACE (Because We Still Sin)

There is a strange and almost comical idea drifting through the modern church—that Christians no longer sin, that somehow the moment we rise from the waters of baptism or whisper our first prayer of faith, the battle is over and the flesh is finished. But Scripture, in its deep and honest simplicity, refuses to flatter us; it tells us the truth, and the truth is that even redeemed hearts still wrestle, still stumble, still feel the pull of temptation, and still need the cleansing mercy of Jesus every single day (1 John 1:8–9). And if the apostle John—who walked with Christ, leaned on His chest, breathed the air of His presence—says that denying our ongoing sin makes us liars, then honesty demands we abandon the fantasy and embrace the reality.

And the reality is this—we remain clay in the Potter’s hands, still being shaped, still being softened, still being purified. Paul, that mighty preacher of the gospel, confessed with painful transparency that the good he longed to do he often failed to perform, and the evil he despised still tugged at him like a shadow lingering at his heels (Romans 7:15–25). A Christian who pretends sin has vanished is not walking in victory—they are walking in denial. Because true victory begins not in pretending perfection, but in admitting weakness, and then clinging, with trembling fingers, to the grace that never lets go.

And Grace—oh, how we need it—flows not to the proud who claim they have risen beyond sin, but to the humble who acknowledge that apart from Christ, they can do nothing (John 15:5). The illusion of sinlessness dries the soul like the desert heat; but honest confession opens the springs again, letting the cleansing blood of the Lamb wash and restore and renew. The Christian life is not a museum of flawless saints; it is a hospital of forgiven sinners who walk with a perfect Savior, learning step by step the cadence of holiness.

And holiness—let us say this clearly—is not sinlessness, but Christlikeness, slowly emerging in us as the Spirit shapes our hearts, corrects our thoughts, restrains our desires, and strengthens our resolves. If any believer imagines that sanctification is the same as completion, they have forgotten that even Paul pressed forward, confessing that he had not yet arrived, following after Christ with holy longing and humble dependence (Philippians 3:12–14). Our imperfections do not indict the gospel—they illuminate its beauty. For the gospel was not given to the worthy but to the weary.

So let us be emphatic and uncompromising: Christians still sin, and that is precisely why we cling to Christ; that is why His cross towers over our days; that is why His mercy meets us in the morning and His faithfulness steadies us at night (Lamentations 3:22–23). Denying sin steals glory from Jesus, but confessing sin magnifies Him, for He came not to applaud our imagined righteousness, but to save us, to cleanse us, to carry us, and to complete us. And until that blessed hour when we stand before Him perfected, we will walk as sinners saved by grace—utterly dependent, eternally grateful, joyfully honest, and forever His.

BDD