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My wife listens to a podcast every morning by JD Walt called “The Wake-Up Call”.
I have listened alongside her on occasion, and I had the privilege of briefly bumping shoulders with JD at the New Room Conference last year. 

I decided to start listening for myself as I’m on a quest for a bit of a mental and spiritual reset. Too much scrolling on my phone has my dopamine levels all out of whack. The current climate on social media has turned toxic, and so my options are watching people I love argue with each other, or the “brain rot” content that occasionally makes you chuckle, but definitely doesn’t build your soul.

This morning’s episode resonated deeply with me, for a few reasons. I’ll start with the end of the podcast first.  At the end of each episode JD sings a hymn. Today’s hymn was what he called “The Baptist Fight Song” and while growing up in an old fashioned Baptist Church, I’ve never heard that phrase, but before he said the title, I knew he meant “Just As I Am.”

I was driving while listening, and that song broke open my tear ducts. I’m sure I was all over the road this morning, wiping tears from my eyes as I was transported back to my childhood and teenage years, standing up at the end of sermon, listening to Mrs. Florence Sinsabaugh in her finest polyester dress, as she let the foot pedals on the organ swell, and both hands holding out the long chords, while Judy Youngblood accentuated with the piano. Pastor H.D. Youngblood would lead us in singing, waving his hand to keep the time, and between verses, he’d call us home. Rarely did anyone go up to the altar. But with every head bowed, and every eye closed, hands were raised to pledge commitment to Jesus.

We didn’t applaud much in the Baptist Church, but inside out hearts, we were cheering when Pastor would say, “I see that hand, Thank You Lord.”

We’d usually sing verses 1, 2, and 5, and there was usually an instrumental verse in there too.


1.

Just as I am, without one plea,

But that Thy blood was shed for me,

And that Thou bid’st me come to Thee,

O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

2.

Just as I am, and waiting not

To rid my soul of one dark blot;

To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,

O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

3.

Just as I am, though tossed about

With many a conflict, many a doubt;

Fightings within, and fears without,

O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

4.

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;

Sight, riches, healing of the mind;

Yes, all I need, in Thee to find,

O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

5.

Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,

Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;

Because Thy promise I believe,

O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

6.

Just as I am, Thy love unknown

Has broken every barrier down;

Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,

O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

And I was reminded of another very personal story, that has echoed deeply in my family lore.
My maternal grandfather was a bad man. The best thing he had ever done was to abandon his family. That may sound like a bad thing, but the truth is, abandoning them was the best thing. I won’t get into telling the story that really belongs to my mother and her siblings. I’ll just say he was a bad man.

Abandoned, my grandmother turned to Jesus, and paved the way for her family. They met Jesus, many of them probably hearing Pastor Youngblood sing Just As I Am, and our family’s direction was changed.

At some point, my grandfather had stumbled into a church, probably drunk. He told the story, “If that preacher would have sang one more verse of Just As I Am, I’d have walked up to that altar.” – But of course he didn’t.

Years later, after leaving a lifetime of pain and struggle in his wake, my grandfather called my grandmother. “Deanie, I’m dying. I have cancer. Would you come out and see me?”

The story I remember is that he was found laying on the ground with a pile of cigarette butts on one side, and a pile of beer cans on the other. The cancer had eaten through most of him, and he was on his way out of this world.

My grandmother went out, and invited the rest of the family.

They didn’t go because they wanted to be with him. They went because they had a mission, to introduce Grandpa Dave to grace. To plead for his soul to be saved.

They preached the gospel, sang songs, and Uncle Mike started playing Just As I Am. When he got to the end of the song, the old man said, “Keep playing.” Grandpa Dave prayed, probably for the first time in his life. He asked for forgiveness for his sins. And in the remaining few days of his life, there was a change. Tiny fruits of the Spirit growing in the small window he had left.

Just as he was. Without a plea, except that Jesus’ blood was shed for him.

————–

The podcast episode was centered around this thought.
A woman told JD in conversation, “I don’t want you to think I’m not a good person.”

JD’s response, “You’re not a good person. And I’m not a good person.”

This truth is one we need to grasp fully. 

I see it echoed on the social media feed that I’m trying to ignore right now.

Virtue signalling.

Folks pointing fingers at the “evil” they see on the other side.

“Those folks are violating what the Bible clearly commands!”

“Those folks are bigots and hypocrites!”

With the inference that “I’m better.”

We post things on the internet, and say things in conversation because we want others to think we are good people.

“I’m a good person. I don’t condone sin.”
“I’m a good person. I hate racism.”
“I’m a good person. I love America.”
“I’m a good person. I challenge broken systems!”

“I’m a good person. I want justice!”
“I’m a good person. I stand with So and So!”

Don’t get me wrong, a lot of these might be good things, to stand up for the oppressed, to long for justice, to support your country, to stand for truth and righteousness.

But the thing is, none of us are good people.

That’s what’s so hard for people to accept. That’s what’s so scandalous about the gospel.

We don’t earn right standing with God by your good deeds.

We don’t deserve to be seen as heroes and martyrs and virtuous.

When Jesus delivered the sermon on the mount, and he said this:

“You have heard that our ancestors were told, ‘You must not murder. If you commit murder, you are subject to judgment. But I say, if you are even angry with someone,you are subject to judgment! If you call someone an idiot,[e] you are in danger of being brought before the court. And if you curse someone,[f] you are in danger of the fires of hell.”
-Matthew 5

I’d encourage you to read that whole passage. If I paraphrase what he’s saying,, “You guys are missing the point. In order to earn God’s favor, you have to be better than the commands. The commands say ‘Don’t murder.’ But if you hate someone in your heart or call them an idiot, you’re just as bad. If you lust after a woman, it’s just as bad as having sex with her.”

He’s making a point and establishing his authority, and emphasizng that all of us are not good people.

Paul reiterates it:

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” – Romans 3:23

This is the beauty of it.

He paid the cost for us.

“He himself is the sacrifice that atones for our sins—and not only our sins but the sins of all the world.” – 1 John 2:2

We aren’t good people. We are all sinners, and all of us are short of God’s expectations. And even if we kept the commandments in practice, we’d break them in our hearts. 

But thank God!

“But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.”  –Romans 5:8

He meets us just as we are, and He makes up for what we lack, so that we can be right with him.

Sometimes, we who He has redeemed forget where we came from. We forget that we’re only right with God because of what Jesus did. We’re not good people. We’re His people. He paid for us. He bought us with His suffering on the cross.

Anything good in us is because God put it there. Even before we knew Him, the good in us was the reflection of His image in us, because He made us. And now that we have surrendered to Him, the good is not because of us. It’s because of Him.

Let us never forget that.

written by

Josh Hatcher