The Best Worst Christian

I’m not the best Christian. At least not in the way people expect. In fact, many of my old friends used to describe me as “The Best Worst Christian.” It’s a title I’ve carried with pride, especially through the ordination process.

That probably sounds strange. For me, it isn’t. It shows I’m not a stereotypical Christian. I'm happy about that.

If you ask most people what a Christian looks like, they’ll often describe someone respectable, patient, perfectly spoken, and somehow free from the messiness of life. Someone who doesn’t swear, doubt, get angry, moan, dress differently, or challenge expectations.

The stereotype leaves very little room for being an actual person.

Back in January, Midge, Will, and James attended a Youth Alpha and Youth Alpha  Easter event run by churches across Sittingbourne. My children sit somewhere between goth, emo, and punk. They’re not what typical Christian teenagers look like. The other young people turned up in nice shirts and smart jumpers. My three looked like a group of pagan worshippers had accidentally wandered into a Christian summer camp.

It was funny, but it highlights something important. Christians and churches often talk about “come as you are,” but some really mean, “Come as you are, then become like us.”

There’s a difference.

My church isn’t perfect, but we’re good at letting people be themselves, despite being called the “reject church” for years. For me, that’s a compliment. We’re a place of inclusion and belonging. We recently had a wonderful lady and her family join us after another church suggested they might “fit us better” because of her “strange” habits. What one church saw as a problem, we saw as a person looking to belong.

I don’t dress differently on Sundays. I regularly wear a hat, whether that’s a baseball cap or a woolly hat, and it stays on in church, even when I’m leading or preaching. God knows my heart whatever I’m wearing. If hats prevented God from knowing us, I’m fairly sure atheists would wear them for protection.

The same applies to other parts of life. I’m me no matter what. For example, I swear. I tried not to for years. All I achieved was making myself feel guilty every time I failed.

Eventually something shifted.

God already knows everything about me. The good, the bad, and the bits I’d rather keep hidden.

That doesn’t mean I go around insulting people, speaking however I like, and swearing all the time. Jesus was clear about loving others. I try hard not to use language that tears people down, belittles them, or causes harm. There’s a huge difference between careless words and weaponising them.

I think this is where many Christians pile unnecessary pressure onto themselves.

We worry about clothes, language, hobbies, appearance, relationships, behaviour, personality traits, and a hundred other things. We spend so much time trying to be a good Christian that we forget to be an honest one.

Part of the issue comes from how we view sin.

Many people treat sin as a force waiting to infect us every time we make a mistake. I’ve never found that particularly helpful.

Some traditions and theological viewpoints understand sin solely as separation from God. Sin damages relationships with God, others, ourselves, and creation. The issue isn’t that we’ve broken rules, but that we’ve stepped away from God’s wisdom, love, and intention.

Instead of asking, “Am I behaving like a Christian?” we should ask, “Am I moving towards God or away from Him?”

Jesus spoke a lot about love, mercy, forgiveness, generosity, hypocrisy, pride, and how we treat people. He said remarkably little about hats, fashion styles, dress codes, or whether someone looked religious enough.

We’re also called to share our faith, but I believe the “good Christian” stereotype gets in the way. If people think they must change everything about themselves before they belong, most won’t even walk through the door.

People connect with real people.

One friend started attending our church after feeling judged elsewhere. Their child’s ASD, Tourette’s, and behavioural needs didn’t fit “church” and spent years feeling unwelcome. At one point I jokingly said, “If they accept me, they’ll accept anyone.” They laughed and came anyway.

Today they’re part of the church family. Not because somebody changed who they were, but because somebody welcomed them.

That’s why I think we need to stop trying so hard. Stop worrying that we're constantly doing something wrong.

We all fall short. Not because we’re uniquely bad, but because God is uniquely good. Even the best Christian isn’t good enough. That’s the reason grace matters. There’s a saying that the church isn’t a museum for saints, it’s a hospital for sinners. I’ve always liked that idea. The well don’t need a doctor. The sick do. The church doesn’t need perfect Christians because they don’t exist. It needs real people carrying flaws, struggles, and failures.

The goal isn’t becoming the person we think Christians should be but the person God created us to be, then allowing Him to shape us from there. It’s why I’m still proud to be the best worst Christian. I’m imperfect, but still His.