Beat Shame, Fear & Hate with God's Presence (The Broken Mirror 3 of 7)
VideoTranscript
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Have you ever looked at Jesus and felt crushed? You read about his patience and you think about how you snapped at your kids this morning. You read about his purity and you know what you looked at on your phone last night. You read about his peace and your chest is tight with anxiety right now. We're told to be like him, but the gap sometimes feels impossible. Like being told to fly by watching an eagle. If that's you, if you've ever felt defeated by the very perfection you're supposed to imitate, then this message is for you.
Because I think we've been reading Jesus all wrong. To understand why, we have to go back to the metaphor that we've been using. But before I get into that, let me say that this sermon is the third of a seven-part series based on my book, The Broken Mirror: Rediscovering Our True Nature in Christ. If you haven't listened to the other sermons yet, I suggest you go back and do that first because it'll make this one make a lot more sense. I go into a lot more detail in the book than I will here. So, if you like what you hear, click the link in the video description to pick up a copy in paperback, hardback, Kindle, or audiobook format.
Now, imagine walking into a room filled with millions of mirrors, but every single one of the mirrors is broken. Some are shattered, lying in piles of jagged shards on the floor. Others are hanging on the wall, but they're covered in layers of mud and grime so thick you can't even see the glass underneath. Some are warped, twisting everything they reflect into a funhouse horror show. This is a world we talked about in the last sermon. This is humanity after the fall. We were made to reflect the blazing light of God, but we turned away.
We tried to be our own sons. We broke. And for centuries, the world was a place of twilight, illuminated only by the flickering sparks of people trying to generate their own light unsuccessfully.
But then one ordinary morning in Galilee, something happened. Into this room of broken, dirty, distorted mirrors, one appeared who was flawless. He didn't arrive with fanfare of trumpets. He arrived in the most fragile way possible as a little baby. But as he grew, as he walked the dusty roads of Israel, people began to notice something terrifyingly beautiful. When they looked at him, they didn't see the grime. They didn't see the cracks.
They saw reflections so pure, so brilliant that it made them squint. Scripture describes this moment in John 1:14. The word became flesh and lived among us. We saw his glory, such glory as of the one and only son of the father, full of grace and truth. The word became flesh. The light moved into the neighborhood. God put on skin.
This is the arrival of the perfect mirror. Hebrews chapter 1:3 says that he is the radiance of his glory, the very image of his substance. That word image means an exact imprint. When you looked at Jesus, you were looking at the perfect reflection of the father. Now, here's where we get confused. We look at Jesus, his power, his love, his perfection, and we think, well, of course, he's God. He's playing by different rules.
He's an alien visitor showing off what divinity looks like. But that misses the point entirely. The incarnation, God becoming human, wasn't just God showing us who he is. It was God showing us who we are supposed to be. Jesus didn't come to show us that human nature is trash. He came to show us that human nature was designed to house the divine. He proved that divine nature and human nature are not enemies.
They're meant to be married. They're meant to be united. Jesus was the prototype. He was the first human since the garden to perfectly, consistently, completely function as designed, a flawless mirror, never once turning away from the father's light. Not because he avoided humanity, but because his humanity was fully surrendered to the father.
Think about the implications of that. If Jesus is the perfect mirror, he didn't just come to be the only clean mirror in the room, dazzling us while we stayed dirty. That would be cruel. Look how bright I am. Too bad you're all broken. No, he came to show all the other mirrors how to be cleaned and how to shine again. and he knew the cleaning would require his own blood.
There's a fascinating moment in the Gospels that proves this. In John 8:12, Jesus makes a massive claim. He says, "I am the light of the world." And of course, we all nod at that. We say, "Yes, Lord, you are the son. We worship you." But then in Matthew 5:14, he turns to his disciples, this ragtag group of fishermen, tax collectors, and Peter, who would deny him three times before the rooster even crowed, and he says something impossible.
You are the light of the world. Wait, what? How can both be true? How can he be the light and [snorts] we be the light? It's the mirror principle. He is the source. He is the sun.
But when a mirror is cleaned and angled correctly, it reflects the sun so perfectly that if you looked at it from a distance, you would say that mirror is a light. [snorts] He was confirming our design. He was telling them, "I am the light and you you're designed to catch me. You're designed to reflect me." So, if we're designed to reflect his light, why does it feel so impossible? Why do we read his teachings and feel crushed instead of inspired?
I remember reading the sermon on the mount during a season when I was really struggling with anger and anxiety. I read, "Blessed are the peacemakers," and I thought, "Oh, great. Another thing I'm failing at." I was trying to manufacture peace through gritted teeth. I was trying to force myself to be meek. I was trying to scrub the spots off my own mirror. And I was exhausted because of it.
It wasn't until years later that I realized I'd been reading it backward. When we read the biatitudes as a to-do list for a dirty mirror, blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are the pure in heart. We think Jesus is saying, "Okay, the ten commandments weren't hard enough. Here's a new list. Try harder." And we do try.
We grit our teeth. We polish the dust. But we fail and we think, "I can never be that clean." But what if the sermon on the mount isn't a to-do list for a dirty mirror? What if it's a description of a clean one? What if Jesus isn't giving us commands to crush us, but a picture to inspire us? He's describing what a human life looks like when the mirror is fully aligned with the father.
When the divine nature flows through a human being, it looks like poverty of spirit. It looks like meekness. It looks like mercy. He isn't prescribing a new heavy burden. He's describing his own life, the life he intends to live in you. Jesus didn't come to set a standard you could never reach. He came to be the standard within you.
This changes how we read the Bible. It changes how we wake up in the morning instead of waking up and thinking I have to force myself to be a peacemaker today. We wake up and realize the peacemaker lives in me. So I want to give you a practice for this week. A way to stop being crushed and start being filled. I want you to pick one beatitude, just one. Maybe it's the one that has always made you feel most like a failure.
Maybe it's pure in heart or merciful. Write it on a card. Stick it on your bathroom mirror. But rewrite it in the new language. Not I have to be pure in heart, but Christ in me is pure in heart. His purity is becoming my purity. Every morning when you see it, don't read it as a demand.
Read it as a promise. Say it out loud. This is who I am becoming because this is who lives in me. And when you blow it, when you're not a peacemaker, when you snap, when the old patterns win, don't spiral into shame. Touch the card that night and say, "This is still who I'm becoming. The failure doesn't define me. The one who lives in me does."
Do you feel the difference? One is a weight on your shoulders. The other is a wind in your sails.
You're not just looking at the perfect mirror and trying to copy him from a distance. That's religion. That's exhausting. You're receiving the life of the perfect mirror into your own heart. That's the gospel. Stop staring at the cracks. Stop trying to polish yourself clean.
Turn your face toward the light. Remember that crushing feeling I described at the beginning? That sense that Jesus is too perfect and you're too broken. That feeling was based on a misunderstanding. You weren't looking at a standard to achieve. You were looking at a life to receive. The perfect mirror didn't come to shame the broken ones.
He came to live inside them. Let this be our prayer. Aba, Father, we are so tired of trying to copy Jesus from a distance. We look at his perfection and we feel our brokenness. But we thank you that he didn't come to crush us. He came to restore us. Thank you that the perfect mirror has arrived.
Not just in history, but in our hearts. Teach us to read your words as promises, not just demands. Live your meekness, your purity, and your peace through us today. We are your mirrors. Align us with your light in Jesus name. Amen.
I wanted to take a moment to tell you about my book, The Broken Mirror: Rediscovering Our True Nature in Christ. Readers call it a fantastic book where you will feel yourself discovering your identity in Christ. One reviewer praised it as five-star material for the spiritual mystic or group Bible study. It's time to escape legalism and shame. Discover you're already God's beloved child with divine nature flowing through you with what reviewers describe as excellent writing style and elegant pros like a campfire discussion with a knowledgeable and gifted recon tour journey from Genesis to Revelation uncovering your true identity. This book shows how to access God's peace, wisdom, and strength from within. Your struggles become opportunities for divine light to shine through.
Available in hard coverver, paperback, Kindle, and audiobook. The link to the book is in the video description. May God bless your journey along his path for you.
