Dignity and Depravity
Why We Need To Start At Genesis 1 Without Skipping Romans 3
"Our fundamental identity is that we are sinners in need of a Savior," a prominent Reformed Presbyterian pastor tweeted. The responses came swiftly and sternly, the first from a pastor and counselor I deeply respect: "No...Goodness and dignity are core. Begin reading at Genesis 1."
That exchange crystallized a tension I've felt but couldn't name. I grew up in the faith with a heavy dose of total depravity. Verses reminding me that my heart is deceitful and desperately wicked, that no one is righteous, that nothing good dwells in me, and that I am the chief of sinners were a steady IV drip flowing through my veins (Jeremiah 17:9, Romans 3:9-18, Romans 7:18, 1 Timothy 1:15).
My spiritual diet solidified my understanding of my sinfulness and need for a Savior, building strong muscles for confession and repentance. However, it left me severely malnourished in other areas of my spiritual identity, hindering the development of other spiritual muscles.
I see the outworking of this in my life in many ways. I have often been overly deferential to those in spiritual leadership, assuming that if anyone is wrong, it must be me. I search for hidden sin in my life under every rock and question every motive. I struggle to share things I have written or created, vacillating between sharing them almost apologetically and silencing myself, afraid of being “self-promoting.” Those are just a few examples. There are many more.
Seeing those two seemingly opposing tweets side by side highlighted the importance of having a theologically robust understanding of who Scripture says we are. God's word cannot be summed up in 140 characters, and attempting to do so impacts those who are feeding on it. As teachers and ministers, offering ourselves and others only one food group from Scripture can severely stunt our spiritual growth, both individually and as the body of Christ.
The Bible offers a complete spiritual diet. But we all come to this feast with our own tastes and preferences (biases), shaped by our personalities, upbringing, culture, social status, and life experiences. These preferences can lead us to fill our plates with only what's familiar, building our spiritual nutrition around a limited menu. The consequences of such selective feeding can be grave. This is true for every biblical doctrine, including our identities.
We do need to begin at Genesis 1. God created us in his image and called us, as his creation, good. Goodness and dignity were the first things God ever declared about us! This is true of every human being ever created. Every person, whether they believe in God or are followers of Jesus, bears the image of God. This means that every human being has dignity, worth, and something good, beautiful, and redemptive in them. However, the Bible doesn’t conclude with Genesis 1 and 2.
Human beings are complex creatures. Are we inherently good or inherently bad? Are we desperately wicked or deeply worthy? Pastor and theologian John Stott captures this well,
“Our ‘self’ is a complex entity of good and evil, glory and shame…What we are (our self or personal identity) is partly the result of the Creation (the image of God), and partly the result of the Fall (the image defaced)...I’m a Jekyll and Hyde, a mixed-up kid, having both dignity, because I was created in God’s image, and depravity, because I am fallen and rebellious. I am both noble and ignoble, beautiful and ugly, good and bad, upright and twisted, image of God and slave of the Devil. My true self is what I am by creation, which Christ came to redeem. My fallen self is what I am by the Fall, which Christ came to destroy.”
Stott's more balanced view contrasts with Christian traditions that mistakenly emphasize one aspect of identity over another. Some traditions may be hyper-focused on our identity as sinners, while others might overemphasize our identity as saints empowered by the Spirit. Some traditions may excel at creating space for lament that honors our suffering, while others might focus on the intimacy of being God's children. Each offers something valuable, but none alone tells the complete story.
The tension between those two tweets reveals that our identity cannot be reduced to a single dimension. We are simultaneously sinners, saints, sufferers, and children.
Sinner
What if the worst thing you've ever done became public knowledge tomorrow? For most people, that thought causes anxiety because we all bear the weight of our failures, poor choices, and sins.
Since our first parents, Adam and Eve, chose to disobey God's command, humanity has struggled with sin. Whether we believe in God or follow Jesus, we all have an innate sense of moral law—certain lines we believe should not be crossed—and a conscience that convicts us when we fail to live accordingly. How we sin and what kinds of sins we are tempted toward may differ, but sin is woven into the fabric of our existence. We fail to love God and neighbor in thought, word, and deed by what we have done and by what we have left undone.
When I reflect on my life, I find that, to my dismay, there isn’t much I haven’t done. I have lied, cheated, and stolen from both family and strangers. I have broken the law. I have abused and mistreated those who were vulnerable. I have engaged in drunkenness, promiscuity, and sexual immorality. And I spent years rejecting and despising God.
While I no longer engage in any of those behaviors, I still have ongoing struggles with things like overeating, gluttony, and a lack of consistent care for my body. I lose my temper, have difficulty forgiving, and sometimes slip into gossip. I battle selfishness—even down to seemingly innocuous things like selecting the best piece of fruit for myself and giving the other “less desirable” piece to my husband. Even when I don’t actively choose to sin, my mind can easily wander toward sinful thoughts and desires. It’s part of my nature.
"Good" people sin. "Bad" people do good things. The categories we create are too simple. Sin infects us all—every man, woman, and child. The Bible lists jealousy and envy right alongside idolatry, sexual immorality, and drunkenness. And who of us has not experienced moments of jealousy and envy?
The reality of sin isn't just about categorizing people as "good" or "bad." It's about recognizing a universal human condition—one that runs in our family line. From the subtle selfishness of choosing the best piece of fruit to the obvious destruction of adultery, sin manifests in countless ways. However, acknowledging our identity as sinners is only part of the story.
While our sin is real and requires acknowledgment, it exists alongside another universal human reality—our identity as those who suffer in a broken world.
For Further Study: Romans 3:9-12, 3:23; James 4:17; 1 John 1:8; Galatians 5:19-21
Sufferer
While many churches have a strong theology of personal sin, they may struggle to engage a robust theology of suffering. Suffering, whether our own or another’s, makes us uncomfortable. But this is a tale as old as time.
Job’s friends didn’t know what to do with suffering either. God himself said that there was no one like Job—a blameless and upright man who fears God and turns away from evil (Job 1:8). But when Job’s world is shattered, when everything good is stripped away from him, leaving him writhing in agony and regretting the day he was born, his friends attribute it to sin in Job’s life. Surely he had to have done something that merited this kind of suffering, so they grill him about unconfessed sin. In a time when Job needed his friends most for support, all they offered him were words of accusation and rebuke and calls to repent.
Several years ago, a counselor pressed me on parts of my story. He wanted me to engage with suffering honestly, but I was resistant. I called a friend after a session one day to debrief, and in a moment of frustration, I blurted out, “I know what to do with my sin. I have no idea what to do with my suffering.” That statement was the key that unlocked the door of my self-imposed prison.
At that time, I clearly understood the path forward with sin: confess, repent, and accept Christ’s forgiveness. In some sense, that gave me a feeling of control. But suffering made me feel powerless. And I would much rather take responsibility—attributing my suffering to my sin and failure—than feel powerless.
I had been taught well about the problem of sin but not the problem of suffering. Scripture doesn’t turn a blind eye to our suffering; it turns a magnifying glass on it. When God first approaches Moses from the burning bush and appoints him to go and deliver Israel from their slavery in Egypt, he says, “I have seen the affliction of my people. I have heard their cry. I know their sufferings. And I have come to deliver them” (Exodus 3:7-8, paraphrase mine). Before God ever sets out to resolve Israel’s issue with personal sin, he comes to free them from their suffering. Furthermore, Isaiah tells us that “in all their suffering he also suffered, and he personally rescued them (Isaiah 63:9, NLT). The Lord not only sees our suffering and comes for us, but he also suffers with us in some cosmic way.
We see this even more clearly in Jesus, who carried our weakness and was weighed down by our sorrows (Isaiah 53:4, NLT). Jesus never shied away from the suffering of others. He drew near with tenderness and compassion.
He also challenged the inaccurate ideologies of the religious leaders of his day—reminding them that not every affliction is the result of personal sin (John 9:1-7). Even some of Jesus’ final words to his disciples before his resurrection were to prepare them for the sorrow and suffering they would experience in this world (John 16).
Suffering is an inescapable reality on this side of eternity. It is also part of what it means to be human. When we acknowledge our identity as sufferers, we're not merely wallowing in pain; we're joining in the fellowship of Christ’s sufferings (Philippians 3:10). Suffering enables us to know something of God as our comforter (2 Corinthians 1:4), and Jesus as the one who identifies with us in our suffering (Isaiah 53).
While all that is true, our suffering is not the end of our story any more than our sin. We are not only sinners and sufferers; we are also saints.
For Further Study: Isaiah 53, Romans 8:18-26, John 16
Saint
Sin and suffering are part and parcel of being human. We all sin. We all suffer. But here is where those who put their faith in Christ diverge from those who don’t. If you believe in Christ’s life, death, and resurrection as the solution to your sin and suffering, you are also a saint.
Saint means holy ones, those who have been set apart for God. Since the beginning, God has been creating a people for himself, those who were to be set apart in a special relationship with him. We see this in the book of Exodus, when God called Israel out of Egypt. He set them apart from the other nations to be a holy nation and his kingdom of priests (Exodus 19:6). The Israelites’ distinct identity as his set apart people would be a witness to the surrounding nations so that they would know that he is the Lord.
That is the same language Peter uses of us as the church:
“You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” 1 Peter 2:9
Our identity as saints is a status—in Christ, we are pure, holy, and blameless, without blemish, accusation, or condemnation—and a holy calling. Like the Israelites, we have been set apart to live distinctly as his people so that the world may know something about him by looking at us. As his saints, we are to proclaim his goodness and faithfulness to the world around us.
I don’t know about you, but “saint” is not a title I wear comfortably. It feels a little like playing dress up in your mom’s clothes when you were young. The clothes sag and bag and fall off, and attempting to walk in her shoes is awkward and clumsy. You haven’t yet grown into them.
The same is true of our identity as saints. Because God transferred Jesus’ righteousness into our account, he has declared us saints. But it doesn’t feel like the title fits. I still want to save the best piece of fruit for myself.
Positionally, in God’s eyes, we are already saints. Experientially, however, we are still in the process of growing into those clothes. We mature into it as the Holy Spirit continues to transform us more into Christ’s likeness. This is the now and the not-yet of our humanity.
Mike Emlet, in his book Saints, Sufferers, and Sinners, captures this tension well:
“Ongoing struggle with suffering or with sin must be understood in this basic context of our new identity as children of the living God. We are saints who suffer. We are saints who sin. But we are saints nonetheless at our core.”
Being declared saints gives us a holy calling, but our relationship with God goes even deeper—from servants called to a purpose to children welcomed into a family.
For Further Study: Exodus 19, 1 Peter 2:9-10, Romans 1:7, Philippians 1:1, Romans 8:17
Child
The Christian's identity doesn't end with being declared a saint; it culminates in being brought home—adopted as a child into God's family.
Parental language appears throughout Scripture. In the Old Testament, God called Israel his son, as beautifully expressed in Hosea 11:1: "When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son." The chapter continues with fatherly imagery—God taught Israel to walk, took them by the arms, bent down to them, and fed them (verses 3-4).
Father-child language continues with Jesus in the New Testament. The term Jesus uses most when referring to God is that of father. Jesus teaches that God is not only his father but the father of all believers. Even more remarkably, he invites us to call God our father (Matthew 6:9, 7:9-11, John 20:17).
Jesus’ disciples also frequently refer to us as God’s children. John reminds us that to all who receive and believe in Him, he grants the right to become children of God (John 1:12-13). And Paul assures us that, as God’s children, the Holy Spirit enables us to use the same intimate address Jesus used: 'Abba, Father' (Romans 8:15, Galatians 4:6), confirming our adoption into God's family.
Relating to God as a child doesn’t come easily for me. It requires me to use my sanctified imagination. When I look at my young nieces, I am reminded that part of being a child includes vulnerability, trust, and dependence. They depend wholly on their parents to provide for their needs, protect them from harm, and prepare them for life. As God’s children, he invites us into this same kind of vulnerability, assuring us that he is trustworthy and we can depend on him to care for us.
As children, we get to experience the Lord not only as the infinite but also as the intimate. He doesn’t just rule over us as Lord and King, resolve our problem of sin and suffering, and set us apart as saints. He bends down, teaches us to walk, and feeds us. He declares over us, “I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me” (2 Corinthians 6:18).
Being God's child doesn't eliminate our struggles with sin or exempt us from suffering, but it does transform how we experience them—facing them not as orphans but as dearly loved children.
For Further Study: Exodus 4:22, Hosea 11:1, John 1:12-13, Galatians 3:26, Romans 8:14-17, 1 John 3:1
These four dimensions of our identity—sinner, sufferer, saint, and child—aren't competing narratives but complementary truths that form a more complete picture of who we are in Christ.
The Bible has so much to say about who we are. We are image bearers. A kingdom of priests. Ambassadors. Co-heirs with Christ. A little lower than the angels. And we are also sinners, sufferers, saints, and children. A more robust self-understanding, as defined by the Scriptures, enables us to live more wholeheartedly.
We are like chairs with four legs. If we lose one or more of these legs, the whole chair is off-balance and wobbly. It’s no longer structurally sound. The same is true of our identity. If we live as if we are only sinners, we may live in defeat and believe we have nothing of value to contribute to the Lord, his kingdom, or his church. If we live as if we are only saints, we may forget our desperate state and give way to pride. If we live as if we are only sufferers, we may grow weary and give way to hopelessness and despair. If we live as if we are only a child, we may forget how God has equipped us with his Spirit and called us to live as his ambassadors.
Living wholeheartedly requires intentional spiritual practices. No single practice is sufficient—just as no single dimension of our identity tells the whole story. We need to take the right medicine out of the medicine cabinet, regularly incorporating practices like confession to acknowledge our sin or lament to honor our suffering.
We may need to shore up our study of God’s word to include all aspects of our relationship to and with God. Like God called the Israelites to frequently remember and rehearse their story of deliverance and their relationship with him (Deuteronomy 5:15, 7:6-8, 8:2-3), we may need to memorize passages of Scripture that remind us who we are and all that God has accomplished for us through Christ (1 Peter 2:9-10, Ephesians 2:19-22, Galatians 3:26-29). We need to do this regularly so that when our chair is wobbly or someone tweets something, we can recognize the missing legs and flawed statements and supplement them with the whole truth.
Living more wholly as a saint, sinner, sufferer, and child frees and empowers us. Through Christ, the Lord provides for every aspect of our being: forgiveness for the sin, comfort for the suffering, strength for the mission, and belonging for the child. If you would like to engage this topic further, I created a new resource. you can download it for free here.
Love you guys,
CC
The Wholehearted Project is reader-supported.
If you enjoy or have benefitted from the content, would you consider supporting future content in a few ways?
Like or comment below.
Become a financial supporter through a one-time gift at Buy Me A Coffee or a recurring supporter at Liberapay.
Share this newsletter with others:
Subscribe to receive regular updates:
Want to Connect?
You can find me on Facebook and Instagram or email me at ccole@wholeheartedproject.org.