The Scoop "The Bad News"
We can reason, even from nature, that if God exists, He must be perfect in every way—including morally. And if He is morally perfect, then everything He creates—especially beings made in His image—must be held to that same standard of moral perfection.
That means we were made not only to exist, but to be holy—to reflect God’s goodness in every thought, word, and action.
But can any of us say we've lived up to that?
Of course not.
Just observe a child. You don't have to teach them how to lie, hit, or throw a tantrum. These come naturally. That natural bent toward wrong is what we call original sin—a kind of inherited spiritual condition or mutation passed down from our forefather Adam.
But it doesn’t stop there.
We don't sin merely because of Adam—we sin because we want to. We willfully choose what is wrong. So our condition is twofold:
We are both corrupted by nature and complicit by choice.
So here's the dilemma:
God is holy.
God is just.
He cannot overlook evil, because doing so would make Him unjust.
Yet we fail His moral standard—repeatedly, willfully, deeply.
And so, we are not only guilty of dishonoring God, but also of harming one another, the very people we desire to love—family, friends, strangers. Sin is not just a personal problem; it’s a cosmic offense against a holy God.
This is the bad news:
We are morally ruined, spiritually dead, and under the just judgment of God.
You might be thinking, “Can’t I just try harder? Can’t I make up for the damage I’ve done? Maybe do enough good to outweigh the bad?”
That might work with a fellow human—a neighbor.
But with an infinite and eternal God, a single offense is of infinite depth.
Think of the infinite number of decimals between the numbers one and two. That’s a glimpse of the gap between our sin and God’s perfection.
So what does that mean?
First, we can’t pay the debt, because it’s infinite in weight—and we are finite beings.
Second, even if we could stack up a few quarters’ worth of good deeds, it would never be enough.
And worse—our motives would still be flawed. We'd be doing it to save ourselves, not to love God purely.
So not only is the debt beyond reach, even our best efforts are tainted by self-interest, pride, or fear.
No matter how hard we try, we cannot climb an infinite ladder with finite legs.
The Good News
How then can we possibly pay this infinite debt? How can the law of God be satisfied?
The truth is—you can't.
But God can. And He did.
God Himself came down. He gave His very own Son—gave Himself—for you.
Jesus didn't just cover your debt reluctantly—He willingly took your place. He bore the penalty that was rightly yours. He stood where you should have stood, and died the death you justly deserved.
And here's the shocking part:
He didn’t wait until you were good enough.
He didn’t die for the cleaned-up version of you.
He died while you were still at war with Him—in rebellion, in sin, in hostility.
And because He is God—infinite, eternal, perfect—He was able to take not only your sin, but the sins of all who come to Him.
He offers this gift freely, to be received with empty hands and open heart.
The New Life
So—what does it really mean to "receive a gift"?
When you receive the invitation of God through Jesus, you're not just accepting forgiveness. You're being adopted into a new family—God’s family—unlike Adam’s. And being part of this family means growing to reflect the character of your Father who adopted you.
This is where the word "repent" comes in. Repentance isn't just saying "I'm sorry." It's turning around—walking away from the life of sin and rebellion, and becoming the person you were always meant to be. It’s the active part of transformation, the life-long journey of becoming more like Christ.
And as part of God's family, you’re not alone. You now have brothers and sisters—others walking this same road, struggling and growing just like you. Christianity isn't a solo mission. It's a life in community.
Now, it’s important to understand something:
Your right standing before God—your justification—isn’t based on how well you perform. It’s not earned by your obedience. Just as an earthly father chooses to adopt a child, God has chosen to adopt you. And while obedience and maturity are part of growing as His child, they do not make you "more" His son or daughter. You are fully His because of His grace, not your effort.
But does this mean we can live however we want because we're forgiven?
Of course not.
Why? Because willfully walking away from the family—returning to a life of rebellion—is choosing to become an enemy of God again.
But don’t confuse weakness with rejection. God knows we are frail. He knows we will fail. And He continually assures us of His love and forgiveness—through Baptism, where we were first sealed into His family, and through the Eucharist, where Christ gives Himself again and again to sustain us.
Failing doesn't mean you're no longer His. But abandoning Him completely is another matter.
Someone has to pay the debt.
So then, will you accept this gift? Will you answer the call to follow Him?