In his novel The Power and the Glory, Graham Greene tells the story of a nameless, flawed whisky priest. He is a seedy alcoholic willing to trade spiritual services for the money to buy booze. After months as a fugitive, he is finally caught by the revolutionary Mexican government and condemned to be shot. On the morning of his execution, he wakes up in his cell and notices the empty flask of brandy in his hand and his own shadow on the cell wall. It had, he thought, a look of surprise and grotesque unimportance. He fumbled in those moments to recover the words of the rite of contrition. He begged God’s pardon for wasting his life and calling. He felt as if he had lived as an imposter: posing as a helper of others but never really doing anything for anyone but himself. Says Greene: He was not at that moment afraid of damnation—even the fear of pain was in the background. He felt only an immense disappointment because he had to go to God empty-handed, with nothing done at all. It seemed to him, at that moment, that it would have been quite easy to have been a saint. It would have only needed a little self-restraint and a little courage. He felt like someone who had missed happiness by seconds at an appointed place. He knew now that at the end there was only one thing that counted—to be a saint. [Penguin, 1991: p.210.]

Baptists are squeamish about talk of saints. Have you noticed? We scratch our heads over the Catholic requirement that in addition to a holy life one also has to perform a verifiable miracle. As if a holy life isn’t a miracle itself! The veneration of saints unfortunately leads some to elevate them to a place that competes with, rather than supports, loyalty to Christ. Baptists want to say that all Christians are saints by virtue of being granted the virtue of Christ, no thanks to themselves. But whatever kind of Christian you are, whatever your denominational flavor, the desire to be a saint should be front and center, because it is really the desire to be a fully mature disciple of Jesus Christ. Can anyone argue with that?

All who have this hope in [Christ] purify themselves, just as he is pure, says the writer of 1 John. And the word he uses for purify is the word for sanctify—that is, for saint-making. To purify is not to perfect in the sense of never sinning, so much as it is to be perfectly fitted to the calling we each of us have in Christ. Our texts give us some clues about what saints would look like. These secrets of the saints are all paradoxes of a sort, because the hope of the saints is not worldly success but success in the kingdom of God.

Secret 1: Saints recognize God in the world rather than seeking recognition from the world.

The celebration of Emmitt Smith this week has been the media event I expected. Emmitt became the all-time leading rusher in NFL history last Sunday—an accomplishment worthy of attention. And although we could have a good argument over the relative greatness of Walter Payton, Jim Brown, Barry Sanders, and Emmitt Smith as running backs, we can take our helmets off to Emmitt and say that he would not have succeeded without purifying himself to this hope, so to speak. Emmitt has conditioned himself to achieve the thing he dreamed of. He worked for it with single-minded dedication, and in that way is a secular model of spiritual discipline. Good conditioning and clear focus also help to make saints.

But pardon me if I don’t stand too long and cheer. It’s not just the Cowboys’ classlessness that takes the heart out of me; it’s first of all the adulation paid to someone who plays a GAME. Barry Sanders retired abruptly a few years ago and disappeared from the limelight. His father says Barry could understand the adoration of children, but he could never get used to that from grown men. He felt like he was contributing to a warped view of life. Now I’m told Emmitt has a good record of volunteering with children, but after playing golf at Royal Oaks a couple of years ago, he had gone to his car after the round and was by himself. My redheaded, freckle-faced 8-year old nephew had the gumption to approach him for an autograph. He was summarily dismissed: told he shouldn’t bother him, that he was busy changing his shoes. Maybe Emmitt had had a bad round, but you’ll forgive me for wanting to slow down the canonization process.

People crave recognition from the world, and children have no clout to deliver it. But saints have a different vision of the world. They see that we are all of us at the core nothing but children, children of God—and they take that as a gift to glory in. They see that the world is saturated with God, and they therefore treat rich and poor, young and old, black and white with the same measure of dignity. See what love the Father has given us, John says, that we should be called children of God. And the reason the world does not recognize our value is because it did not recognize it in Jesus. Saints are okay with the fact that they will be largely anonymous as long as they live. They are secrets themselves, known fully only to God.

But recognizing God in the world is the preoccupation of saints. When John gets his vision in Revelation, what he sees is God and the angels dominating the landscape of heaven. They are everywhere, but most important is the recognition that since the saints who have died as martyrs are pictured there with them, they are not just up there while we are down here—heaven is a present reality that coexists with our own right now. Saints have eyes to see God all round them in everyday life. Because they want nothing more than to worship God with their lives, they see things we miss. Their vision allows them to forsake worldly recognition for the recognition of God.

Secret 2: Saints willingly die for Christ because their wills have been Christ-dyed.

What John sees in the vision of heaven are all these saints dressed in white. He wants to know who they are, and he is told they are those who have come through the great ordeal and have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb. It’s a fascinating image. The great ordeal is the suffering and death that comes unjustly at the hands of the world. Although some call it the Tribulation, as though it is yet to come, I believe John is seeing those who have already given up their lives in his day because of the persecution of the Roman emperor. Their blood has been shed the way Christ’s blood was shed, and their blood was shed because they were faithful to the Christ whose blood was shed for them. They would not serve a king that demanded their absolute loyalty and crushed the poor at the same time. They lived for God’s justice the way Jesus did, and they died for it the way he did.

But there’s a curious paradox, just the way there is all over the text. It’s as if John sees that things in heaven are viewed opposite of the way things are on earth: here the hungry go unfed, there the ones who went hungry feed each other; here the shepherd leads the lambs, there the Lamb of God is shepherd who leads to living water; here we cry tears without relief, there God walks around with Kleenex, wiping away every tear. The chief paradox, though, is that here blood is red and stains us with death, while there the blood of Christ dyes us white and gives us life. Nice.

We do not know now what shall become of us, but we believe that if we are united to Christ in life and death, we shall be united to Christ in life after death. Whatever becomes of Christ will become of us. So we allow him to live through us, giving us the courage to take his side of things in the world.

The TV show Seventh Heaven is big around my house, as you might imagine. Jillian loves to point out how the father of the family, Eric Camden, who is also a minister, is just like me. I try to remind her that no one is just like her daddy, don’t you know?! Well, they repeated a show the other night about the death of a U.S. Marine in Afghanistan. One of the children, Ruthie, had become a pen pal of this soldier, who actually did lose his life when his supply helicopter went down on a mission. Ruthie’s grandfather, the colonel, as they all call him, got the word first and flew cross-country to tell Ruthie firsthand. It was a touching scene as he reminded her that the soldier was there serving the causes of goodness and justice and freedom. And then he said this: Just remember that he died for you and for me.

I couldn’t help but think that that’s the way saints live: they willingly die for others because they have been Christ-dyed at the very core of their being.

Secret 3: Saints are conscious of the well-being of others and are unself-conscious themselves.

We live in a society preoccupied with self-analysis and self-help. The gospel says that God is our help, securing our self. Which allows us to stop worrying about ourselves and pay attention to other selves. Our fellowship with Christ drives us into fellowship with those whom Christ loves, and especially those most vulnerable. Saints are unwitting heroes because they wittingly live to make heroes of others.

By that standard, Dave Frantz and Derek DeWitt are two saints in the making. They are coaches of opposing high school football teams in southern Ohio. Before they kicked off last weekend, Frantz talked to DeWitt about one of his players, senior Jake Porter. Jake has a genetic condition called Chromosomal Fragile-X, which is the most common cause of inherited mental retardation. Well, Jake had been part of the Northwest team for three years without ever getting into a game. Coach Frantz wanted to change that. He told the Waverly coach that if the last play of the game was meaningless, he would like to let Jake take a snap from center, touch the ball in a live game, and just take a knee, since he could not take a hit. When the time came, the score was 42-0, Waverly, and the opposing coach had a better idea. After a time-out and discussions with the referees and players, Jake came in, took the snap from center and watched as both teams parted on the field like the Red Sea. It took Jake a moment to figure out what was happening, but before long he began to run—49 yards in 12 seconds flat! Players on both sidelines ran alongside him to the end zone, where he scored a touchdown.

There wasn’t one winner in that game. Everyone won. Which is what saints are all about. Recognizing God in the world, dying to self with Christ, and living for the sake of others. It might take a little self-restraint and a little courage, but is there anything in the world more important than being a saint?