Armstrong, Livestrong, Die Stronger

Lance. Big surprise? Um, No.

Baseball: Bonds, Sosa, McGwire, Canseco, Petite, A-Rod, Clemens, their mothers, and their dogs.
Football: Spygate, Bounty Hunting, Brett Favre's cellular indiscretion, Vick and the aforementioned HGH dogs .
Golf: Tiger.
Basketball.
This guy

(ps. government too!)

As earth orbits the sun, so do professional athletes orbit scandal--they cannot elude its inescapable gravitational pull. Don't believe me? Watch Sportscenter for a week.

But now that performance enhancing drugs have since devoured Floyd Landis and latched their tentacles around cycling's golden boy, the public reaction has taken on a particular flavor. The public has taken two distinct sides. The Armstrong's cry fraudulent disqualification, the Livestrong's proclaim result-driven qualification. Neither will suffice. In times of blatant failure (defiant in Lance's case), only dying stronger than you "armstrong" or "livestrong" will suffice.

Armstrong
Public outrage is climaxing at this point. After years and years of scathing, indignant refutation, Lance finally admitted to what he so vehemently denied for at least a decade. As with the rest of our athletes who have fallen so far off the pedestal we insist on elevating them to, Lance's heart has proved to be black. And the public is ready to exile him. Strip the jerseys! Remove the medals! Exterminate the awards! Impeach him from his nonprofit! CONDEMN HIM. Rick Reilly, an ESPN sports columnist and close friend of Armstrong who defended Lance the past decade, outright rejects Lance's personal apology and condemns him by publicly and permanently burning the bridge they so freely traversed in the past. "It does not matter what he's done," the Armstrong's say. "On the inside he's a liar and a cheat, and he's disqualified!"

Livestrong
In the midst of disqualifying accusations, there's a murmuring of those who say, "Hold on a sec, he still qualifies. Look what he's done for cancer. Look what he's done for the sport. He's been such an inspiration!" One tweet reads, "Beat cancer, raise millions of dollars for cancer research, bring back a dead sport, then judge Lance #Armstrong. People piss me off." 55 million wristbands! Millions and millions of dollars for research! "It doesn't matter what he's like on the inside," the Livestrong's say. "It's the external that qualifies this man! Look at all he's done!"

Here's the problem: According to the public, Lance has fallen so far and so fast that there is absolutely nothing he can do to rid him of this permanent and career-wrecking stain. The internal condemnation is thick and heavy and it is not going anywhere. Additionally, the external can clearly do no good in transforming the internal. Lance ran his Livestrong campaign brilliantly while doping with EPO for all 7 Tour de France victories. Polished and sparkly outside, moral decay inside. The yellow wrist band I bought in 4th grade can't change Lance's heart. At least everyone thought I was cool.

So it seems that when we judge others and ourselves, we go one of two options:

1. We recognize we don't measure up. We see that we're total failures. We drown in the cesspools of guilt created by our moral failure. We convince ourselves that we are unlovable. We collapse under the weight of condemnation, and cling to anything we can get our hands on in a vain attempt to pawn off the perpetual weight of ongoing failure. When we find out others are just as bad or even worse than us (based on our own faulty perception of morality), we make sure we drag others down with us. With an undeserved pat on the shoulder and a fake fleeting smile, we leap frog ourselves up a rung on the moral ladder. "At least I'm not as bad as Lance! He's horrible! I'd never do that!"

2. We think we do measure up. We fight and claw for a pristine moral portfolio to present to God and to others, and insist that they accept us. The external justifies the internal. "I'm a pretty good person. I don't lie, cheat or steal. I'm not a murderer or a rapist." When others are caught in a scandal (especially in a scandal we ourselves could be guilty of), we fight for their external records. We do this because by fighting for their external qualifications, we're actually fighting for our own.

Die Stronger
There's always a 3rd way isn't there? Scripture doesn't leave us with either of these options. Road blocks both ways. The Bible tells us to ditch ourselves entirely. Death to self, life in Christ. The imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ simultaneously rescues us from our self-loathing, and deflates the limp balloon of our self-righteousness. Christ forbids our despair and scoffs at our efforts to measure up. There are no options of self left.

"For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin. For one who has died has been set free from sin. Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him" (Romans 6:5-8) 

We ask frenetically with word and deed our entire lives, "How do I qualify??" As my friend answers, "Know you don't." As Tim Keller says, "The gospel is this: we are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope."

It is time to decisively push off shore from our tit-for-tat legalism and self-atoning that has been unfortunately familiar to us our entire lives. We don't sulk in abject despair. Nor do we run the unending race of moral manipulation. We fling ourselves overboard the USS Self entirely, and cling to the only Vessel capable of navigating the tempestuous seas of despair, confusion, desperation, frustration, pain, disappointment, anxiety, fear, sin, and death. The liberating power of the gospel is that our qualification no longer has anything to do with us. Our spiritual portfolios are filled with the riches of Christ. We're invited to joyfully jump off the cliff of safe moralism. The world says it's death. They're playing it safe. Risk is good. Jump. Christ is all. "Hallelujah, all I have is Christ. Hallelujah, Jesus is my life."