This didn’t happen to me—or even a close friend—but to a friend of a friend. Fifteen years after college, he received a wedding invitation from one of his old fraternity brothers: Tim was getting married.

Now, Tim had been that guy in college. Handsome, athletic, outgoing, smart—he wasn’t just popular, he was magnetic. The life of the party, even when there wasn’t a party. After graduation, Tim moved to Boston, launched a company, and sold it for a fortune.

So when the invitation arrived, everyone expected a storybook wedding. The kind where success meets beauty and everyone clinks champagne glasses in awe. He and a few of their old fraternity brothers booked flights to Boston, eager to see who Tim had chosen.

At the Friday night welcome dinner, Tim walked in—and he was still “that guy.” The charisma, the grin, the presence—it was all still there. But then the bride entered.

And something felt off.

It wasn’t just her looks, though she didn’t fit the fairy tale image. She looked tired—weathered, even. Not wedding-week tired, but life-worn. There was a hardness in her eyes. She was loud, brash, even a little crass. Guests exchanged glances. Some avoided her. Others ignored her.

My friend’s friend kept wondering: This is who Tim’s marrying? This is the one he chose after all these years?

But over the course of the weekend, it became undeniable—Tim adored her. He looked at her with joy and devotion. And none of it made sense…Why would Tim give everything for her?

“Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word… to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless.” -Ephesians 5:25-33

Jesus doesn’t choose the Church because she is perfect. He chooses her to make her perfect. He doesn’t love us because we are lovely. He loves us in order to make us lovely.

The Church is not a museum of saints—it’s a recovery ward for sinners. And too often, people come to church expecting peace, wisdom, harmony… only to be met with brokenness, dysfunction, even hypocrisy. But that’s precisely the point: we are not here to display our righteousness; we are here because we need grace.

Scripture warns against performance-based faith. Jesus used the word “hypocrite”—literally “play actor”—to describe those who go through the motions without real transformation. The Church should never feel like a sorority you have to “rush” or impress to get in. It should feel more like an AA meeting—raw, honest, grace-filled—where broken people walk together toward healing.

Christ loved the Church by giving Himself up for her. That’s the model. That’s the mission. In our marriages, friendships, and churches, we are to out-sacrifice one another. To love not by what we get, but by what we give.

Agape love—the kind Paul speaks of—is sacrificial. It’s not transactional or self-serving. It asks, “How much more can I give?” rather than “What do I get?”

Paul also writes that Christ cleanses His bride “through the word.” This refers not only to baptism but to the daily rhythm of letting Scripture cleanse, reorder, and soften our hearts. We’re called to let Christ remove the stains, the wrinkles, the weariness we carry—the hidden blemishes and private shame we’re afraid to show.

So let me ask:
What stains, what sins, what scars do you carry?
What wrinkles and wounds have weathered your soul?
What are blemishes, imperfections and embarrassments you are trying to hide?

Christ sees them all. And still, He loves you. His blood doesn’t make you dirty—it makes you clean.

“Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.” (Psalm 51:7)