Why God uses Bad People to do Great Things

Have you ever wondered why God seems to choose the most unlikely, flawed individuals to accomplish His greatest works? Why does the divine narrative repeatedly feature not heroes of impeccable virtue, but deeply broken people whose moral failures would seemingly disqualify them from sacred service? This paradoxical pattern reveals something profound about both God's character and our human condition—something that speaks directly to our own sense of inadequacy and failure.

We live in a world quick to judge and condemn, especially when those we've admired fall from grace. This week I saw a young and impressive man, who has been a powerful witness for Jesus, exposed for sending inappropriate text messages to women. Also, recently, I saw the shocking news of a popular Christian singer, a literal fixture on stage for over thirty years, caught in a scandal involving homosexual behavior (seeming to force himself on young men).

When such deeply disheartening things happen, we are absolutely right to show care and concern for anyone who has been hurt by these actions. That goes without saying. We must embrace those who've been hurt by the sinful actions of especially people who were in positions of truth.

But in our pain and disappointment, it's crucial to remember that the heart of God extends to the sinner, too. And just because someone has done bad things, doesn't preclude them from redemption. God can and often prefers to use people like that to do some of the greatest things in service to His kingdom.

It doesn't mean such people don't suffer for their sins, that they shouldn't step aside from ministry for a sufficient time, or pay the temporal penalties their sins deserve, but it does mean that when the world throws someone away, God has a tendency to work through their penitence and brokenness to refine them into a stronger tool than he ever was before.

The Apostle Paul captures this divine strategy with striking clarity: "But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us" (2 Cor 4:7). In these words lies a revolutionary understanding of how God's kingdom advances—not through human perfection but through divine grace perfecting human weakness.

 

The Theological Foundation: Power in Weakness

 

At the heart of this divine paradox stands Paul's profound revelation in 2 Corinthians 12:9, where the Lord declares: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" (ἡ γὰρ δύναμίς ἐν ἀσθενείᾳ τελεῖται). The Greek verb τελεῖται (teleitai) carries rich connotations of completion, fulfillment, and perfection. Human weakness, rather than being an obstacle to divine purpose, becomes the very canvas on which God's power achieves its most complete expression. 

This principle subverts our natural assumptions about qualification and worthiness. In God's economy, weakness is not disqualifying but qualifying. Our fractures and failures do not render us unusable but uniquely position us as vessels through which divine grace can flow unhindered by human pretension or self-sufficiency. It's a humbling truth: God doesn't need our strength; He just needs our willingness to be used, even in our most broken state.

 

Biblical Examples of Scandalous Servants

The pages of Scripture are filled with imperfect people chosen by a perfect God. These are not sanitized saints, but raw, relatable individuals whose stories remind us that God's grace always triumphs over human failing.

Abraham: The Faithless Patriarch

The biblical narrative introduces Abraham as the "father of faith," yet his journey begins with remarkable moral compromise. Twice he surrenders his wife Sarah to foreign rulers, presenting her as merely his sister to protect himself from potential harm (Gen 12:10-20; 20:1-18). The Hebrew text in Genesis 12:13 reveals Abraham instructing Sarah, "אִמְרִי־נָ֖א אֲחֹ֣תִי אָ֑תְּ" ("Say you are my sister"), exposing his willingness to sacrifice her dignity and safety for his self-preservation.

Think about that. He victimized his wife. He effectively offered the woman God gave him to be "flesh as his flesh" to another man, a powerful man, from a totally different people who might have harmed her. It's hard to overstate how horrible this was.

Despite this profound moral failure—or perhaps through it—God establishes His covenant promise that "in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed" (Gen 12:3). Abraham's story demonstrates that God's redemptive purposes advance not because of human moral excellence but despite human moral frailty. His deceit didn't derail God's plan; it highlighted God's steadfast faithfulness.

 

Jacob: The Supplanter

Jacob's very name (יַעֲקֹב) derives from the Hebrew root meaning "to supplant" or "to deceive"—a prophetic identifier that he would fulfill with disturbing precision. He exploits his brother's hunger to secure his birthright (Gen 25:29-34) and deceives his blind father to steal Esau's blessing (Gen 27:1-40). The Hebrew phrase וַיַּעְקְבֵנִי (vayya'qeveni) in Genesis 27:36 captures Esau's anguished realization: "Is he not rightly named Jacob? For he has cheated me these two times."

Yet this deceiver, this swindler and cheat, becomes Israel, the covenant patriarch whose twelve sons form the tribes of God's chosen people. Jacob's transformation from supplanter to prince with God illustrates that divine election operates independently of human moral qualification. God chooses not the worthy but makes worthy those He chooses. His cunning was no match for God's transforming power.

 

Moses: The Murderer

Before becoming Israel's deliverer and lawgiver, Moses commits homicide, killing an Egyptian and concealing the evidence (Exod 2:11-15). The Hebrew וַיַּךְ (vayyak) in Exodus 2:12 describes a violent striking resulting in death. Moses subsequently flees as a fugitive from justice, spending forty years in exile before God calls him from the burning bush.

That this murderer becomes the mediator of God's covenant and the human author of Torah demonstrates how God not only redeems people but repurposes their troubled histories. Moses' journey from prince to fugitive to prophet reveals how God's purposes often advance along paths of profound human failure and subsequent restoration. His past didn't define his future in God's hands.

 

David: Adulterer and Murderer

Scripture describes David as "a man after God's own heart" (1 Sam 13:14), yet this same man commits adultery with Bathsheba and orchestrates her husband's death to conceal his sin (2 Sam 11). The Hebrew phrase וַיִּשְׁלַ֨ח דָּוִ֤ד מַלְאָכִים֙ (vayyishlach David mal'akhim) in 2 Samuel 11:4 reveals David's deliberate action: "David sent messengers and took her," highlighting the premeditated nature of his transgression.

Yet through this deeply fallen king comes the Messianic line. Psalm 51, David's prayer of repentance, stands as one of Scripture's most profound articulations of contrition and restoration. His brokenness becomes the very soil from which springs some of Scripture's most enduring wisdom about sin, repentance, and divine forgiveness. His colossal failure became a testament to God's profound mercy.

 

Peter: The Denier

Peter occupies a position of unique prominence among the apostles, yet he denies Christ three times in His hour of greatest need (Matt 26:69-75). The Greek ἠρνήσατο (ērnēsato) in Matthew 26:70 indicates a complete disavowal—not merely a passive failure to acknowledge Jesus but an active rejection of association with Him.

This same Peter later proclaims at Pentecost a message that converts thousands (Acts 2:14-41). His restoration demonstrates how divine purposes advance through those who have experienced profound moral collapse and subsequent grace. Peter's failure becomes the foundation for his empathy with other failures, allowing him to "strengthen his brothers" (Luke 22:32) from a position of shared weakness rather than superior strength. His denial paved the way for a deeper, more humble faith.

 

Paul: The Persecutor

Before becoming Christianity's greatest missionary, Paul (then Saul) actively persecutes the church, approving Stephen's execution and imprisoning believers (Acts 8:1-3; 9:1-2). The Greek συνευδοκῶν (syneudokōn) in Acts 8:1 indicates not passive agreement but active participation in Stephen's death.

Paul reflects on this paradox with unflinching honesty: "I was formerly a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent... but I received mercy... so that in me, as the foremost [sinner], Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example" (1 Tim 1:13-16). Paul understands his scandalous past not as something to be hidden but as the backdrop against which Christ's mercy achieves its most dramatic display. His violent opposition became the very crucible for his radical transformation.

 

The Theological Purpose: Glory to God Alone

Paul articulates the theological rationale behind God's use of flawed vessels in 1 Corinthians 1:26-29:

"For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God." 

The Greek phrase ἵνα μὴ καυχήσηται πᾶσα σὰρξ ἐνώπιον τοῦ θεοῦ (hina mē kauchēsētai pasa sarx enōpion tou theou) in verse 29 reveals God's ultimate purpose: "so that no flesh might boast before God." Human weakness provides the perfect context in which divine power becomes unmistakably evident.

This divine strategy ensures that the glory for spiritual achievement remains undivided. When God works through those who are manifestly inadequate by human standards, the results can only be attributed to Him, not to human wisdom, eloquence, or moral superiority. It is a powerful reminder that our worth in God's eyes isn't based on our performance, but on His perfect design to showcase His own glory through our humble availability.

 

Contemporary Application: The Message for Today

 

The pattern of God using broken people carries profound implications for contemporary believers, especially in a world so quick to discard those who stumble.

Hope Amidst Our Own Failures: If God used murderers (Moses, David), deniers (Peter), and persecutors (Paul), then our own past moral failures and present struggles do not need to disqualify us from serving Him. Our brokenness can actually be the very qualification that sets us apart for divine use, as it demonstrates our utter reliance on His grace.

Embracing True Weakness: Rather than striving to hide our weaknesses and failures, we are called to embrace them as opportunities for God's power to be displayed through us. It is in our vulnerability, our honest admission of need, that His strength is made perfect and truly seen by a watching world.

Humility in Every Service: Understanding that it is God's power working through us, not our own abilities, should cultivate a spirit of profound humility in all our service. We are merely vessels for His glory, not the source of it. This perspective liberates us from the burden of perfection and the trap of pride.

Unity in Our Shared Imperfection: Just as God used a diverse array of broken individuals in the Bible, so He continues to work through a diverse body of believers today. Our differences and weaknesses, rather than dividing us, only serve to highlight the expansive beauty of His grace, weaving a tapestry of redeemed lives.

Embrace the sinner: Christ has a heart for victims, but also for repentant victimizers. Even as someone does great evil, God's heart aches. To have the heart of Christ means we pray for everyone. That doesn't mean we allow people who victimize others to be put in the same situation again, but it does mean we should be open to how God might use their fall to remake them, to refine them, and we should pray that God does exactly that. We should reserve judgment of such people, calling them horrible things, or dismissing them, when we don't know them or their entire situation and story.

In a world that esteems strength, success, and self-sufficiency, the message of God's glory through broken vessels stands as a counter-cultural beacon of hope. Every time there's some "scandal" involving a public figure, the vultures start to circle, eager to tear down. Yet, might it be the case that God is actually breaking people in order to use them more powerfully? To be broken is not a curse, but often a profound blessing. To be driven to genuine repentance is a gift. In many ways, profound brokenness and a repentant heart are true qualifications for service to the Kingdom, because those who know they desperately need grace, and have experienced its transforming power, are truly the ones best equipped to preach it.

 

In Jesus' name,

JUDAH