When Our Heroes Fall Short: The Danger of Making Anyone Ultimate

We are living in a moment when the flaws of our role models are constantly exposed. Leaders once admired are now reexamined, biographies rewritten, and legacies questioned. Social media accelerates this process, often leaving us with a troubling question:

What do we do when the people who inspired us turn out to be deeply flawed?

Even today, history forces us to wrestle with uncomfortable truths. Martin Luther King Jr. advanced justice, dignity, and moral clarity in ways that reshaped a nation. Yet revelations of personal sin and theological influences outside orthodox Christianity complicate his legacy. Was the good he did real? Yes. Does sin still matter? Also yes.

Scripture prepares us for this tension.

When I taught, I had my students write their own “I Have a Dream” speeches.

Not because I wanted them to idolize Martin Luther King Jr., and not because I wanted them to ignore the complexities of his legacy—but because the exercise mattered on a deeper level.

I wanted my students to learn three essential things.

First, I wanted them to acknowledge the real flaws in society. Christian faith is not built on denial. Scripture itself names injustice, brokenness, and sin plainly. Pretending the world is fine does not honor God; telling the truth about it does.

Second, I wanted them to practice moral imagination—to articulate what ought to be, not just what is. Hope as a response to brokenness.  And yes—Martin Luther King Jr.’s words are powerful. They speak real moral truth. They can be honored for the good they accomplished without ignoring the flaws of the man himself.

You should have read my students’ dreams. Dreams for no more hatred, no more racism, and no more sin. They brought me hope—hope in our future, in our children to carry the gospel. Most were middle and high schoolers. So young, so bright, so clearly seeing the solution to the world’s problems.

Third—and most importantly—I wanted them to learn how to point beyond human solutions.

Even the most compelling visions of justice, equality, and peace remain incomplete if they stop with humanity. The Christian worldview affirms the longing for a better world, but it also recognizes that no human leader, movement, or ideology can finally bring it about.

The exercise was not about replacing one hero with another. It was about teaching students to discern—to affirm what is good, critique what is broken, and ultimately point to Christ.

“Test everything; hold fast what is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:21).

That posture forms resilient faith, and we desperately need resilient faith.

We do not help students—or ourselves—by pretending our heroes are perfect. Nor do we help them by discarding every good contribution once flaws are revealed. What we teach instead is wisdom: how to hold on to truth and grace together.

One of the most compelling pieces of evidence for the truthfulness of Scripture is that it does not over glamorize its heroes.

·       Moses, the great liberator and lawgiver, struck the rock in anger and disobeyed God. Because of this, he never entered the Promised Land (Numbers 20:10–12).

·       David, a man after God’s own heart, committed adultery and orchestrated murder (2 Samuel 11).

·       Peter, bold and devoted, denied Jesus three times in His darkest hour (Luke 22:54–62).

These are not footnotes. They are central parts of their stories and show us that God can work through broken people. As Paul reminds us,

“All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23).

When we elevate human leaders—pastors, authors, activists, politicians—to ultimate status, we set ourselves up for disappointment or disillusionment. Scripture consistently warns against misplaced trust:

“Do not put your trust in princes, in human beings, who cannot save” (Psalm 146:3).

The problem is not their sin. The deeper issue is that we expected from them what only God can give: moral perfection, unwavering consistency, and ultimate authority.

One of the most common accusations leveled against Christianity today is hypocrisy. At times, this critique is not entirely wrong. Christians do fail. We sin. We fall short. Scripture has never denied this.

What is often missed, however, is that Christianity does not claim Christians are morally perfect. It claims the opposite.

“If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us” (1 John 1:8).

When culture points to sinful Christians as evidence against Christianity, it is making a category mistake. Christianity does not rise or fall on the behavior of Christians—it rises or falls on the person of Christ.

“It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick” (Mark 2:17).

The presence of sinners in the church is not evidence of failure. It is evidence that the gospel invitation is still open.

Christians are called to:

·       Confess sin

·       Repent

·       Pursue holiness

Unlike every other figure in history—biblical or modern—Jesus stands alone.

·       He was tempted, yet without sin (Hebrews 4:15).

·       He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in His mouth (1 Peter 2:22).

·       He perfectly revealed the Father (John 14:9).

So what do we do when our heroes fall short? We acknowledge the good they did without idolizing them. We learn from their courage, critique their failures, and guide the next generation to hope beyond human solutions.

Most importantly, we keep our eyes fixed on Jesus—the only one who never fails, the perfect model of truth, love, and righteousness.

When we do this, we are free to pursue justice without losing sight of the gospel, and to cultivate resilient faith in ourselves and in our children.

Reference:

New International Bible. (2011). Zondervan. (Original work published 1978).