Discovering My Sonship in Christ
The following is an excerpt from the third issue of Theology Magazine, which is made up of reflections by church planters in City to City’s network.
I was the seventh child in a very big family. My parents were divorced, so we all grew up with my father. And from early on in my life, I felt like I needed to do something special to get his attention. With so many children and a job as a plastic surgeon, he was a very busy man.
When I was eight, he bought me my first motorcycle. I started riding and I won my first race. My dad was so proud of me he carried me around on the bike (I was pretty small back then).
Ever since that moment, I was highly motivated to perform well to gain my father's approval.
I raced in nearly every country of Latin America, from Mexico to Panama, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Chile, Argentina, Brazil. Many years later, I became the national champion of motocross in Peru ten times, and the champion of Latin America twice. By then, I didn't race for my father anymore—I raced to get girls.
But as I raced, my desire to find a greater purpose grew bigger and bigger. It wasn’t enough to win races. There was something screaming inside of me that wanted more. But I didn't know what more was. So I got involved in a lot of stupid things. Nothing filled the void.
That's when somebody shared the gospel with me. I took hold of it immediately. I was told that if I believed Christ was the son of God, died for my sins, and was resurrected from the dead, then I was going to be forgiven of everything I’d done wrong and receive eternal life. So, that's what I did.
Something new started in my life—but I didn't understand the implications that truth would have. As time went by, I started feeling a little guilty that I was using God for my own purposes. I started realizing that I became a Christian for the wrong reasons. I just wanted to avoid suffering and pursue happiness. My old need to perform and succeed—the same drive I had for motorcycle racing—made its way into my new Christian life. I got involved in ministry, but it was because I wanted to feel successful and meaningful, not because I loved God. It took me years to realize that.
It did make me feel meaningful for a while. Our ministry was successful—our church grew, many came to faith, and I became a success story for the mission I worked with. But after a few years, I started to feel empty. It was hard for me to preach about God's love and not feel loved by him myself. I disliked everything about myself. I had a hard time understanding how God could love someone like me.
This went on for years.
I remember one day when I was flying from Lima to Pucallpa and the flight attendant said, “Prepare for an emergency landing. Take any pointy objects out of your pockets, put yourself in a fetal position, and get ready for impact.” At that moment, I realized I wasn’t ready to die. It didn't matter how much I taught about the security of salvation—I was afraid of dying.
One phrase rang through my mind: “I'm not good enough.”
A little over five years ago, I left my first church plant after nine years and came to the U.S. While I was there, I read a little book called Surrender To Love. It asked the question, “What do you think God thinks of you when your name comes to his mind?”
I paused for a moment. Disappointment, I thought. By this time, I should’ve been a better person, a better dad, a better husband, a better pastor, a better planter, and I wasn’t.
But that book made me realize I wasn’t following God out of love—I was following him so I felt good enough about myself. And I realized this after many years of full-time ministry.
That revelation started a journey that I’m still on. The first thing I did was go back to the church I planted in Peru. I’d been gone for a year and a half. I met with the leader and the elders, described what happened to me, and asked for forgiveness. I did the same thing with the church. I asked them to forgive me for using them.
I felt a strong desire to have another chance—another chance to plant a church with the gospel at the center this time. We moved back to Lima to do just that.
The gospel changes the way you relate with God—not only as your savior, but as your father. It changes the way you disciple people, not just giving them moralistic laws to obey, but helping them fall in love with God. It changes the way you preach. You don't feel like you manipulate people—you want to lead them to the loving presence of the Father and let him do his work. You can be vulnerable with them about that.
In my first church planting experience, a lot of the leaders felt used by me. Now, I think the team can be honest and transparent with me. The focus of my preaching has also changed a lot. Even though I preached from the Bible in my first church, the teaching could be very centered on moralism—living a proper Christian life. “Shame on you if you can’t do it.” Now our preaching focuses on making Jesus the real hero. We still show the beauty of the Christian lifestyle, but we also show how we will all fail to live up to it at times. And we show how Jesus helps us bridge that gap.
If I could say anything to my younger self fifteen years ago, I would tell myself the discovery of a lifetime: “You don't need to go into ministry to prove your worth. You don't need to gain your father's love. You are already a beloved child of God.”
About the Author
Julio Chiang is a church planter in Lima, Peru. Julio and his wife, Olga, lead Iglesia de la Ciudad (City Church) and, in partnership with City to City Latin America, are building gospel ecosystems for leading Latin American cities through the development of urban church planters.