1. November 2026

The Whole Motley Crew

If you actually read the Bible without bringing all your religious baggage along, you might be surprised by what pulls you in: the people. Love, war, betrayal, sacrifice, scandal, redemption. Some of these accounts read like novels.

And here’s a little secret: the people in them were far from perfect.

Apparently, God didn’t recruit from the “already has it all together” department.

Let’s start with the inner circle.

Jesus had fishermen in His closest circle, including Peter, John, and James. And goodness, were they a handful.

Peter was impulsive, hotheaded, and occasionally spoke before his brain had finished loading. Jesus named him Peter, meaning “rock,” even though some of his decisions were considerably less solid. (John 1:42)

He famously denied knowing Jesus three times. Yet Jesus restored him, and after receiving the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, Peter became a courageous leader of the early church. The man who once denied Jesus preached to thousands and healed the sick in His name. (Luke 22:54–62; John 21:15–19; Acts 2; Acts 3:1–10)

Christian tradition holds that he eventually faced crucifixion, requesting it be upside down because he felt unworthy to die as Jesus had.

Quite the turnaround.

John wasn’t exactly born the “Apostle of Love.” He and his brother James were called the “Sons of Thunder.” At one point, they wanted to call down fire on a Samaritan village. (Mark 3:17; Luke 9:51–56)

So, yes. Love took some work.

Yet John became known for teaching love, truth, and fellowship. Jesus entrusted His mother, Mary, to his care at the cross. Five New Testament books are traditionally attributed to him, including Revelation, which records his time on Patmos. Christian tradition also remembers him as living to old age rather than dying a martyr. (1 John 4:7–12; John 19:25–27; Revelation 1:9)

James, John’s brother, shared that thunderous personality—and their ambition. The brothers asked Jesus for the seats of honor beside Him in glory.

Subtle. Very subtle.

Read Mark 10:35–45, because that conversation did not go the way they had pictured it. Jesus explained that greatness meant serving others and sharing in suffering. James eventually became the first of the Twelve whose martyrdom is recorded in Acts. (Acts 12:1–2)

He asked for a throne. Following Jesus taught him what devotion would cost.

Then come the outcasts and radicals. My personal favorites.

Matthew was a tax collector working within Rome’s oppressive system. His own people associated his profession with betrayal and corruption.

Not exactly the guy everyone was inviting over for dinner. As a matter of fact, Jesus was criticized by the Pharisees for eating with Matthew and his fellow tax collectors.

Jesus approached his tax booth and called him to follow. Matthew got up, left his old life behind, and joined Him. (Matthew 9:9–13)

Then there was Simon the Zealot. His name suggests intense zeal, possibly connected to opposition to Roman rule, although Scripture doesn’t give us his political résumé—or an assassination record. (Luke 6:15)

Still, consider the lineup: Matthew, who collected taxes under Rome, and Simon, whose title suggests he had very different sympathies.

Jesus called them both into the same group.

Imagine those Passover feasts.

Whatever their differences, they were called to follow the same Savior.

And then there’s Paul.

His story is one of my favorites, because he wasn’t merely difficult. He actively persecuted the church.

Known first as Saul of Tarsus, he was an educated, fiercely religious Pharisee who hunted down Christians, helped imprison them, and approved of Stephen’s killing. (Acts 7:58–60; Acts 8:1–3; Acts 22:3–5)

Let that settle for a minute.

Paul wasn’t following Jesus around Galilee with the Twelve. His encounter came later, when the resurrected Christ confronted him on the road to Damascus.

A blinding interruption. Literally.

The man who tried to crush the church became one of its most influential missionaries, carrying the Gospel across the Roman world, especially to Gentiles—people who weren’t Jewish. (Acts 9:1–22)

He later described himself as the least of the apostles because he had persecuted the church. Thirteen New Testament letters bear his name: nearly half the books in the New Testament. (1 Corinthians 15:8–10)

God certainly knew how to redirect that energy.

And the women? Please. We are not leaving them out.

Rahab was a prostitute living in Jericho, a city facing destruction. After hearing what Israel’s God had done, she risked her life to hide Israelite spies. (Joshua 2)

Her background didn’t look like the obvious starting point for a faith testimony. Yet she trusted God, she and her family were spared, and she became part of Israel’s community. (Joshua 6:22–25)

Then comes the part that should stop us from writing people off: Rahab appears in the genealogy of Jesus. (Matthew 1:5)

Yes. That Rahab.

Bathsheba entered the royal story through David’s abuse of power, an adulterous encounter, and his arrangement of her husband Uriah’s death. Scripture places responsibility for David’s wrongdoing on David; we should be careful about assigning Bathsheba blame the text doesn’t establish. (2 Samuel 11; 2 Samuel 12:7–10)

She endured devastating loss, including the death of her first child with David. Later, she became Solomon’s mother and helped secure his succession to the throne. (2 Samuel 12:15–24; 1 Kings 1:11–31)

Her story holds grief, survival, and influence. Matthew’s genealogy also remembers her as Uriah’s wife—a reminder that the royal family tree did not erase what happened. (Matthew 1:6)

Apparently, God’s purposes can move forward through family histories we might prefer to leave out of the introduction.

The Samaritan woman at the well had been married five times and was living with a man who wasn’t her husband. We aren’t told all the circumstances behind those relationships, but Jesus knew her history.

He spoke with her anyway, crossing social and religious boundaries and offering her living water. (John 4:7–26)

She left her water jar, went back to town, and told people about Him. Many Samaritans believed because of her testimony. (John 4:28–42)

She didn’t need a polished past or a theology degree to tell people whom she had met.

And how could we leave out Mary Magdalene?

Jesus freed her from seven demons. She became a devoted follower and, alongside other women, helped support His ministry financially. (Luke 8:1–3)

She remained near the cross when many others had scattered. Later, she became the first person to see the risen Jesus in John’s account, and He sent her to tell His followers. (John 19:25; John 20:11–18)

The woman once in bondage was entrusted with announcing His resurrection.

Tell me again how someone’s past automatically disqualifies them.

The whole motley crew.

Hotheads. Ambitious brothers. A distrusted tax collector. A persecutor. Women whose stories included exploitation, complicated relationships, grief, and spiritual oppression.

Different histories. Different wounds. The same God meeting them and changing what came next.

And these are only a few examples of what happens when God takes the things people are known for and, as I like to say, Romans 8:28s them.

Romans 8:28 reminds us that God works through all things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.

That doesn’t make every terrible thing good. It means even those things are within reach of His redeeming work.

So why are we so convinced He can’t do anything with our story?

Let Him turn it around. Let Him write the next chapter.

Who knows who needs to hear your crazy story—who you were, what you survived, and what God is doing with it?

You might fit right in with the whole motley crew.