On Sin
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| Facebook post on November 26, 2013 |
Picture a cozy living room, warm fire blazing, a group of friendly faces, Bible on the coffee table, a baby is fussing, and people are having pleasant a discussion of good works - in particular, good motives. Heads are nodding in agreement with one another, and in a gap in the conversation, I open my mouth to speak:
"So, what do you do when you have this desire to do something good, and your original motive truly is pure, but then a split second later, you start thinking about how other people will see what you've done and think more highly of you because of it? And then, once you've thought that, you can't un-think it, and it affects your motives, and now your reason for doing it is selfish... Or am I the only one who experiences this?"
[crickets]
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| Facebook post on January 23, 2014 |
It was in high school that I first remember confronting the notion of "people are basically good." We were studying Anne Frank, who is quoted as saying, "In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart." My solidly-Christian teacher allowed some discussion, but eventually brought up some Bible verses that pretty clearly debunked the notion of people being intrinsically good, deep down inside. While my memory isn't good enough to recall which verses specifically she shared, here are a couple that I found:
"...as it is written: 'None is righteous, no, not one;
no one understands; no one seeks for God.
no one understands; no one seeks for God.
All have turned aside; together they have become worthless;
no one does good, not even one.'”
- Romans 3:10-12
"Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me."
- Psalm 51:5
Ever since then I've had a pretty good grasp of the fact that we are sinful by nature, and therefore in need of saving...but that was pretty much where it ended. I knew I was bad, but I didn't really delve into understanding just HOW bad.
Growing up in the very sheltered Christian environment that I did, I lived a rather "righteous" life - never smoked, never swore, didn't drink, didn't hang out with unsavory characters, and the first and only guy I kissed was my now husband, and we didn't meet until I was 18. I had the books of the Bible memorized by the time I was in 4th grade, knew all the answers, and while painfully shy, I had a good reputation. While I certainly made mistakes, they were of the more "minor" variety. I knew my sin condemned me, but I also thought that if I had it all to do over again - had a clean slate - I'd do it right. I'd never sin. In fact, I had many such "do-over" moments in my life, where I'd resolve to stop a particular sin, or live totally devoted to God from here on out. I trusted my willpower, believed I could do better, if I just set my mind to it.
Of course, it never worked.
As the story at the beginning of this post revealed, eventually I started realizing that this sin thing was a bigger problem than I'd originally thought. I became a bit more cognizant of my weakness, of my need for grace. However, it was that event that I related in a super-vague way in my first post - the one that brought my sin to light - that opened my eyes to how much more depraved and utterly sinful through-and-through I really am. It's amazing how we can blind ourselves to the awful truth, and oh we most certainly do just that. I hid my sin in a dark closet, fed my little pet from time to time, convinced myself it was something with a bittersweet beauty to it, a sweet little dove, that if only people knew about it, they'd have pity and understanding and love for me in my noble pain.
The beauty of light is that it exposes things. When the potent beam of the spotlight illuminated my little pet, it revealed not a pretty little dove, but a hideous monster. I was not a poor little misunderstood girl, I was a wretch sitting in a dung-heap playing with feces. In a moment, my little saintly self-image was shattered beyond recognition. And I thank God for that.
With sin so bitter, God's grace was beyond sweet.
So, just HOW bad are we? During my time of searching earlier this year, I was confronted with the realization that my sinfulness runs deeper than just my actions: It is inherited. This is something I knew, but had never really contemplated. As Psalm 51:5 says above, we are CONCEIVED in sin; it is an integral part of who we are. It's deeper than our actions - than just the wrong things we do, or the good we fail to do. In other words, we're not sinners because we sin, we sin because we're sinners.
On April 11, 2017 I purchased the book The Courage to Be Protestant by David F. Wells. In it he says the following:
And this is the true danger of minimizing our sin: in doing so, without realizing it, we minimize the Gospel.
While this may seem like a minor distinction, a chicken-or-egg type thing, the implications, I discovered, are far-reaching. The Bible says we were dead in our trespasses and sins (Ephesians 2:1). DEAD. Not just "mostly-dead", ALL dead. What can a dead man do? Absolutely nothing. He is utterly dependent on someone outside of himself acting upon him. In the same way, I can do nothing to enact my salvation. It is not something I can will, not something I can choose, and even the faith that is needed is not something I can muster up on my own, it is a gift from God. "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast” - Ephesians 2:8-9
I wouldn't have disagreed with most of these statements about sin in the past, but what I realized was that my life, my practice, my theology was in reality based upon the idea that I had at least a LITTLE goodness, that I had the ability to reach out toward God on my own, to cover at least a small amount of the distance between us. He does His part, but then I needed to do my part. But as Bryan Wolfmueller says in Has American Christianity Failed?, "Whenever you have a 'Jesus and...' theology, it is the 'and' that matters. If our theology is 'Jesus and our efforts,' then the thing that matters is our efforts. The Gospel is diminished, and the Law is exalted. The forgiveness of sins is replaced with my earnest resolve." What if I hadn't really done my part? What if I hadn't been truly sincere in my "sinner's prayer"? (side-note: my 6-year-old son recently confessed to having prayed to ask Jesus into his heart a whopping EIGHT times already in his young life, because he worried he hadn't done it right.)
This concept of the depth of our sinfulness may sound depressing, but in fact I have found it to be quite the opposite! This means that none of this depends upon me...which is a huge relief, because I am beyond undependable. It means I don't have to look inside to try and find the strength and goodness to maintain things on my own, but rather that I can trust in the One who alone is trustworthy. Discovering that my salvation is located completely outside of me was such a consolation! Suddenly I realized that what mattered was not my own sincerity, my own faith, my own striving after Him, but rather HIS promise, HIS Word, HIS work. Christ is faithful, Christ is trustworthy, Christ is sure, Christ is the solid rock, and He does it ALL. What comfort and rest is found in this realization!
The knowledge that salvation is something accomplished completely, objectively, externally, entirely by God, apart from anything I can do has brought such peace...and that knowledge had to first start with a proper understanding of what the Lutherans refer to as the doctrine of "original sin".
Growing up in the very sheltered Christian environment that I did, I lived a rather "righteous" life - never smoked, never swore, didn't drink, didn't hang out with unsavory characters, and the first and only guy I kissed was my now husband, and we didn't meet until I was 18. I had the books of the Bible memorized by the time I was in 4th grade, knew all the answers, and while painfully shy, I had a good reputation. While I certainly made mistakes, they were of the more "minor" variety. I knew my sin condemned me, but I also thought that if I had it all to do over again - had a clean slate - I'd do it right. I'd never sin. In fact, I had many such "do-over" moments in my life, where I'd resolve to stop a particular sin, or live totally devoted to God from here on out. I trusted my willpower, believed I could do better, if I just set my mind to it.
Of course, it never worked.
As the story at the beginning of this post revealed, eventually I started realizing that this sin thing was a bigger problem than I'd originally thought. I became a bit more cognizant of my weakness, of my need for grace. However, it was that event that I related in a super-vague way in my first post - the one that brought my sin to light - that opened my eyes to how much more depraved and utterly sinful through-and-through I really am. It's amazing how we can blind ourselves to the awful truth, and oh we most certainly do just that. I hid my sin in a dark closet, fed my little pet from time to time, convinced myself it was something with a bittersweet beauty to it, a sweet little dove, that if only people knew about it, they'd have pity and understanding and love for me in my noble pain.
The beauty of light is that it exposes things. When the potent beam of the spotlight illuminated my little pet, it revealed not a pretty little dove, but a hideous monster. I was not a poor little misunderstood girl, I was a wretch sitting in a dung-heap playing with feces. In a moment, my little saintly self-image was shattered beyond recognition. And I thank God for that.
With sin so bitter, God's grace was beyond sweet.
So, just HOW bad are we? During my time of searching earlier this year, I was confronted with the realization that my sinfulness runs deeper than just my actions: It is inherited. This is something I knew, but had never really contemplated. As Psalm 51:5 says above, we are CONCEIVED in sin; it is an integral part of who we are. It's deeper than our actions - than just the wrong things we do, or the good we fail to do. In other words, we're not sinners because we sin, we sin because we're sinners.
On April 11, 2017 I purchased the book The Courage to Be Protestant by David F. Wells. In it he says the following:
"The majesty of God's forgiveness is lost entirely when we lose what has to be forgiven. What has to be forgiven is not just what we do but who we are, not just our sinning but our sinfulness, not just our choices but what we have chosen in place of God. This belief in our inherent innocence is belied by the kind of life we all experience, and, more importantly, it is also contradicted by Scripture."
"When we miss the biblical teaching, we also miss the nature of God's grace in all its height and depth. In biblical faith it is God's grace through Christ that does for us what we cannot do for ourselves."
And he goes on to say:
"When we miss the biblical teaching, we also miss the nature of God's grace in all its height and depth. In biblical faith it is God's grace through Christ that does for us what we cannot do for ourselves."
While this may seem like a minor distinction, a chicken-or-egg type thing, the implications, I discovered, are far-reaching. The Bible says we were dead in our trespasses and sins (Ephesians 2:1). DEAD. Not just "mostly-dead", ALL dead. What can a dead man do? Absolutely nothing. He is utterly dependent on someone outside of himself acting upon him. In the same way, I can do nothing to enact my salvation. It is not something I can will, not something I can choose, and even the faith that is needed is not something I can muster up on my own, it is a gift from God. "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast” - Ephesians 2:8-9
I wouldn't have disagreed with most of these statements about sin in the past, but what I realized was that my life, my practice, my theology was in reality based upon the idea that I had at least a LITTLE goodness, that I had the ability to reach out toward God on my own, to cover at least a small amount of the distance between us. He does His part, but then I needed to do my part. But as Bryan Wolfmueller says in Has American Christianity Failed?, "Whenever you have a 'Jesus and...' theology, it is the 'and' that matters. If our theology is 'Jesus and our efforts,' then the thing that matters is our efforts. The Gospel is diminished, and the Law is exalted. The forgiveness of sins is replaced with my earnest resolve." What if I hadn't really done my part? What if I hadn't been truly sincere in my "sinner's prayer"? (side-note: my 6-year-old son recently confessed to having prayed to ask Jesus into his heart a whopping EIGHT times already in his young life, because he worried he hadn't done it right.)
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| Journal entry, Nov 15, 2015 |
This concept of the depth of our sinfulness may sound depressing, but in fact I have found it to be quite the opposite! This means that none of this depends upon me...which is a huge relief, because I am beyond undependable. It means I don't have to look inside to try and find the strength and goodness to maintain things on my own, but rather that I can trust in the One who alone is trustworthy. Discovering that my salvation is located completely outside of me was such a consolation! Suddenly I realized that what mattered was not my own sincerity, my own faith, my own striving after Him, but rather HIS promise, HIS Word, HIS work. Christ is faithful, Christ is trustworthy, Christ is sure, Christ is the solid rock, and He does it ALL. What comfort and rest is found in this realization!
The knowledge that salvation is something accomplished completely, objectively, externally, entirely by God, apart from anything I can do has brought such peace...and that knowledge had to first start with a proper understanding of what the Lutherans refer to as the doctrine of "original sin".
"Original sin does not refer to the origin of sin but to the guilt of Adam's sin imputed to his offspring. It also refers to the corruption of man's nature that occurred when sin entered and that inheres in the human will and inclinations. It is the chief sin, which is a root and fountainhead of all actual sins"
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