Why You Sin

WHY YOU SIN

Quotable Quote: “Like so many bible characters, Noah was both a saint and a jackass.”

I wrestled with the title of this post. For a while I was going to call it, “Why I Sin.” However, though I certainly sin, I thought it wiser to include you in the topic, because all of us sin, no matter how saintly we think we are.

In my estimation, there is generally very little understanding in the church regarding sin. When most pastors are pressed to explain why humans sin, they will either mumble something about free will or quote a bible verse about human sinfulness. That is about it. This, in my opinion, is very unsatisfactory.

So, why do you sin?

I believe the answer to this question is stated succinctly by Thomas Aquinas, in that all human willful choices are made “under the aspect of the good.” So, with this explanation in hand, a sin must be a willful choice and not an inadvertent or forced action. Secondly, it is some action that is deemed by you (or whomever) as a good thing, but it is not really good. And, that is the key.

As I have mentioned before, no one decides to do something they consider evil. No, they always and only do what they consider–at that moment–to be good. Please understand, this may mean that an individual has to do a lot of rationalization, but when it is all said and done, people only make choices “under the aspect of the good.” If you want to see a classic example of this, read the story of Adam and Eve’s fall in Genesis 3. Eve saw the forbidden fruit, and after listening to suggestions from the devil, decided that the fruit was “good.” The devil knew that Eve needed to stop believing the fruit was “forbidden” and start seeing it as “good.” This is how sin works.

In short, when we sin we willfully do mental gymnastics to turn something we know to be wrong into an act that–for us–is a good thing.

The ironic thing is that, when we sin, we often continue to believe the sinful act is wrong for everyone else, but we just give ourselves a “free pass” to engage in it as “good” for us. We may justify it for reasons like: 1) I am angry at God; 2) life is unfair; 3) I deserve it; 4) they hurt me; 5) it doesn’t make much difference; 6) everyone else is doing it; etc. Whatever the case, we first justify (make it right) in our minds.

One implication of this is that we all sin. Yup, all of us. In other words, all of us are really good at justifying. We can expertly turn a wrong into a “good” through our well-practiced strategies of self-deception. So, if you don’t think you do this, my friend, you have a massive case of denial.

One of the advantages of being an admitted moral failure is that I see more clearly how often Christians engage in self-deception and hypocrisy. But, the “flip-side” is that I am less judgmental. Admission of sinfulness is very humbling.

There is a fascinating story in the bible about one of the heroes of faith listed prominently in Hebrews 11. This guy was so heroic that he saved the human race. Not a bad resume. I am talking about Noah. The bible records (Genesis 9) that right after “righteous” Noah saved the world with the ark, he planted a vineyard, made wine, and got so drunk that he passed out in his tent naked. Woe! Like so many bible characters, Noah was both a saint and a jackass. Wait, though, there is more to the story. When Noah was passed out naked in his tent, his son Ham saw him and made fun of Noah to his brothers. He probably made some disparaging comments about the “old fool.” Ham’s brothers, though, refused to engage in the derogatory fun. Rather, they discreetly covered their father without looking at his nakedness. They covered over his sin in his hour of nakedness.

So what happened? Well, interestingly, God did not punish Noah for his foolish behavior. God did, though, curse Ham and his progeny for making fun of a fallen saint, exposed in his weakness. This is a powerful lesson for Christians who easily “dog-pile” on when someone is exposed as a sinner.

A Scripture comes to mind:

1 Peter 4:8 Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.

I think Peter’s point is that whenever you have humans gathered together (even Christians), you’ve got problems. You are going to have a “multitude of sins.” This can be hugely problematic. Actually, it can be volatile, even explosive. So, what is Peter’s antidote to the human toxin of sin? Well, it is not judgmentalism or witch hunts. It is love–deep love. Instead of “rooting out” sin, Peter’s goal is to overwhelm human fallen-ness with love. That’s different.

What I am saying is that we sin because we have the ability to justify our bad behavior as good behavior. The social solution to this is love. Tina Turner sang, “What’s Love Got to Do With It?” The answer is, everything.

Give Me Tradition

GIVE ME TRADITION

My undergraduate work was in fine art with an emphasis in art history. So, here is your art history lesson for the day.

Even into the early 20th century, artists like Picasso learned their craft by imitating the techniques of the masters who preceded them. They usually did this under the guiding influence of a qualified instructor or arts’ institute. Once they could demonstrate competency with the techniques of the masters, they were then allowed to experiment with developing their own personal style. This insured a certain level of mature development while honoring the contributions of those who came before. It was understood that each generation stands on the shoulders of those who precede them.

All that came to a sudden end by the mid-20th century. By the 1950’s the wind that drove all the sails was originality. Pure originality. Nothing mattered except creating something no one had seen before. And this explains why the average person cannot fathom, appreciate, or even like modern art. Only those who are art-wonks can keep up with the maniacal speed of the crazy-quilt world of art.

Art history, though, does not exist in a vacuum. Art history is part of the larger thrust of Western culture. You will, of course, note our cultural obsession with all things new, young, hip, and fresh. Contrary to what you may realize, it hasn’t always been that way. Here is an example. Look at paintings depicting the Founding Fathers. Notice their powdered wigs and the cut of their clothes. The powdered wig was grey in order to imitate age and signify wisdom rather than the follies of youth. The cut of their coats highlighted an expanded waistline to, again, imitate age. The last thing men of the founding colonial age wanted to do was to look “young.” Youth was associated with uncontrolled passions, folly, and mistakes. One wanted to look wise and to recognize that we owe a great debt to the past and the people of that past. Not so today.

What am I getting at? I am suggesting that a lot of contemporary Christian culture is caught up in the frenzy for originality that developed just a few decades ago in Western Culture. This frenzy for originality is a form of cultural idolatry we cannot see because we are so immersed into it and because our anti-historical bias cuts us off from evaluating ourselves in the light of the past.

You may be shocked to learn that words like original, brand new, innovative, creative, etc. would have been avoided at all costs in the ancient church. These words (or their equivalents) would have been associated with heretical sects and not the orthodox “great church.” The ancient church understood itself to be part of a “revealed” religion from Jesus that had been handed down from the Apostles and was not to be changed. Read this.

2 Thessalonians 2:15 “Therefore, brethren, stand fast and hold the traditions which you were taught, whether by word or our epistle.

2 Thessalonians 3:6 But we command you, brethren, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you withdraw from every brother who walks disorderly and not according to the tradition which he received from us.”

Paul actually used the word “traditions.” What! Yes, Christianity was first passed on as an “oral tradition” and then gradually written down, but it was understood to be a tradition originating with Jesus and the Apostles that was NOT to be changed. In fact, Paul “commanded” believers to disassociate from innovative teachers or people who claimed to be Christians but failed to follow the “traditions”. This, of course, sounds totally shocking to our hip Evangelical ears.

This morning I received an email from YouVersion introducing the latest-greatest, new, young, hip Evangelical preacher. Jefferson Bethke has written a hot, new book titled (interestingly) “What if Christianity Isn’t What You Think.” The “kid message” of the title obviously is that young Jefferson has discovered the real truth about Christianity that, somehow, everyone else for 2,000 years has missed. Hmmmm. I watched him long enough on YouTube to map him historically and philosophically. I will give it to you in summary form. He is a product of the deconstructionist movement influencing Evangelical Millennial minds with its “narrative” ideology (it is all a “story”, not really objective truth) mixed with Sentimentalization.

Next I watched a series of Evangelical services broadcast on cable networks. They were a dizzying array of innovative interpretations of Scripture.

Finally, I watched a humble Catholic mass broadcast out of New York. The congregation looked dorky but the music was superlative, yet, there were no drums or smoke machines. The priest walked through the liturgy in a methodical and un-exciting way. It all seemed so un-hip. However, I found myself profoundly moved by the content of the liturgy. I think that is the whole point. With the liturgy, the point is not about how hip or innovative the pastor’s preaching or style may be. In the liturgy, we (not just me) are swept up into a tradition handed down long before our generation was born. The liturgy anchors us into real history that includes the saints and angels who abide in heaven. Instead of glibly giving lip-service to “God’s story”, we actually participate as a communion of believers in a reality that is simultaneously both temporal and eternal.

Now, because of my moral failing, I exist as sort of a Christian “castaway.” I relate a lot with Tom Hanks’ character in the movie with that title. In the movie, when his character returns to civilization, he doesn’t fit. He is not quite comfortable and people aren’t completely comfortable with him. He sees things differently. His experience on the island has marked him. He escaped and was rescued, but he can’t help but view life differently. So, likewise, I see the church-world differently. I see it more like a regular sinner in need of something substantial to hold on to. Fads, passing fancies, and innovative teachings are not that helpful. Give me tradition. Give me something grounded in God.