Tag: sin

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The Starting Point of Sin

By Amy Spiegel

Some of you may know that month Jim, the kids, and I moved to southern Indiana as a result of his accepting a new position as head of school for Lighthouse Christian Academy in Bloomington. While this is the third time our family has moved premises, this was by far the biggest change of scene for us all. The distance wasn’t the only factor, though moving hours away is a far cry from the puddle jump moves we have made in the past. We were leaving behind the only community the kids have ever known, as home base at least. The church they were baptized in as infants; neighbors, schools, childhood friends, and on and on it goes. It has been disorienting to say the least.

Packing up the house, we discovered all sorts of things, some good and some not so good. Items we thought were lost were found; dirt and dust we didn’t know were accumulating was discovered, etc. And then we went about the process of repositioning old furniture in a new setting, sorting through forgotten boxes and deciding what to keep, what to pass on to others, and what to throw to the curb. This new setting has helped me to see our possessions in a new light, both literally and figuratively. And this is true of me as well.

The combination of quitting my job which, for the last two years has consumed so much of my time and energy, and moving out of the community I have spent my entire adult life in has been a great opportunity for self-reflection. For me, as I am sure it would be for many of you, self-reflection is usually an opportunity for self-berating. Critical evaluations of oneself aren’t always a bad thing, but too often I use it as a chance to focus on my flaws, cry to God about what a failure I am and crawl into a hole of embarrassment and shame.

Recently, however, I have been trying to take a different approach. I’ve been attempting to see my moral failings with gratitude. If I never see areas where I am weak, how can I grow strong? Yes, it’s unpleasant to have one’s frailties and faults exposed but the alternative is much worse. I must ask myself, do I want to have the appearance of goodness all the while hiding my sinful thoughts and deeds or do I want to expose them in order to grow?

Imagine going to the doctor because, while appearing perfecty healthy, you know there is something internally wrong with you.mThe nurse comes in and hands you one of those delightfully revealing paper gowns and tells you to get undressed so the doctor can diagnose the issue. Are you going to be uncomfortable? Clearly yes, but you have a choice: get uncomfortable and be exposed or stay clothed and continue to get sicker. We are faced with the same choice when dealing with our sin and the Great Physician. He cannot heal us unless He first exposes our disease.

Now I am not calling for some sort of celebration of sin. Not saying that we should all start indiscriminately dropping our metaphorical drawers and glorying in our exposed failures. There is both a time and place for sharing our sin through confession, both with God and with others. Just as none of us particularly want to see people traipsing through the malls in paper medical gowns, I don’t think we should go about broadcasting our moral failures in an attempt to normalize behavior which we are biblically told is wrong.

What I am calling myself to do is to see my sin coming into focus as a starting point to begin from rather than a finish line I failed to cross. From this starting point, I can start the journey, first to repentance and then to growth and freedom. The diagnosis is just the first step; it doesn’t immediately bring the cure. But it is a necessary one without which there can be no healing.

This move was not one that I looked forward to. But I am grateful for the chance to see myself in a different light and to grow as a result. One day, I will make my final move, from earth to my heavenly home. Then I will have the chance to see myself in the light of God’s Glory, clothed not in a flimsy exam gown but in Christ’s righteousness. Then I will be diagnosed, treated and cured, surrounded by the saints and home for good.

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Unconditional Forgiveness

By Jim Spiegel

This Christmas we once again celebrated the arrival to earth of the Messiah, whose mission was to achieve forgiveness of the sins of humanity. Naturally, then, the Advent season should prompt us to reflect on our own sins as well as how we may “pay forward” Christ’s work to others. This involves forgiving one another’s sins.

But to what extent should we forgive others? Should our forgiveness of others’ sins be unconditional? There is some debate about this among Christian theologians and ethicists. For example, Doug Geivett maintains that forgiveness is properly premised on the repentance of the offender, and the writer of this article takes the view that a Christian may forgive the unrepentant but need not do so. Similarly, Roger Olson maintains that unconditional forgiveness is a supererogatory act (above and beyond the call of duty). Then there is Lewis Smedes who took the view that the Christian should be willing to forgive unconditionally. I’m inclined to agree with Smedes, maintaining that the Christian should always and in every case forgive those who sin against them, whether or not they ever repent or apologize. While we have a duty to confront those who sin against us, their failure to repent is not grounds for our withholding our forgiveness. (Also, importantly, this view does not entail that we must maintain a relationship with those whom we forgive.)

Here are some reasons why I take this position. First and foremost, there is the model of Christ’s unconditional forgiveness. Jesus forgave even those who were crucifying him, obviously without repentance, praying “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Lk. 23:34). This a major reason why I find it difficult to imagine that on Judgment Day Jesus will say to me, “You know, Spiegel, one thing you really got wrong is you were just too forgiving.” I certainly can imagine Jesus correcting us for failing to confront people for their sin (cf. Mt. 18:15-17). But rebuking us for being overly forgiving strikes me as absurd.

Secondly, God’s commands to forgive others are unqualified. The Apostle Paul tells us to “Put on . . . compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive” (Col. 3:12-14). This point is powerfully illustrated in Jesus’s parable of the unmerciful servant in Matthew 18, which concludes with an absolute injunction to forgive others and a sobering warning of coming judgment “unless you forgive your brother from your heart” (v. 35).

Thirdly, consider the Golden Rule. All of us desire to be forgiven by others when we sin against them and not only when we apologize. We naturally desire grace in such cases, the extension of mercy even prior to our repentance. After all, it is sometimes such mercy which prompts our repentance and a deeper resolve to live rightly. Therefore, if we should treat others as we would want others to treat us, then we should extend forgiveness unconditionally.

Finally, forgiving others unburdens one’s soul. Nothing oppresses the mind like a grudge, which as someone once said, is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die. Unfettered resentment corrodes the soul and adversely affects one’s relationships and personal well-being, while forgiveness is beneficial to one’s mental health and physical health. So forgiveness is very much in one’s own self-interest.

Many Christians maintain that forgiveness is properly contingent on the offender’s confession or apology. Why? I believe one reason is the sheer difficulty of forswearing condemnation of someone when they have been abused or otherwise treated in a severely unjust way. It is not easy to surrender resentment in such cases, which is why absolute forgiveness is an act of profound faith and, therefore, a blessed thing, worthy of eternal reward.

Perhaps another reason is that forgiveness seems to let a person “off the hook” and leaves them somehow unaccountable for their sin. But this is not so, since we are all subject to God’s judgment in the end, as we are told repeatedly in Scripture. In Ecclesiastes are told, “Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the duty of all mankind. For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil” (Eccl. 12:13-14). Similarly, Paul says, “For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad” (2 Cor. 5:10). Even if I am completely forgiving of someone, that person still must give account to God for what they have done to me. And this should be a great solace to us, further inducing us to freely forgive others.

Like everyone else, this past year has provided me with plenty of opportunities to be resentful and hold grudges against those who sinned against me. But I rest in the knowledge that God is a perfect judge. Whether I forgive someone, God will still punish or discipline the offender, perhaps even severely. As Jeremiah says, “The Lord is a God of retribution; he will repay in full” (Jer. 51:56b). How could my personal condemnation or grudge ever improve upon God’s perfect justice anyway? This is another reason that resentment is a fool’s game.

This year I have spent a lot of time meditating on Psalm 37, which begins with these powerful lines:

Do not fret because of those who are evil
or be envious of those who do wrong;

for like the grass they will soon wither,
like green plants they will soon die away.

Trust in the Lord and do good;
dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.

Take delight in the Lord,
and he will give you the desires of your heart.

Commit your way to the Lord;
trust in him and he will do this:

He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn,
your vindication like the noonday sun. (Ps. 37:1-6)

These are reassuring and inspiring promises, which effectively fuel the Christian’s will to forgive. In the end, God will have his perfect way with the wicked as well as with misguided fellow believers who sin against us. And if we really have been treated unjustly, he will vindicate us eventually (as he did Joseph in Genesis 50, Daniel in Daniel 6, and, of course, Jesus himself). So we need not fret that justice will not be done or that evil will triumph. God will set things right. Let us forgive unconditionally, then. To do so is an act of great faith, guaranteeing reward in the next life and peace of mind in the present.

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Individual Humans as the Primary Source of Sin

By Jim Spiegel

Recent discussions regarding racism have prompted an important question: What is the primary source of human sin? Is it individual human beings or is it human institutions, organized collectives of human beings? Or perhaps this is a false dichotomy. Might sin somehow reside neither in individuals nor in institutions in any “ultimate” sense but rather arise simultaneously in both individuals and the collectives we make up? This is essentially the old debate over the relationship between individual and social sin, which might be seen as a variation of the question regarding the chicken and the egg.

In the Christian theological tradition there has been a tendency to see the individual human heart as the primary locus of sin, while also recognizing that individual sins have social ramifications which, in turn, exacerbate and compound individual sins. It is a vicious cycle. As Gregory Baum puts it, “Personal sins . . . generate social sin. Conversely, social sin multiplies personal sins. Marginalization creates conditions that foster resentment and despair in the victims and thus easily provoke irrational responses. More than that, since institutionalized injustice affects all members of society, it creates conditions that facilitate personal sin on all levels.” Baum goes on to note that “because unjust structures are created by sinful humans, it is possible to speak of “sinful structures” and “social sin” in a derived and secondary sense.”

I believe Baum is correct in noting that individual sin is primary, while social or institutional sins are derivative and secondary in nature. This is not to diminish the significance or essential evilness of institutional sins but simply to identify the locus of the root of human evil. But what good reasons can be given in defense of this view? Here are four, mostly theological, arguments for this view.

First, Adam and Eve were both “fallen” individuals before any institutions existed. As individuals, they each succumbed to the temptation to eat the fruit of the tree, as described in Genesis 3. This was prior to any formal human institution. Now one might claim that the institution of the family existed at that point, though only consisting of these first two humans. But even so, Adam and Eve committed their sins as individuals. Their sins were not institutional or systemic in nature. So the Fall itself was not institutional in nature but a matter of individual choices.

Second, we may appeal to the biblical doctrine of original sin, according to which human beings are innately sinful, born into this world with a natural propensity to sin which precedes their entry into institutions. The Psalmist declares, “surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me” (Psalm 51:5). So not only did the human sin problem begin with the wrongful choice of an individual person, but this basic moral corruption is perpetuated by each of us as individuals at our very conception.

Thirdly, institutions are themselves collections of individuals. The parts precede the wholes. You can’t construct a building without first having the components from which to construct it. And so it goes for human systems and institutions. You can’t create a legal system, an educational institution, or a civil society without first having individual humans. And whenever any people enter into such institutions, they are already sinful. Of course, any such institutions may be poorly or unjustly constructed, but this only compounds the sin problem already infecting those social structures that is a consequence of the fallenness of the individuals involved.

Lastly, Jesus tells us that human defilement originates from within a person, not outside of them:

“Listen to me, everyone, and understand this. Nothing outside a person can defile them by going into them. Rather, it is what comes out of a person that defiles them.”

After he had left the crowd and entered the house, his disciples asked him about this parable. “Are you so dull?” he asked. “Don’t you see that nothing that enters a person from the outside can defile them? For it doesn’t go into their heart but into their stomach, and then out of the body.” (In saying this, Jesus declared all foods clean.)

He went on: “What comes out of a person is what defiles them. For it is from within, out of a person’s heart, that evil thoughts come—sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. All these evils come from inside and defile a person” (Mark 7:15-23).

Jesus illustrates this teaching in terms of food, but his broader point is unmistakable. Evil arises out of the human heart. We are not originally corrupted or defiled by things outside of us, and this includes the systems or institutions of which we are a part. Our sinfulness is surely manifested within institutional contexts, and these contexts often occasion more temptations and forms of sin. But the source of that evil is ultimately each individual fallen human heart.

Again, none of this diminishes the significance of unjust institutions or systemic evils. It simply demonstrates that the origins of all such evils ultimately lie in our moral corruption as individuals. Moreover, this implies that any corrections or improvements we make to our social institutions will never achieve perfection. There are significant limits to what we can achieve in our efforts to make our various institutions more just. Even a perfectly designed human institution—if such were possible—would still be flawed, so long as it is composed of fallen human beings.

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Belief, Doubt, and Behavior (Part Two)

By Jim Spiegel

In my previous post I noted the connection between behavior and belief and how doubts about God are often rooted in disobedience.  But how exactly does this work?  Why should one’s moral conduct, whether good or bad, have intellectual ramifications?  Let me quickly explain two moral-psychological dynamics that account for this.

First, there is the phenomenon known as self-deception.  As many studies have shown, reason is not the sole determinant in belief formation.  A person’s beliefs can be altered by significant desires, fears, and other emotions.  In fact, people often act on their passions even when reason clearly points in a different direction.  So, to illustrate regarding an ethical matter, when a person forms an immoral habit (say, anything from pirating DVDs to extramarital sex), they will naturally desire to avoid admitting their actions are really immoral.  Consequently, a moral perspective or general worldview that condones such behavior will be more attractive to them, and the desire to avoid guilt and shame about it will motivate the belief that such theft or adultery, at least in the person’s present case, is not really wrong.  This is a classic case of self-deception—believing what one, in some sense, knows to be false.

Second, and more fundamentally, there are the cognitive consequences of sin.  As Notre Dame philosopher Alvin Plantinga has elucidated (see chapter 7 of his Warranted Christian Belief), sinful behaviors have cognitive ramifications.  The mind was designed to, among other things, form true beliefs about the world, and when functioning properly in a congenial environment, it tends to do just this.  Immoral indulgences disrupt cognition so that it cannot function properly, thus clouding judgment and skewing perceptions.  This is especially so in the case of moral and spiritual beliefs where personal pride and selfish desires are most likely to interfere.

Because of the potentially devastating dynamics of self-deception and the cognitive consequences of sin, we must take great care in living virtuously and diminishing the corrupting effects of sin on the mind.  Only by avoiding the negative cognitive effects of disobedience can the intellectual challenges to the faith be addressed in a clear-headed (and pure-hearted) way.

The practical upshot is that we must prioritize right living, and this is especially important when struggling with doubts.  Some such doubts are genuinely intellectual and may be addressed accordingly.  But others are rooted in vice, in which case the first order of business is repentance rather than apologetic research.  In light of this, I have counseled some struggling students to live “as if” Christianity is true, even when they have severe doubts.  By this I mean that it is wise to observe Christian moral standards even when questioning the truth of Christianity, because indulging in sin will only further confuse one’s thinking and invite self-deception.

I recall one instance in which a student came to my office, wracked by doubt and feeling that he was “living a lie” by acting as if he was a Christian.  I told him to continue to live by biblical standards just in case Christianity is true.  This way he wouldn’t have any regrets if his faith convictions returned.  Well, sure enough, his Christian beliefs did re-solidify, and he later thanked me with immense relief that he hadn’t done anything rash (in terms of immoral indulgences) during his spell of doubt.  I suppose there is something Pascalian in this approach, but then again, there is a Pascalian dimension to all of life, as we must “wager” about many choices we make.

The lesson here is that all of our behaviors, whether habitual or one-time experiences, impact our cognitive condition to one degree or another.  And our cognitive health in turn impacts what we are inclined to believe and disbelieve.  Thus, whether or not virtue is, as the saying goes, “its own reward,” it certainly has cognitive benefits, just as vice has cognitive costs.  The wise person will take this to heart.