(When considered against the backdrop of the cross of Jesus Christ they’re actually worse than
that, but this is intended to be more practical than theological.)
The thing is, not all sins are equally bad.
Sure, any sin
separates us from God. All sins need to be recognized, forsaken and repented of.
In that sense, the smallest sin endangers the unbeliever’s eternal prospects as
much as the vilest offence.
Likewise, the most far-reaching and grievous acts of the will can be forgiven as easily as the
smallest departures of the thought life. “If we confess
our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness”.
Or, to put it another way:
“The vilest offender who truly believes,
That moment from Jesus a pardon receives.”
Sometimes those old hymnwriters really nail it.
But the words “all unrighteousness” sound a little egalitarian, and might lead us to conclude that all sins are pretty much
equal in some ways. And, sure, with respect to the issues of separation from
God and the opportunity for repentance, they are. More or less.
The Inequality of Sin
Still, in another sense, all sins are not the
least bit equal. I remember teaching Sunday School years ago and being asked a
question along the lines of this: “If lust is a sin anyway, what does it matter
if we act on it?”
Good question. From our personal
perspective, perhaps it doesn’t. Much. But if you or I become agents through which temptation (and ultimately
disobedience to God) is transmitted into the actions, words or thoughts of
others, then surely we have added other sins to our original offence, have
we not? My sin in such a situation is surely greater than it would have
been had it remained in my head, solely between me and God.
There are “greater
sins”, and scripture speaks of them:
“So Pilate said to him, ‘You will not speak to me? Do you not know that I have authority to release you and authority to crucify you?’ Jesus answered him, ‘You would have no authority over me at all unless it had been given you from above. Therefore he who delivered me over to you has the greater sin.’ ”
Who would that be, I wonder. Caiaphas,
perhaps? Judas? We are not told. The takeaway, though, is that some choices are
worse than others.
The Greater Sin and Genesis 25
All of this is going
through my head as I read Genesis 25, in which older brother Esau is
cheated out of his birthright by Jacob, his younger brother. The last line in
the chapter sums it up this way:
“Thus Esau despised his birthright.”
Interesting. That would not be my take. If
I had been asked to summarize that chapter, I would have said something like, “Thus
Jacob stole his brother’s birthright”. The major moral lesson I would be
inclined to draw is that stealing from your family is pretty wicked and that Jacob
was not, in his natural state, a nice person. Any sin on Esau’s part might
easily have escaped my notice.
But the narrative of
Genesis 25 emphasizes not Jacob’s sneakiness and calculated theft of his
brother’s rightful possession, but rather Esau’s failure to value the calling
and promises of God. The “greater sin” here, it seems, is not Jacob’s moral
turpitude but Esau’s lack of interest in what God might have had in store
for him.
Tentative conclusion:
Being consistently moral is a great thing. Being conscious of what God values
and valuing it as he does is even better.
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