“I am the one you warned me of
I am the one who’d never, never lie.”
I am the one who’d never, never lie.”
— Blue Oyster Cult, 1988
Not my favorite band, for sure — but I do admire their theology.
At least in this instance.
So often we begin by thinking that evil, if
it exists at all, is a thing “out there”. It’s in the world somewhere, not
inside me. Me, I’m pretty good. Not perfect, maybe. But not so bad that God
can’t overlook the difference (that is, if he’s really loving) and accept me
as spot-on.
Then we live for a bit.
And we discover that deep down inside us
are plenty of impulses to do the wrong thing. We just haven’t had the
provocation or opportunity yet. But the impulses are there, and we feel them
every time we deny them. Some, perhaps, we resist. Some go away. Some
we deflect.
The Moment of Truth
Then comes the moment of truth: we do
something of which we are definitely not proud.
And afterward, we find ourselves looking
back on our recent actions with a dawning consciousness that we have done what
we simply did not think we would. It was not just that our strength failed us,
but our personal integrity as well. We gave in to something we now realize was
entirely “beneath us”, as we formerly estimated ourselves.
We are not what we thought we were.
Perhaps then we even wish we could rewrite
history. Who wants to think of himself or herself as the kind of person who
does that kind of thing? But we know that history does not go
backwards; and somehow we have to go on living. So we justify, explain away,
deny … but really, deep down, we know …
“I am the one you warned me of.”
Ouch
That’s painful.
And yet, viewed differently, it’s the very
first step in the right direction. For until we discover disappointment with
ourselves, we have little motive to make a realistic assessment of our own
contribution to the evil that exists in this world. Once we do, we all realize
we are certainly in no moral position to condemn anyone else.
The road to God begins with that admission.
Or, to put it in biblical terms:
“God be merciful to me, the sinner.”
That’s a dramatic verse, isn’t it?
It comes from a story told by Jesus Christ.
He spoke of two men — one a respected religious leader and the other a
miserable tax-collector (and who likes those?). The two are in the temple in
Jerusalem praying. One is being heard by God and the other is not. The
religious leader is far from God, rejoicing in his own freedom from guilt. The
tax-collector is so choked with guilt he can barely speak. And these are
his words.
The Primary Problem
Now, in grammar language we call the word
“the” from the Greek a definite article, meaning that it signals when
something is being pointed out as somehow unique in the claimed category: He’s
saying, “It’s me! I’m the sinner. I’m telling you that I’m the guilty
one here!”
He’s not saying no one else is guilty. In
fact, he’s not concerned with anyone else at all. They must stand or fall as
they may, to their own Master … not to him. He is unqualified to judge them,
because he has not yet dealt with the primary problem: his own guilt. All he
cares about in that moment is taking full personal responsibility for what he
himself has done.
In striking contrast, the super-religious
guy next to him has got his head up and his eyes roving. But as for this
taxman, he will not raise arrogant eyes high enough to judge another at this
moment. He has serious business to do with God. His soul hangs in the balance.
He cries out in his personal torment and humiliation. And he finds mercy.
Other Cases
We find this again and again in the Old
Testament. For example, we see it when Nathan the prophet indicts David for
adultery and murder. He sets up David with a story about a hypothetical man
doing a really selfish and evil thing, and when David jumps at it and says,
“The guy who did this deserves death,” Nathan springs the trap on him. He says,
“You are the man!”
There it is again.
And again we find it in Paul. The early
believers were subjected to a terrible persecution commissioned by the
religious authorities and carried out by a mob of designated thugs. But at
their head was a single man passionately dedicated to the destruction of the
faith; and they all knew who he was. They called Saul of Tarsus [lit.] “the
one … persecuting us”.
Then, when the Lord confronted Saul on the
Damascus road, He asked him this question: “Saul, Saul … why are you persecuting
me?” The “you” there is second-person singular, meaning that in spite of
the accompanying soldiers, the Lord was at that moment indicting only one
uniquely … Saul himself. Finally, Saul came to realize the enormity of his
personal guilt. He was forgiven: yet for the rest of his life never failed to
own his exclusive personal responsibility for what he had done and been in the
past, referring to himself as the “chief”
of sinners, meaning “first” or “foremost” and exclusively so.
Guilt, you see, really matters. It matters
because without it we have no knowledge of our personal need of God. We have no
reason to repent. We have no reason to seek salvation. Step one in coming to
God is conviction of our need.
But what would happen if this need were not
tied to anything specific? What if we felt guilt but did not happen to believe
in sin? In that case, we feel misery without remedy. We get all the symptoms
and misery of the disease but absolutely no prospect of diagnosis or cure.
What the Scholars Say
This is the state in which we find our
society today: guilty and devoid of explanation for it.
Do you doubt it? Look at our “Pride” parades that march in so many cities every
year. To quote Shakespeare, their guilt is truly “full of artless
jealousy”. The absurd extremity of the exhibitionism eloquently testifies to
the performers’ nagging feelings of guilt. The empty hope is that by putting
shame on display, making it completely overt and unapologetic, and through the
solicitation of much public acclaim, practices specifically identified by God
as sinful will be magically stripped of their guilt, and condemnation will
simply disappear.
Or see again the simmering anger of the
woman who has indulged in promiscuous behavior and then murdered her own
child: see her rage at being questioned, and her endless attempts to justify
her wickedness as “choice”.
Or to make the matter more personal, look
at each of us, and how every one of us has the habit of retelling our sinful
acts of the past to others, all the while trying to convince ourselves as much
as our listeners that we could not have done other than we did — and at
the same time, we know we’re lying.
Yet so long as there is no recognition of
sin there can be no personal admission of guilt. Without admission of guilt,
there can be no remedy — only persistent guilt.
Facts and Feelings
But we have ample encouragement from modern
Western culture to respond this way. As social critic Ken Myers has
pointed out:
“There is much in modern [North] American culture to encourage us to believe that whatever’s wrong in the universe, it can’t possibly be our fault. We are much less bothered about being guilty than about feeling guilty, in part because we are perpetually reminded that who we are is determined by how we feel about ourselves.”
Philosopher James Sire has spoken cogently
about the modern dilemma. He says that under our current social climate, “One
is left not with the fact but with the feeling of guilt”
[emphasis mine]. That is, one continues to feel guilty, but one has no facts by
which one can gain some measure of control of the situation. Under our
self-justifying patterns of thought, guilt becomes a sort of free-floating
misery, without name and without remedy. So he writes:
“In a universe where God is dead, people are not guilty of violating a moral law; they are only guilty of guilt, and that is very serious, for nothing can be done about it. If one had sinned, there might be atonement. If one had broken a law, the lawmaker might forgive the criminal. But if one is only guilty of guilt, there is no way to solve the very personal problem … we are left not in sin but in guilt. Very serious indeed.”
Non-Judgmental Ethics
This partially accounts for our present-day
preoccupation with non-judgmental ethics. Although the reintroduction of moral
standards is exactly what can remedy the nameless misery of guilt, allowing it
immediately inflames the badly blistered ego by reawakening it to its
culpability. For the Law is like a physician who must handle the wound in order
to produce healing; but this kind of contact is exactly what the patient reacts
most strongly against.
Non-judgmental ethics, with their
relativism and universal tolerance are, of course, quite powerless to remedy
the common experience of guilt; however, they do somewhat dull the pain and
make life a little more bearable; and thus modern people defend them with a
visceral and irrational fervor.
This irrational fervor against the “sin”
label has even come to infect the private beliefs of many religious people, and
has even become mainline theology in some denominations. As Myers continues,
“In such an atmosphere, salvation means being freed from bad feelings about who
we are. The gospel contextualized in such a setting redefines Christ as the
ultimate source of self-esteem.” Christianity itself, then, has also been
called into service as therapy for overcoming these persistent, generalized
feelings of guilt.
Disease Cut Off from Diagnosis
Yet even secular psychologists are very
much aware that all these strategies are failures. Harvard’s Robert Jay Lifton
is an expert on propaganda, self-deception and mind-control. He is also a
long-time student of guilt, and in particular of the many ways in which people
who had been very wicked — such as the guards and torturers of the
Holocaust, and also modern mankind — rationalize actions and deny the reality
of evil. He writes:
“[Today’s man is] not free of guilt. He indeed suffers from it considerably, but often without awareness of what is causing his suffering. For his is a form of hidden guilt: a vague but persistent kind of self-condemnation related to the symbolic disharmonies I have described, a sense of having no outlet for his loyalties and no symbolic structure for his achievements … Rather than a clear feeling of evil or sinfulness, it takes the form of a nagging sense of unworthiness all the more troublesome for its lack of clear origin.”
Lifton’s right. And this is what our modern
world does not understand. When we banished ‘sin’ as a concept, we did not send
‘guilt’ away with it; we just cut off the disease from the diagnosis, and
ultimately from the cure as well. Thus, says Lifton, today’s person is racked
by “diffuse fear” and “unfocused indignation”. He struggles with feelings of
being orphaned in a universe that, in the senselessness of its pain and evil,
is essentially absurd. “He cultivates his anger because he finds it more
serviceable than anxiety”, and gives expression to this by adopting a “tone of
mockery” or general cynicism when confronted with any conventional or
compulsory system of belief. He is master of the supercilious sneer and the
condescending shrug.
But for all that, he is desperately needy.
His self-confidence is a fake, a wall raised up to prevent the Great Physician
from putting his hand on a tender, terminal wound. This wound inevitably
remains open, festering and sore, despite all protestations to
the contrary.
The Solution
Now, whether it is the raw, undiscovered
sin of the unsaved soul or the lingering unconfessed sin of the failed saint,
the starting point of healing is always the same. It is to say, “I am the man.
I’m the one who did what he or she should not have done. I stand before God as
one, alone and undefended, crying out for a mercy I candidly admit I do
not deserve.”
And yet, with that, mercy is possible.
There is forgiveness and cleansing — not just for tax-collectors, but for
dictators and snipers, kidnappers and racists, liars, betrayers and perverts,
self-justifiers and the self-righteous, and yes, even for me, the hypocritical,
failing Christian who dares to teach others things concerning which he is
also guilty.
Yes, God is just that good.
For while he who covers his sin
will
not prosper, he who confesses his sin and throws himself on the mercy of God shown to us in Christ Jesus
finds
grace, forgiveness, cleansing and new life.
Applications
There is a deep toxicity in the habit of
certain mainline churches to deny the existence of human guilt and to downplay
sin. By catering to the self-righteous spirit of our liberal age, they are
actively preventing the natural process by which unexplained guilt blossoms
into an awareness of specifics and brings the guilty person to his or her knees
to beg, “God be merciful to me — the sinner.”
We need not take very seriously the modern
professions of freedom from guilt. They’re not genuine. However, the dismissal
from our vocabulary of the concept of sin is something that we should take very
seriously. For that is a real problem. And while there is always a cure for
sin, there is no cure for the claim to personal sinlessness. There never has
been, and there never can be.
Practically, then, when we speak to others
of their need of salvation, we need not dig very deep to discover in them the
source of their personal misery and anxiety. They are alienated from God,
caught in free-floating guilt with denial as their only defense. But, as when a
talented and caring surgeon puts his hand to an open wound, we must begin by
reassuring the patient of our intention to cure, not hurt. Then we must touch
only slowly and delicately that which is so raw. We can count on the fact that
it will turn out to be more tender and painful than we might expect. And we can
count for sure on the fact that it will be there.
I also have not found a single person whom
God was not convicting. I have met deniers of their guilt, to be sure, and many
times too; but press beyond the first encounter and I have never met one who
could stick to that story very long. God is always speaking, always reminding
us of our insufficiency and need of him.
Conclusion
Guilt is unpleasant, but it is not a
disease. Rather, it is a symptom. The disease that gives rise to it is a wrong
relationship to God. Those who fight or deny it are only perpetuating the
cancer that will eventually, most certainly kill them. But guilt can also be
our ally, if we humble ourselves and realize our true moral condition.
For it is not until we say “I am the one”
that we are ready for change.
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