Free to Live: The Utter Relief of Holiness (6 page)

Wait a second—what did he just say? That come Judgment Day, things are going to be more severe for certain people than they will be for others? That some crimes are more serious than others? Of course. You don’t really believe that the kid who skips algebra class is the moral peer of Osama bin Laden, do you?

I bring this up because something really pernicious has sneaked into the Church’s understanding of holiness and sin. To be fair, I think the mistake began with good intent; then it morphed into something destructive. We understood sin to be a serious matter; we also understood that any sin separates us from God:

If this weren’t true, the sacrifice of Jesus Christ would have been a very costly mistake. We all stand in need of forgiveness. That is true.

However
, this idea has morphed into the popular notion that, “all sins are pretty much the same.” It doesn’t matter what the details are; sin is sin. I’ve heard that very phrase from many church leaders. Really? Sexual abuse is the same as jaywalking? I’ve met Bible scholars who would actually tell you yes. Jesus clearly
doesn’t
agree. He felt that because the townspeople of Capernaum had seen him in person—God in the flesh—witnessed with their own eyes his life and miracles and had still rejected him, their crimes were far more serious than the homosexuality of Sodom. Whoa.

Jewish radio commentator and teacher Dennis Prager calls it “moral equivalency”—blurring moral differences, making all ethical issues equal, and therefore all sins equal. The idea is devastating for several reasons. First, I believe it has added to the sexual collapse I mentioned earlier. Good grief, if in the heat of passion you believe “a sin’s a sin” and this is really no different from cheating on a test, and what the heck, you’ve already gone this far, you aren’t going to have much reason to keep your clothes on. Confusing the weight of sins actually hurts our ability to resist temptation.

But the blurring of moral differences has also torn many a tender conscience apart. When a dear soul comes before God to repent of lying to her boss, and she believes (because she’s been told) that she has done something just as awful as murdering her neighbor, she finds it very hard to receive forgiveness. She puts herself through all sorts of severity that frankly the offense simply doesn’t call for.

This is not the view Jesus holds on the matter. All he said to the woman caught in adultery was “go and sin no more.” But to the cities that rejected him, he shouts a warning that it is going to be a mighty black day come the end. There are moral differences; some matters are far weightier than others.

Furthermore, you can’t pursue genuine holiness if you are walking around under the crushing weight that tossing a wrapper on the sidewalk is just as bad as harboring resentment toward your parents. It’s crippling; it also keeps you from focusing on what Jesus called “the weightier matters.”

The idea has also had devastating consequences when it comes to our influence in public life. It has clouded many a Christian’s thinking around election time. Trees are important, but not nearly as important as human life. Education is important, but not nearly as important as the sanctity of marriage. Blurring moral differences tries to make all things equal. They are not.

Let me try another example I think will help you here.

Last Saturday I was shopping at our local grocery store. It’s one of those hip “organic/fair trade/eco-friendly” markets that are becoming popular. When I reached the checkout line, the cashier asked, “Do you have your own bags today?” I did not bring my own grocery bags. To be honest, it hadn’t even crossed my mind. But in that culture, with all ears listening, I felt like a scumbag. I felt like the guy who doesn’t care what his impact is in the world. I’m “that guy” who is sending the polar bear to a watery grave and chopping down the last rain forest myself.

Now, you wouldn’t think that morality would ever become popular in the world, but there is a certain kind of “goodness” that is actually quite hip these days. Issues such as the size of your carbon footprint (and therefore the car you drive), where your coffee and chocolate come from, how your vegetables are grown or your fish is caught, the kind of shoes you wear—these are the causes du jour. Before I continue, let me say clearly
I think these things are important
. I don’t think they are as important as other issues, but I think they are important. I do my shopping at these kinds of stores.

But what I want to point out is the softness of popular “goodness.” Recycling can make you feel like “Hey, I’m a good person,” while you ignore the fact that you’ve abandoned your children through your latest divorce. This is human nature: to find a morality that is comfortable and convenient and let it suffice for holiness. But it is not. So you ride your bike to work, or drive a hybrid car—but you have the sexual discretion of an alley cat. Yes, you gave clothing to the homeless—but you hate Republicans; you have hatred in your heart. A classic example would be the popular bumper sticker “Mean People Suck.” Um…meaning you, then, who put this mean-spirited bumper sticker on your car.

And notice this—popular goodness also serves to ingratiate you to your community; it makes you look like a very “good person.” But what about the goodness that
isn’t
popular at all, the kind that, in fact, makes you suddenly very uncomfortable. You who are Democrats, would you be comfortable telling your Democrat friends that you are voting Republican this year because “Issues surrounding abortion are simply far more important than issues surrounding fair trade farming?” You see, we’re back to issues of motive, convenience, and selective morality.

I think the culture of popular goodness has confused a lot of young people who are sincere about pursuing holiness. Buying eco-friendly shoes is just not on a scale with loving Jesus. Riding a bicycle to work is just not nearly as weighty as telling other people
about
Jesus. They are important, but a Christian has a lot more things that are far more important.

Clearly, Jesus believes that some commands are weightier than others. So why is it that loving God isn’t one of the categories we think in when it comes to holiness? Churches tend to think in moral categories of “They are faithful attendees; they tithe every week; they hold the correct doctrines; they don’t [fill in the blank—smoke, swear, go to bars, whatever]. They’re good people.” But do they love God? We have churches filled with people who don’t really love God as the central mission of their lives; and yet they are faithful and they attend, so we think,
wow, that’s great, they’re neat people
. But they’re flunking Holiness 101.

One last thought as we sweep away some of the clutter about holiness.

I don’t remember the issue my friend and I were talking about—it had something to do with Christianity—but I do remember my friend’s response: “Gosh, I’m not really sure,” he said. And I thought it a humble and gracious posture to take. Only it’s been five years now and he’s still saying, “I’m not really sure.” He has landed in that place. Now I see what happened. He has
chosen
doubt, a posture very attractive and honored in our day.

Doubt is “in.”

Listen to how people talk (especially young adults): “I don’t really know…I’m just sort of wrestling with things right now…you know, I’m not really sure…” And if in the rare case someone actually says what they believe, they quickly add, “but that’s just the way
I
see it.” As if confidence were a bad quality to have. Certainty is suspect these days. It doesn’t seem “real” or “authentic.” It’s human to doubt. So it seems more human to express doubt than certainty. We end up embracing doubt because it feels “authentic.”

Add to this guilt by association. Dogmatic people—people with an arrogant certainty—have done a lot of damage. Particularly dogmatic religious people. Good people don’t want anything to do with that, and so—by a leap of logic—they don’t want to be seen as having strong convictions. Certainty is not something they want to be associated with. Besides, the culture is honoring doubt right now. When the first of the
Narnia
movies came out, I was shocked to see what the screenwriters had done to the character of Peter. They took a young man C. S. Lewis portrays in the books as strong and courageous and made him doubting and uncertain. It was a total rewrite of his character, and it spoke volumes about where the world is right now. The writers did this to make Peter more “believable.” Because doubt is “in.”

Director Peter Jackson did the same violence to the character of Aragorn when he filmed Tolkien’s trilogy
The Lord of the Rings
. In the original books, Aragorn is a strong, confident man. He is humble but not vacillating. The movie portrays him as a postmodern hero riddled with uncertainty, self-doubt, and regret. As if we can’t bring ourselves to believe in the heroic anymore. It made me furious. It made me think of a quote by Alan Bloom. Referring to a fundamental assumption the postmodern makes, Bloom says:

So doubt, masquerading as humility, has become a virtue, a prerequisite for respect. People of strong conviction are suspect. Many Christians I know have settled for a sort of laid-back doubt, believing it to be a genuine character decision; they thinks it’s a virtue. Now, I appreciate the desire for humility, and the fear of being dogmatic. I think those are good concerns. But friends, conviction is not the enemy. Pride is. Arrogance is. But not conviction. As G. K. Chesterton said, “An open mind is really a mark of foolishness, like an open mouth…The object of opening the mind, as of opening the mouth, is to shut it again on something solid.”

Enter Jesus (who is always so wonderfully countercultural). There is no question about his sincerity, his humility, or his graciousness. But doubt—this will be a great surprise to many people—is not something Jesus holds in high esteem.

Jesus doesn’t commend Peter for his authenticity. “Wow, Peter, I love how true you were to your confusion and how honest you were with your doubts, sinking in the ocean. So many people will be able to relate to that.” No, he rebukes him for doubting.

Stop doubting and believe. That’s pretty clear. It used to be that being called a Doubting Thomas was a source of shame. These days it could be the name of an alternative rock band: “Doubting Thomas…cool, dude. I totally hear you.”

One more observation about doubt: not only does it make you fit comfortably within the culture, but it also excuses you from having to act. If you really believed, for example, that abortion was taking an innocent life, you would be compelled to speak out about it. And boy, wouldn’t
that
put you at odds with your neighbors! If you were convinced that people actually did go to hell unless they knew Christ as Savior, you would have to be far bolder about sharing your faith—and wouldn’t
that
be awkward at work? So, take notice just how convenient doubt is for you. Motives are at play here, friends. So let us remember this truth: Doubt is not a virtue. Doubt is not humility. Doubt is doubt. It is unbelief. Jesus understands doubt, and he wants us to get past it, not embrace it, for heaven’s sake.