Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent – a season traditionally set aside for self-examination and repentance in the run-up to Easter.
Whether you would label it that way or not, I think we can all agree that we live in what I would call a sin-sick world. We only have to hear the news of mass shootings, knife crime, and sex trafficking to realise that there is something deeply wrong going on.
That said, it’s not just those nasty people over there who spoil it for everyone else – it’s all of us as well, both inside and outside religious organisations. Because together we contribute, albeit perhaps in less obvious ways, to the pervasive nature of the world’s collective wrongdoing.
But since I’m a Christian myself, it is of the ongoing sinfulness of those within the church that I want to consider here. And, evil though they no doubt are, I don’t mean those who infiltrate faith communities with the express purpose of taking advantage of the vulnerable that they find there. Rather, I want to speak of genuine believers who, like me, continue to be troubled by their indwelling sin – even if it goes unnoticed by those they sit alongside each Sunday morning, as well as those who write the headlines in either the local or national newspapers.
Because, sad to say, we’re all still sinners – despite our perhaps largely successful attempts to maintain a clean-cut image.
And not wishing to pretend otherwise raises some pretty important questions. Or at least it does me, as I continue to be deeply disappointed by the way I think, speak and act – not least as a result of my inherent pride that all too often causes me to think far too highly of myself, believe I deserve far more than I already have, even to the point of looking to benefit from the suffering of others.
So what are those questions that I – and perhaps you – need to ask this Lent? Well here are just a few.
Why, if we’re Christians, do we still not love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind – or indeed our neighbour as ourselves? [Luke 10:27]
Why do we not consider others more highly than ourselves? [Philippians 2:3]
And why do we continue to do things that we don’t want to, whilst failing to do the things that we ought? [Romans 7:19]
Which brings me to the Apostle Paul, to the author of half of the New Testament, who described himself as the chief of sinners – not because of who he once was, but because of who he continued to be. [1 Timothy 1:15] For whilst it doesn’t for one minute excuse my ongoing sin, the fact that such a ‘great’ Christian as Paul struggled in ways not dissimilar to myself would suggest that my problem, far from being an aberration, is part of what makes up, for some at least, the normal Christian life.
But while this is indeed comforting to know, it doesn’t answer my earlier question: why do Christians still sin? And why doesn’t God press fast-forward on the process of sanctification and make me more like Jesus far more quickly than He currently seems willing to?
The answer may not, of course, be fully ours to know, but there may at least be a clue in another of Paul’s letters.
In 2 Corinthians 12:7-9, Paul writes of a ‘thorn in the flesh’ – ‘a messenger of Satan’ – given to keep him from becoming conceited. He also says how, despite pleading for the Lord to take the thing that ‘harassed’ him away, the Lord declined to do so – the only explanation given by God being His rather enigmatic words, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’
Paul did not give details of what exactly the nature of the thorn was, and great has been the resulting speculation. But whereas some have suggested a physical ailment – perhaps poor eyesight – and others have suggested a persistent opponent of his ministry, some, myself included, have wondered if Paul might have struggled with some persistent sin, the inevitable consequence of the sinful nature we all inherit from the fall.
But while that last suggestion is believed by few and therefore probably wrong, it’s true that my own indwelling sin produces in me something of what Paul experienced through his thorn. For what humbles us more than our perpetual wrongdoing? What better highlights the wonder of grace than a fresh awareness of our need for it? And what acts more readily as a messenger of Satan than that voice that whispers of our guilt and unworthiness?
So here, irrespective of what Paul’s thorn might have been, is the thing – without sin there would be no need for forgiveness, and without forgiveness there would be no need for the cross. And without the cross, the glory of which shines all the more brightly against the backdrop of sin, we could not begin to recognise the magnitude of God’s power, the marvel of His mercy, and the depth of His love. And so we would be left unable to enjoy God as deeply as we do once we have grasped the glory of His grace.
Even so, we must be careful, because God does not need sin to be glorious. Not at all – His glory is part of who He is and not dependent on anything else. We should not think that when we sin it’s okay because in so doing we magnify God’s grace. Paul himself warned against such foolishness. [Romans 6:1] And nor should we imagine that by not preventing us from behaving badly, God is Himself responsible for our sin.
Far from it. For God is holy even as He rules over a world whose wickedness is all too apparent. And our sin, which in no way is necessary for our salvation, is used by God in ways that we cannot possibly understand.
Just as was the case when Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, was crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men. [Acts 2:23]
There is then a paradox at the heart of the Christian faith, one that we must learn to live with: that what man means for evil, God can work for both His glory and our good. [Genesis 50:20]
Which is why I, for one, will not pretend that I am not still a sinner. On the contrary, like Paul, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses – not because I delight in them but because they drive me back to Jesus, bearing witness to my ongoing spiritual life.
And because His grace continues to be sufficient even for me, I find fresh cause for hope: one day I will become what I am both ‘not yet’ and ‘already’ declared to be in Christ.
Sin then remains – but because of the cross, it doesn’t reign.
And just as Lent gives way to Easter Day, so too will we who die in dishonour be raised in glory as we who have borne the image of the man of dust will one day bear the image of the man of heaven. [1 Corinthians 15:43,49]
One day we will be what we are not.
Perfect.
But in the meantime, we must work out our salvation with fear and trembling – for it is God who works in us, to will and to work for His good pleasure. And He who has begun a good work in us will bring it to completion on the day of Christ. [Philippians 1:6; 2:12-13]
Related posts:
To read ‘Hope for the Guilty’, click here
To read ‘When our best isn’t good enough’, click here
To read ‘On Being Confronted by the Law’, click here
To read ‘On Narcissism…an the Pot Calling the Kettle Black’, click here
Some musings 