It’s almost certainly an apocryphal story but it’s one that I like just the same. Two pastors are chatting and one tells the other that he’s recently been diagnosed with cancer. To which the other replies, ‘Congratulations!’
Now I’m aware there is a time and a place for everything, that the process can be painful, and death brings with it a great deal of unhappiness for both the one dying and those who are left behind, but I hope that when I receive my terminal diagnosis, assuming that is, that I’m not taken unexpectedly, that I receive the news in the same spirit as our no doubt fictional ministers.
Because as a Christian, one who believes the Bible when it says that ‘to die is gain’, [Philippians 1:21] and that, notwithstanding the sadness of the perhaps one or two who might conceivably miss me a little, where I anticipate ending up is better by far than where I am now, surely I should at the very least not be wholly against the idea of shuffling contentedly off my mortal coil.
But I wonder if there is more we might learn from the apostle Paul’s positive view of death — and here I’m thinking, not simply about physical death, but the Christian concept of dying to self.
And the reason I ask is that, were that to be the case, then to follow one’s heart, to be true to yourself, and to pursue your ‘best life now’ might in fact be very bad advice indeed.
Recently I’ve been thinking about what is often referred to as the unconditional love of God – something that, up to a point, I wholeheartedly believe in. Now, whilst that might sound contradictory, my apparent double mindedness is in fact simply a consequence of considering it important, when making such a statement, to define carefully what exactly it is that we mean.
So let me do just that.
I am fully persuaded that God loves me unconditionally – that whilst he delights in my obedience and grieves over my wrongdoing, there is nothing that I can do to make him love me more or less. And nor is there anything he can do either – because his love for me, as well as being absolute, is not dependent on me, but him. It is a reflection of his never changing nature rather than a function of my constantly fluctuating behaviour.
He loves me then, not because I’m lovely – but because he is loving.
But there is at the same time something else I believe, something far less palatable and far harder to swallow, something that you may find as shocking as I myself still find unsettling — and that is that God hates sinners.
But hold on a minute. Surely, I mean to say that God hates the sin but not the sinner?
Well yes — and no.
Because whilst that is true, it is, at the same time, potentially misleading – for the very simple reason that it is not wholly supported by scripture. For as well as announcing God’s love for mankind, his unwillingness for any to perish, [2 Peter 3:9] and his sending Jesus into the world with the express purpose of saving sinners, [1 Timothy 1:15] the Bible also teaches us something that none of us, least of all me, should find comfortable to hear – and that is that God hates evildoers. [Psalm 5:5; 11:5, Hosea 9:15]
But rather than turning away, stay with me a while as I try to make sense of what I know will be deeply troubling for some – especially those who have already been made to feel wretched by a world quick to condemn and slow to show mercy.
Because I genuinely believe that sense can be made of what seems nonsensical – of an all loving God who hates.
But first we’ll need to understand that words in the Bible aren’t always used in the same colloquial fashion that we use them in the twenty-first century. And that, in just the same way that God’s love isn’t some sentimental feeling he experiences when he thinks about us, but a consequence of his deliberate decision to set his favour on us, neither is his hatred an uncontrolled and unreasonable antipathy towards those who displease him. Rather than a capricious God who enjoys nothing more than coming down like a ton of bricks on anybody looking like they may for one minute be about to enjoy themselves, his hatred for evildoers is a settled opposition against all that falls short of his perfection.
Because our actions are always a consequence of who we are – what we think, feel, and believe – you can’t separate the sinner from their sin simply by asserting it.
And that is why the aforementioned well-worn saying that suggests that sinners are nothing more than loveable rogues, those who sometimes make what might euphemistically be called mistakes, is one that is overly simplistic. As indeed is that other all too commonly used expression – the one that states that God loves us just as we are, which, whilst true, is too often taken to mean that he’s content for us to remain that way.
So then what is the reason? Why does God hate sinners? And why ought he therefore, but for his grace, to hate me – on account of the evil that sadly I have been guilty of doing too?
The answer is not only because, as a holy and just God, he is the one who, knowing and defining what right and wrong is, knows most fully how my actions have sometimes both hurt others and spoiled the world that he perfectly created. That he is righteous and therefore necessarily abhors all that is evil, all that takes away from his glory, is of course part of it, a very big part of it – but in addition, I think, he hates sinners, because in behaving badly, they fail – both to honour him and be the better and happier people that, loving them so completely, he longs for them to be.
So here’s the thing. If God loves sinners – and he hates sinners – then it follows that God must love those he hates. Indeed, since he is opposed to what they’ve become, one might even say that God hates sinners because of how much he loves them! Which again is not a contradiction – but another of the many paradoxes that we can’t help but come across if we read the scriptures carefully.
And it’s one that can only be resolved by considering another paradox – specifically that God, in his infinite mercy, sent his beloved son to die in the place of those who he both loves and hates – and that on the cross, by laying on him the due penalty for all our wrongdoing, he dealt with all that he hates in us in order that only what he loves would be left.
Only because of the cross is the sinner separated from their sin. And only because of the cross can it be truly said that God loves us unconditionally. Because it was only on the cross that our sin was removed from us and laid on Jesus – the one who then bore the due penalty for it, even as we were credited with his perfect righteousness. [2 Corinthians 5:21]
All of which means that sin matters – to God as much as you and me – both when we are guilty of it and when we are those who come to harm as a result of the wrong actions of others. And that whilst God does, right now, because of Christ, love us unconditionally, [Romans 8:1] he isn’t interested in leaving us unchanged. [Romans 12:2]
There is then what might almost be considered a condition to his unconditional love – one that he will certainly fulfil as he goes about the often painful process of changing us from what we are now, into what we will one day be – that is, the people we were always meant to be.
So how does that transformation come about? Is it something he does – or something we do?
Well it’s wholly down to him. But, having now got used to the idea of there being paradoxes within the Christian life, you won’t perhaps be surprised to learn that our transformation is also something that we must battle to bring about ourselves.
And so having been saved from sin and death, having been positioned, by God, ‘in Christ’ – the only place that we are safe and loved by him without any accompanying hatred – we are, by the power of the Holy Spirit working in us, to put ourselves to death by denying our sinful nature. [Romans 8:13]
And if, as God’s much loved children, we do – if, having already been adopted into his family, we make Christ’s death and subsequent resurrection the template for our own life’s journey, and if we daily deny ourselves, take up our cross, and seek to follow Jesus, [Luke 9:23] – we will discover that, in stark contrast to the pleasures of sin that whilst real, are at best only ever fleeting [Hebrews 11:25], possessing new life in Christ – which is both eternal and wholly satisfying – is infinitely preferable.
Because whilst sin promises freedom, it does in fact enslave. And holiness, whilst seemingly costly, is ultimately both liberating and joy inducing. [Romans 6:6] Which is why dying to self is the way to become fully alive. And why self-denial, far from being an expression of self-hatred, is in fact the way we find true fulfilment. [John 8:36]
And here is some more good news wrapped up in yet another paradox.
Whilst any progress we make in this life may not be as marked as we would like it to be, the good work that God has already begun in us, will be completed on the day of Christ. [Philippians 1:6] And on that day, having spent a lifetime working out our salvation with fear and trembling, we will discover, when we are finally perfected, that God has been working in us to will and to work to his good pleasure. [Philippians 2:13]
And that having died, and been born again to eternal life, God will have made us what, in Christ, he has already declared us to be…just like Jesus.
That then is the benefit of death. For all of us – no matter how healthy we may be today.
And I for one can’t wait!
Related blog:
To read ‘Luther and the war in Ukraine – On becoming a theologian of the cross’, click here
Some musings 