Sunday Soak: Self-Righteous and Disjointed
Some thoughts my own vacation brain that can't seem to stay focused.
Happy Sunday, friends! Another week of vacation, and one more to come. It’s been kind of a whirlwind and a dream at the same time.
My aunt and I went on a great hike in the Sleeping Bear Dunes this week. We climbed up the Dune Climb and traversed rolling sand dunes to the Lake Michigan shore, walked along the shore a while in search of an old shipwreck, and then came back. The hike was hard at times, and I had to remind myself that every little step counted. Sometimes the journey is like that. It’s nice when I can take a run through a smooth, flat pine forest. But sometimes it’s just gritty and hard, and that’s the way the last couple of weeks have been with little time to read my Bible, pray, or spend time alone with God. So today, I’m offering some little, disjointed steps on a beautiful, grueling hike.
Alcohol Free. Still a Sinner.
My soak this week was supposed to be more related to the human body and spirit. I was going to answer some FAQs about why I gave up alcohol, particularly drawing a correlation between the research that says there is no safe amount of alcohol to consume and the truth that there is no safe amount of sin to consume.
It’s not a bad picture, but the trouble is that I was feeling particularly riled up about the term “alcoholic” and phrase “problem with alcohol”, and I began to write very precisely about how those terms don’t really apply to my situation in the way one might think, the point being that the picture of my problem with alcohol was quite a bit different than the typical image of an alcoholic, with which I do not want to associate. I wasn’t one of those people, just someone trying to live a healthier lifestyle.
But I realized that this type of pride was actually a small strand in a much larger pattern of pride and sin that I’m wrestling with in my spirit. If I were to follow through on the metaphor on the other end as it relates to sin, I would be forced to argue that I was not a terrible sinner - not like other people - before Jesus saved me, and that I just needed a new perspective on sin in order to give it up.
I was telling my aunt about a mission trip I took, on which one of my co-missionaries told me something along the lines of, “I’m glad you’re here, because I’ve never sinned as badly as you have, and I think your terrible past makes you a lot more relatable to sinners in a way I’m not, since I’ve never done anything really wrong.” Despite her opening statement, she was not glad I was there, she felt that she was better than anyone who had not been raised in the church from an early age like her, and she had an attitude of only slightly needing Jesus, since she had done everything right on her own. We see this attitude repeated in the Gospels through those of the Pharisees.
The fact is that it doesn’t matter how big or little my problem with alcohol or sin was. There is no amount of poison you can put in your body or spirit that doesn’t have an adverse affect on your health. There is no such thing as me or any of us being a lesser or greater sinner than anyone else, no matter how much or little sin we consume in our lives. We all fall short of God’s glory, not man’s. Sin was destroying all of our lives and had destined us to Hell, and Jesus alone saved us.
But still, I find myself trapped in patterns of sin that I didn’t even realize I was struggling with. I’ve shared some of that struggle around judgment already. How do we get from a sinner desperate for Christ’s salvation to being the big brother in the Prodigal Son story?
The best I can explain is that we start to reach a point in faith where we’re making more and more decisions because we want to please God and do the right thing. We start to hunger and thirst for righteousness (Matthew 5:6), but righteousness so often comes at a cost, and if we’re not careful, we end up pursuing self-righteousness.
Jesus told us to count the cost of following Him (Luke 14:28), and this is one we don’t often account for - the cost of absolutely abandoning our pride, even within the Church. Sometimes we sacrifice and hurt for what’s right. We do what is hard, act with patience, forgive the unforgivable, put away anger, choose to pick the battle of generosity over greed, and make other self-sacrificial choices because we know it’s God’s way and we long to look more like Christ.
But when our eyes stray from Jesus and start to look around, it’s so easy to think, “Why isn’t everyone else doing ______?” We become self-righteous, and that effort to pursue obedience to Christ suddenly seems like work, and the work suddenly seems like we’re doing it all right and all by ourselves. Then it seems like we’ve done it all ourselves all along.
I think I’ve been looking around at everyone else for far too long. I’ve had to remind myself several times over in the last week - I am saved by Christ alone. I am where I am in faith, work, family, career, creativity, teaching, marriage, and every good endeavor because of Christ alone. Nothing good comes from me. Every good and perfect gift is from God (James 1:17).
The best way to defeat the sins of pride, self-righteousness, and judgment is to recite our testimonies, reminding ourselves what God has done in our lives, and point our eyes, ears, and hearts squarely back on Him. Titus 3:3-8 has provided a succinct and needed reminder to me:
For we ourselves also were sometimes foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving divers lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful, and hating one another.
But after that the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man appeared,
Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost;
Which he shed on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Saviour;
That being justified by his grace, we should be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life.
This is a faithful saying, and these things I will that thou affirm constantly, that they which have believed in God might be careful to maintain good works. These things are good and profitable unto men.
It is good to pour out our lives for Jesus, in service to Jesus, in works that glorify Jesus. But they are also because He chose us and saved us. We did nothing to deserve, earn, or help with the matter. Salvation belongs to Christ alone. It’s pretty embarrassing to have to repeat that so many times, but I guess that’s why so many great theologians start their days by rehearsing the Gospel over themselves before they play it out in their words and actions. One point of comparison is always helpful: the struggles we face most deeply are those most common to man, so there is plenty of wisdom and support around us when we walk through hard times.
Fig Trees
I’ve been slowly reading through the middle of Luke, and Luke 13:1-9 was timely for the internal turmoil:
There were some present at that very time who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And he answered them, “Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered in this way? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish. Or those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them: do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others who lived in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.”
And he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came seeking fruit on it and found none. And he said to the vinedresser, ‘Look, for three years now I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and I find none. Cut it down. Why should it use up the ground?’ And he answered him, ‘Sir, let it alone this year also, until I dig around it and put on manure. Then if it should bear fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”
Fig trees are used in the Bible as a metaphor for the nation of Israel, and here Jesus is addressing the pride-driven inquiry that people who had met calamity were somehow worse sinners than anyone else. Instead, Jesus corrects their understanding by reminding them that all of them fell short of God’s glory and needed to repent. He then speaks to the nation of Israel as a singular tree that has not produced fruit, but which He has come to tend and fertilize through salvation. We are, therefore, ingrafted into that tree as Gentiles (Romans 11:11-24).
I was thinking about what that fruit - the figs - looked like. What is the good fruit God is looking for?
In Genesis 1 and 2, it’s a man made in His own Image, who exercises dominion over all the creatures and the earth. He’s looking for those who multiply to fill the earth and subdue it, men and women who care for the creatures of earth and tend and keep what He has given us.
In Genesis 12-17, we see it repeated that we are to be a great nation, a blessing, obedient and faithful, again numerous and multiplying, and true occupiers of a land and a space which He has given us to tend and care for.
Exodus 2-3 echoes this as God reiterates to Moses that He wants to bring the Israelites to occupy a good land and serve and obey God, and He adds here that He wants Israel to be those who know that He is God.
Jeremiah 1 calls for a nation that is holiness to God, those who pursue Him and know Him and go with Him in the wilderness. He wants those who trust Him when it looks raw or barren. He wants those who multiple - to be the fruits of His increase. Again, He wants us to know Him alone as the Owner of the garden and vineyard. And He wants us repentant when we turn from Him.
The thing is that we stink! We can’t do it. Jesus not only tended that fig tree in Luke, but He was the One who bore the fruit for Israel by being baptized in repentance on our behalf, paying the price for our sin, and multiplying us through the salvation of the world. He is our perfect obedience, our perfect holiness, and the tender of the garden and the flock. Anything we do here is just an imitation of perfection, and baby, there ain’t nothing like the real thing! We’re kidding ourselves to think that we’re anything less than desperately hopeless sinners in need of His constant intervention.
The Mustard Tree
The parable of the mustard seed is told in Luke 13:18-19 (as well as in Mark and Matthew). It goes, “[Jesus] said therefore, ‘What is the kingdom of God like? And to what shall I compare it? It is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his garden, and it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches’”
Every commentary and study bible I have read makes note that the mustard plant is not a tree, but a bush, and that it is not actually the smallest seed, as it states in Matthew 13:32. They take special note to correct Jesus. Gotquestions.org, one of my favorite commentaries, even says, “The mustard seed is quite small, but it grows into a large shrub—up to ten feet in height—and Jesus says this is a picture of kingdom growth.”
But what if Jesus knew exactly what He was saying and that He said what He meant? In all three accounts of this parable, it is clear that Jesus said the seed would grow to become a tree, not a shrub. If the ancients were familiar with the mustard seeds, then they would know that it only becomes a shrub, but maybe here Jesus is telling them that when He plants a seed and when it comes from Heaven, then it is far greater than anything we could ever cultivate on our own. It would far surpass any concept of a people or a nation that we know, and it would be a tree that stretches across the whole expanse of the earth and all through time to endure and reach every last people, nation, and language.
Why would we correct Jesus? Why wouldn’t we consider that He knew what He said? Why is it up to Him, in the case of this parable, to change His understanding to fit ours? Isn’t that the whole problem and why we need a Savior? Didn’t He come to do the exact opposite? People abandoned Him because He had hard teaching, not imprecise teaching.
Leavening and Yeast
Right after the mustard seed, Jesus tells the parable of the leaven, saying, “, “To what shall I liken the kingdom of God? It is like leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal till it was all leavened” (vs 20-21).
I like this picture, because I’m a sourdough baker, and both the ancient Hebrew and Greek for “leaven” means “to ferment”. When I prepare to bake with my sourdough starter, I add double the amount water and flour, but the fermented works its way through and rises up to bring the whole mixture to life - bubbly and active. Then I add a little of that active starter to water, salt, and flour and leave the mixture to ferment for several hours. It again works its way through the much greater mixture to make it rise and bubble.
Jesus uses leaven both negatively and positively. Here, leaven is the Word that works its way through the world, starting with our own hearts. It’s a beautiful picture of the work of God through Jesus Christ. But in Matthew 16, it is used negatively in regards to the Pharisees:
Now when His disciples had come to the other side, they had forgotten to take bread. Then Jesus said to them, “Take heed and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and the Sadducees.”
And they reasoned among themselves, saying, “It is because we have taken no bread.”
But Jesus, being aware of it, said to them, “O you of little faith, why do you reason among yourselves because you have brought no bread? Do you not yet understand, or remember the five loaves of the five thousand and how many baskets you took up? Nor the seven loaves of the four thousand and how many large baskets you took up? How is it you do not understand that I did not speak to you concerning bread?—but to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.” Then they understood that He did not tell them to beware of the leaven of bread, but of the doctrine of the Pharisees and Sadducees.
Here, Jesus reiterates the point of the parable of the mustard seed - that we can expect far greater than our own concepts and expectations - and uses the illustration of leaven to show them that leaven can come in multiple forms - holy and unholy. The little sin of the Pharisees and Scribes, just a little bit of self-righteousness, can work its way through our lives and overtake us completely. A sourdough loaf is not just flour, water, and sourdough leaven mixed in. The loaf has become sourdough, because the leaven has taken over and worked its way through every part of it. So it is with sin and self-righteousness. But so it is with the Kingdom of Heaven and the Word we have been given in the Gospel. As Christians, we will be leavened, and we get to choose which one gets to work its way through our hearts and spirits.
Alright, friends, that’s all I’ve got for today. It’s a work in progress, but a very worthy endeavor to rid ourselves of sin. Jesus also told the Pharisees that it’s not the outside of the cup that needs to be washed, but the inside (Matthew 23:26). It doesn’t really matter what our outward appearance is, whether we’re talking about alcohol or sin; the point is that we, through the salvation of Jesus Christ and by His power alone, have been freed from it entirely to live a Kingdom-driven life that will multiply beyond anything we could ever imagine.
Until next time, may all that is in creation testify to God’s power and divine nature, that we may be encouraged by God’s love around us.