That brings us neatly to the question of how we are to define sin. At base, the meaning is that we either fall short or fall wide of the mark. The concept comes from archery, as we find it in the Greek. If you’ve ever handled a bow and seen the small circle of the target set out there at distance, you understand the concept readily. You draw back the bowline, you let loose the arrow, and it arcs toward that small circle. But perhaps you did not draw back hard enough. The arrow comes to earth without having reached the target. The arrow sinned. It failed of its purpose, its goal. Perhaps the draw was hard enough, but the eye not so keen. The arrow sails past the target, or veers to one side. It missed the mark. It fell wide or fell long. The arrow sinned. It is somewhat surprising to me to see that the Hebrew term for sin, chatta’ah, is in this case less descriptive in its underlying meaning. It is just sin; the condition of guilt, uncleanness.
Of course, Hebrew has other terms for this as well. We have pesha, generally translated as transgression, which has the idea of rebellion. We might suggest that it is pesha which leads to chatta’ah, although I think that may overstate the connection. But rebellion leads to recognition of transgression, and of its consequences as God first makes plain the crime, and then calls the criminal to account. I see, however, from the Word Study Dictionary, that pesha can by itself address the whole event, from act to sense of guilt to punishment.
At base, sin is violation of law, although as Paul pointed out, in that period between Adam and Moses we did not have an explicit declaration of the Law of God. Yet, guilt was found and punishment given. Ergo, there was in fact a law. There was in fact rebellion. Let me take that in two pieces.
We may ask how there could have been violation of law before the law was given. It’s a reasonable question to ask, and would seem to lead us to a place of saying that the punishment of sin in those who lived before Moses was unjust. But that is not the case. It cannot be the case, for God is not unjust. God is Justice at His essence, and in Him there can be no injustice. This being the case, if there was punishment for violating the law, there must necessarily have been a law to violate. In some periods this was seen as natural law, or the law of nature. I have to say, however, that the law of nature does not seem terribly moral in content, and the law of God most assuredly is. The law of nature is not so far from what Darwin surmised. It is kill or be killed; fight or flight. The law of nature knows only survival, and that’s no law at all. That is simple self-interest.
The law, however, was present before Moses brought the tablets down from Mount Sinai, and I don’t think it was any different than what was found on those tablets, for the law of God is written upon the hearts of those created in His image. It’s built into us. We get hints of this in Romans. “When Gentiles who do not have the Law do instinctively the things of the Law, these, not having the Law, are a law unto themselves, in that they show the work of the Law written in their hearts, their conscience bearing witness and their thoughts alternately accusing or else defending them, on the day when, according to my gospel, God will judge the secrets of men through Christ Jesus” (Ro 2:14-16). We see that Paul’s thoughts are more upon the final assay, but the point applies in the present. If we are led to ask how it is that unbelievers so often seem to present as having a greater righteousness than the believer, here is answer. The Law is written in their hearts. We think of this as part of the restoration and renewal of man, but notice that those words begin with ‘re’. It is a return to prior state, not the wholesale superimposition of an entirely new and alien state.
If we are to be restored, there must be a store to which we are returned. If we are to be renewed, there is something about the transformation that is, if you will, in reverse. That toward which we go forward is that from whence we came. That sounds entirely too much like eastern religious thought, but we’re not talking a cyclical course of existence. It remains linear, having both a starting point in Eden and an endpoint in the New Jerusalem. The point I am making is simply this: The condition of man in Eden, of Adam before his fall, is restored in the Edenic world of New Jerusalem. The Law which is written upon the heart of the believer is written upon the heart of the unbeliever as well. The Gentile has that law. Israel had the benefit of a written Law to which it could look when the heart becomes forgetful. The Christian has the infinite benefit of the Scriptures to which he can look when the heart becomes forgetful, as well as the Holy Spirit to remind us to look and explain to us once again what we have read. But the Law is there regardless. If the Gentile finds it written on his heart in spite of unbelief, it is reasonable to say that mankind generally, in that period before the Mosaic Law was revealed was not without God’s Law. It was written internally, part of the steering box of man, found in his conscience then and now.
This, I think, answers another question; that of how it is that we find glimmers of God’s Truth in most religious and philosophical efforts, however ungodly the one making the effort. I have commented often, even in this study, on the similarity of thought between Plato’s Republic and some of Christ’s own teaching as recorded in the Gospels. That’s not to say Plato was right about everything, even in that one book. But he had some sense of the Truth, distorted though it may have been by other thoughts and ideas. I suppose we could suggest that many world religions have a partial sense of the Truth. At bare minimum, they have the sense that there is something or someone greater than man; that there is something more than bare chemical reaction and chaos involved in bringing this world into being. Order does not come of chaos. Thing does not arise from nothing.
There is, as well, the inherent sense that if there is one greater, then that one must needs be obeyed. The basis for obedience may not be much more than that animal instinct for survival: Appease or die, but the necessity of obedience to higher authority is there. Even that one who labors in the delusion of self-rule understands at core that this is in fact a delusion, and where governance is found, it must needs be heeded, even if that heeding only shows in the efforts taken to avoid and hide away from its power.
[11/21/19]
That turns me to the second part of my thought, that of governance before Moses, and man’s violation thereof. From the very outset, there in the garden, it was abundantly clear that man, while set in authority over so much, was not the final authority. Adam answered to another, higher authority, as did Eve, and that authority was God. Nothing about this changed upon their expulsion. It was still the case that God was in charge, and they knew it. Their sons knew it, and we can continue down the line so far as we like, and the same truth holds. They knew. There is a God – One – and He has the right of rule over us all.
Now, clearly there are those like Lamech who, while born into the line of Adam as are all men, and aware of his lineage as his comments confirm, insisted on self-rule, on rebellion against the rightful governance of God. Bear in mind Lamech’s comments. “Listen to my voice, you wives of Lamech. Give heed to my speech for I have killed a man for wounding me; and a boy for striking me; if Cain is avenged sevenfold, then Lamech seventy-sevenfold” (Ge 4:23-24). In point of fact, Adam was still around and Eve was still bearing children when he made these comments. He knew of God. He chose to reject God’s rule. That message of his is chilling. I don’t know that I had noticed before how clearly it is directed at his wives, and the message is clear: Don’t cross me. I have taken charge, and I will avenge the least slight to my person. But, if these words were geared to cow his wives and keep them utterly submissive to his will, it was not only they who were going to find it necessary to submit, but all. Do as I say or die. That’s pretty much the message of Lamech. But who has authority to demand such obedience, except God Himself?
This is not, admittedly, a light in which we choose to consider God, yet it is truth. It is Truth visible right there in the first commandment to Adam. Obey me or die. In the moment you disobey, you will die. Period. This is not the sort of command one ought reasonably to be inclined to test. You see God. You see His power all around you. You know His personal involvement in fashioning you out of dust. If anybody or anything has the power to remove life from you, it is assuredly He who gave it in the first place. I don’t suppose we’re supposed to bring Bill Cosby to mind anymore given his troubles, yet his comedy remains comedic, and his famous line, attributed to his father, is apt. “I brought you into this world, and I’ll take you out of it.” Now, as parenting advice, that’s pretty awful. But, as a reflection of the relationship God has to man, it’s pretty accurate, even if that was not Mr. Cosby’s intention. God does have this relationship to us, His creation. The number of our days are His to determine, as much as we like to think that this activity or that diet or whatever methodology it may be will bring us length of days. It will bring us no more and no less than the number of days God has known for us since before the beginning. It is silliness and worse to think otherwise. It is, in its own way, the same mindset as Lamech, the same mindset of Satan: I’m in charge here, not You.
Now observe. Adam may have still been around for Lamech to see, had he been so inclined, but as a descendant of Cain, it seems rather unlikely he had much to do with that side of the family. In fairness, though, it wouldn’t have mattered. That side of the family suffered the same critical defect, if not so audaciously. By the time we reach the record of Noah, the situation is described thusly: “The LORD saw that the wickedness of man was great on the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually” (Ge 6:5). Noah was, for all intents and purposes, the only exception left standing, and it has to be said that his exception, in spite of the devotion shown in building the ark amidst so many long years of ridicule, was only partial. All mankind, given time with God more distant as it seemed, had thrown off any idea of being governed by Him. He was not given much thought at all, really. Who cared what He expected of us? We are on our own now, and we shall set the rules to our liking.
Even if we follow the line of promise as it is known, the line of descendants leading us from Adam to Christ, the story is really no better. Noah, after all, is in that line, as he must be. Yet, with the flood subsiding, it was not but a short time before he had fallen into sin. Noah planted a vineyard, and became drunk (Ge 9:21). That seems a rather small thing, yet it led to the curse upon Canaan, which would in turn cause so much grief to God’s people and to the world. We enter into the records of the patriarchs, of Abraham and his line, and still the record is pretty awful, isn’t it? Abraham chooses to practice deceit not once, but twice, effectively selling his wife to preserve his skin. There’s a bit of godliness for you. Jacob connives his way into the line of promise, which one would think might prove disqualifying, but somehow it suited God’s plans that it be so, and Esau became yet another perpetual thorn in the life of God’s people. Abraham tries to rush God’s promise, taking a spare wife in hopes of maybe producing the child that Sarah seemingly could not, and we have the beginnings of the Arab/Israeli conflict. And we wonder that this proves difficult to resolve?
We see the infighting and willfulness of the sons of Jacob, those who would become known as the heads of the twelve tribes of Israel, a fallen bunch if ever there was one. They sell their own brother into slavery, coming only that much short of killing him outright and why? Because daddy had shown a certain favoritism toward him, and it had the impact of making Joseph a bit less that wise in his interactions with the family. He knew he was blessed, and he does stand out as exceptional in his commitment to God’s ways, yet his troubles came of boasting. He may not have thought of it as such, but such it was. “I’m going to rule over all of you some day.” Honestly, how else was he thinking they’d take that? Oh, that’s wonderful, dear boy. Can’t wait. No. This was a patriarchal society, and the patriarch was present. So, too, was the expected heir, the first-born, not to mention several more who would have claim to the inheritance before Joseph. And we needn’t mention to matter of maternity with all its impact on family interactions as sons of four mothers vied for position.
All of this, observe, transpires before we arrive at Moses and the giving of the Law. Yet, certainly in the case of Abraham and his sons, God was known. God had called Abraham rather spectacularly, and it has to be said that Abraham followed His instruction rather poorly. But it wasn’t about Abraham. It was about God. His purpose was unfolding, and Abraham, in spite of his many faults, was the instrument chosen to further that purpose. He may not have been all that adept at obedience, but he had this going for him: “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness” (Ro 4:3). Never was so beautiful a declaration heard. Whatever it may say about works, what it most clearly indicates is that what he could not maintain through his obedience to the as yet unwritten law of God, he found credited to him for one simple reason: He believed God. He did not believe perfectly, else we would not read of Ishmael’s birth. But he believed sufficiently to obey God when God sent him off to sacrifice on Mount Moriah without benefit of having anything other than his son Isaac on hand to offer.
This is the fundamental evidence of belief to which we are directed, and as James observes, it was a work of faith, of obedience, to make that journey, to willingly lay his own son on the altar with no clear path to seeing his son’s life preserved. But, understand: The faith was not shown in laying Isaac there. The faith was shown in knowing God, that God did not treat human life so lightly. When he said, “God will provide for Himself the lamb for the burnt offering, my son” (Ge 22:8), he meant exactly that. He believed exactly that. He didn’t see how, or even how it could come about. It didn’t matter. Even as he lifted the knife to slay his son, he knew this: God will provide the lamb. This scene will not end as appearances would lead one to expect.
Since we are on the topic of sin, and sin particularly as it shows in rebellion to God’s governance, let us understand that it would have been sin most egregious for Abraham to refuse this journey, to disregard God’s instruction, explicit, first hand instruction to take his son and do this thing. He did so. Fully aware that their provisions did not include the animal for offering, he did this. Fully aware of what lay at the end of the road he did this. But, understand this: It would have been a sin more grievous yet had he actually plunged home the knife. For there was a less explicitly declared law of God in effect. The life of man is sacred in its own right in that he is made in the image of God. Life is sacred, and even from the outset, and right on down through the generations, this had been known. There is that which is suited for sacrifice to God, and there is that which is not. Blood is required, yes, but not the blood of man. God had long since made arrangements for this sacrificial system to provide a means of restoration for His broken creatures. But that system did not include human sacrifice, and indeed in due time would undertake to destroy from the earth those who did pursue human sacrifice to their idols. I can think of few sins that are a greater offense to God than this, apart from rejection of Christ.
[11/22/19]
With that understanding, I think we can begin to see that the Law of God is, at root, a definition of God’s character, or at very least, a reflection thereof. To know God is to know His law. To love God is to love His law. To love His law is to obey it, for in obeying it, we know we are drawn nearer to that which is godly, that which is pleasing to God. This holds both before and after the handing down of those tablets to Moses. Let me offer what may be a somewhat novel perspective, and suspect for being so. What happened on Sinai was not the sudden appearance of the law which had previously been unknown and unknowable, but rather finds its significance in the covenantal relationship delineated in that written law. If this is the case, then the law certainly did apply prior to Sinai, in spite of its unwritten nature. It had to, didn’t it? For if sin is a violation of God’s Law, and sin was being punished prior to Sinai, as evidenced by the death sentence imposed on one and all, there necessarily had to be a law which was violated, a basis for sin.
That law stood because God governed. There was and is One to whom all mankind must answer. To take up the constant refrain, every knee will bow, and every tongue will confess. For many, it will be due to having been left no choice. For some, it will be done with heartfelt joy and readiness. But all will bow, for the King is undeniably the King. Where there is a king, there is the king’s law, and there is the king’s rightful rule. The two are so intrinsically intertwined as to be inseparable, and in this inseparable state, they are ever and always present in Creation.
I return to my thought. Sin is both a violation of law and a rejection of governance. If it is the first, it is by definition the second, for the law is the expression of governance. So, to violate the law is to reject the law is to reject the lawgiver. As it happens, this morning’s reading from Table Talk brings me to James 4:12a: “There is only one Lawgiver and Judge, the One who is able to save and destroy.” This is the reality of Creation. This is the fundamental dividing line. Does one love and obey the Lawgiver, heeding His Law and accepting His Lordship, or does one hate and reject the Lawgiver, violating His Law with no regard for His Lordship?
I have to observe that the obverse of my connective thought applies equally. To reject the lawgiver is to violate the law. To rebel against the governing authority of God is already to have violated His Law. It cannot be otherwise. Having thrown off His rule and become, so we think, a law unto ourselves, we have already sought to put ourselves in the place of God. It is the original sinful dream of the devil, which it seems to me is the same, simple lie he has used through all ages to tempt man and angel alike. Throw off His restriction and, “you will be like God” (Ge 3:5b). The details of that god-likeness are secondary. The root lie remains the same. You will be in charge. You will have your say. There is that bit left unsaid, because had it been said, the lie would give way. If you have your say, you see, there is the necessary corollary that God can just go packing. Who’s on the throne? It’s the never-ending question of the ages. It is the question which unbelievers invariably answer with, ‘me’. It is the question that we who believe too often discover we have been answering in the exact same fashion, and must repent and return and remind ourselves that no, it is not me. Whatever it was I was on it wasn’t the throne. God remains enthroned, and that isn’t going to change because I happen to want my way, or even because I think I’ve gotten it. That is simple rebellion, and rebellion against God is sin.
Now, before I move on, it would behoove me to do a brief survey of those things which God, in the revealed Word of His will, has particularly delineated as sinful. This is hardly a rigorous undertaking else I should have to provide a commentary on the whole Bible in the effort. But there are a few occasions where Scripture speaks directly of that which ‘is sin’. We can start here. “Haughty eyes and a proud heart, the lamp of the wicked, is sin” (Pr 21:4). The two ideas are parallel one to the other. The root issue is pride. The haughty eyes, I think, reflect one who thinks himself in charge, and therefore aloof; untouchable. The proud heart is so utterly convinced of its own inherent rightness as to disregard all suggestion of change. Pride, I must say, is far more at the root of sin than money. Money is just a means for pride, and therefore pride tends to suffer an outsized love of money. Carefully observe that Paul’s words do not reject money, nor even wealth, out of hand. “For the love of money is the root of all sorts of evil” (1Ti 6:10). Money in and of itself is morally neutral. The pursuit of profitable enterprise in and of itself is morally neutral, contrary to the tendency towards bashing corporations in the present day.
The accumulation of wealth is, in fact, morally neutral, and can find itself commended in Scripture, so long as it is kept in right perspective. If it leads to the mistreatment of others, no. But, then, poverty, if it leads to the mistreatment of others, is just as great a sin. It wasn’t wealth or even the pursuit of wealth that led to the mistreatment. It is the sinful nature of the one doing the mistreating. The love of money that Paul denounces is not due to the money. It is due to the nature exposed in that lust for money, for that lustful pursuit of more for the sake of more leads to trouble. And “some by longing for it have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.” What happened? Pride took hold. Haughty eyes presumed a higher status than in fact money can justify.
How about this for a definition of sin? “The devising of folly is sin” (Pr 24:9a). The zimmah `ivveleth. That first is an interesting term, and one, as the Word Study Dictionary points out, chiefly associated with bad intentions. It is a term of planning or counseling The KJV was satisfied with translating this phrase as ‘the thought of foolishness’, but I think that presents a false picture. If the merely foolish thought, a bit of silliness, is sin, then I for one am in deep trouble. But the implications here are far worse. It speaks again to lustful intent, rather like that undue love of money that Paul warns against. We’re looking at evil plots and the satisfying of untoward desires. Thus, we find the term applied to sexual sins, to incest, adultery, and rape. None too surprisingly, it also finds connection with idolatry, a sort of spiritual sexual sin, and as practiced down through the ages, often a rather explicit physical sexual sin as well.
What of the other half of the phrase? It is foolishness or folly, which Merriam-Webster defines as a lack of good sense, prudence, and foresight. It is rash and indiscrete. To take foolishness, it is exhibiting a lack of good sense. So, what have we got as the definition of sin here? We might suggest it is the lustful pursuit of rash and indiscrete actions. It is the purposeful pursuit of the unwise, unrighteous action. It is the lust of the heart given long consideration and then given rein. We might call it the contemplated evil. It needs bearing in mind that this word zimmah implies more than just thinking about doing, but encompasses as well doing what was thought. It’s not merely thinking about said foolishness, but enacting said foolishness. Mind you, in keeping with the Sermon on the Mount, sin was already there in the thinking, and the guilt of sin was already incurred.
[11/23/19]
There are a few things we can consider from the New Testament in regard to defining sin. Not surprisingly, they only make the charge of sin harder to avoid. In fairness, it was always impossible, but it seems the Holy Spirit, through the authors of the New Testament, was determined to make sure we recognized that fact. So, we come to this: “Whatever is not from faith is sin” (Ro 14:23b). The statement is made in regard to questions as to what is and is not permissible for a believer to eat, and those questions must be understood in their cultural context. Here was a culture seeped in idolatries. Everywhere you looked there were temples to other gods, and every one of those gods had its sacrifices. Much of what was available to eat in the market had at least as strong likelihood of having come from these temples, being sold as a means of fattening the coffers a bit. Some, knowing this to be the case, could not stomach the thought of eating such goods, thinking the very act an affront to Christ. Others, seeing in Christ the only God, and that these other gods were no gods at all, thought nothing of eating whatever could be procured at market.
So, how does faith enter into this? Isn’t this merely a matter of opinion? And aren’t all opinions equally valid? Well, as to the last, I suppose we can say that all opinions are equally valid insomuch as all opinions are in fact opinions. But it is a false equality, for that opinion which is contrary to truth is not equally valid with the opinion that reflects truth, and the truth quotient is, in reality, the measure of validity. If I am of the opinion that two plus two equals four, and you are of the opinion that two plus two equals five, agreeing to disagree would be rather a great disservice to one of us. We may both have our opinions, and we might, if we don’t care about being correct in our opinions, be perfectly entitled to our opinions. This much is true. You are within your rights to insist on being wrong. But your opinions don’t alter the truth, and the truth really ought to alter your opinions if the two are in conflict.
How does this play out in matters of doctrine, and particularly where those matters touch on the sinfulness or righteousness of a specific action? Can we simply agree to disagree? On many matters, in fact we can. We can have great disagreement over matters like the order of events in salvation and still account one another brothers. We can disagree as to the particulars of baptism or communion or what have you, at least within some range of disagreement, and still know ourselves children and servants of the same God. That’s kind of where we are on this food topic. We see it more developed in 1 Corinthians, but the point is the same. No, this is not a sin per se, but if you act in contradistinction from what your conscience is telling you, that voice of the law written on your heart, then by your choice you sin.
Let’s pursue that a step further. The sin is not in eating. Neither is it in abstaining. The matter of food is, at base, morally neutral. But, see what Paul is saying. Your conscience, right or wrong, is telling you that this is something you ought not to do. Your conscience is, for the believer at least, the voice of the law of God which has been written on your heart, as I just said. To act against conscience, then, is to willfully disregard and disobey that which we understand to be God’s law. If you are utterly convinced that you simply must avoid partaking of anything that might possibly have come from some idol’s temple, then just because another disagrees is no permit for you to partake. Until and unless your conscience becomes convinced that it actually is okay, then to proceed would be a sin, no matter how many brothers or sisters may be telling you it’s fine.
In part at least we can apply the same standard in reverse. If your conscience is clear as regards utilizing such things, it would be a sin to refrain simply because one or more of your fellow believers has determined to have nothing to do with such foods. Now, there is a clear limit, one set by the Spirit through Paul in his discussion with the Corinthians. When you are together, have regard one for another. If you know your action would present a temptation to your brother to sin against conscience, then have more care for his soul than for your appetites. Refrain for the sake of conscience, lest you be instrumental in tempting your brother into sin. For, “whatever is not from faith is sin.” That, I must note, does not require us to leave our brother in ignorance, bound up by rules that need not apply. What it does is require is to lovingly, patiently help that brother to grow in grace and knowledge until his own conscience is convinced, not by our insistent actions, but by a clearer understanding of his God. This in turn requires that we recognize our own need for growth, and the distinct possibility that on these less settled matters, that which we hold certain today we may in fact discover is wrong on some future tomorrow. It is well to have the conviction of your beliefs. It is far superior, however, to allow those beliefs to adapt to greater understanding, rather than holding fast in the face of contradictory truth.
So, then, “whatever is not from faith is sin,” for the simple reason that conscience, our first line of defense, if you will, when it comes to knowing God’s opinion on the matter, is violated if we act where we are not fully convinced the act is okay. Faith, in this case as in most every case, is not a matter of blind acceptance. Faith is conviction built upon a firm foundation of evidence. That saving faith by which we first believed, being a gift of the Holy Spirit, might almost count as an exception, except I don’t suppose anybody ever really came to faith unconvinced. I cannot imagine a true conversion in which the convert accepted Christ but did not actually believe on Christ. His knowledge was almost certainly incomplete. His pile of evidence was as yet rather small, but it was not absent. He was not completely in the dark about what he was claiming to believe and accept. Something had convinced him of the truth of this Jesus, even if he’s not entirely clear on the full scope of that truth and all its implications. There’s a lifetime and more to explore the full extent of that matter. But faith has never been blind, and faith has never, in fact, acted in defiance of reality. It has, perhaps, acted with a clearer view of reality than he unbelieving society round about. It may have acted with a recognition of God’s future promise that enabled an apparent disregard for present circumstance, but that present circumstance was not denied. It was merely set in context.
To offer an example of the distinction I have in mind, consider one sick with some malady. Faith does not demonstrate in boldly proclaiming that you are not in fact sick with said malady. Faith does not demonstrate in the stubborn insistence that God must heal this malady you say you don’t have by direct and miraculous intervention without recourse to doctors or any other human instrument, or anything at all of the physical world, for that matter. Faith first recognizes that God is in charge of Himself, and not us. He may or may not find healing this particular malady to be in your best interest at present. He may or may not opt to act miraculously, as you measure the miraculous. Having observed a brother recently undergo knee replacement on Friday and be standing, albeit on crutches, at church on Sunday, I for one can count that rather miraculous even if medical professionals were involved. God’s works are no less wondrous for allowing man a hand in the effort. If anything, I might suggest it is more wondrous yet that He is able to work in and through the likes of us, who are busy sinning day by day.
But, “whatever is not from faith is sin.” Whatever is done in direct violation of conscience, and I must stress, that conscience assumed to be informed by the love of God, however imperfectly, is sin. It is willful disobedience against one’s best understanding of what God requires, and at that point, right or wrong though one’s views may be, to act against them is clearly wrong. It demonstrates the sinful core whether or not it advocates an act that is in itself actually sinful.
I have to say that, were it sufficient to merely convince ourselves it’s okay and then to proceed, we would be hard pressed to ever find something we could call sin. I can only suppose that even the mass murderer, in the moments of his deed, has managed to delude himself into thinking it’s okay. Perhaps not. Perhaps even in the midst of the act the conscience is struggling to break through, wrestling with the control centers and losing, but I don’t really think that’s likely. Assuming survival of the act, remorse might, perhaps settle in moments later. Conscience might reassert an accurate assessment. Perhaps it is this which explains why these actions always seem to end with suicide. But, the mind of the sinner, I think, has conned itself into thinking it’s okay before proceeding. This is not acting from faith, however. It is a con not a convincing. Somewhere below that delusional level, the conscience remains possessed of a clearer picture of the situation. The will knows it acts in violation of belief. But the will wants what the will wants, and belief lies bleeding in the alley.
[11/24/19]
If acting when conscience says no is sin, then also to refuse to act when the conscience says we should is likewise a sin. This is something James brings out. “To one who knows the right thing to do and does not do it, to him it is sin” (Jas 4:17). This actually comes at the end of a rejection of boasting, of pride. This boasting is to be found even in the confident assertion of future events, except there be the acknowledge caveat, “if the Lord wills.” Only He has cause for confidence as to future events, for that which befalls befalls by His will. For man to make so firm a claim as to future events without acknowledging the Lord’s control is in its way another claim to self-rule.
It's interesting, then, that James sets this definition of sin at the end of such a discussion. If you know the thing to do and don’t do it, it’s a sin. We could add, and now you know, for I have told you. That being the case, it might be acceptable to extend this thought from the general to the slightly more specific. What is it, after all that you know? You know that you should acknowledge God and His rule over all things in all that you plan and say. How often would you say you succeed in this? I know I fail at it spectacularly. I wonder what my bosses would think if their weekly status and planning updates from me began to end with the annotation D.V. which Pastor Ed taught about some years back. Deo Volente, Lord willing, here are the things I hope to accomplish next week.
But the same applies on every scale. What shall I do after church today? I may or may not have any particular plans, but in some sense, it doesn’t particularly matter what my plans are. What has God got planned? That’s what will be done, if I am wise. For all that, even arrival at church this morning has a Deo volente component to it, although I can’t imagine He would be inclined to advise missing it except in pursuit of something more on His behalf. The shower, too, or the coffee that precedes it, must in the end depend upon His will, but it’s not as though I think of it in those terms. I tend to save it, if I remember even then, for longer term activities. I have thoughts, for example, of a somewhat extravagant vacation this year. Lord willing, it may happen. It probably won’t happen if I don’t actually take the effort to arrange it, but whatever my effort, it is best done with a firm eye to the Lord’s will. If He is saying no, and I pursue in spite of it, it is a sin. If He is saying go and prepare, and I instead find excuses to delay, this is also a sin. There is one course left which is not a sin, isn’t there? Deo volente. To do His will, neither delaying nor pursuing to excess and thereby overrunning, is righteousness. Everything else is sin.
That, I think, takes us nicely to the last of the defining passages. “All unrighteousness is sin” (1Jn 5:17). It seems almost a tautology, doesn’t it? It’s too obvious a statement. Now, John is making a bit of a distinction between sins in this case. His point, if we continue the verse, is that while this is o, there is a sin not leading to death. That, of course, counters the preceding point that there is a sin which is unto death, which is to say unforgiveable. After all, the wages of sin is death (Ro 6:23), and that applies to the least significant of sins every bit as much as the most significant. To borrow Jesus’ message from the Sermon on the Mount, the thought is as sinful as the deed, and draws the same punishment. Bearing that in mind, John’s point is that indeed, all unrighteousness is sin, yet there is that sin which is unforgiveable, beyond capacity for repentance. It is unto death, and death most eternally permanent. Other sins produce in us the fruit of death, yes, but in Christ we may find hope of forgiveness and restoration to life. Where repentance remains possible, pray for your lost loved ones; pray for the backslidden brother, and even that one cast out of the church for his unrepented sins. Pray that repentance may come and with it, forgiveness. Pray that once more life may triumph over death. Indeed, count such prayer as commanded and required of you, in which case, to fail in doing so is a sin in its own right. Only where the unforgiveable (as God measures it, not as you measure it) is in view does such prayer become optional. Whether it becomes a command to cease from praying for such a one is a bit of a question, for clearly in such case God has already decided the case, and what are you doing clamoring for an unjust ruling from Him? But, the plea for mercy need not demand injustice. It needs only adoption, doesn’t it? Even so, if God has determined that this one has gone too far, then far be it from us to bemoan His decision. Righteousness is upheld, and God’s glory magnified. There is no place for grumbling here.
