The Most Difficult Word

Sin. It’s an unpleasant word in our modern culture, so much so that it has been successfully edited out of casual conversation. This is a feel-good society, in which we are expected to seek enjoyment all the time; to believe in ourselves above all else; to gratify our desires, whatever they may be.

To say “I have sinned” is to feel bad about myself; and we really, really don’t like to feel bad about ourselves in this culture. Think about it: we are a society in which parents give out treat bags to all the children at birthday parties so the guests don’t feel bad that only one child gets presents. We want to feel good all the time, no matter what.

Pretending that I’ve got it all together, that I’m right with the world and the world is right with me, does make me feel good… for a little while. Gratifying my own desires for consumption and sensation makes me feel good… for a little while. But in my heart, I know that there’s more; that there really is a standard and I don’t live up to it. The more I affirm to myself that I am doing just fine by myself, the more I am consciously trying to believe a lie. That can’t be good for me.

In fact, it’s a poison. Why do you think that our culture pushes consumption and experience so heavily? Because it’s a way of papering over the emptiness of the feel-good ethos. As soon as one experience palls, we move on to another, and another, hoping that this time the good feeling will last. Except that it never does, and the quest for it is ultimately corrosive.

I think that a lot of modern evangelism recognizes, perhaps unconsciously, the powerful grip that this feel-good culture has on us. Look at the way that the gospel is sometimes presented: “You are a sinner… but it’s OK, because Jesus is right here to forgive you!” It’s a package deal, given all at once so you have no time to feel bad. In fact, you don’t even need to reflect on your sins or your sinful nature; just toss it aside and move directly into feeling good about yourself because Jesus loves you. It’s the perfect feel-good gospel: no pain, only gain.

Except that it marginalizes the cross. And it actually sidesteps thinking about who God is.

So let’s ask… What is sin, really?

The word “sin” actually means “missing the mark.”

When I was an atheist, I considered myself to be a pretty good person. I didn’t lie (much), cheat, or steal; I tried to help other people. I did the best I could, and I felt that I had pretty high ethical standards (especially compared to other people) and I generally lived up to them. I told myself that I was doing the best I could, and that was enough. But when I faced up to the reality of God, my ideas of “doing the best I can” and “doing the right thing” were suddenly like a candle compared to the sun.

I am missing the mark in every respect, and there is nothing I can do, no effort of my own, that can get me to that mark. As brightly as it may burn, my candle remains a candle, and it is swallowed up by the radiance of the sun. That realization was profoundly frightening for me. I could see that it changed everything: how I conceived of myself, how I fit into the world, how I oriented my life and work.

To recognize God was to recognize how far I am from Him. So it was completely natural, when I chose to accept Christ, to acknowledge that I am a sinner. Not that “natural” meant easy. I found it a lot easier to face up to the concept of “sin” in the abstract than to think about how it applies to me personally. In fact, it wasn’t until I’d been a Christian for half a year that I really became convicted of sin on a personal level.

In that respect, I’m glad that I have joined a church in the Anglo-Catholic tradition, which includes the sacrament of confession (it’s not as emphasized as in the Roman Catholic tradition, but much more so than in the Protestant tradition). Confession, in fact, is called the “Sacrament of Reconciliation”: we are urged to examine our conscience, to discover those ways in which we have sinned against God, to to repent of them, be forgiven and reconciled to God, and then to work to amend our lives, with God’s help.

I’d lived a pretty upright life, by most people’s standards… but it was still just a candle held up against the sun. When it came to the examination of conscience before my first confession, I swiftly recognized that there really was a lot for me to work through, and let me tell you, it was painful to do it. But the thing is, God knows perfectly well what I’ve done and not done. The question was, could I be honest with Him and lay my heart out before Him willingly?

When it came time to actually walk into the chapel, kneel, and actually say the words, I was horribly nervous. (I admit, it didn’t help that I mainly had my impression of the confessional from melodramatic movies.) I expected it to be painful and depressing. But in reality it was a tremendously moving experience, in which for the first time I truly felt that God did and does forgive me. Yes, it was difficult. Yes, I was crying by the time I was done. But it was an experience of liberation. It was the moment that I really “got it”: God’s grace is real. His forgiveness is real.

I got well into adulthood without any concept of sin at all, before becoming a Christian and being convicted of my own sinful nature. In our culture’s way of thinking, this was a bad move, trading a carefree, guilt-free existence for negativity and blame. That’s how our culture would frame it, because that makes it easy for us to avoid the hard questions and to keep feeling good about ourselves, no matter what.

So I’ve been on both sides of this cultural divide: the feel-good denial of sin, and the Christian acceptance of the reality of sin. And from this side, I can see how shallow and ultimately self-hating the feel-good approach is, and how healing and life-affirming the Christian understanding of the self is.

Yes, I am a sinner. I don’t feel “good,” I feel whole. Thanks be to God.

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