The Surprising Path to Holiness |
| Posted by Mark (mark) on Oct 14 2008 |
There’s a basic equation at work in all of us. I’ve not met anyone who has escaped it; which is unsurprising because it is often the foundation of how we see the world, and more importantly, how we see ourselves in relation to the world; so while it may cause suffering for us from time to time, it also brings elation. We wouldn’t know how to go about life without it and thus I don’t think I’ve met anyone who was really trying to escape it. It’s the process of judging good and evil.
Often at the core of our prolific need to judge good and evil, is our desire to be holy, or whole. We know on some level that we are not whole, and intuitively believe our judgment of good and evil is the path to this wholeness. I’ve witnessed this process in my own life for years now, and recently I arrived at an awkward supposition that may sound a bit weird: I’m beginning to wonder if religious minded folks don’t use the judgment of good and evil in the same way an addict uses drugs.
Let me explain. All of us have a baseline judgment of what is generally evil and generally good. With regard to religious people, this baseline has been shaped by an intertwining of our spiritual culture, conscience and experiences. We layer this baseline judgment with more and more specificity as we are confronted with new situations and circumstances each day. Thus, a complex system of interwoven judgments emerges and grows with ferocious rapidity. In fact, it can become so complex, that contradictions spring up without anyone inside the culture taking much notice.
Over time this process of judging good and evil begins to dictate our lives. When an action has been judged to be good, we strive to fulfill it, and when we do, our pride begins to feed off of the good things we’re doing (especially when sacrifice was involved). The flip side of the coin is avoiding the actions we’ve deemed bad. The more we avoid, the more our pride gorges itself in our righteousness. And when we do fall from our pedestal and sin (do that which we’ve judged as evil), we make penance by punishing ourselves with our guilt and shame. In a twisted sense, we can even begin to take pride in how remorseful we are.
When we are living this way, it is very much like an addict. We get high on the affirmation and pride of having done right in our eyes. We come back for more and more and the feeling of having done right titillates us; but it cannot heal us and so we come crashing down to earth once more, only to look for our next religious high. The pride we are feeding on is ultimately a counterfeit answer to our true desires.
This pattern also resembles drug addiction in that our quest for the high is often a manifestation of our insecurity, pain, and self-hatred. That may sound harsh to some, and some may not believe there is self-hatred in them. But it is quite natural for each of us; after all, when we begin judging good and evil, and then see the darkness in ourselves, what other conclusion is to be arrived at? Thus our intuitive knowledge of not being whole, and our seemingly insatiable quest to be holy, blossoms.
If this process seems familiar to you, it should. The ethics and rules drawn from our judgment of good and evil function in the same way the Ten Commandments (and other requirements) did in the Old Testament. Our penance of shame and guilt is another form of the sacrifices and offerings presented for appeasement. So, even though we ply our lives with New Testament terms such as grace and love, it doesn’t mean we’re living in New Testament ways, anymore than standing in a garage chanting ‘vroom, vroom,’ makes you a Buick.
Now, considering the unflattering picture I’ve painted of this process, I’m sure most would agree that this is not what Jesus meant to inaugurate at the cross. The reason for the cross in the first place, was because the law could never heal us and open the way for true wholeness found in communion. But most of us live and preach exactly what I’ve portrayed; we just view it with strongly euphemistic glasses. If you doubt this, examine the growing list of rules and dogmas your denomination lives by. Then examine your own motives in the righteous things you do.
Truth be known, judging good and evil puts us in a very simple situation: damned if you do, damned if you don’t. If you perform well according to your ethic, your pride turns you into a pharisees who can’t see how blind and deaf he really is. If you perform badly, well, we all know the suffering of guilt and shame. This simply is not, and can never be, the path to holiness we are all gravely striving for.
So what is the path then? What did the cross do in our lives? I have come to believe it is quite simple, yet so very unnatural to us. I believe the path is this: rest and let His love overtake you. I know it sounds strange and doesn’t seem to make sense. But, if we have learned anything to this point it should be this: the harder you strive to manufacture righteousness, the more it slips from your heart. Why? Because He is love, and righteousness is the outworking of love. It is not something we can attain in and of ourselves. He is our righteousness. When we judge good and evil we are looking for righteousness in our strength, rather than in Him.
If you think about it, Jesus’ whole purpose (and God’s all along) was communion. Communion between Him and us. Communion between Him and the Father. Communion between us and the Father. He desired to make a home in us, and for us to make a home in Him. Therefore, if we are to mature into wholeness, we must mature into communion. And I cannot stress enough that communion is not the result of righteousness, instead righteousness is the result of communion.
People look everywhere for God except in rest, but I think rest is the gateway to communion. It can be confusing sometimes because I think the more you know God and His love for you, the more at rest you are in all circumstances. I sometimes wonder which came first, the chicken or the egg; in other words, do I find rest in God, or do I find God in rest. I think the answer is yes. God brings rest, and I think rest helps me focus on God. But I fear I’ve digressed, so here is my point: how can you know God if your focus is always chasing after shadows of righteousness? Have you ever caught a shadow? Would you ever have gotten to know your spouse if you never stopped to? It’s not that He isn’t here with us in everything—including our striving; and the issue isn’t Him making a home in us, for He is with us. Instead, the issue is us making a home in Him. When we are striving to create righteousness to appease our judgment of good and evil, we have left our home (communion) behind.
It really is a shocking revelation when you stop and ponder it. We can’t produce righteousness in our strength. We can’t. Doesn’t work. Yet the opposite of all our striving — rest, is absolutely foreign to us because our judgments of good and evil demand to be appeased. The shame manufactured by our judgment demands that we cleanse our heart before entering God’s presence. It drives us forward and never lets us rest. This is the foundation of religion. Nothing is ever quite good enough. You can never be whole this way.
Recently I have been wrestling with some of the choices I’ve made as an adult. Did I hear God clearly? Is this really where He wants me to be? My fear and insecurity were causing me no little grief about it. But then the gospel penetrated my heart in a new way, or perhaps, just deeper than before; and I realized that yes, I am weak. I can’t tell you the peace that flooded my heart through this seemingly insignificant revelation. For this thought crossed my heart:
“In spite of my weakness, through my intention and desire to walk with God, He has taken my faith and made me righteous; just as Abraham believed and was made righteous. Where my faith is in action, those actions are righteous not by my being perfect or getting it right all the time, but by His spirit. So any fear that crowds me around choices I have or haven’t made is baseless, for in Christ striving is nullified and all things are redeemable. It’s all heart.”
Do I choose to walk with God? Yes. Do I love Him? Yes. Does He love me? Yes. What else is there? And in that revelation, I rest and walk with Him confident in His righteousness at work in me. You’ll never be more whole, or holy, then in the place of rest when you deeply know He loves you; because when you know He loves you, you know that His love is enough. Feeding the poor and clothing the naked are wonderful, but they won’t make you whole, knowing Him will. So let’s try to stop putting the cart before the horse. Let’s try to stop chasing after righteousness, and start learning to rest in Him. I’m convinced it’s the only way to be Holy. And it doesn’t require perfection on my part; it just lets me rest in His.
Last changed: Oct 14 2008 at 4:05 PM
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