“I don’t need forgiving.”

So yesterday I wrote about those Christians who can’t stop praying the “forgive me” prayer—and if that’s because they’re anxious about their sins, they need to chill out; God’s forgiven them. Long long ago. He’s got you covered.

Then there are those people, often not Christian… but some of ’em are absolutely sure they’re totally Christian. And these folks think it’s ridiculous to worry whatsoever about their own forgiveness. Because they can’t imagine anything they’ve done which needs forgiving. Not from God; not from anyone. In some cases they’re kinda offended we’d even suggest they need forgiving.

I was talking with a Christian pastor about this phenomenon some years ago, and he just shrugged and said, “Typical human depravity.”

But no it’s not typical. It’s an extreme human behavior. What we have here is a narcissist. Here I refer you to what Psychology Today has to say about ’em:

How do I spot a narcissist?

Narcissism is characterized by a grandiose sense of self-importance, a lack of empathy for others, a need for excessive admiration, and the belief that one is unique and deserving of special treatment. If you encounter someone who consistently exhibits these behaviors, you may be dealing with a highly narcissistic individual.

What’s the difference between narcissism and pathological narcissism?

Pathological narcissism, or narcissistic personality disorder, is rare: It affects an estimated 1 percent of the population, a prevalence that hasn’t changed since clinicians started measuring it. The disorder is suspected when narcissistic traits impair a person’s daily functioning. That dysfunction typically causes friction in relationships due to the pathological narcissist’s lack of empathy. It may also manifest as antagonism, fueled by grandiosity and attention-seeking. In seeing themselves as superior, the pathological narcissist naturally views everyone else as inferior and may be intolerant of disagreement or questioning. “Narcissism.”

It’s an extreme behavior.

I know plenty of pagans. Nearly all of them are ashamed of themselves when they’ve done wrong. They may not define right and wrong the same way as Christians, but they do understand some things are right, some are wrong, and they’ve not always lived up to their own standard. It’s why we can tell them God forgives them, and why they accept it as good news, and hopefully turn to Jesus. That’s the more common human response, “depraved” or not.

When we get someone who defines right and wrong as “Everything I do is right,” we got a narcissist. Pagan or Christian, it’s narcissism. And yes, there are Christian narcissists: They grew up Christian, or even became Christian later in life, and have incorporated Christianity into their narcissism: “Everything I do is right, because Jesus.” It’s just as warped though.

Narcissism is a spectrum, ranging from not at all (i.e. people who are properly humble, love their neighbor as themselves, don’t demand praise, don’t consider themselves better than anyone else, exhibits empathy and compassion—you know, people who act like Jesus) to so self-centered they’ll destroy everyone around them.

At its core, all sin is based on self-centeredness and selfishness. Not all selfishness is sin, but the more selfish you are, the more likely you’re gonna sin—and narcissists are all about self-centeredness, so they sin. But more than that: They don’t think their behavior even is sin. They define right and wrong as, “I’m right; you’re wrong.” And since they’re right—since they’re always right—how dare we say they sinned? They’re not the sinners; we are.

If you’re starting to realize there are an awful lot of narcissists in your life… well yeah, there are. They’re not necessarily pathological—although some of their lives are certainly a wreck because of their selfishness, so I’m pretty sure a trained psychologist might actually call ’em pathological. But most of us get a little bit prideful from time to time, and start to dip into the idea that maybe we really are better than everyone else; maybe the usual rules don’t apply to us. Hopefully we snap out of this mindset before it goes anywhere. Some people clearly haven’t.

So when people’s response to “God has forgiven you” is “I don’t need forgiving,” that’s what we’re dealing with: A narcissist.

Everybody needs forgiving.

Other than Jesus, He 4.15 everybody has sinned. Ro 3.23 So everybody needs God to forgive ’em. I’m not saying everybody’s committed dire sins, like rape and murder and trying to storm the Capitol; but everyone’s lied, everyone’s cheated, and everyone’s coveted what they shouldn’t.

And everyone, including Jesus, has trespassed. No, trespasses aren’t sins; they’re when we go too far, and you know Jesus regularly goes farther than people want. Trespasses also need to be forgiven, and God’s trespasses especially: We know he’s only doing it for our good. He doesn’t want to hurt us, but sometimes he’s gotta deal with us in ways which are gonna hurt, and we must never hold those hurts against him. It’s gotta be done, and who better to do it?

But while God is sorry he has to take extreme measures, 1Ch 21.15 NASB a narcissist feels they needn’t be sorry for anything. “I had to be rough on you, but you needed it. Really you deserved it.” They’ll justify themselves immediately. A lot of people become narcissistic as a defense mechanism; they don’t want to feel bad about themselves, ever, which is why they’ve redefined right and wrong till they’re always right. There’s nothing to forgive when you’re never wrong, and even when you trespass it’s for a good reason, needs no apology, and they don’t need to feel bad about it. Don’t need to feel bad about anything.

Learning to not suppress your conscience is how a lot of psychologists choose to treat pathological narcissism. That takes time and effort, and narcissists don’t care to make any of that effort when they don’t acknowledge their behavior is destructive. (You can already see—getting ’em to realize they’re the problem is gonna be extremely hard with a narcissist!) So yeah, they’re tough nuts to crack.

That’s why it’s not really for us to crack ’em. It’s gonna take a trained psychologist, or the Holy Spirit. It’s not gonna take some overeager Christian apologist who sputters, “But you do need to be forgiven; all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God!” Bible quotes don’t work on narcissists. They think they know better than the authors of the bible!

Yep, someone’s gotta burrow into their consciences and shock ’em back into a sinus rhythm. And really, raising the long-dead takes divine intervention. All we can do is pray for them. So do lots of that.

God has forgiven you.

Frequently I meet Christians who can’t stop praying the “forgive me” prayer.

• Sometimes because it’s already part of their rote prayers. “Forgive us our debts” (or “trespasses”) is already part of the Lord’s Prayer, y’know. And part of many other memorized prayers.
• Sometimes because they sin a lot. All Christians sin, but these folks figure they sin way more than average—and let’s be honest; maybe they do! So they have a lot to apologize to God about.
• Sometimes because they’re under the misbegotten belief that once you become Christian, you spontaneously stop sinning. Well, they’ve not stopped sinning… so they’re kinda worried about their salvation. Did the sinner’s prayer take?—’cause sometimes it doesn’t.
• And sometimes because they’re in one of those dark Christian churches which tell them every time they sin, it’s like they personally have crucified Jesus all over again. Which, if you’re the literal-minded type, is a traumatizing thing to believe. So of course these folks are begging forgiveness all the time.

Lemme address that last idea a bit more. The whole “crucifying Jesus all over again” idea comes from this verse:

Hebrews 6.6 KJV

If they shall fall away, to renew them again unto repentance; seeing they crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame.

In context it’s not talking about just any sins. The author of Hebrews is writing about apostasy—about quitting Jesus—and how Christians who’ve had the full experience of God’s grace and the Holy Spirit’s supernatural power can’t just casually quit Jesus, then come back. These people didn’t quit Jesus; they sinned, but they didn’t commit that sin.

Problem is, dark Christians are gonna insist they kinda did commit that sin. If every sin alienates God (and it doesn’t), then every sin is functionally the same as quitting Jesus. Every sin is apostasy. Every sin has the power to plunge us into fiery hell: If we die with unrepented, unconfessed sin in our lives, we’re going to the hot place. Yeah God is gracious, but not that gracious.

So you can see why these people are constantly begging God’s forgiveness: They think they’re constantly dangling over hellfire, and their relationship with God is like a thin bungee cord which might not actually be able to hold their weight.

It’s awfully hard to think of God as love when you’re living with this kind of stress. Sure doesn’t feel like love. Feels like God is only moments away from pouring a bowl of heavenly fire upon you. Feels like the sins of the world might trigger the same response upon our country too… which is why so many dark Christians are big fans of Christian nationalism: Screw democracy; we gotta purge evildoers! But I digress; let’s get back to their mental picture of a very unforgiving God.

Okay. In God’s process of salvation, at what point do you believe he forgives you?

Election: God did choose you, y’know.

ELECT ə'lɛkt verb. Choose for a purpose or position, like a political contest or a job.

2. noun. A person (or people) chosen by God for a purpose or position. [Often “the elect.”]

[Elector ə'lɛk.tər noun, election ə'lɛk.ʃən noun.]

I grew up with a Christian mom, a Christian upbringing, and lots of relationships with people who happened to be Christian. Whole lot of opportunities to have God-experiences.

It’s kinda like I was set up. As if stuff was deliberately stuck in my path to influence me to become Christian.

Obviously other Christians haven’t grown up the same way. Things were a lot less Christian, a lot more pagan—or they grew up in another religion altogether. But at one point in their lives they were obviously nudged in Christ Jesus’s direction. Maybe they had a rough patch and Christians showed up to redirect ’em to Jesus. Maybe a miracle happened and they realized, not just that God’s real and here, but that Jesus defines him best. In some cases Jesus even personally showed up and told them to follow him. He does that.

The fact is, God wants to save everybody. Jesus died to make it possible, and everybody’s been given the invitation to come to Jesus, become adopted by God, and enter his kingdom. Everybody. Without exception. He’s not turning anyone away. (Unless they clearly don’t want him—as proven by their defiant, godless behavior. But that’s another discussion.)

But. Even though God’s invitation is for anyone and everyone, there are lots of individuals whom he makes a particular effort to save. Like me, ’cause he clearly set me up to become Christian. Like most people who grow up in a Christian family, or in a predominantly Christian country or community.

Like you, more than likely: When you look back on your life, chances are you can think of many situations where God got your attention, moved you into place, and came after you. Some of them were subtle, and some of them were outrageously obvious. Hey, whatever got you into his kingdom! But God definitely, specifically, wanted you.

Christians call this idea of God choosing us election.

Born sinners?

So I discussed original sin—the human self-preservation instinct, distorted into an innate self-centeredness which means we’re inevitably gonna sin. It’s just how we’re wired. Unlike Jesus, who has a built-in divine nature which way predates him becoming human, which makes his first instinct to never sin… our first instincts work the other way.

Thing is, many other Christians don’t describe original sin this way. At all.

Most Christians are of course Pelagian, and think there is no such thing as human depravity and original sin. They figure humans are born blank slates, and could choose to be good as well as evil. God created us good, Ge 1.31 so they figure our natural tendency is towards good… and society messes us up, so blame it.

And then there are dark Christians who go to another extreme: They think original sin means we’re born evil. Born sinners. They don’t figure we’re merely born with selfish and sinful tendencies; we’re born with all the sins of Adam and Eve and humanity already on us. We’re born cursed. We’re already guilty of sin, and every newborn baby fully deserves the death penalty.

Wait, what?

Psalm 51.5 KJV

Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me.

 

Lamentations 5.7 KJV

Our fathers have sinned, and are not; and we have borne their iniquities.

Think of it this way: Say you were born to poor parents, not wealthy ones. They have no money, which means you gotta suffer the consequences of their lack of money. You gotta live with their inability to buy you comforts, or even basic necessities. They can’t afford nutritious foods; you gotta eat ramen every day, and grow shorter than average, with low bone density, and maybe scurvy. They can’t afford an orthodontist; you’re gonna have an overbite, and bad teeth, and grow up ugly. Meanwhile the rich kids down the street are going to nice prep schools, and someday expensive universities, which’ll get ’em well-paying jobs… so they can pass their family wealth down to their own children.

Is this fair? Well, wealthy people will claim it’s entirely fair: Your parents are poor because they aren’t clever enough. And if you’re not clever enough, you’ll remain poor too. Use those brains! Pull yourself out of the quicksand by your own bootstraps!

But enough about caste systems and social Darwinism. You see the general idea: The folks who insist we’re born sinners, think of “sinner” as our caste. It’s not what we do; it’s what we are. It’s the caste we’re born into. Nobody escapes it; nobody gets born into a non-sinner caste. Doesn’t matter if you manage to go a few years without ever violating any of God’s commands: If you’re born a sinner, you’re invariably gonna muck it up eventually. Because you’re a sinner.

Um… what about Jesus? Wasn’t he born into our caste?

And here’s where the idea of being born a sinner, collapses. Except those folks who believe it, refuse to admit its collapse: Jesus, they insist, is an exception. Somehow:

• He’s a special creation of God, instead of the biological product of two people doin’ it.
• He’s the genetic descendant of a woman, instead of a man and his toxic, defective, Adam-descended Y chromosome.
• He has the Holy Spirit in him so strongly, the Spirit blocked any potential sin nature from being formed in him.
• He has a divine nature and a human nature, but because the divine nature is way stronger than the human nature, every time the human nature felt like sinning, the divine nature slapped it around and said, “B---h we’re doing it my way,” and left it cowering in a corner of room, sobbing.

Yeah, that last one was a little dark. But I am talking about a dark Christian theory, y’know. It has dark ramifications. If we’re all dirty sinners since the instant we were created, it means there’s nothing worthy in us for Jesus to redeem. He has to make something good in us, from scratch. But until he does that, we deserve nothing but horror, fear, and death—which implies it’s okay to treat our fellow humans like that. It’s okay to let them suffer. It’s okay to abandon them to their doom. Don’t feel compassion, nor feel bad for people, because they’re doomed, or they’re on their way to ruin: They’re only getting what they deserve, ’cause they totally deserve to stoke the fires of hell.

It’s a very pessimistic and apathetic view of humanity, and doesn’t reflect at all what God feels for us. But that’s not surprising; dark Christians tend to be grace-deficient.

Original sin: We were born this way.

ORIGINAL SIN ə'rɪd.ʒən.əl 'sɪn noun. Innate tendency of humans to sin, inherited from the first humans as a result of their first sin.

Initially God made the universe, including humans, and declared it very good. Ge 1.31 That goodness was undone by sin: Our first ancestors, our representatives in paradise, Adam and Eve, were ordered to not eat from this one particular tree… and did anyway. Humanity got banished from paradise, and now suffers from toil, painful childbirth, and death.

So instead of being born “very good,” like God originally made humanity, every human is now born with a significant birth defect: We’re not innately good. We’re innately selfish. We come out of our mothers’ wombs screaming for what we want: Milk, a clean diaper, to be held, or we’re otherwise uncomfortable and can’t express ourselves any other way. As soon as we gain the ability to say “No!” and slap other people, and lie and steal to get what we want, we do that too. Our worlds revolve around us now. And some of us never, ever grow out of that; ask anyone who works in customer service or government.

It’s called original sin because we humans originated with it: We were born this way. It was passed down from our ancestors; passed all the way down from Adam and Eve. Our slant towards sin is built-in.

The very idea offends a lot of people, who hate the idea we’re innately sinful. They think it’s kinda sick: “What, are you saying a little innocent baby, who never did anything good or bad, was born a depraved sinner?”

Well I’m not. I’m only saying every little innocent baby was born with a self-preservation instinct. We can agree on that one, can’t we? So of course they’re gonna be selfish: They’re trying to live! Problem is, in the pursuit of looking out for number one, everybody else becomes number two—and we’ll shove ’em aside, and not love our neighbors as ourselves. So, y’know, sin. We’re “born sinners” in the sense that sin’s just gonna come naturally go us humans.

Caring for others—like a “maternal instinct,” although way too many mothers have no such thing—is learned behavior. We have to be raised by parents who train us in that; we have to train our own kids in that, and man does that feel like an uphill battle with some kids. Those folks who think humans are inherently good: They learned it right away, and learned it so early and thoroughly they think it’s natural. Nah.

I do admit plenty of Christians claim original sin means we’re born with sins somehow already staining our souls. How’d we commit ’em? I dunno. They have a few theories, supposedly based on bible; I think they’re misquoting bible to promote a rubbish theory.

Atonement: God wants to save everybody!

ATONEMENT ə'toʊn.mənt noun. Action which fixes a broken relationship, such as paying a penalty, replacing a damaged item, or painting over defacement.

2. The atonement: Jesus’s payment for humanity’s sins through his death.

[Atone ə'toʊn verb, atoning ə'toʊn.ɪŋ adjective.]

Sin significantly ruined our relationship with God. Not irreparably; God can fix anything. And he did.

Occasionally some preacher will break down the word atonement thisaway: “At-one-ment. God makes himself and us one.” It’s pretty close to the right idea. There used to be a word in English, onement, which means unity. Christian preachers started adding the at- prefix to describe our relationship with God: We’re unified now. What was broken is now fixed.

The word English-speakers used to use to describe this was propitiation, one which still appears thrice in the King James Version Ro 3.25, 1Jn 2.2, 4.10 to translate ἱλασμός/ilasmós. But like most old-timey words, people don’t understand what it means, and most dictionaries define propitiation as “something which appeases a person or god.” Like an offering, a good deed, a ritual sacrifice. Something karmic—and God does grace, not karma.

Good karma can’t do it anyway. You can’t undo a sin. You can undo its consequences, but you can’t undo the initial act of selfish rebellion. You could try to be so good, your good deeds outweigh your evil ones, but here’s the catch: We’re already supposed to be that good. We’re supposed to have no evil deeds in the balance. It’s like putting a single drop of snake venom into a glass of drinking water: You wanna drink it now? Better have epinephrine handy; and you still might die.

So propitiation is an inaccurate way to describe how God fixed things. But far too many Christians still totally describe it that way: “We outraged God, but we temporarily appeased him with ritual sacrifices… till Jesus permanently appeased him with his self-sacrifice.” Makes God sound all bloodthirsty. Well, we get bloodthirsty when we’re outraged, so we totally project that upon God. But that’s not who he is.

Ilasmós is the Greek translation of כִּפֻּר/khippúr, a Hebrew word y’might actually know because of the Jewish holiday Yom Kippur. It comes from another word, כֹּפֶר/khippúr, “plaster.” When there’s a crack or hole in the wall, you put some plaster or putty or spackle on it, paint over it, and you’re good as new. And that’s the word God used in Exodus to describe what the ancient Hebrews’ sacrifices represented to him. Their sins poked holes in God’s relationship with them. The holes needed plastering. It’s a really simple metaphor: Sin breaks stuff, and plaster patches it good as new.

No, not entirely new. And God doesn’t actually want entirely new. Entirely new, means entirely new people: Instead of sorting us out, God’d just kill us, then replace us with exact replicas. But these replicas wouldn’t be us; they’d be twins, clones, copies. God doesn’t want copies. He wants us—repaired.

Plaster makes a wall as good as new. Yeah, if you want to nitpick, a repaired wall won’t necessarily have the same strength as a new wall. But this depends on what you patch it with. If you poke holes in drywall, then patch it with concrete, the patch is far stronger and heavier than the rest of the wall. In fact the rest of the wall will have trouble supporting the concrete… unless you gradually replace everything with concrete. (Which is a whole other metaphor to play with. Have fun with it.)

Christ Jesus sacrificed himself for us, and since Jesus is God it makes God himself our plaster. We have him embedded in us, in much the same way the Holy Spirit was sealed to us when we first turned to God. But don’t play with that metaphor too much, lest you get the idea it’s okay to poke holes in your life so God can putty them with more of himself. We’re not meant to keep on sinning so we can get more grace. Ro 6.1-2 Instead look at your life as a wall full of holes—patched over by God. We might imagine it as flawed; we can’t get past the idea of all those holes beneath the paint. But God considers it a perfectly good wall. It serves its purpose: It keeps out the wind and rain. It keeps prying eyes from looking through it. It keeps listening ears from hearing better through it. It provides shelter. We can hang pictures on it. And so on, till the metaphor breaks down and we just get silly. But you get the idea.

God wants us, and our relationship with him, repaired, back to the way he originally meant things. He doesn’t want to knock us down and start again from scratch.

Atonement for everyone.

Humanity can’t save itself, ’cause we’re too corrupt. We’re hopeless… unless someone else intervenes. And it’s kinda obvious where I’m going with this: God intervened, became the man Jesus, died for our sins, 2Co 14-15, He 2.9 paid our fines, 1Ti 2.6 and reconciled the whole world to himself. 2Co 5.19 He plastered over our sin-damaged lives, and declared us forgiven.

By “whole world” I mean what the authors of scripture meant: The whole world. Everybody.

Seriously, everybody. Every human, past and future, near and far, vastly wicked or relatively “good”: We’re forgiven. God didn’t wait till we repented first; it feels like that’s when he first acts in our lives, but that’s only because we don’t see the big picture and our place in it. (Turns out he’s been nudging us towards salvation all along.) He doesn’t wait till we’re worthy, ’cause we never will be. He doesn’t wait till we feel he should respond, ’cause we feel all sorry for our sins and want him to forgive us. He simply decided to forgive the whole world, and did.

No, not just Christians. Not just monotheists. Not just “good people.” Definitely not just Americans. Everybody.

John 3.17 NIV

For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.

 

1 John 2.2 NIV

He [Jesus] is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.

 

1 John 4.14 NIV

And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world.

 

1 Timothy 2.3-6 NIV

3 This [prayer for all] is good, and pleases God our Savior, 4 who wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth. 5 For there is one God and one mediator between God and mankind, the man Christ Jesus, 6 who gave himself as a ransom for all people. This has now been witnessed to at the proper time.

 

2 Peter 3.9 NIV

The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise [to return], as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.

If we want God, we never have to worry, “Well maybe he doesn’t want me.” He absolutely does. Jesus atoned for everybody because God wants everybody. He made you; he wants you. We’re not so filthy and nasty and offensive to God’s infinite goodness, he shuns us. He doesn’t turn his back when we call to him. He never says, “Well first you gotta get clean” before his Spirit comes to live within us. Yeah we’ll have to clean up afterward, but cleanliness isn’t a prerequisite. Nothing is a prerequisite but faith: We gotta trust God to save us. And he will!

And when Jesus returns to take over the world, it’ll be the whole world. Not part, Rv 11.15 not just Israel, not just the countries which claim they’re Christian nations. Jesus is Lord of all. ’Cause he died for all.

Seriously, everyone.

Yeah, there are those who say it can’t be all. It’s because they misunderstand how God’s sovereignty works.

Those who believe in limited atonement assume if Jesus saved the world, his salvation is so mighty, so overpowering and overruling (and kinda rapey), we can’t help but be saved. Even if we don’t wanna. Even if we want nothing to do with God: God’s will conquers our will and reprograms us so we will become Christian, just as he’s predetermined. It’s a pretty messed-up idea of God… once again, based on how they’d do things if they were God, and backed up by a lot of out-of-context scriptures which make it look like God only saved Christians… and the rest, he passed over. (Or worse: Created just so he could destroy them, as a sick ’n twisted object lesson for the rest of us.)

So let’s look at the scriptures. Remember when the LORD rescued the Hebrews from Egypt? Fed ’em manna in the wilderness, accepted their sacrifices, forgave their idolatry, let Aaron do that scapegoat thing to represent their atonement? No? Read Exodus through Deuteronomy again.

God rescued the Hebrews. All of them. He didn’t leave any of ’em in Egypt, and pick a select worthy few to take to Canaan. He elected the entire nation, freed them all from their bondage, made them a free people who lived under his grace, and offered every single one of them a promised paradise—“a land of milk and honey,” as they called it, ’cause they really liked milk and honey back then.

That’s what unlimited atonement looks like. That’s what he repeated when Jesus died for our sins. The Hebrews became his children, and he their God. Ex 6.7, Lv 26.12 They could have a relationship with him. He wanted a relationship with them. It’s all he’s ever wanted.

Did all of them accept this relationship with him? Sadly, no. Only a handful finally made it to Canaan. Joshua and Caleb most notably, but there were a few others, like the head priest Eleazar. Js 14.1, 17.4 The rest balked at entering Canaan, and as a result died without ever entering it.

’Cause while God offers us infinite, unlimited grace, we can foolishly, rebelliously reject it. That’s a whole other subject, which I wrote about elsewhere. Jesus came to save the world, but some of the world prefers darkness to light, and won’t come to the light and be saved. Jn 3.19-20

Meanwhile, because Jesus atoned for them, those who resist his grace still get to be the recipients of what we Christians call common grace, the blessings God gives to all humanity, and not just Christians. Like life. Health. Decent weather… when we get decent weather. The good works of his Christians spill over into the rest of society, resulting in more charity, freer governments, improvements in society’s infrastructure, technological advancement, better medicine, literacy, social equality and justice, and so forth.

But God wants to give humanity so much more—and Jesus’s atonement makes it possible. For all.

We sin, and need Jesus’s help.

1 John 1.8 – 2.2.

There are a number of immoral folks who figure if God has a dark side, it justifies them having a dark side. I wrote on this previously: Gnostics and determinists claim God co-opts evil as part of his cosmic plan. So people figure if he’s not tainted by such behavior, there’s no reason they can’t commit the occasional sin… if it’s ultimately for the best.

Funny how often people wind up committing such “occasional” sins. Seems there are an awful lot of these occasions.

But the very idea is rotten to its core. If God has an evil plan, it makes him an evil God. Period. And as John had to point out, God has no dark side. God is light. Not just in the light, like we can be when we follow God: Is light. In John’s other writing, Revelation, he even describes New Jerusalem as lit by the Lamb himself instead of the sun. Rv 21.23 Since Revelation is all apocalypses, I don’t think it wise to interpret that literally, but certainly you get the idea we’re going to live in God’s presence and goodness, where there will be no room for evil. It can’t exist there.

1 John is written as a corrective to people who develop such messed-up ideas. And, as appropriate for Christians, it’s a gracious corrective. If you’ve fallen for this twisted idea and gone wrong, chill out: Repent, be forgiven, accept God’s grace, and move forward!

Or maybe I’ll just quote John.

1 John 1.8 - 2.2 KWL

8 When we say we don’t have sin, we mislead ourselves, and truth isn’t in us.

9 When we acknowledge our sins, God is faithful and does right by us:

He can forgive us of sin, and can cleanse us of everything wrong.

10 When we say we haven’t sinned, we make him sound like a liar,

and his word isn’t in us.

2.1 My children, I write these things to you so you don’t sin!

And when anyone sins, we have a aide with the Father, Christ Jesus. He does right by us too.

2 Jesus is the solution for our sins.

And not only for our sins, but also for the whole world.

God doesn‘t have a dark side, but humanity surely does. I sure do. So do you; so does everyone. And the only solution to this problem isn’t self-deprivation, isn’t noble truths and an eightfold path, isn’t gnostic revelations of how the universe really works, isn’t to find a bad guy to blame for everything, isn’t any of the usual solutions humans invent. It’s Christ Jesus.

Admit we have a problem, and need our Higher Power.

Maybe you already know this, but 12-step addiction recovery programs borrow their steps from medieval Christian discipleship practices. The founders of Alcoholics Anonymous, in order to get pagans to participate without being weirded out by religion, dropped most of the religious language. They had to keep God in, ’cause it doesn’t work very effectively without him, but they renamed him “the Higher Power,” and leave it to people to pursue him… or not. Celebrate Recovery straight-up calls him Jesus. But all groups recognize they can’t recover without him.

Same deal with sin. Step 1 of our process is to admit we have an addiction—to sin—and we can’t defeat sin alone. Legalists invent or borrow rules, and try to follow them, and fail hard. Their efforts to live perfect lives involve a whole lot of judgmentalism, harshness, and hypocrisy to cover up the many inevitable missteps. But we truly trust God to guide your steps, we shouldn’t require so very many of our own rules!

Step 2 is to admit we need our Higher Power. We can’t conquer sin, won’t conquer death, without God.

We find these ideas in 1 John and elsewhere in the bible. John got directly to the idea of living in the light God is: Acknowledge the truth to ourselves (and don’t hypocritically hide it from others!) that though we really shouldn’t sin, we do. Let’s not deceive ourselves. Let’s not invent some fantasy-world fake Christianity where we’re not really sinners, ’cause Jesus abolished all the LORD’s commands for this dispensation, so we can do as we please. Jesus’s solution, his atonement, doesn’t turn sin into non-sin, and doesn’t undo sin. But it does fix the sin problem, and that ain’t nothing.

Lying about our sin problem, and “making God a liar.”

John wrote about Christians who say they don’t have sin, who say they haven’t sinned. And a number of commentators are pretty sure John really wrote about gnostics. ’Cause seriously: Other than hypocrites, what Christians think they don’t sin?

Oh, plenty. Too many. I grew up hearing many a preacher claim once God forgives our sins, he blots ’em out entirely. They’re gone. Deleted from space, time, and God’s very own memory. He said so more than once.

Isaiah 43.25 KJV

I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.

 

Jeremiah 31.34 KJV

And they shall teach no more every man his neighbour, and every man his brother, saying, Know the LORD: for they shall all know me, from the least of them unto the greatest of them, saith the LORD: for I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.

 

Hebrews 8.12 KJV

For I will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more.

 

Hebrews 10.17 KJV

And their sins and iniquities will I remember no more.

Need more proof-texts? This, these preachers claim, mean God’s deliberately giving himself selective mini-lobotomies. And since they’re no longer in his memory, it’s like we never did sin against him.

But taking these statements literally becomes a really problematic teaching. Don’t we claim God’s omniscient?—he knows all? We can’t very well teach this, and that God suffers from selective self-inflicted amnesia.

It’s more accurate to say God forgives. Yes, he totally recalls our every act. Since he fills time, he’s simultaneously right here, and back there at the point of every sin in our lives. He relives ’em better than someone suffering from post-traumatic stress. But unlike a human, it doesn’t traumatize him. Doesn’t drive him away. Doesn’t make him so hurt he can’t go on… or worse, vengeful. We humans get that way, which is why we usually have to forgive and forget: We can’t get past sins, and forgive people, unless we do so. But God is almighty. And good. And δίκαιος/díkeos (KJV “just”), which I translate “does right [by us],” because nobody deserves grace, but that’s precisely what he gives us: Compassionate, loving grace. He doesn’t do grudges. We’re good. ’Cause God is good.

Okay, so other than weird or heretic teachings about the nature of forgiveness, who claims they have no sin? ’Cause whenever someone foolishly tries it, the rest of us automatically cry foul. “Who d’you think you’re fooling? You ain’t perfect.” Some of us, especially spouses and parents and kids and close friends, can remind us of a bunch of sins; they have a whole list. None of us are so stupid as to claim perfection. Cult leaders will, but that’s only after their followers learn that contradicting them will have terrifying consequences.

But actually lots of Christians claim we don’t sin. We do it by omission: We never confess our sins to one another. You know, like James taught.

James 5.16 KJV

Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.

We figure our sins are nobody’s business but God’s, so we confess them to him, and only him. Then we act like our lives are just fine; that we never struggle against the darkness—or that every time we do, we totally win.

Or we’ll confess mundane sins. It’s no big deal to admit, “Okay, I sometimes lie. Every so often the wife’ll ask me if her butt looks big in some outfit. Come on, am I supposed to hurt her feelings?” We’ll confess to petty, dumb stuff. The bigger stuff?—we keep that to ourselves, and when people ask us what’s new, we tell ’em nothing we’re really struggling with. “Kids doing okay in school?” We’ll say sure; we’ll skip the fact the kids got suspended for swearing at teachers. “Work doing all right?” We’ll say sure; we’ll never mention the fact the boss chewed us out for using the company credit card to buy weed. The big, embarrassing infractions against God go unconfessed.

As a result, all our fellow Christians really know about us is… nothing. All people ever hear from us are positive, upbeat, funny, victorious stories. Nothing about our real problems and struggles. Nothing about how God helps us through the rough times—’cause what rough times? Our lives are perfect. We’re perfect. Yeah, everybody sins, but as far as we’ve clued everybody else in on our lives, we only have little sins. They, on the other hand, are the only serious f---ups in the church.

Justify this behavior all you want: “I don’t wanna be a downer,” or “I don’t want their pity,” or “Every time I tell on myself, all I get from them is judgment, or platitudes and bad advice, and I have had it up to here with that crap.” I don’t blame anyone for tiring of judgmentalism. Even so: If we don’t confess our sins, we’ve created a pious façade of ourselves, and become hypocrites. We’re making our lives look perfect and uncomplicated—and we know they’re not.

And we’re making God look like a liar. Because we supposedly follow God… and we’re liars. And once struggling Christians find out what our lives are really like when all we’ve shown ’em is the façade, how d’you think they’re gonna feel about God? About our church? About Christianity? Plenty of people have quit Jesus over less.

So let’s not. Don’t lie by omission. We sin. Let’s admit that. Then let’s point to Jesus, the solution to our sins.

Depravity: Humanity is messed up, yo.

DEPRAVE di'preɪv verb. To make immoral, wicked, or twisted.

[Depraved di'preɪvəd adjective.]

TOTAL DEPRAVITY 'toʊ.dəl di'prøv.ə.di noun. The Christian belief that unregenerate human nature is thoroughly corrupt, sinful, and self-centered.

2. The Calvinist belief that all human nature, regenerate or not, is this way.

[Totally depraved 'toʊ.də.li di'preɪvəd adjective.]

Present-day Christianity has been heavily influenced by popular culture and popular philosophy. And vice-versa. Sometimes for good; sometimes really not.

Humanism, fr’instance. It’s the belief we humans have great potential to do great things. It emphasizes rejecting our instinctive, conditioned behavior, and solving our problems through rational, selfless ways. It emphasizes human rights and human worth. After all, God figures we have infinite worth: He loved us so much, he sent us his Son. Jn 3.16

Problem is, one of humanism’s core beliefs is Pelagianism, the belief humans are inherently good. Humanists insist we were born good, not evil; and become evil because we have evil influences. Like evil parents, evil neighbors, evil authorities, evil media. Those folks taught us to be evil, but we can unlearn it, and choose to be good.

Hence you’ll find more Christians are Pelagian than not. Because being inherently good sounds way better than the alternatives, so we embrace the idea: “We are good. For when God created the world and humanity, didn’t he declare his entire creation ‘very good’? Ge 1.31 And what could be more innocent and sinless than a newborn baby? Certainly we’re born good. But we got corrupted. Stupid parents. Stupid mass media. Stupid government. It’s all their fault. If they’d just leave us alone to do as we naturally will, we could be free and libertarian and sinless.”

Well. Those who think nothing’s more sinless than a baby have clearly never raised one. Why do babies cry? ’Cause they want stuff. And as soon as they’re old enough to swipe it, or shove other kids out of the way in order to get it, they will. As soon as they figure out the word “no” they use it. A lot. Not because they’re inherently good and rejecting their parents’ evil; because they selfishly want their own way, even when it’s wrong.

Humans don’t have to learn to be selfish. We are selfish. Inherently. It’s part of our self-preservation instinct: We have this whole system of pain sensors in our body which warn us if we’re gonna seriously damage ourselves. (Or inform us we’re seriously damaged.) So if animals didn’t look out for number one, they won’t survive.

Humans have simply taken that natural instinct, and dialed it way up. Everything we do is about defending ourselves, getting our way, making ourselves comfortable—physically and emotionally. We don’t always go about it the right way, but we don’t care about the right way, or others’ feelings; we want what we want. If you get in the way of our wants, we’ll shove you aside. Goodness isn’t the goal; it’s about what’s good for us, or what we consider good, or what feels good—no matter how many brain cells it kills.

Humans aren’t naturally good. We have to be taught what goodness is. Problem is, who’s doing the teaching? Other selfish humans.

Yep, it’s corruption all the way down. All the way back. Started with the very first humans. When God first created ’em, they were good. They changed. Lots changed.

Sin happened.

I assume you know the Adam and Eve story. If you don’t, this sums it up: God made an אָדָ֜ם/adám (Hebrew for “humanity,” and humanity is descended from him) and made part of him into a woman. He put the two of them in paradise, and gave ’em a simple command: There’s a tree, and eating of this tree gives you knowledge of good and evil. Don’t eat from it. Otherwise do as you please.

The humans broke the one rule, so God booted them from paradise. Can’t live forever anymore. Now they gotta work for a living, wear clothes, childbirth is painful… but God promised ’em a savior. Oh, and now they know what good and evil are. Guess which of the two they gravitated towards.

Genesis 6.5-6 KWL

5 The LORD saw how Adam did great evil on the earth.

Every inclination, every thought in his heart: Only evil, every day.

6 The LORD was sorry he put Adam on the earth.

It grieved his heart.

Give humans the wherewithal to do evil, and that’s the direction we go. Not reluctantly, not grudgingly; we head that way in a mad dash. We aren’t naturally good. If we were, we wouldn’t need governments, wouldn’t need judges, wouldn’t need money, wouldn’t need laws. Evil would be easy to defeat. And it’s not.

Evil comes from the inside, Jesus taught, not the outside.

Mark 7.20-23 KWL

20 Jesus said this: “What comes out of the person? That makes the person ‘common’.

21 For evil reasoning comes out from within the person’s heart:

Porn. Theft. Murder. 22 Adultery. Covetousness. Depravity.

Deception. Immorality. Stinginess. Slander. Conceit. Stupidity.

23 All these inner evils come out and make the person ‘common’.”

The human heart is desperately wicked. Jr 17.9 It’s self-seeking, self-deceptive—we think we figured out how to be good, but at their core all our “good deeds” are ways to look good, and fool ourselves into thinking we are good. ’Cause we’re better than other people. Or we’re good enough. Or we’re more good than evil on our karmic balance sheet. Look at all the charity we’ve done!—surely that makes up for the hit-and-run we committed years ago.

Paul wanted to be good, but found his fight with sin to be a losing battle.

Romans 7.14-24 KWL

14 We’ve known the Law is spiritual—and I am fleshly, sold into sin’s slavery.

15 I do things I don’t understand. I don’t want to do them. I hate what I do.

16 Since I don’t want to do them, I agree: The Law is good.

17 Now, it’s no longer I who do these things, but the sin which inhabits me.

18 I know nothing living in me, namely in my flesh, is good.

The will, but not the ability, exists in me to do good.

19 I don’t do the good I want. I do the evil I don’t want.

20 If I don’t want to do them, it’s not so much me doing them, as the sin which inhabits me.

21 That’s why I sought the Law, which wants me to do good: Evil is always around.

22 I rejoice in God’s Law, despite my inner humanity—

23 I see another law in my body parts, fighting the Law in my mind,

taking me captive to the law of sin, which exists in my body parts.

24 I am such a miserable human.

What will rescue me from this death-plagued body?

Theologians call this total depravity: Sin has so messed us up, so warped our thinking and behavior, there’s simply no way for us humans to defeat it without divine intervention. It ruins everything. That’s why we call this depravity total.

Our salvation: God.

As I hope you know, Paul’s discussion doesn’t stop in the middle of verse 24.

Romans 7.24 - 8.3 KWL

24 I am such a miserable human.

What will rescue me from this death-plagued body?

25 God’s grace, through Christ Jesus our Lord!

That’s why my mind’s now enslaved to God’s Law… while my body, to sin’s law.

1 That’s why there’s no judgment anymore for those in Christ Jesus:

2 The law of the Spirit of Life, in Christ Jesus, released you from the law of sin and death.

3 God, sending his own Son in the form of sinful humanity, judged that sin in the flesh,

doing what the Law, hindered by the flesh, couldn’t.

Christians (assuming we’re truly following God) don’t wanna sin anymore. 1Jn 3.9 God doesn’t want that for us either, and hasn’t abandoned us to the ravages of sin. He’s entered the fight on our side. He’s come to cure us of total depravity, and help us so we don’t sin. 1Jn 2.1-6

So if we can’t be good about God, what about all the “good people” in the world? What about philanthropists, charities, peacekeepers, do-gooders, and all those who try to make the world a better place?

Well, lots of them are Christians. I’ve worked for a few charities. They’re loaded with Christians and God-seekers. That’s why they started those groups, or joined up. God’s working on them, they’re working with God, and they’re doing good on his behalf.

Then there are those so-called “good people” who are no good at all. I’ve worked with them too. They work for charities because they have to: They get a paycheck. They’re trying to pad a résumé. They were convicted of a crime, and volunteer work is part of their sentence. Their family or job expects it of them. They earn tax credits. They get good public relations. They’re trying to earn good karma. And so on. All these motives are self-serving, and goodness is a byproduct.

So no, I’m not saying (as many Calvinists will) that non-Christians are incapable of good deeds. Of course they’re capable. I’m just saying total depravity taints their deeds. There’s just enough self-interest, just enough wrong motive, just enough unwholesomeness, to turn it into crap. It’ll be mostly good; it’ll be 99⁴⁴⁄₁₀₀ percent good. But it never wholly good, ’cause we can’t be wholly good. It won’t meet God’s absolute standards for goodness.

God can use (and even inspire) the good deeds of such people. Often he’s the reason their good deeds get anywhere. It’s surely not because of them.

Partial depravity?

Christians who grew up believing the humanist view of goodness, tend to think total depravity is only a Calvinist thing. John Calvin taught it, and Calvinists are a little too fond of preaching on the subject. But it’s hardly just a Calvinist thing. St. Augustine taught it, Martin Luther taught it, John Wesley taught it… and all orthodox Christians teach it. Because we are totally depraved, and need God to save us. We can’t save ourselves!

The reason Augustine taught it was ’cause one of his contemporaries, Pelagius of Britain, believed as the humanists do: People are inherently good. He taught that if Christian kids were simply raised right, we won’t sin. And if we adults just exercised our free will and self-control, if we just embraced positive thinking and a wholesome lifestyle, we could banish sin from our lives and live entirely sin-free. If you wanna stop sinning, just stop.

Except, as you’ve just read, Paul tried that and failed. Augustine, Luther, Calvin, Wesley, and loads of Christians have tried to achieve sinlessless on our own steam, and failed. Betcha Pelagius failed too; he just did a better job of fooling himself. Sinlessness can’t be achieved without the Holy Spirit—and even if we think we have achieved it with his help, we’re likely still fooling ourselves.

If sinlessness were possible, Jesus wouldn’t’ve had to die for sin, y’know. He could’ve just told his students, “Hey, guys: The Law? Read the Law. Follow it real good. See you in heaven.” And back he went. No; legalists throughout history have tried their darnedest to follow the Law, and of course had no real success, because the Law was never meant to save us anyway. We can’t be good without God.

This is why we call Pelagius’s view heresy. There’s only one savior, only one mediator between God and humanity, and that’s Christ Jesus. If we’re not totally depraved—if we’re only a little depraved, and can overcome the rest of our sins with a bit more effort—it means each of us can be our own saviors. Jesus saves the rest, namely those who lack the willpower, but the rest of us can do just fine without his salvation or the Holy Spirit’s sanctification.

What happens when we believe this crap? Bad stuff.

See, we fail. And we know we fail. And if we imagine perfection is possible, yet somehow we can’t achieve that perfection, we’re gonna think we’re utter scum. If every other Christian can achieve goodness, yet we can’t, we must be some sort of sick, freakish, nasty aberration. Maybe we’re not really saved. Maybe we’re predestined for hell. We’re just too twisted for God to want.

Such people don’t realize—and can’t believe—everybody is twisted, everybody needs God. They think, wrongly, God only takes the good ones, and they’ll never qualify. Like Paul said, “What will rescue me from this death-plagued body?” Ro 7.24 People who assume we can be good on our own, tend to feel this very same kind of despair and frustration. And we needn’t! God can save us. You’re not a special case. You’re normal.

Everybody’s totally depraved. But God can save every last one of us. And wants to. 2Pe 3.9 It’s not a losing battle, an impossible dream.

Besides, God does the impossible all the time. Sometimes for fun. And always because he loves us.

Saved from what?

Four things you’re gonna notice about every religion in the world:

• They try to explain who God is, and what he’s like: Caring nurturer, or wrathful disciplinarian? Disconnected first cause, or deterministic micromanager? The sum total of everything in the universe, or totally removed from everything? The object of all our faith and devotion, or not relevant? The only thing that’s real, or doesn’t even exist? Where does he fit between these extremes?—or is he paradoxically both?
• They try to explain what happens after we die: Afterlife, new life, another life, or annihilation?
• Morality: How ought humans live?—in light of who God is, or in light of what happens after we die.
• How ought we compensate our clergy for all the valuable insights they’ve given us? Money? Free stuff? Sex?

Yeah, that fourth thing is a bit cynical, but the issue is there, y’know. Even in the benign religions.

But why do people pursue religions in the first place? Simple: It’s salvation. They wanna get saved.

Saved from what? Well, that varies.

Yeah, my fellow Christians are gonna tell you we need to be saved from sin and death. As will I, ’cause we do. That is what Christ Jesus offers. But it’s not necessarily what people are thinking of when they first look into Christianity. Or look into any other religion: Buddhism, Islam, Wicca, Mammonism. Or, because they don’t wanna be told what to believe, cobble together their own belief system so they can be “spiritual not religious.”

Most want to be saved from their circumstances. Their lives suck. They’re addicted to alcohol, food, sex, or narcotics; their relationships are out of control; their finances are insane. Some live in awful countries, with warlords who threaten their livelihoods and lives. And even when all those things are fine, there’s something in ’em which is just dissatisfied with life, and they can’t put their finger on it. So they figure God has the answer. Since this desire is so common, you’ll notice most Christian evangelists talk about being saved from this instead of sin and death. (Hey, a lousy life is no doubt the result of sin, right?) Turn to God and he’ll get your life right, and give you peace no matter what’s going on.

Many of ’em are looking to be saved from doubt. They wanna know why the universe works the way it does: Why do bad things happen to good people? They wanna know who or what God is. They wanna know what happens after death—not because they’re worried about death itself, for they figure whatever happens, happens. It just bugs ’em they don’t have simple answers to these questions. Or at least answers they’re comfortable with.

Many want to be saved from worry. Because they are worried about death: They don’t wanna cease to exist, or don’t wanna find themselves in a black cavernous chaotic nothingness, or are afraid of finding themselves in hell, and worry hell’s gonna look like the very worst horror movies. And again, many Christian evangelists zero in on these fears, and preach almost exclusively about getting saved from hellfire.

But back to sin and death.

Christianity focuses only on Jesus saving us from sin and death. Yeah, he could save us from circumstances, worries, and doubts too. And maybe he will. But what he’ll definitely do is save us from sin and death.

Oh you want proof texts? Yeah, let’s do proof texts. Sin first:

Matthew 1.21 KJV

And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins.

 

1 Corinthians 15.3 KJV

For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures;

 

1 Timothy 1.15 KJV

This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief.

Now death.

Luke 9.56 KJV

For the Son of man is not come to destroy men’s lives, but to save them. And they went to another village.

 

John 3.16 KJV

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

 

John 10.28 KJV

And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.

 

1 Corinthians 15.22 KJV

For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.

The two are of course related. Sin produces death. Ro 3.23 We sin; it gradually but definitely kills us. And others: Humans murder innocent people, like infants and fetuses, all the time. One human pollutes and another gets poisoned; one human cuts corners and another gets killed from shoddy craftsmanship. Jesus is a perfect example of a totally innocent victim: He never sinned, so his own sins didn’t kill him. But the Judeans’ and Romans’ sins absolutely did—and by extension humanity’s sins did too, ’cause Jesus would never have to come into the world to show us the Father Jn 1.18 if our sins didn’t distort our ideas of God so very much.

Jesus’s solution to the problem is not to merely give us a nice afterlife. It’s the kingdom of God—in which he’s the king. It’s to transform us through his Holy Spirit so we can be citizens of this kingdom. It’s to follow him by behaving as citizens of this kingdom; to do as he teaches. And if we’re pursuing God’s kingdom, our circumstances and worries and doubts tend to sort themselves out:

Matthew 6.33 KJV

But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.

“These things” being the worries of food and clothing—petty worries for the middle class, but serious needs for the impoverished people to whom Jesus preached. No, Jesus isn’t blowing off our serious needs, and telling us, “Forget about that; concentrate just on being religious.” He’s trying to restructure our priorities correctly. Most of our other worries are likewise the product of sin. So let’s root out the underlying cancer first. And Jesus is here to help.

What Pelagius did or didn’t teach.

Last week I wrote about Pelagianism, the belief humans are inherently good. It’s a common and popular idea, but it’s heresy. The ancient Christians condemned it at the Council of Ephesus in the year 431.

For good reason. If humans are fundamentally good—not profoundly corrupted by selfishness and sin—in theory it’s possible for one of us to live an uncorrupted life. Without sin. And in so doing, merit heaven all on one’s own. Without Jesus. After all, what might Jesus add to one’s inherent goodness? Nothing but a rubber stamp.

Well. Once the article went live, it annoyed various Pelagians. Some of whom had no idea they were actually Pelagian! They always presumed humans are basically good, and hate the idea we’re not. Likewise they hate the idea they’re heretic, ’cause too many Christians wrongly think “heretic” means “going to hell.” So them’s fighting words.

I didn’t write the article to pick a fight with Pelagians. I wrote it to inform. Most TXAB readers aren’t wholly up to speed on theological ideas like Pelagianism, so I figured I’d write about what it is and why it’s a problem. If any of you were leaning that direction, my hope was you’d pause and say, “Oh so that’s why Christians teach what we do,” and correct yourselves. We’re all wrong in one way or another, and could always stand to make mid-course corrections like that.

But what do people usually do? Exclaim, “No you’re wrong,” then take potshots at the messenger. If we bother to do any homework on the issue, it’s only to marshal arguments so we can take better potshots. I confess; I’ve done this too. It’s jerk-like behavior so I try not to. After all, I might be wrong! But old habits die hard, y’know.

Anyway. The Pelagians mustered the usual arguments, the ones I brought up in the article: They don’t believe humanity is totally broken. All have sinned, Ro 3.23 and they’re willing to admit they’ve sinned too: They’re hardly worthy of heaven on their own merits. But they can’t stomach the idea of humanity gone totally wrong. After all, they know good pagans! Nobody but the most hardcore pessimists and cynics are gonna say good pagans don’t exist.

True. But have any of these pagans achieved heaven-level goodness? Well no; nobody can imagine ’em being that good. Because nobody but Jesus is that good. Because total depravity: Not one human but Jesus, in our every last action, has acted wholly selflessly and sinlessly. Sin is like the sand on a beach: It gets everywhere, and you’re still finding it in your stuff and your cracks weeks after you visited the beach. Sin’s totally corrupted everything. It’s total.

Pelagians’ other hangup is that word depravity. It’s the right word; it means “moral corruption.” But I think most of ’em have it in their heads it means something dirtier, more perverted, more nasty. It doesn’t really. If they wanna quibble about vocabulary and use different words, that’s fine; depravity has synonyms. Still, we’re talking about moral corruption: Every single human but Jesus compromises what “goodness” means in order to defend ourselves, feel better about ourselves, and justify ourselves. But we’ve all fallen short of God’s glory. Ro 3.23 We’re all morally corrupt. Or depraved.

All that aside, one odd argument I heard in defense of Pelagianism is that Pelagius of Britain never actually taught what we call “Pelagianism.” It’s all slander. Against a perfectly good and upstanding Christian.

My big ol’ introduction aside, that’s actually what I’m gonna rant about today.

Pelagianism: “Humanity’s not all that bad.”

PELAGIAN pə'leɪ.dʒi.ən adjective. Denies the Christian doctrines of original sin and total depravity: Believes humans are inherently good, able to make unselfish choices, and can be worthy of heaven on our own merits.

SEMI-PELAGIAN sɛm.aɪ.pə'leɪ.dʒi.ən adjective. A Pelagian whom we kinda like.

Every once in a while somebody, usually a theology nerd like me, is gonna fling around the terms Pelagian and semi-Pelagian. Hopefully they know what they’re talking about. Many don’t, and are just using those words to mean heretic. ’Cause in the year 431, the Council of Ephesus declared Pelagianism to be heresy—so whether critics understand Pelagianism, councils, or heresy, what they’re really trying to say is the person’s wrong, and any label will do.

So let’s back up a bunch. A Pelagian, like I said in the definition, believes humans are inherently good. Children are born innocent, and if nothing upends that natural innocence, stay good and wholesome and benevolent. They grow up to be good people. Good enough for heaven.

It’s what pagans believe. Optimistic pagans, anyway; there are a lot of cynics who think humanity totally deserves hellfire. But a lot of us like to think the best of people, and give ’em the benefit of the doubt. Myself included. I’m not unrealistic: I know evil people, and I know even good people screw up, or have times when they act selfishly or deceptively. When they do so, it doesn’t blindside me. But just about everyone believes in karma, the idea our actions have repercussions in the universe and on our afterlife. So many people—unless they’ve quit trying in despair—are usually trying to be good. Or good enough. Or settling for explanations why they’re kinda good enough.

But the scriptures teach otherwise. The first humans were created good, but sinned. They passed down that sinful, self-centered nature to their descendants, us:

Romans 5.12 KWL

This is why it’s like sin enters the world through one man; and through sin, death;

and therefore death comes to every human—hence everyone sins.

Therefore humanity is inherently selfish and sinful. It’s why we need Jesus! We can’t save ourselves, can’t earn salvation, can’t accept God’s love, can’t follow God’s laws, without his help. We gotta depend on grace. Which God provides in abundance, so no sweat.

But if you grew up believing people are inherently good, the idea we’re inherently not is gonna bug you. Humans don’t like to think we’re corrupt or flawed; we like to imagine we’re good! And if it helps to imagine everybody else is good deep down too… well then we will. Even though we’ve tons of evidence of human depravity. We’ll just keep insisting evil is the exception. Something humanity can evolve past.

Hence Pelagianism. Pelagius (390ish–418) was a Rome-educated British monk. He was hardly the first guy to float the idea, but it nonetheless gets named for him: A Pelagian believes humans aren’t inherently sinful. We’re good. So be good!

Bear in mind Pelagius was dealing with a lot of slacker Christians. Fellow Christians and fellow monks would blame our sins on our sinful nature. (Still do.) They’d insist we can’t be good; we’re just too corrupt. We can’t help but sin. And if this is the case… why try? Why make the effort to do better, to be better, to be like Jesus, when our very nature rebels against the idea? Best to just give up, stay the same ol’ sinner, and depend on cheap grace.

Pelagius hated this idea. I hate this idea. Any reasonable Christian should. It’s not biblical!

Romans 6.1-2 KWL

1 So what are we saying?—“Continue to sin, for there’s plenty of grace”?

2 Never gonna happen. We died to sin. How could we live in it?

But Pelagius’s correction went too far: He rejected the ideas of human depravity, and of Adam and Eve’s original sin affecting humanity. He insisted anyone can stop sinning if we just make the effort. That’s what he taught his monks, and that’s what his monks taught Christendom. Particularly Celestius of Rome, Pelagius’s disciple.