pharisees

Over at kendallball.net, Greg has taken John Donne’s "No man is an island" concept and pushed the issue of self– and group definition to consider how the Christian sees himself in relation to the rest of humanity:

In Jesus we are called to be new creations, and perhaps part of this new creation is the cultivation (through certain practices) of the idea that I am a part of the continent of humanity… Maybe then we will shift our focus from ourselves and become builders of peace, seekers of justice, and lovers of all mankind. Those sorts of things just don’t seem possible as long as we’re deriving our self-identity from a source other than our status as children of God and followers of Christ.

I think the Apostle Paul’s teaching about new creation is worth considering here. Look at what Paul wrote to the Corinthians:

So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. (2 Corinthians 5:16–20, NIV)

First, look at how Paul begins this paragraph: he’s saying we have to change how we view everybody. I love the way the Amplified phrases this: “Consequently, from now on we estimate and regard no one from a [purely] human point of view [in terms of natural standards of value].” That’s where we start, then—with a godly point of view. Second, we see ourselves differently. It would seem that part of being a new creation is that I no longer regard myself by “natural standards of value.” I’m something new, and I have a new approach to other people: I’m an ambassador.

But what does that mean practically? After all, that’s what Greg was after in his post. For me, It means that within the Christian world, I won’t consider denominational labels as a particularly useful tool. I’m discovering that “Baptist,” “Catholic,” and “Church of Christ” tell me only where someone goes on Sunday and not necessarily much about their beliefs. And I’m not going to lump folks by who they listen to or read: the “Joel Osteen crowd” or “those McLaren/Generous Orthodoxy folks.”

And outside Christian “circles” (see, it’s hard to get away from group identifiers), I’m not going to use labels that identify someone by political or ideological bent; how useful is it, really, to know that someone is a liberal, environmentalist, conservative, whatever? Back when I was in grad school at LSU, I realized that I had an easier time dealing with a particular faculty member when I stopped thinking of her as “rabid feminist” and saw her instead as a generally nice person with a different perspective from mine. Could that be what Paul means when he says, “So we have stopped evaluating others by what the world thinks about them” (NLT)?

Some of you may be thinking: “but what about error? Don’t we have to label people in error?” (I grew up with that mindset.) A complete answer will have to come another day in another post, but the short answer is “no.” Though I’ve not studied this out completely, my sense is that Jesus didn’t spend His time separating the “right” from the “wrong” and the “doctrinally correct” from the heretics. He spent time interacting with people—individuals. Along the way, He pointed out some problems that individuals had. The only kind of label I can think of that He used was “Pharisee”—and for them, he had little positive to say (notice that the Pharisees liked to divide into groups and apply labels). But when He dealt with them individually, Jesus treated them as, you guessed it, individuals (take Nicodemus, for example). Another quick example: Jesus and the woman at the well. Jesus makes no issue of the fact that she is a Samaritan until it relates to her beliefs and spiritual condition; in fact, His willingness to talk with her shocks her (and that’s before He tells her about her life!).

So, this may be an instance in which WWJD is actually fairly easy to figure out: treat people like people and drop the labels, assumptions, and circles. Be kind. Show respect. Don’t try to pigeon-hole. Look for a way to show love and share truth.

Two nights ago, as I waited for my water to boil, I read the Celestial Seasonings Peppermint Tea box (the boxes always have a variety of quotes, and this one was new). On the back was a list from Life’s Little Instruction Book, Vol II. The first instruction pricked my heart:

Pay as much attention to the things that are working positively in your life as you do to those that are giving you trouble.

I realized that for the past week or so (probably much longer), I’ve been focused solely on problems, faults, and sins.

Last night my friend Jeff shed some light on this. He pointed out that what set the Pharisees apart was their detailed analysis of sin. They took God’s laws and made them much bigger and more complex. They made the law a burden. In contrast, Jesus said, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Jesus also said that He came that we “may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it overflows).” As Jeff put it, Jesus was passionate about life. What, then, moved the Pharisees? They were passionate about sin.

I had never thought about it that way, but that’s really what legalism is: a passion for sin. Cataloging it, analyzing it, checking if off: yes, they may be avoiding it, but it still seems to consume them. Consider two men dealing with lust. One indulges, doing exactly what he wants. And he undoubtedly has negative consequences, though they might not be immediately apparent (sin, after all, always produces death). The other, because he goes to church, knows that lust is wrong, and so he constantly monitors his thoughts, his eyes–it’s everywhere for him because he’s always conscious of it. He’s not slept around, but is he any better off? The church-goer probably has lust on his brain as much as the other guy–and he is likey less happy. Why? Because sin always produces death, whether you’re focused on doing it or focused on avoiding it. As Pastor Chris says, church people are some of the meanest people he knows because they spend all their time avoiding stuff they really want to do.

Legalism says, “spend your life not doing.” That’s a hard way to live. I can see the evidence of this in my own life in many areas. Take food. When I’m at home, I seem to eat every couple of hours. Food is readily available, and I have to constantly monitor what I’m eating and tell myself “No, you can’t have that yet” or “You can have just one.” On campus the other day, I realized that it had been many hours since I had eaten, and food hadn’t crossed my mind. Why? Because I was focused on doing instead of not doing. As I reflect on when I’m most likely to eat unnecessarily at home, it’s when I’m bored or unsure of what to do next. At work, I’m focused: I have a clear list of goals to achieve in the time I’m there. There’s no boredom.

Similarly, I find that my legalistic tendencies are less of a problem when I’m actively focused on doing what I’m called to do. When I’m writing and teaching or thinking about my writing and teaching, I’m consumed with what brings life to me. I don’t have time to think about sin, let alone be consumed by it. And because my focus is on life, there’s no need for checklists, monitoring, and analysis. This means, then, that the solution to sin is really pretty easy. Choose to do those things that bring you life. Consider Jesus’ words again: He came to bring us life

  • in abundance
  • to the full
  • till it overflows

If I’m filled with life–so full that it overflows—where’s the room for sin? I’m giving up my passion for sin. What about you?

are you blind?

April 17, 2006

My father was telling me recently of a friend, a godly man, who had been very sick; after receiving prayer, he had what could only be termed a miraculous recovery. Though the man was happy to be well, he had a crisis of sorts because his theology didn’t allow for God to heal in that way. He turned to Scripture to study healing and concluded that he was a fluke. He was blind to the truth–or even to the possibility of another perspective…

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