Romans 7 Through the Left Eye of Dr. Jekyll and the Right Eye of Mr. Hyde
"How much can you know
about yourself if you've never
been in a fight?"
~~Tyler Durden in Fight Club~~
Reading through the Pauline Epistles each summer is a tradition I began when I was eighteen. I’m not sure at what point something becomes a bonafide “tradition” in the traditional(?) sense of the word, though. Technically, this is only the second time I’ve endeavored to do it since I decided to make it a yearly undertaking. Maybe saying, “I read through the Pauline Epistles each summer,” makes me sound more spiritual than I actually am. Ah, how motives are a frustrating maze to navigate.
Let me say here, I am not the person who can adequately explain the message of Romans. Even the experts continue to haggle over the theme of the book. Is it a basic gospel presentation or is about justification through faith? There have been plenty of commentaries, sidebars, and notes written about the subject. I doubt I will have anything new to add to the pot. Actually, the reason I am writing is to admit freely that I’m kind of…stuck. Stuck at a particular point in the book.
In Romans 7:18-25, the Apostle Paul states:
“I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is the sin living in me that does it.
So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!
So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in the sinful nature a slave to the law of sin.”
There’s a reason I’m able to relate to Paul more than I can to Jesus. Sometimes, I honestly think it would have been better for Paul to die for my sins. (The way some people talk about the man, you would believe they thought he actually did!) My reasoning for this is he’s struggled with the same things I struggled with. He takes a snapshot of the human soul that is so candid, so intimate, it borders on being obscenely pornographic. The vile darkness that lurks in the hearts of man is laid bare and called to account. Each of us can point to the words of this man and nod, because we’ve all been there. Jesus was tempted but never failed. I can’t relate to that. Paul was tempted and failed miserably. He struggled with what that meant. He struggled with looking up from the bottom of a spiritual hole. I can relate to that. Still, I am eternally grateful that I can’t relate to Jesus in the way I can relate to Paul. Otherwise, I would still be dead in my sins.
How come I don’t believe I’m the first one to wrestle with this, though? It's like I'm the exact opposite of what I need to be in order to be who I'm supposed to be. I'm supposed to be good and I've got a desire to heed this call to be a leader among followers, but I have a desire to intentionally screw up and do what I want. Sitting in church on any given Sunday I convince myself, “Yeah. I can do this. I can live this life.” Then I exit the front doors and the demons take flight again, swirling within and without my soul, wailing, screaming curses and bombarding me from every conceivable direction. Discouraging words at exactly the wrong time. Sensual stimulation. Personal insecurity. Out-and-out disgust with living the life of a choirboy. Disappointment with the failure of others. Utter desolation at my own failure.
And the Apostle Paul’s solution to the problem doesn’t read like a solution at all. Not in the formula-worshipping, bullet point-dependent sense I seem to get from the modern church. His solution seems almost like a cop-out. “I want to be a good person, but I’m a bad person. I’m a slave to sin. This sucks. But, thank God for Jesus Christ! He’ll rescue me!” At the risk of being cliché: It seems easy. A little too easy.
Sometimes the simplest answer is the right one. But we want more than a simple solution to the problem don’t we? Reality is full of difficulties, so a simple answer simply will not do. Rest assured, the simplicity of the solution is probably much deeper than you or I will ever be able to fathom this side of eternity. As C.S. Lewis puts it, “…if you are content to stop there, well and good. But if you are not—and the modern world usually is not—if you want to go on and ask what is really happening—then you must be prepared for something difficult. If we ask for something more than simplicity, it is silly then to complain that the something more is not simple.”
Within the last three weeks, I have been called Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by two different people. I was indignant at first. How dare they! I’m struggling! I’m learning! I’m growing as an individual! I don’t need this right now! If they only knew how God is changing me! Then I got stuck at Romans 7. And I had to admit, “I am Jekyll. I am Hyde.” I’m not comfortable with that. Not at all. But, I suspect, just as the fictional character of Dr. Jekyll struggled against the monster that raged long before it was unleashed through the wonders of science, I will struggle with my own “wretched man” that seeks to devour me whole. Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!
* Some may read this and wonder if I am dodging the bullet or not truly hearing what it is they are saying about my “dueling dual personality”. For those who believe this, please know this is not the case at all. I have heard what you have said, prayed about your words, and am now putting this counsel to work in my life. I am facing this issue head-on as best I know how. Yahweh’s peace.
An Island Unto...
"No man or woman is an island."
~~Denis Waitley~~
“Thanks for coming out! We hope to see you again!” the ushers exclaimed as optimistically as minimum wage and throbbing feet would allow them as we each exited the theatre, having just finished viewing The Island. I get the distinct feeling they had to thank us, though. It just seemed that, despite their exuberant gratitude for our being there, both their apathetic faces and cantankerous posturing betrayed their words. Coming from my broad experience working in movie theatres, I’m sure it has everything to do with the candy wrappers, spilled drinks, and nacho trays left behind. Such a thing would have anyone muttering beneath their breath about some ungodly way to cause bodily harm were they ever to meet any of us in a darkened alley.
So, The Island was a film decked to the nines in explosions, gratuitous slow-motion, gapping plot holes, beautiful people running from bad guys who manage to remain beautiful in the process, excruciatingly obvious product placement and a couple more well-placed explosions. The film was your regular big-budget explosion fest helmed by a man, director Michael Bay, who has made big-budget explosion fests his thing. Of course, I checked my disbelief at the door and ate up every moment of it. Technically, the powers that be at Warner Brothers Studios could have named this movie anything they wanted to and gotten away with it, but The Island is what they chose to called it and the theatre still got my nine bucks, so what can I say?
After the begrudging invitation back to visit in the near future by the lethargic ushers my buddy Josh and I ran into our neighbor from two doors down, who had come to see the same movie with his wife and a couple friends. There was this moment of strange excitement. “Wow! You’re here, too? What’re the odds of that?” Then came the obligatory questions about whether or not we all liked the movie, why or why not? After that, we smiled awkwardly, said our good-byes, and made our way toward our vehicles.
Josh and I talked some more about the gapping plot holes and the blatant taking advantage of our willing suspension of disbelief during the car ride home. As we neared the pad there was a lull in the conversation and I became somewhat contemplative. “Do you think he’s a believer?” I asked as I turned to face my friend. “He’s not,” Josh informed me. Sitting back in the passenger side seat, I tried to imagine such a thing.
Being raised in a Christian home, I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t know Jesus. There were times when He felt more like a distant sovereign rather than a close friend and confidante, sure. Those of you who have read these windows into my traveling soul have been witness to some of these periods. Even still, I always knew He was somewhere nearby, exactly where I had left Him. But, to live a life completely devoid of Christ? I have a hard time imagining it. Maybe that is why testimonies of those who have done all these supposedly terrible things and then been found by Christ fascinate me so much. Maybe it’s why I like reading about Paul the Apostle’s conversion, because his story of before-and-after mesmerizes the mind.
What must it be like to live a life experiencing only common grace and not saving grace? What must it be like to not have the security of Christ? And, I’m not talking about some ethereal feeling of fire insurance, either. I mean truly? What must it be like for this man who makes small talk with us from time-to-time? What must it be like to get out of bed in the morning, lace up one’s shoes, go jogging, read the Detroit Free Press over a cup a coffee, down a bowl of cereal, go to work and fly a fighter jet for a living, come home to make love with a beautiful wife, raise two good-looking sons, live in a nice home in Grosse Pointe, Michigan, and go to sleep at night with only common grace? I can’t imagine a life that is perpetually more alone than that…an island.
Do you think this man begins to wonder about Christ when I let him know Josh is moving to Phoenix to be part of a church plant and I am going to school in a few weeks to study for the pastorate? Do you think that beneath the small talk about how hard it is to keep weeds out the front of our respective flowerbeds and the awkward smile lay the question, “What must it be like to live a life experiencing both common grace and saving grace? What must it be like to look forward to experiencing true reality?” What if this guy and every unsaved person we might know want us to ask them if they might want a relationship with Jesus Christ? I know that seems simplistic, but what if? What if they’re tired of floating around in the ocean of life, an island unto themselves? What if the only thing they’re waiting for is for you and me to open our mouths and say something…anything.
The Scrutiny, Part II: Let's Pretend
"We are what we pretend to be,
but we better be very careful
what we pretend."
~~Anonymous~~
Three weeks have passed since I sent out my survey questions. The hoopla has died down. My initial feelings of hurt and out-and-out mystification have passed. Friends have scaled back on calling to make sure the overwhelmingly negative responses regarding my life and character have not driven me to dire measures…like crying.
And in my back pocket I have tucked away this insanely romantic notion that if I focus on my faults enough—remaining acutely aware of what they are and how they affect the people around me, I mean— I will somehow be able to “reinvent” myself. Those close to me have, of course, advised against such a thing. “Don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. It will only enhance the inevitable letdown when you are found out. Just be yourself.”
But, in a fashion that is characteristic of being C. E’Jon Moore, I have opted not to heed their advice. At least, I do not intend to follow their counsel in the classic sense. Bear with me.
In his magnum opus, Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis puts it this way:
What is the good of pretending to be what you are not? Well, even on the human level, you know, there are two kinds of pretending. There is the bad kind, where the pretence is there instead of the real thing; as when a man pretends he is going to help you instead of really helping you. But there is also a good kind, where the pretence leads up to the real thing. When you are not feeling particularly friendly but know you ought to be, the best thing you can do, very often, is to put on a friendly manner and behave as if you were a nicer person than you actually are. And in a few minutes, as we all have noticed, you will be really feeling friendlier than you were. Very often the only way to get a quality in reality is to start behaving as if you had it already. That is why children’s games are so important. They are always pretending to be grown-ups—playing soldiers, playing shop. But all the time, they are hardening their muscles and sharpening their wits, so that the pretence of being grown-ups helps them to grow up in earnest.
Now the moment you realise “Here I am, dressing up as Christ,” it is extremely likely that you will see at once some in which at that very moment the pretence could be made less of pretence and more of a reality...
I freely admit we very well may be comparing apples and oranges when I hold my friend’s advice next to Mr. Lewis’ take on the subject, but I do not, personally, believe this to be the case. We live in a world that demands a certain measure of fakeness in order to survive day-to-day interactions with one another. I commented on this in my blog entry titled An Honest Ramble about how much I hated this…my patently postmodern cry for authenticity. The subject even came up this past weekend amongst the impressionable, know-it-all, angst-ridden twenty-somethings (myself included) that had gathered on the porch of my friend’s home. Since reading Lewis’ words, though, my thoughts have sobered regarding the matter…and I realize the world may have a better grip on what it means to be Christ-like than the Church (in this area).
What does this mean for me, though? Certain things in my life can’t be remedied by simply pretending to be what I am not, can they? Of course not! I can’t be a good father from 60 miles away by simply pretending to be one. Tomfoolery! Pish posh! Some items of personal concern will undoubtedly require practical steps taken to achieve an attainable goal. But, there remain items where I will become seemingly pretentious in hopes of catching what Lewis refers to as “the good infection”—the kind of life Christ has.
Nemesis
"Enemy occupied territory
is what the world is."
~~Clive Staples Lewis~~
“Jesus loves you just the way you are!” the Church claims in a reckless, theology-induced mania. And, unfortunately, it is one of the few messages that survived the shift from modernism to postmodernism. Come as you are, sure. That’s the only way you can arrive before the throne of God. Conversely, to suppose that Jesus loves you just the way you are is preposterous. If Jesus loved you just the way you are, I have serious doubts He’d keep telling you to do things that seem like the exact opposite of what appears a natural response to a certain stimuli. ‘You have heard that it was said, but I tell you this instead (Matthew 5-7).’ I don’t find many instances in Scripture where Jesus came across a cripple or dead person and said, “I like you just the way you are. Don’t change a thing.” It would also be foolhardy for Him to die for your sin problem if it were an acceptable thing to ail from.
Romans 5:10 starts, “…when we were enemies of God…” When we first come to Jesus, the Bible makes the claim that we are enemies of God. Enemies! What can be said here about enemies is that no one enjoys having them. From comic book superheroes to America’s war on terror, no one likes having an enemy. This stems mainly from the fact you can do very little with them. They’re not good for much beyond antagonism. I suppose that’s the quandary. Enemies provide people with only two options: Reformation or utter annihilation. And this is what the Bible calls us, so these are the only options God has given us to choose from. The strangest part of the whole deal is that Jesus loves his enemies enough to die for them…and implores his followers to do the same as soon as they are no longer at odds with Him. This is tantamount to President Bush dying for oh, I don’t know…Osama Bin Laden? Saddam Hussein, maybe?
What does it mean to be an enemy of God, though? The Church preaches this message of a “God of Love” like bleating sheep ad nauseum, without any allusion to a “God of Wrath.” Now, I don’t mean to communicate that Jesus is like Zeus, hurling thunderbolts down upon those who do not do His bidding. I don’t think He was vengeful early on, but sobered out and died for our sins down the road, either. To be an enemy of God is to take every rivalry imaginable and catapult it to a cosmic level. This is not what we are telling people, though—which in the mind of this Christ follower, means pastors and laymen have dropped the ball.
I was watching an episode of Dr. Phil (Oprah Winfrey’s puppet) the other day and couldn’t help but feel I was at church. Besides the fact he never once mentioned Jesus, it was exactly the same. From the area rugs to the dispensable advice on how to solve a particular problem, there was no marked difference. Church has become a self-help seminar rather than a stark call to repentance. We have left the message of “Repent, for the kingdom of God is near,” for the feel-good option of bullet points and quasi-religious platitudes people can carry from Sunday to Sunday. If that is not enough, there are [generally] plenty of programs on Wednesday nights to inoculate people until the weekend arrives again.
My question is this? What is the purpose of “getting saved” if it is not clearly communicated what one is being saved from? When George W. Bush announced during his State of the Union address that Iran, Iraq, and North Korea were the “Axis of Evil” people were flabbergasted. He didn’t mince words and, in no uncertain terms, communicated succinctly that America would remedy the situation. What would happen if a pastor or laymen, in the same spirit, took the podium or announced during a conversation with an unsaved person that they were God’s nemesis—that they had chosen to tussle with the Creator of the Cosmos?
Enemies of Jesus always end up going to Hell. There’s no two-ways about it. Fortunately, there is good news! Jesus! Despite your position in the enemy’s camp, He has invited you to make peace—to join the side of Christ. What would happen if the Church unabashedly preached the Gospel of Jesus Christ instead of seeking the “right to be heard”, worrying about negative reinforcement, or spewing jargon that simply confuses the issue?
The understanding I have of the Gospel message is a simple one. Preach Jesus.
Is Jesus a White Republican?
"I don't preach a social gospel; I preach the Gospel, period. The gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ is concerned for the whole person. When people were hungry, Jesus didn't say, "Now is that political or social?" He said, "I feed you." Because the good news to a hungry person is bread."~~Bishop Desmond Tutu~~
I am a Republican. At least, that's how I tend to vote. But, I am a follower of Christ first. And lately, I’ve been thinking about this idea of Jesus agreeing with my political ideologies and voting practices. This isn’t even a voting year and my candidate won in the last election, so I’m not entirely sure why it’s even on my mind. It seems almost nonsensical to wonder, but I sometimes wonder if Jesus might be bigger than my political posturing.
My thoughts on this aren’t well-formulated yet, but I just can’t seem to get my mind around it. Reducing Jesus to formulas and polarized and biased opinions somehow seems wrong. Maybe a Jesus who can be reduced to an issue is not a Jesus worthy of worship. Who has ever sang a song about how much God hates abortion or how disagreeable He is to homosexual marriage or how appalled He might be if a Democrat runs the White House in the near future? That would sound ridiculous.
The Jesus of the Bible seems so much more than that. So much more…phenomenal? Grand? Majestic? These are not words I would use to describe the Republican Party, the Democratic Party, or any number of independents. Jesus is so much bigger and more amazing than our proclivity to use Him as a talking head to back up our political ideologies. He seems more concerned with knowing me and caressing my face lovingly like a father with his child. He seems more concerned with feeding my hungry soul.
Author Donald Miller hits on this idea his book, Searching For God Knows What:
“I met a guy not long ago who was very conservative and had opinions all over him, and he was saying why God agreed with his political ideas and why that made his political ideas right. The whole time he was talking to me...I was feeling like this guy with the opinions was presenting a kind of Jesus who didn’t even exist. His Jesus was just an invention of his imagination, someone who more or less justified his position concerning a lot of different political opinions. Sitting there listening to him made me feel tired. People like that should have an island.”
Like I said, I don’t have any really structured or formulated ideas about why I’m thinking about this. I just know Jesus is more…
The Scrutiny, Part I
"But what is the good of friendship if one cannot say exactly what one means? Anybody can say charming things and try to please and to flatter, but a true friend always says unpleasant things, and does not mind giving pain. Indeed, if he is a really true friend he prefers it, for he knows that then he is going good."
~~Oscar Wilde~~
“Hey, about your questions? Are you sure you really want to hear what people have to say?” It seemed like a brainless thing to for my friend, Carrie, to be asking. After all, I wouldn’t have asked anything if I didn’t want the answers, right? Well, it might seem like that on the surface, but my friend knows me pretty well, which makes the question valid.
Recently, at the behest of my friend, Craig, I began conducting interviews amongst most of my friends. Some I conducted face-to-face. Others I conducted over the telephone. Still, others I conducted via e-mail correspondence. The subject of the interview? What else? Me. Needless to say, the interview has been enlightening, but all together maddening.
Four specific questions were asked.
1. What affect do you believe I have on people?
2. What would you say about my character?
3. What would you say about my integrity?
4. How would you describe me—the good, the bad, and the ugly?
In order to make it worthwhile, I committed beforehand to simply sit and listen to or read whatever it is each person had to say, without rebuttal. I made no nasty outbursts when I heard something that stung or I did not agree with. I did not send a scathing e-mail reply out of wounded pride. I sat. I listened. I took the arrows.
And, because these people were my friends, many of them did not shy away from saying what needed to be said. My failed marriage. Wearing my emotions on my sleeve. My unwillingness to listen. My relationship with my daughter, Mackenzie. My acceleration of relationships (Get in, get out, move on…) based on my blatant distrust of anything or anyone human. My proclivity to attach too quickly. My argumentative/confrontational mentality. My commitment to apologetics, but not to the Cross of Christ. My swearing. My struggle between the light and dark side of my soul. It was almost surreal. It was if my friends and family were waiting to say the things I have heard. And I have yet to receive all the responses! To say this is surprising would be a lie. For far too long, I have buried many of the darker things that lurk in my soul without killing them first…so they inevitably resurface.
“There is no heaven that has a little corner of hell in it. God is determined to make you pure, holy, and right, and He will not allow you to escape the scrutiny of the Holy Spirit for even one moment…God is going to bring you out pure, spotless, and undefiled, but He wants you to recognize the nature you were exhibiting—the nature of demanding your right to yourself. The moment you are willing for God to change your nature, His recreating forces will begin to work. And the moment you realize that God’s purpose is to get you into the right relationship with Himself and then with others, He will reach to the very limits of the universe to help you take the right road. ” With these words from My Utmost for His Highest spiritual cannon fire reverberated through the great hall of my soul. I am squeamish at the things my friends and family have said to me. I almost feel as if I am a hopeless cause. Some have told me as much. “I think that though you have done the four questions, you will not use it to change the things that need to be changed and thus this will be a wasted survey,” one person wrote. Ouch. But, if these are the arrows of friends and family—the scrutiny of those who love me—how much more scrutinizing will the Holy Spirit be?
