Dogwood Digest

I was once asked to help several girls prepare their testimonies to be read at their baptism in Newfound Lake at Camp Berea. One little eleven year old had written that when she asked Jesus to come into her heart, she hadn't committed any of the really "bad sins." Curious, I asked her what constituted a bad sin, as opposed to the other sins, which maybe weren't so bad? "You know," she told me. "Like stealing or murdering someone."

In response to her misunderstanding, I took her to James 2:10, and read: "For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles in one point, he has become guilty of all." A look of shock came over her face, as she realized that, in terms of meeting the biblical standard, she stood as guilty as a man on death row. "There are only two verdicts that exist when it comes to sin," I explained to her. "Innocent or guilty. No in-betweens. With God, it is a simple, uncomplicated standard."

Why was I so intent at exposing her misconception? I followed Jesus' example. Just after calling Matthew to follow Him, Jesus dined with Matthew and his friends at his home. The scribes were quick to express their contempt for Jesus' practice of associating with sinners. Jesus responded to the offended religious leaders, "It is not those who are healthy who need a physician, but those who are sick; I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners." (Mark 2:17)

Was Jesus calling the scribes righteous? Unlikely, since other scripture tells us, "There is none righteous, not even one" (Romans 3:10, Psalm 14). John later wrote, "If we say that we have no sin, we are deceiving ourselves and the truth is not in us" (1 John 1:8). So if Jesus knew the scribes were sinners, just as guilty as those with whom He dined, then why did He refer to them as righteous?

Jesus knew they only thought themselves righteous. They were a prestigious bunch, revered by the people to be a step above the rest. They scrupulously kept the written and oral laws. They fasted every Monday and Thursday. To be sure everyone saw their spiritual, pious lives, they whitened their faces and wore disheveled clothing to mark their days of suffering. These were righteous men! So they thought.

But they had missed the point. Paul tells us the Law was given as a tutor, to show us that we could not live up to the standards of God. Even the ten most basic rules given at Mount Sinai--the Ten Commandments--were impossible to keep. God's standard for holiness has always been beyond our means.

Fostering that kind of understanding is how John the Baptist "prepared the way of the Lord." He made people aware of their sin and encouraged their repentance. This opened hearts in preparation for the One who was coming to resolve the problem of sin once and for all. The people needed to understand they were helpless to fix the problem in and of themselves. Only then would they be wide open to receiving the gift about to be offered to them.

So the attitude of the scribes was actually a roadblock to what the Savior had come to offer. Only in understanding their need could they accept salvation offered in mercy and grace.

Like those foolish, self-righteous scribes, we too are often guilty of incorrectly judging others. While we happily gossip, covet, or harbor bitterness, we turn and condemn the adulterer, murderer, or homosexual. We give ourselves a pass, but condemn those who do not live up to our arbitrary, self-serving standard of spirituality. How would Jesus respond to these judgmental attitudes so prevalent in His church? I think He would gently remind us of the scribes and their mistake so long ago. Sin is sin. Innocent or guilty are the two possibilities. We all stand in the same group-- guilty as charged. We are all saved by grace. None of us deserved salvation. Every one of us stood in desperate need. Not one of us can earn God's approval. When we begin to think we can, we are teetering dangerously close to the scribal attitudes Jesus warned against.

I once spoke at a retreat where a certain woman was obviously uncomfortable with being there. She spent her free time smoking out on the porch and talking on her cell phone. I made it my business to go out there and find out her story. After talking for a few minutes, she confessed her discomfort to me. "I don't belong here," she said. When I asked her why she felt that way, she replied, "These women are all so good. I am rotten to the core. I'm afraid my very presence will corrupt them."

"Oh, Rhonda," I said. "You are believing a lie. If I could unzip my skin and let you see me on the inside, the real me that only God and I know about, you would be shocked and disgusted. We are all a big mess. The difference in this group of women is that they have taken their messy, pitiable lives and given them to Christ. We traded our sorrow and shame and in return received grace and forgiveness."

Christians aren't perfect-- just forgiven. Unfortunately, we often seem to forget that fact about ourselves when we cast our gaze on those around us. Never lose sight of what we were freely given and what it cost Jesus to offer it to us. Only with our eyes trained on the Savior can we hope to avoid the scribes' deplorable mistake.