Monday, September 22, 2008

The "Worst-Sinner" Syndrome

If someone asked you the name of the worst sinner you personally knew, what would you say?

I've always thought that the apostle Paul had a shocking, intriguing answer. "It is a trustworthy statement, deserving full acceptance," he said, "that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,"-- so far, so good-- "among whom I am foremost of all." I immediately think: come again? The author of thirteen epistles of the New Testament was the worst sinner he knew? Did he get out much, or what?

These days, we would probably reason that Paul had self-image problems, and assume that he must have struggled to forgive himself for his past; after all, he did persecute Christians before God brought him to repentance. So, there's that option: he was too hard on himself. If not, Paul must have been using sarcasm or hyperbole.

But what if Paul's perception of himself was accurate? If someone asked you the name of the worst sinner you personally knew, what should you say? What should I say?

I've been told, by Christians and non-Christians alike, that it's unhealthy to think about your sin much. If you meditate on your sin, the reasoning goes, you'll be clogged down with guilt in short time. Just think about God's love and His acceptance of you.

And yet, I've found exactly the opposite true in my own life.

When I do not think regularly and deeply of the daily insurrections of my heart, I experience and understand little of the love of God. I slog through life without passion, without joy, without compassion, and with more than a little self-righteousness.

On the other hand, whenever I have encountered anyone enraptured by the love of Christ, brimming with joy and infused with holy zeal-- I have encountered, in that same person, someone who dwells on his sin with deep sorrow far more often than the average person.

Might there be a certain order to things which cannot be circumvented?

John Piper challenges, "One of the reasons that many Christians seem to have no thrill at being forgiven through the gospel is that they have not been brokenhearted over their sin. They have not despaired. They have not wrestled with warranted self-loathing. They have not grieved over their sin because of its moral repugnance, but have grieved only because of guilt feelings and threats of hell. "

But searching out the extent of my sin is an excruciating process, and I shy away from pain. Looking hard at my soul is a gruesome business. Is it worth the trouble?

I think Jonathan Edwards expressed the answer wonderfully: "Repentance of sin is a sorrow arising from the sight of God's excellency and mercy, but the apprehension of excellency or mercy must necessarily and unavoidably beget pleasure in the mind of the beholder... How much soever of a paradox it may seem, it is true that repentance is a sweet sorrow, so that the more of this sorrow, the more pleasure."

Paul knew the "sweet sorrow" that Edwards wrote of. And since we each know more of our own hearts than we know of anyone else's, shouldn't we each endeavor to reach the place where we can sincerely claim the same "worst-sinner" title?

But if the reward for such sorrow is to behold the excellence, mercy, grace, and love of God-- to be thrilled anew with the hope of the gospel-- to arouse our affections for our Savior from apathy, and know all-consuming delight in Him at last-- then the pain sounds worthwhile, doesn't it?