The
extent to which we live off the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil is also
the extent to which we fail to invite others into the dance, for by God’s
design, the invitation was to be extended primarily by our love. Perhaps the
greatest indictment on evangelical churches today is that they are not
generally known as refuge houses for sinners—places where hurting, wounded,
sinful people can run and find a love that does not question, an understanding
that does not judge, and an acceptance that knows no conditions.
To
be sure, evangelical churches are usually refuge houses for certain kinds of sinners—the loveless,
the self-righteous, those apathetic toward the poor and unconcerned with issues
of justice and race, the greedy, the gluttonous, and so on. People guilty of these sins usually feel little
discomfort among us. But evangelical churches are not usually safe places for
other kinds of sinners—those whose sins, ironically, tend to be much less
frequently mentioned in the Bible than the religiously sanctioned sins.
It
is rare indeed that a drunkard, drug addict, or prostitute would think of going
to church because he or she just needed to feel loved and accepted. These
people may go to bars, fellow addicts, drug dealers, or pimps to find refuge
and acceptance, but they would not go to a church. In fact, as with the
Pharisees in Jesus’ day, the church has generally represented everything people
with these kinds of sins want to avoid at all costs. It has most often
represented nothing but condemnation for these people. Indeed, churches
frequently cultivate a reputation for “cracking down” on sins that fall into
their “unsanctioned sin” category. To fail to do this, many have assumed, is to
compromise our reputation for being set apart for holiness.
I
submit that, despite being carried out with utmost sincerity, the desire to
acquire a distinctive “holy” reputation is inevitably hypocritical. As we saw
in the last chapter, the sins we declare ourselves to be against are invariably
selected to not target ourselves. If
we were consistent in cracking down equally on all sins, we’d be cracking down on ourselves more than on those
outside the church. And if we retained a system of evaluating sin at all, sins
such as impatience, unkindness, rudeness, and self-righteousness—all
indications that love is absent (1 Cor. 13:4–5)—as well as prevalent “church”
sins such as gossip, greed, and apathy would rank higher on our list than sins
such as homosexuality or heterosexual promiscuity.
Striving
for a holy reputation is also self-serving because the whole enterprise is
unconsciously designed as a strategy for getting life for ourselves. Though it
is mostly unconscious—indeed, though we uniformly deny it—we are feeding
ourselves with our devised sin lists. We feel righteous and secure that we are
“in” while others are “out” as we compare ourselves favorably with others who
don’t measure up (according to our own biased measuring device).
Most
fundamentally, the quest for a holy reputation is sinful, for it cuts to the
heart of God’s goal for creation and the central call of the church to be a
community that receives, lives in, and recklessly shares the unsurpassable love
of the triune God. Above all else,
this love is that for which the church is called to be known. Sadly, in the
name of acquiring for ourselves a reputation of holiness, we have often
compromised the one reputation God calls us to have. Jesus was willing to
forsake any possibility of having a holy reputation for the sake of loving
those who were unholy.
To
be sure, Christians are called to be a holy people, set apart by their good
works. This is what transforming love looks like as it takes hold of people.
But this is not a reputation we should seek
to acquire or protect. The one
reputation we are called to acquire is identical to the one reality we are
called to live in: We are to be, and to be known as, a people who receive and
give love in an outrageous, impartial, unconditional way.
If
we simply seek to be who we are in Christ, to love without judgment, everything
else we need to do will be done. If we don’t manifest this reality, however, it
doesn’t matter in the least what else we do and are known for. Another way of
saying this is that the only thing that gives any value to our holiness is our
love (1 Cor. 13:1–3).
- Greg Boyd, "Repenting from Religion
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