I lay on my
rack on board the USS Nassau as a Lance Corporal in the Marine Corps Infantry.
We had been circling off the coast of Yemen for a few months. Our AC was down,
and our berthing quarters (where we slept) fluctuated between 95 and 100
degrees. I, along with a group of about twenty Lance Corporals and PFCs, were
affectionately known as “boots,” meaning that we were new to the Corps.
“Seniors” (those with a few years and deployments under their belts) dominated
us with extra working parties and occasional secret hazing sessions, as was
tradition among infantry units. As I lay in my rack, I hated life, but more
importantly, I hated Corporal Davis. Earlier that day, it was just me and Corporal Davis in the showers. Davis called over from his shower and asked if he
could come over and “f…k” me in my shower. Davis was not homosexual: he just
loved domination. I rejected his half-joking, playful offers and finished my
shower as quickly as possible.
Corporal
Davis was a tall, muscular (rumors were that he was on roids) NCO in my company
who was the unspoken leader behind most hazing sessions. I hated him so badly
that as I lay on my rack dreading another day in fear, I prayed for God to
judge Corporal Davis. Maybe God would let us into Somalia tomorrow, and Corporal
Davis would take one to the chest. I wanted Corporal Davis to die. I must have
pled with God for almost an hour to judge this man. The next morning, I went on
with my day – working parties, PT, Bible studies – with hardly a thought about
last night’s merciless prayer.
Two years
later back home in Camp Lejeune, NC, I came into the office early to find most
of my superiors hard at work, exhausted from having pulled an all-nighter. My superiors were preparing to brief the Battalion Commander of a Marine's death and to inform the family. Davis, now a Sergeant, had perished just a few hours ago from a motorcycle
accident. Surviving two combat deployments, a MEU, and getting away with
numerous hazing sessions without any repercussions from the UCMJ (Uniform Code
of Military Justice), Davis died on an obscure curvy road while speeding on his
bike. Was this an answer to prayer? Was this just God’s justice? Was this just
chance?
No one will ever be able to convince me that I did not
have a part in this man’s death. I hated Davis. Is not hate equally despicable
as murder in the sight of God? I know that most counseling would assure me that I had nothing to do with Davis’ death. But
sometimes our counseling betrays such naiveté: there is some guilt where cliché
phrases are as useless as a squirt gun to a bonfire.
My guilt
expands far beyond this spiritual, first-degree murder. I have lusted for years, a private stress relief that temporarily silences my deepest
fears that I am a huge failure at life. I am a control freak, and sometimes my
motives are shady. My guilt does not end there, as I have many more
urges that would keep church busybodies active for years. I am just one big
scandal.
Coming to
terms with all this guilt opens a whole new world of understanding. Embracing
the hypocrite in yourself gives you a sort of x-ray vision, because now you
instantly identify the scandal and hypocrisy in everyone around you. The
hypocrites hate this, because if you are new at using your “x-ray vision,” then
you will be innocently reckless. You notice, you speak, and you get pounded.
Very soon you understand that the whole world (church members, too) is either
equally or almost as scandalous as you are. As you become more skilled with
your “x-ray vision,” you have to make a choice: get angry and point out
everyone’s hypocrisy en masse; do your best to define tact and implement
tactful pleas for transparency and risk being called “angry” by hypocrites
refusing to come clean; or shut up and start decorating the outside of
your sepulcher as fast as possible.
Guilt
heaped on more guilt as I vacillated among all three choices, sometimes daily. For some time now, I have begun feeling like a fourth grader who
is completely exacerbated over a complex math problem that is due in class
the next day.
Funny - at this point in your life, hypocrites come running from all directions in an
effort to “help” you with your problems. If you get lucky, a hypocrite or two
might come sit down beside you and empathize with you while praising God in
almost hysterical joy. Thus a ray of
hope: a group of people who embrace the reality that they are a great scandal,
living freely in the joy and confidence that not one ounce of their valid guilt
has any bearing upon their identity in Another. This group of people is the true Church with Jesus Christ the Head.
Jesus
Christ pulls me to Himself and introduces me to something new. The
black-and-white-word-on-a-page is not new to me, but the reality of the word
is. We refer to this word as Grace. As I come to a deeper understanding of this
word, I come to realize that I will never be able to fathom all the earth-shattering
implications of the word. Grace introduces me to the most beautiful attribute
of our Savior, where all my hypocrisy, guilt, and scandal are swallowed up in
the wrath of God upon Christ and remembered no more. The consequences of sin are tragic:
Then
the earth reeled and rocked;
the foundations also of
the mountains trembled
and quaked, because God
was angry.
Smoke went up from His nostrils,
and devouring fire from His
mouth;
glowing coals flamed
forth from Him.
He bowed the heavens and came down;
thick darkness was under
His feet.
He rode on a cherub and flew;
He came swiftly on the
wings of the wind.
He made darkness His covering, His
canopy around Him,
thick clouds dark with
water.
Out of the brightness before Him
hailstones and coals of
fire broke through His clouds.
The LORD also thundered in the
heavens,
and the Most High
uttered His voice,
hailstones and coals of
fire.
And He sent out his arrows and
scattered them;
He flashed forth
lightnings and routed them.
Then the channels of the sea were
seen,
and the foundations of
the world were laid bare
at Your rebuke, O LORD,
at the blast of the
breath of Your nostrils.
The
destruction of David’s enemies in Psalm 18 barely holds a candle to the wrath
poured out upon Jesus Christ from Heaven. My scandal did this. God the Father
attacked Jesus Christ with vicious wrath and thus Christ became my
propitiation.
Where sin abounds, Grace abounds far
more. It is and will always be one ounce of sin becoming overwhelmed with a million ounces of Grace.
“Grace must raise the temptation to think we can sin as we please; if it does
not, we have not understood the true extent of grace” (Derek Thomas). Paul must
discourage a mentality of license to sin, because Believers coming to terms with the abounding power of Grace requires it. Grace is so amazing and overwhelming that sin’s vocal chords are torn out forever, never to make a sound but only to
move its mouth for the voice-overs of the Great Accuser.
Grace begs me to grab all this
guilt, scandal, lust, murder, and dishonesty – to pick it up and lay it at the
feet of Christ on the cross. Grace invites me to stay and watch the filth pile removed.
Grace clothes me in righteousness and silences me from ever breathing a hint
that the filth pile any longer exists.
On earth, the guilt and scandal
bring earthly consequences as real as the physical consequences of defying
gravity. But just as God smiles no less upon the Christ-bought righteousness of
a Believer who accidentally falls off a cliff to his death, God smiles no less
upon the Believer who meets earthly consequences for his sin. After all, the
consequences of infracting against God’s physical and moral laws have no
bearing upon what Grace has done in permanently identifying us in Christ. License
to sin is truly an improper response, but the power of God (Grace) to overwhelm all
sin past, present, and future is that amazing.
As I lay my guilt, scandal, lust, murder,
and dishonesty at the feet of Christ, more sin appears: sins of pride and fear.
You see, long before I came to embrace my guilt for all the “nasty stuff,” I
lived a life of meticulous spiritual pride and fear of being touched and
infected by the “nasty people” doing “nasty stuff.” There exists a middle road
of sinlessness, and erring on the side of obvious sin is just as evil as erring
on the side of legalistically living extra-carefully. The pious Pharisee, whom
my “x-ray vision” has taught me to hate more than any other sinner, is who I
truly am deep inside. If I fight to let Grace overwhelm my pride and fear, then
I find myself fighting Grace to also overwhelm the “nasty stuff.” It’s all or
nothing. I either let Grace abound as it intends to do or I fight Grace on all
fronts.
Christ takes my sin, all of it. He
pours Grace upon it all. I look up and around and see throngs of others. Some
are “nasty” people like Corporal Davis who victimize others, and I must make
room for them next to me at the cross. Some are Pharisees who led many astray
in pride and fear, and I must make room for them next to me at the cross. And
now God has done what the Law could not do. Grace abounds upon my soul, and I
find that almost without my knowledge, Grace has calmed my heart to forgive all
mankind for all its hypocrisy and scandal.
For more reading:
Fundamentalism, Make It Stop!
Fundamentalism Breaks the Rules of Organizational Behavior
OCD Theology
A Culture of Protection
An Idolatry of Excellence
The Upside Down Pyramid
