The cause of social misery

Here is a brief Wesleyan account of the root causes of social evils. In a word, the cause is sin.

In his treatise on Original Sin, John Wesley gives the following example of the ways misery and poverty are ultimately traced back to sin.

Many families are miserable through want. They have not the conveniences, if the necessaries, of life. Why have they not? Because they will not work: Were they diligent, they would want nothing. Or, if not idle, they are wasteful; they squander away, in a short time, what might have served for many years. Others, indeed, are diligent and frugal too; but a treacherous friend, or a malicious enemy, has ruined them.; or they groan under the hand of an oppressor; or the extortioner has entered into their labours. You see, then, in all these cases, want (though in various ways) is the effect of sin. But is there no rich man near? none that could relieve these innocent sufferers, without impairing his own fortune? Yes; but he thinks of nothing less. They may rot and perish for him. See, more sin is implied in their suffering.

Wesley argues that miseries of many kinds — from that of individuals to that of nations — can be traced back to sin. And these sins are always a case of willful actions or omissions. Wesley did not look to impersonal or systematic causes of social evils. Sin was the cause and sinners were in one way or another the agents of misery.

The role of the church in the face of these things was to identify the sin, convict the sinner, and thereby relieve the suffering and redeem souls at the same time.

This is slow work, of course. And in a culture where people reject the gospel out of hand, it is a solution that many people cannot even contemplate. In such cases, it falls to the church to care for those who suffer, to continue to witness to the gospel, and to lay down its life for others so long as sin runs free.

This is what the church has done through the ages when it is at its best.

Body and/or soul?

Irenaeus from “On the Apostolic Preaching”

For the way of all those who see is single and upward, illumined by the heavenly light, but the ways of those who do not see are many, dark and divergent; the one leads to the kingdom of heaven, uniting man to God, while the others lead down to death, separating man from God. Thus it is necessary for you and for all who are concerned about their salvation to make [your] way by faith, without deviation, surely and resolutely, lest, in slacking, you remain in gross desires, or, erring, wander from the right.

That last sentence is a prelude to a more extended discussion by Irenaeus about the importance of keeping holiness of body and of soul. Holiness of the body, he writes, is abstaining from all “shameful and lawless deeds.” Holiness of the soul is to know and keep the whole truth of the faith without adding to it or subtracting from it.

He asks, “For what use is it to know the truth in words, only to defile the body and perform evil deeds? Or what profit indeed can come from holiness of body, if truth is not in the soul? For these rejoice together and join forces to lead man to the presence of God.”

For Irenaeus, at least, orthodoxy without bodily holiness is useless. Bodily holiness without orthodoxy profits us nothing.

Irenaeus, of course, was just man. His teaching could be false. Many Protestants, for instance, might resist what appears to be a form of works righteousness not just here but in the rest of his writings.

But I find his linking of holiness of body and holiness of soul a good reminder that we should not place too much emphasis on one to the neglect of the other.

Male sin vs. female sin?

I’ve heard variations on this idea before. Do you think it is the case — as presented here — that men and women are tempted to different kinds of sin?

Many women have negated self so much that we no longer have a self to surrender to God. The primary meaning many of us find is in identification with the lives of others. When the husband or children are joyful, sad, or pensive, we feel likewise, taking on the feelings of others, instead of being a self that is related to God apart from these relationships. Women are not inherently more “good” than males. Women are just as sinful, but in different ways. Valerie Saiving provided a valid list of the sins women are tempted toward: sins of distraction, diffuseness, triviality, sentimentality, avoiding responsibility, mistrusting reason, lacking centeredness, disrespect of boundaries, and passivity. These temptations seem trivial to males (and may even appear to males as virtues). But for women, they’re sins just as much as lust, rage, and power-seeking. Women can be tempted to find their identity completely in others instead of God and are tempted to give their entire selves to others, leaving no self left to surrender to God.

Are these things evil?

He went on: “What comes out of a person is what defiles them. For it is from within, out of a person’s heart, that evil thoughts come — sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. All these evils come from inside and defile a person.” (Mark 7:20-23)

Here is my question today: Are these things evil or not?

I’m not interested in whether we would say these things are imprudent or potentially contrary to our own interests.

Are they, as Jesus says, evil?

A Methodist Easter message?

What is this thing that we are instructed to go tell the world about?

Jesus, who was dead, is alive.

Why is that such a big deal? Why does that matter? Why do so many Christians run around insisting that it is the most important thing that ever happened or ever will happen?

A dead guy came back to life.

It happens all the time on TV and in the movies.

What’s the big deal?

I’m sure different churches answer this question in different ways. Here’s my best short response based on my understanding of what it means to be a Methodist — United or otherwise.

My answer starts by observing that not everyone hears this news with the same ears. There are at least three different stances that a person adopts as they come to hear the news of Easter.

The first, I’ll call the careless. I don’t mean here careless as in not paying attention to what they are doing — although in certain cases that might apply. I mean careless as in “I could not care less” about Jesus and what all we church people have to say about him.

This may be a defiant rejection of Christ. It may be the voice of someone who just can’t be bothered. It may be the voice of one who, although they would never be quite so blunt as I put it above, thinks they have Christianity all sorted out quite nicely and don’t need any Jesus talk mucking things up. God is in his heaven, and I’ve got it all under control down here.

To the careless, Easter’s word is “Wake up!” Or perhaps, look again. That bothersome itinerant preacher, who you thought had been shut up, is on the loose. More than that, his resurrection testifies that he is who he said he is: the Son of God.

Much of the apostolic preaching recorded in Acts has this message. The resurrection proves that Jesus is the one who will judge the world. If he is the judge, perhaps it is time to look again at what he said when he was here with us.

The second group, we might call the convicted. These are the people who have paid attention to the teaching of Jesus, the prophets, and the Torah. They are aware that there is something out of alignment in their own souls when it comes to God. Whether this is experienced as the guilt and shame of the more colorful sins or as the bondage and fear of our more subtle alienations from God, the convicted come to the tomb of Easter bearing the grief of Golgotha in their hearts. Their outward modes of grieving might be quite different, but the pain is still real. They know something is wrong in them and with them.

To the convicted, the word of Easter is “Come home!” The father is waiting on the hill watching the road for your return. Come home, and rejoice. Life is stronger than death. Love is more powerful than hate. You who were dead, be alive once more. Receive the grace and mercy poured out for you on the cross and sealed forever by an empty tomb.

The final group, at the risk of offending, we might call the Christians. These are the ones who have known the love of God poured out into their hearts. They can say with gladness that Jesus Christ has forgiven them, even them. But they come to Easter still looking for a sign to sustain them in the journey. The road is long and the trials are many.

To the Christian, the word of Easter is “Hold on to your hope!” The work Christ first worked in you, he will complete. He has gone ahead, but he will meet us again. So, hold tight to the hope of Christ. The women came that morning, perhaps, all out of hope, convinced by hard reality and stone cold power that the promises of God are too fragile to survive this bitter world. They came clinging to or perhaps even devoid of hope, but that morning hope found them. It will find and sustain you as well, if we do not let go.

I don’t think these messages conflict with each other, and we probably all need to hear all three at every point in our lives. But they do hit different accents.

Methodism has always been a way of being Christian that is keenly aware of the journey of faith. We believe that Christ calls us into ever deeper communion with him. We believe that there is no such thing as standing still with God. We either go forward or we fall back. And so, from the days of Wesley, Methodism has always been careful to fit its words and practices to the different needs of the people who receive them.

I’m not saying this is unique to Methodism. We Methodists have always insisted that our only goal was to be faithful to the faith once delivered to the church. We have never aimed at being new. All I am trying to do is figure out how to be the best Methodist I can be. God called me to this odd body of believers and has called me to ministry within it. I hope to honor that call as best I can.

This Easter, I pray I am serving Christ’s purpose in raising up a people called Methodist by seeking to preach in such ways.

‘For I keep your statutes’

In the movie Luther there is a dramatic scene when Luther is overcome with grief and agony over his sin and the devil’s power. His father confessor comes to him and directs him to pray this terribly simple prayer to Jesus: Save me. I am yours.

I had not noticed until this morning that the prayer was from Psalm 119: 94.

The full verse in the NIV is translated like this: Save me, for I am yours; I have sought out your precepts.

Maybe it is what I have been reading recently — both online and in book form — but reading Psalm 119 for my Scripture this morning brought home to me the ease with which my ears are tempted by calls to set aside the law and the teaching of God. It is so easy to talk yourself into the idea that God’s law is fluid and defined by the culture of the day. It is so easy to lift up verse against verse in the Bible and melt any sense that there is something hard and fast and unchanging at the base of it all. It is so easy end up double-minded and hating the law (contra. 119:113).

Psalm 119 ends with this: I have strayed like a lost sheep. Seek your servant, for I have not forgotten you commands.

May God’s grace give me the faithfulness to be able to pray those words in truth.