Who Sinned
“Rabbi, who sinned?” the disciples asked. Because that, of course, is the only pertinent question here.
They’re walking by a “man born blind.” (John spends all of
chapter nine telling this man’s story and he never gives his name. I suspect
that’s because he didn’t know his name . . . because nobody asked. I wonder if
that struck John later as he was writing the account, and if he felt any shame
at that fact.)
Isn’t it interesting that John tells us “he saw a man
blind from birth?” Jesus saw him
– it doesn’t say the disciples saw him. But Jesus must have somehow brought
their attention to the man because they immediately began a theological
discussion about whether the blindness was caused by his own sin or his
parents’ sin.
No talk about what could be done for the poor guy. No pity
expressed for the man’s sad situation. They talked about this guy in
third person, right in front of his face, as if he wasn’t even there. Don’t
gloss over the coldness of that behavior. The disciples saw him as an object
lesson – as an object – a subject for religious discourse.
I become increasingly frustrated with and disappointed in my
evangelical sisters and brothers. The Sin Police. And more so, I think, because
I realize that I used to be one of them (and maybe still am, more often than I
want to admit.) As if our primary duty as the body of Christ is to find the dreaded
sinners and either clean them up or expunge them from the assembly.
The couple living together before marriage. (gasp)
The housewife who doesn’t want to get vaccinated. (selfish!)
The businessman who lives in a big house and drives an
expensive car. (shameful greed . . .)
The Sunday School teacher who thinks the first half of Genesis may not be
literal history. (get away from my kid!)
We are so afraid of contamination. Of impurity. Of taking a
small step on that slippery slope and crashing into depravity. I mean, we’re
afraid of crashing ourselves, but that doesn’t even seem to be our biggest
concern (at least it’s not where we spend our time and energy). We’re even more
afraid that we might accidentally excuse sin, tolerate sin . . . that we might
allow somebody else to sin and not do something about it. That we might
get deceived into thinking sin is not sin anymore. And of course, we have to
make sure we are right about every single thing, about every single sin
– incorrect theology or biblical interpretation is a step on that slippery
slope.
We have prioritized being RIGHT over being LOVING. Why are
we not ashamed?
And oh, yes – we justify this behavior by saying that
allowing someone to sin without trying to do something about it is unloving. I
mean, what would Jesus do?
Well, we know what Jesus would do, people. We witnessed his
response in the story of the woman caught in adultery. She clearly sinned – she
was caught in the act, in fact. And what does Jesus do?
He tells her accusers to pay more attention to their own
sins than to hers.
And yes, he tells her she shouldn’t do that anymore, but
more importantly . . .
He says, “I don’t condemn you.”
So, why in the world do we think it’s okay to condemn each
other? Or ourselves? “There is NO CONDEMNATION for those in Christ Jesus,” Paul
says. Do we think Paul is lying to us?
Y’all, I’m quite sure somebody’s going to crucify me, or
lecture me, or accuse me of heresy or losing my salvation or maybe just of
taking this too far . . . but I think this needs to be said. We believers need
to stop worrying so much about sin. Please note that I didn’t say we should
sin. We absolutely should not. I said we shouldn’t worry about it so much. We
should worry about LOVE. We should love God; we should love others.
If we are sincerely focused on loving the way God loves, I
doubt we’ll be in much danger of slipping down any hell-bound slope into sin.
Amen
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