Sin II – the inner struggle

So as I started to say last time, there seems to be an essential, elemental struggle within us between what we want to do and who we want to be; between our good aspirations and our innate and often unhelpful drives.

I want to be good, loving, Christlike and whole, but I also want pleasure and popularity. Physically and biologically I desire to enjoy all the delights that the world offers, but spiritually I don’t want to be the kind of person that that would make me. And when I try to live according to my moral principles, I find myself constantly derailed by internal instincts and traits that seem to come out of nowhere.

Of course, this is exactly the condition that Paul describes in Romans 7:19: ‘The good I want to do I do not do, and the evil I do not want to do – this I keep on doing’.

Look at King David. He’s probably just finished writing an inspired psalm of worship when he looks out of the window, sees beautiful Bathsheba bathing, and animal instinct takes over. Before you know it, he’s committed adultery and is on course to commit murder to cover it up.

So we have within us the potential for greatness and beauty, but also the potential to become something terrible, an abomination.

I’ve said it before – the biggest battle we fight is with ourselves, with the parts of our natures that militate against health and wholeness, against maturity and reality and love. We’re our own worst enemies, and we carry the seeds of our downfall around in us, the things that if unchecked will ruin us and wreck our lives. We have to master these parts of ourselves, conquer them, tame them, learn to control them.

It’s an inner fight between the chaotic forces of entropy, gravity and inertia, dragging us down and pulling us apart, and the redemptive forces of love, light and life.

Nice vs good?

Part of the problem is that the way of growth and health is just so much less immediately attractive and appealing than the alternative. All things being equal, who wouldn’t want to choose pleasurable indulgence over self-restraint, comfort and ease over hard work, power and control over quiet service? For whatever reason, that’s how we’re programmed.

And to complicate matters further, pleasurable things are clearly not always or inherently bad. If we could just say that sex and money and chocolate and alcohol and entertainment were always sinful (as we imagine the Puritans did, though they didn’t really), then we might face a fun-free existence but at least our choices would be straightforward. But of course these things aren’t always wrong. It’s often a question of context, and priority, and whether we’re master of these things or they of us.

The hard and easy paths

Annoyingly, it also turns out that almost everything good and worthwhile requires effort and commitment. But unfortunately humans seem to be fundamentally lazy, inclined to take shortcuts and easy paths that don’t lead anywhere good – again, it’s part of how we’re programmed. I mentioned psychologist Scott Peck’s idea of ‘original sin’ as the innate spiritual laziness that holds us all back from growth, from facing and tackling our flaws.

Often we’re faced with what Dumbledore in Harry Potter calls ‘the choice between what’s right and what’s easy’. It’s the choice between short-term and long-term gain, between immediate benefit and that which we have to work and wait for. It’s a right pain, to be honest. And it’s no surprise which way most of us choose much of the time.

It’s a bit like the classics – we want to have read them but not actually to read them. We want to have achieved goodness and wholeness, but without the effort and pain of the process that gets us there. We want to have reached freedom, but we don’t want to walk the demanding path that alone leads there. So we take shortcuts, but they don’t work because the process is the point; the journey is the means. There’s no quick route to redemption.

And of course, conversely, the unhealthy and unhelpful things are what we want to do but not to have done – because they leave us in a worse position, and we feel guilty to boot. We desire them, and then regret them. And of course they’re also almost always the easier, quicker, and more attractive option.

Living through discomfort

So part of the process of growing up is learning (constantly) to master those innate impulses which often unhelpfully push us towards unhealthy ways of thinking, behaving and relating.

We all have to keep on battling our many compulsions and addictions, including (counter-intuitively) some which seem ‘Christian’ – for example the compulsion to ‘be good’ in order to gain approval or make ourselves feel okay. And we need to keep challenging all our lazy thinking – including much of what we assume to be good religious thought.

As part of this process, we have to learn to live through all manner of discomfort in order to reach the goal of freedom and wholeness. We have to keep on facing down our irrational fears and anxieties, not letting them bully or control us as they wish. We have to keep on facing down our impulsive desires and sweet temptations, not letting them seduce or master us as they wish. And the childish, selfish part of us will protest every step of the way, like a toddler who no-one has said ‘no’ to before.

Often it will be a matter of taking a step back and short-circuiting our default response cycle, the almost unconscious reflex which would lead us to act impulsively out of fear or anger or lust. I think of the children’s book character Mr Jelly who learnt to master his fears by counting to ten, giving him breathing space to realise that what he thought was terrifying was really only something innocuous.

Facing the dark side

And as well as facing down our fears and desires, we also have to face up to our inner darkness and all the parts of ourselves that we’d far rather hide or ignore. We can’t overcome our darker impulses if we won’t acknowledge they exist, and we can’t master our shadow side if we pretend it’s not there.

For the truth is that unfortunately every one of us has some elements of aggression, lust, greed, boastful pride, prejudice, envy, desires to control others, meanness, enjoyment at others’ misfortune. Sadly we’re just not unmitigatedly good or lovely, but we spend much effort and energy trying to project the impression that we are, creating a ‘false self’ with which we try to fool even ourselves; even God.

So we often tend not to learn from our sins because we’re so desperate to cover them up, like a cat burying its faeces. We try to conceal them not only from others but also from ourselves, not wishing to face the painful reality they tell us about our fundamental flawedness. The human capacity for self-deception is almost endless.

We try to get rid of those things which we feel bad or ashamed or uncomfortable or unhappy about. We either bury them deep (where they remain like unexploded bombs), or else we put them onto other people who act as scapegoats for us, bearing the darkness that we can’t face in ourselves. Neither of those ways really works; neither leads to growth, wholeness or freedom.

And perhaps most dangerous are the unhelpful traits within us that we’re either not aware of at all, or that we actually think are fine and right – that familiar custom has habituated us to accept. Until we realise we have a problem, we can’t change.

Were Rolf Harris or Jimmy Savile monsters? Yes in a sense, but let’s not kid ourselves that puts them in a different category from us. They acted out of dark traits that lurk deep within all humanity and which they found they could indulge – and then cover up, perhaps even from themselves.

Letting God in

So within all of our psyches are areas which don’t properly reflect the nature and presence of God, and which indeed militate against his action and presence, pushing him away. I believe that rather than hiding these areas away, we urgently need to invite God into the very places that we most wish to keep him out of; the parts of us that most violently hate and reject his influence. These are the places that can all too easily become ‘hells’ for us, yet they are also the place where Christ’s greatest work can be done.

But of course facing up to our darkness is almost always deeply uncomfortable, and our strong inclination will usually be to flee back into comfortable, self-deceiving safety.

Can we change?

So can we ever really change? Yes, surely. But can we change ourselves? Perhaps to an extent, but we can’t ever do the whole thing on our own (regrettably for a recluse like me). We need the long-term support and patience and honesty of friends and counsellors, and ultimately the unfailing and limitless grace of God.

And of course it won’t be quick. It will be a lifetime’s work of slow, gradual, painstaking and sometimes painful redemption of our characters, retraining of our habits and responses, reprogramming and rewiring of our minds. There will be many setbacks and failures; but even these can be redeemed and turned to the good.

We’re like wonky-wheeled trolleys (shopping carts to my US friends), always tending to veer off the straight course, bashing into people, knocking things over. We need God’s grace constantly nudging us back onto the right track. But in Christ, even the wonkiest wheels can be righted in time.

So yes, sin is surely a reality, whatever exactly it might be and wherever exactly it might originate from. But the Christian message is that sin doesn’t have the final word, and nor is it the most important thing in our lives, not by a long chalk.

About TheEvangelicalLiberal

Aka Harvey Edser. I'm a web editor, worship leader, wannabe writer, very amateur composer and highly unqualified armchair theologian. My heroes include C.S. Lewis and Homer Simpson.
This entry was posted in Evil, Grace, Psychology, Sin and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Sin II – the inner struggle

  1. Yes, it is a lifetime’s work of gradual progress.


    • Very gradual in my case!


      • Just as it is for most of us, I suspect


      • John says:

        Thought this as good a place as any to ask what your opinion of Romans 8:20 might be?
        Thanks for any thoughts.


        • Hey John, yes, that’s a good one! My honest answer is “not sure” but I’ll give it a go…

          Firstly a few provisos –
          (a) we need to interpret these verses in their wider context
          (b) just because Paul said them doesn’t mean they’re necessarily 100% right…(!)
          (c) Paul is using metaphor so we probably shouldn’t read it too literally
          (d) as usual, there are lots of different ways of reading these verses so any one interpretation may not be the best one.

          Having said all that, what I think the verses are getting at is that the current state of the world (the whole universe and also our lives) is an intermediate or transition state, and things now are not as they’re ultimately meant to be. The way things are now is a bit messy, painful and difficult, but Paul’s suggesting that this is like the time of a woman’s labour, the pain and mess that comes before birth and new life. Or to switch images, we’re in the restrictive darkness of the chrysalis and we’re struggling to break out as free butterflies.

          So I think the point is that our present sufferings aren’t pointless or fruitless. At the end of it all comes something wonderful, something that couldn’t have come about except by going through the difficulties.

          The other aspect of Rom 8:20 is the idea that God ‘subjected the creation to frustration’ – i.e. that all our suffering is his fault, or his choice. I’m not sure about that. I think I’d rather say that may be part of the picture, but my own understanding is that God doesn’t inflict suffering on us. Rather suffering (or some suffering) is just an inevitable corollary of things like freedom and love, and also a vital part of the process of our becoming whole people. And in the end God redeems our suffering.

          How about you – what do you think?


          • John says:

            I think I think that this life, as good as it can be at times, is a pretty fair interpretation of hell, where you’re given things to love, admire, hate and all that, and then in the blink of an eye they’re gone, the good and the bad, if that’s even definable. Honestly I don’t know what I will think tomorrow. Maybe that shows hell can’t be eternal.
            Was Paul’s road to Damascus a metaphor?
            Is truth definable?
            Why are you you?
            No answer seems to satisfy for long.

            I guess when it gets right down to it all I have are questions.


            • I know what you mean about life being a fair interpretation of hell. That’s certainly one way of looking at it, and one which I think a lot of people could identify with – particularly in, say, Syria. And I’m more interested in the idea of hell being on earth here and now than in some future possible state that we can only speculate about.

              For me though, it’s not losses that make life hell, it’s lack of hope. Loss can be terrible, but I can usually just about cope with it if I have some hope that it’s not the end forever, that there is some hope of ultimate reunion or reconciliation or redemption. That may be a false hope, but for me it’s what the resurrection is about, and it’s what turns life’s apparent tragedy into (in the end) something more like a comedy. I’ve written more on this here: Life as Tragedy and Comedy.

              As to your other questions, I don’t know, and I think that maybe the questions are more important than any partial answers I could attempt.

              But if pressed I’d say that Paul’s conversion was real but may also have been partly metaphorical. And I’d suggest that truth isn’t fully definable, but is best found in paradox, poetry and personal relationships rather than in statements of fact.

              And I’ve no idea why you are you (maybe part fluke, part miracle!), but since you are, you might as well get on with making the most of being you… 🙂


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.