Romans 7 - Continued
I’m not trying to be adversarial here, I’m really not. And yes, I know that all statements like that generally are followed with “but…” But I feel the need to draw this conversation out of the comments and into the “front page” as it were.
Last week I posted part of Romans 7. Now, it’s a difficult and confusing passage. So is most of Romans. In a nutshell, it’s Paul talking about the war between his flesh and his spirit and how he desires to do good but cannot find how to do it. ( Read here for the deeper background - and read the comments, that's where it really gets rolling.)
This statement of his seems to have caused not just disharmony but outright offense among some of my readers. The very idea that, and please correct me if I’m misunderstanding, we can be slaves to sin or that the flesh (i.e.: our pasts, our lusts, our desire to give in to societal pressures, what have you) can overpower the spirit seems to some to not only disregard the idea of free will but also to imply that God has made a mistake.
I must admit to seeing a classic philosophical disconnect here. That is, principles that can be applied to the physical may not be applied in equal measure to the spiritual. I have two friends who are epileptic. They literally cannot control their bodies. My epileptic friends must be medicated to such an extent that there are times that they can’t even think their way through to the end of your sentence. Both of them are amazing brilliant women, now slowed down chemically for their own safety. I have friends who are diabetic. Their blood sugar levels have drastic effects on their moods to the point where sometimes they can’t even think enough to know what’s wrong with them. Did God make a mistake? Does this rob them of their free will that their very bodies and brains fight against them? Should they quit trying to change what God has given them?
I have friends who are mentally ill. I am. I cannot control my panic attacks - yet. I’m medicated. So are a lot of my friends and some members of my family. Did God make an error in my brain? Did He allow me to be so damaged that I can blame Him for it? Am I strong enough to will myself better? Now, not to be offensive, but that’s the kind of attitude I would expect from the farthest Right, most conservative of belief systems. That if I had enough faith, enough will I could make it better; and so too my epileptic friends, and my diabetic friends, and my nephew when he broke his arm.
Why is it so easy to accept that when our bodies are damaged, either at birth, genetically, through accident, or though something stupid we did, that there’s something wrong? But when one speaks of a malaise of the spirit one is abdicating responsibility? Then one is saying God had erred? So my body or even mind may be broken and it is right and good to seek help, but my spirit may not? To say that the damage done to me by the carelessness of others, or their malice, or my own, has scarred my soul and spirit and made it more difficult for me to do the things I desire is to lay blame at the feet of God or to abdicate my own responsibility?
No. It’s not. It’s simply acknowledging that I’m broken. That there are some things I do not have the power to fix. That what I have done and what has been done to me has made my life more difficult. Am I laying blame elsewhere? I am not. Do I blame the tree when I climb it and fall out and break my arm? No. Does that make my arm any less broken? No. Does it mean that I can will my arm better? No. Does it mean that certain things are going to be a lot harder, and some impossible, until my arm heals? Yes.
Why then is it so different with my quest for God? Why does it abdicate my own free will to admit that there are things of which I am simply incapable? Why does admitting that I am damaged and that, strive though I do, I’m just not there yet and can’t be, lay any blame at the feet of God?
Is it because I, and Paul, used the word “sin”? Do you realize that “sin” is an archery term that literally means “to miss the mark”? That’s it, that’s all: lack of perfection. You missed the target. God is perfect. We are not. We cannot be. We live in a place that hurts us, that damages us, where we hurt ourselves and others. Did God make a mistake to put us in this place? No. Like a father who doesn’t keep his children locked in a tower, he lets us fall and get hurt and come running back to him - if we choose. He lets us see that we cannot will perfection, either in ourselves or in others, and instead turn to him. This is the choice of free will. This is what allows us to rise above the damage, the limitations, the flesh, the world.
Did Jesus not pray that if there was any other way that he be allowed to avoid the crucifixion? Would God have asked him to do it if there had been any other way? Paul also is the one who said, “In my weakness He is strong.” And, “The greatest of these is love.” And, “I am the guiltiest of sinners.” Yes, God gave us a list of ideals we can never, in ourselves, meet. Yes, we live in a fallen world surrounded by fallen people. Yes. There is a part of us that knows perfection, that knows we’re damaged. That can be made closer to perfect here on this rock, and drags along the fleshly body and mind with it - with help. That can, after this is all over, be perfected. Not through our own power, but through accepting that we can’t - and that he can. And he did.
Last week I posted part of Romans 7. Now, it’s a difficult and confusing passage. So is most of Romans. In a nutshell, it’s Paul talking about the war between his flesh and his spirit and how he desires to do good but cannot find how to do it. ( Read here for the deeper background - and read the comments, that's where it really gets rolling.)
This statement of his seems to have caused not just disharmony but outright offense among some of my readers. The very idea that, and please correct me if I’m misunderstanding, we can be slaves to sin or that the flesh (i.e.: our pasts, our lusts, our desire to give in to societal pressures, what have you) can overpower the spirit seems to some to not only disregard the idea of free will but also to imply that God has made a mistake.
I must admit to seeing a classic philosophical disconnect here. That is, principles that can be applied to the physical may not be applied in equal measure to the spiritual. I have two friends who are epileptic. They literally cannot control their bodies. My epileptic friends must be medicated to such an extent that there are times that they can’t even think their way through to the end of your sentence. Both of them are amazing brilliant women, now slowed down chemically for their own safety. I have friends who are diabetic. Their blood sugar levels have drastic effects on their moods to the point where sometimes they can’t even think enough to know what’s wrong with them. Did God make a mistake? Does this rob them of their free will that their very bodies and brains fight against them? Should they quit trying to change what God has given them?
I have friends who are mentally ill. I am. I cannot control my panic attacks - yet. I’m medicated. So are a lot of my friends and some members of my family. Did God make an error in my brain? Did He allow me to be so damaged that I can blame Him for it? Am I strong enough to will myself better? Now, not to be offensive, but that’s the kind of attitude I would expect from the farthest Right, most conservative of belief systems. That if I had enough faith, enough will I could make it better; and so too my epileptic friends, and my diabetic friends, and my nephew when he broke his arm.
Why is it so easy to accept that when our bodies are damaged, either at birth, genetically, through accident, or though something stupid we did, that there’s something wrong? But when one speaks of a malaise of the spirit one is abdicating responsibility? Then one is saying God had erred? So my body or even mind may be broken and it is right and good to seek help, but my spirit may not? To say that the damage done to me by the carelessness of others, or their malice, or my own, has scarred my soul and spirit and made it more difficult for me to do the things I desire is to lay blame at the feet of God or to abdicate my own responsibility?
No. It’s not. It’s simply acknowledging that I’m broken. That there are some things I do not have the power to fix. That what I have done and what has been done to me has made my life more difficult. Am I laying blame elsewhere? I am not. Do I blame the tree when I climb it and fall out and break my arm? No. Does that make my arm any less broken? No. Does it mean that I can will my arm better? No. Does it mean that certain things are going to be a lot harder, and some impossible, until my arm heals? Yes.
Why then is it so different with my quest for God? Why does it abdicate my own free will to admit that there are things of which I am simply incapable? Why does admitting that I am damaged and that, strive though I do, I’m just not there yet and can’t be, lay any blame at the feet of God?
Is it because I, and Paul, used the word “sin”? Do you realize that “sin” is an archery term that literally means “to miss the mark”? That’s it, that’s all: lack of perfection. You missed the target. God is perfect. We are not. We cannot be. We live in a place that hurts us, that damages us, where we hurt ourselves and others. Did God make a mistake to put us in this place? No. Like a father who doesn’t keep his children locked in a tower, he lets us fall and get hurt and come running back to him - if we choose. He lets us see that we cannot will perfection, either in ourselves or in others, and instead turn to him. This is the choice of free will. This is what allows us to rise above the damage, the limitations, the flesh, the world.
Did Jesus not pray that if there was any other way that he be allowed to avoid the crucifixion? Would God have asked him to do it if there had been any other way? Paul also is the one who said, “In my weakness He is strong.” And, “The greatest of these is love.” And, “I am the guiltiest of sinners.” Yes, God gave us a list of ideals we can never, in ourselves, meet. Yes, we live in a fallen world surrounded by fallen people. Yes. There is a part of us that knows perfection, that knows we’re damaged. That can be made closer to perfect here on this rock, and drags along the fleshly body and mind with it - with help. That can, after this is all over, be perfected. Not through our own power, but through accepting that we can’t - and that he can. And he did.