“Dikkon, there is no difference between you and I and Charles Manson.” A startling comment from the man who was to become my pastor.
Before becoming an evangelical Christian, I knew the word evil, and I knew that evil was quite prevalent in the world…anyway among some poor unfortunate souls. In moments of my deepest introspection, I could even point to actions in my life when there was no one or no thing to blame for what I had just done. I was just plain cussedly wrong to have done it. I had desired to hurt.
Of course, I hadn’t murdered people. Goodness no. Who would even think such a thing about me?
Now and then, if I were angry about something, I might just say something that would wound another, or I might just ignore another and not catch an eye, or I might just pass along a little piece of news to someone, about another, who would have no way to defend. But that’s just what anyone would do under the circumstances.
You see, before I became an evangelical Christian, I knew the word evil, but evil didn’t have anything to do with me. There were evil people—I knew that already, poor things—and then there were people like me. People to whom evil might happen, but who were on the other side a great and a comfortable divide, away from evil.
Then, in the process of my becoming an evangelical Christian, my to-be pastor said that there is no difference between him, and me, and Charles Manson. I stumbled over that one for quite a long time…and I became an evangelical Christian anyway!
Why in the world….?
Any sensible person would have turned tail and run straight away from a nutty group of God people who would make such a preposterous claim. Charles Manson indeed!
But here’s the thing…and you’ll just have to take my word for this if you aren’t an evangelical Christian yourself. Knowing that my pastor, and I, and Charles Manson are not different from one another turns out to be more comforting than believing that there is a vast difference between my pastor and me, on the one side, and Charles Manson, on the other side.
I have come to believe that each and every one of us humans is a sinner and is therefore susceptible to being just, plain evil. Some of us allow our evil to flow more fully and more stunningly than others; good for those others among us who moderate many of our evil impulses!
However, each of us can do what Charles Manson did.
When I thought that the Mansons of the world were on the other side of a great divide from the Dikkons of the world, there was a great deal of anxiety inherent in that thought process. You see, one day I might feel the slightest twinge of a feeling inside me, a twinge that was just a little, tiny bit like what I imagine Manson felt. Horrors! Does that mean I would I take a carving fork to Sharon Tate?
No, no, no, I would say to myself. And then I—all by myself because this was a dark secret and not to be revealed to others—I would need to shove that horror back away somewhere in order to restore my comfortable conception that I was not someone from the other side.
But my comforting conception that I was not someone from the other side was very precarious. At any moment, I might feel a twinge. Or even two twinges.
Here’s why being an evangelical Christian is more comforting than not being one.
Now, when I feel a twinge, I know everyone else feels them, too.
Now, when I fight to moderate my behavior, when under the influence of a twinge, I believe that all my companions, who are believers, are, right then, moderating theirs, too.
Now, when I fight to moderate my behavior, I am not alone—as I was before—but I am companioned, not only by my fellow human believers, but by Jesus Himself.
I’m speaking of that same Jesus—the famous one—who, though He is God, is also man. Though Jesus is God, the fact that he is also man means that, during those days when He was personally present among us, He felt, suffered, struggled, was tempted, and tried to get off of the sharp stick in the same way that I do.
And, on the other hand, the fact that Jesus is not just man, but He is God—and therefore that He knows me and loves me—means that He can instruct me how to moderate any behavior and lead me in the right direction, each time, so I do actually get off the sharp stick each time.
And then God Himself can unremember my sinfulness and take me back into his forgiving embrace, now on earth, and later in Heaven.
Ain’t that more better than having only myself to engineer myself out of yet another evil deed?
…with no end of twinges—and of deeds—in sight?
Copyright 2013 – Dikkon Eberhart
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