“Dikkon,
there is no difference between you and me and Charles Manson.”
This was a startling opinion
from the man who was to become my pastor.
Before
I became an evangelical Christian, I knew the word evil. I knew that evil was prevalent in the world. I myself, of course, did not do evil, but I was
aware of actions in my life when I did things that were just plain wrong to have done. 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, 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 himself or
herself.
But that’s just what
anyone would do under the circumstances.
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 such a nutty group
of God people who would make so preposterous a 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, way over on the other side, far away
from us.
Here’s
why—
As
an evangelical Christian, I believe each of us is a sinner. Some of us are able to moderate some of our
evil actions, but each of us can do
what Charles Manson did.
Before,
when I thought that a fundamental divide existed between the Charles Mansons of
the world and the Dikkons of the world, instead of making me complacent in my
purity, there was great anxiety. You
see, one day in the future, I might just feel the slightest twinge inside me, a
twinge that was just a little, tiny, bit—just a little, tiny bit—like what I imagine
Charles Manson feels.
Does that mean I would
take a carving fork to Sharon Tate?
No, no, no, I would say
to myself. And then all by myself
because this was a dark secret and must not be revealed to others, I would
shove that twinge back somewhere into the darkness inside me, so I could restore
my comfortable conception that I am 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 a man. Though Jesus is God, the fact that he is also
a man means that, during those days when He was personally present among us, He
felt, suffered, struggled, was tempted, and tried to get off 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—that means He can instruct me how to moderate any behavior and
lead me in the right direction, each time, so that 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 better than having only myself to engineer myself out of each evil
deed?
…with no end of
the twinges—and of the deeds—in sight?
Copyright
2014 – Dikkon Eberhart
