This is the second of four short essays written to explain my journey in Christian faith. I wrote in such a way that the series might communicate easily with readers who do not have a history within the church, primarily by avoiding religious lingo and employing metaphors. I hope I have accomplished this goal.
Historically, Christianity has talked a lot about the issue of sin. The word “sin” can be easily misunderstood and is often avoided in polite company and, increasingly, from the pulpit. Because of the connotations and emotions attached to it, let’s set it aside for the moment. Instead, let’s talk about “the problem.”
“Does there seem to be a problem with the world?” If I took a poll and asked this question, what response do you think I would receive? I imagine, as I assume you do, that people would respond almost unanimously that there does seem to be a problem. I imagine that respondents would likely say, “A problem?!? There are too many problems to count!” I would expect that humans of all shapes, sizes and colors would express this underlying concern: “Somehow, things seem like they should be different.”
This is what I’m calling “the problem.” Other than a nagging sense beneath the surface, how do we know there’s a problem? If there was no sense that the problem exists, would we have a word for “injustice?” Court systems and social justice movements would be irrelevant. Since before the time of Christ, philosophers have been asking the question, “How can we experience the good life?” Why would we seek “the good life” if we weren’t daily experiencing something that seems to be less than good?
There is the perennial problem — death. When we consider death, most people fall on some spectrum of discomfort. Why do most people dread death? Perhaps we are afraid of the unknown that lies beyond what we know. Maybe we have some sense that the way we have lived this life will determine something that comes after (most religions of the world express this in some way). Apart from speculations of what comes after death, I would venture that most people have a nagging sense that death almost always comes too soon. We may be glad that a suffering grandfather has been relieved from his pain; still, we usually feel as if a little more time was owed, that life was meant to continue beyond its terminus. This feeling begins early in life, when our bodies age but our minds feel as if time stopped moving at twenty-five.
There is no virtue in dismissing a gut feeling. If something doesn’t seem right, perhaps there is a reason. Why does injustice bother us? Why do we seek “the good life?” Why does death seem always to be a guest who arrived too early? I am convinced of this answer: life was not meant to be this way. Like a vehicle “running rough,” I believe that the human existence was designed to operate differently than what most of us experience. The driver takes the car to the shop and tells the mechanic, “I’m not sure what it is, but something is wrong!” In the same way, we may not have words to explain the problem, but we know that it is there.
My daughter once felt the need to put water in her car’s radiator. She popped the hood and, unsure of where it should go, proceeded to pour it in the engine. She now had a bubbly mixture of oil and water running through the car’s system. Anyone familiar with cars is now holding her breath, waiting to find out if catastrophe ensued. Why? Because there’s a problem in the system and, left unaffected, will prove to be disastrous. For Christians, sin is more than saying a “dirty” word, drinking too much beer, or cheating on a spouse. It’s the water in the oil that causes the system to run rough and, eventually, suffer catastrophic failure.
Personally, I see the effects of water in the system on a daily basis. I observe it in the world around me and, more obviously, in my own life. What is your perspective on “the problem” in the world? How do you define it? How does the word “sin” strike you? How has “the problem” affected your life?
