Sin is so frequently misunderstood that among Christians there are a myriad of perspectives on what it is and how it affects both us and the world around us. This should surprise us, though, because the Bible is rather clear on the fact that sin is the result of humanity's wilful rebellion against God and affects the entirety of God's creation. Christopher J.H. Wright, in a chapter on the biblical paradigms of redemption in Transforming the World? writes of the scope of sin:
It is clear that the Bible offers us a very radical assessment of the effects of our willful rebellion and fall into disobedience, self-centredness and sin. It is not just that every dimension of the human person is affected by sin. It is not just that every human person is a sinner. It is also the case that the totality of our social and economic relationships with each other, horizontally and historically, and of our ecological relationship to the earth itself have all been perverted and twisted.
Underlying this perspective is the understanding that the totality of created reality is originally good, and sin has perverted that goodness. Albert Wolters, in his book, Creation Regained, describes sin as a parasite, which is something entirely different and alien to the creation, but leeches on to it at every point, distorting it and masking the original goodness. Without this understanding, it is very easy for Christians to fall into the trap of viewing some parts of creation as good but affected by sin, and others as neutral or even inherently sinful. This most commonly works itself out in the 'sacred/secular' dichotomy, which elevates our spiritual life above the rest of our daily existence.
But as God is committed to the whole of his creation, promising to liberate it from sin, so should we be committed to bearing witness to the redemption that comes through Jesus Christ in every part of our creaturely existence. A war is being waged between Christ and Satan for the totality of creation, and at every point we insist that something is insignificant or inherently sinful and deny its original created goodness, we yield to Satan. We must instead fight on the side of Christ, working to demonstrate his rule as the true King over all of creation.
This past Sunday I preached on 1 Chronicles 29:1-20, and in that passage David refers to the people of Israel as "aliens and strangers" in God's sight (v. 15). Although in that context the phrase has a different connotation than what we typically understand it to mean, this is common language in the Bible, both in the Old and New Testaments. The most common reference in the latter is probably found in Peter's letter (1 Pet. 2:11).
While I think this idea is certainly helpful for us to keep in mind (given that it is a biblical metaphor), there is also a danger in such a perspective leading to an eschatology shaped by escapism. Indeed, many evangelicals are quick to say that we are pilgrims in this world on our way to heaven. "We're just passing through," is the common catch-phrase of those who adhere to the sentiment.
Here's the thing, though – in one sense, we're not going anywhere. As I've said before, the history of God's redemption of his people is a pattern of God coming to us. The future of God's people is not some disembodied, ethereal existence. Our new Promised Land is "the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God" (Rev. 21:2). As Peter says, on the day of the Lord, "the earth and everything in it will be laid bare" (2 Pet. 3:10) in preparation for this Holy City.
In what sense are we aliens and strangers and pilgrims, then? One way of understanding this does tie the physical world, despite what I've just said. While this world is our home, we are aliens and strangers in it at the present time because our home has been occupied by a foreign enemy. It has become a wilderness; the presence of sin and the kingdom of darkness has obscured the inherent goodness of God's creation and made it unrecognisable. But we don't wait to escape from this wilderness. We wait instead for the Promised Land that God brings down to us after he purifies his creation from sin.
There is a spiritual element to this as well, though. We are pilgrims on a journey to a spiritual destination. Through the death and resurrection of Christ, we have new life (Rom. 6, Col. 3). By the power of the indwelling Spirit, we are given strength to put to death the old self, and to live holy and righteous lives (John 14:15-31, Rom. 8). On the day that Christ returns, we will be glorified – made like him (1 Cor. 15:51-57, Phil. 1:6).
Right now we remain in the wilderness of sin, wandering through it in the pursuit of holiness, longing and yearning for the fulness of Christ's redemption as we see sin wreak havoc in our lives and in our world. As Peter reminds us in 1 Peter 2:11, we need remember who we are so that we do not fall into sin and allow ourselves to be comfortable in this occupying kingdom. Instead, we follow the lead of our God towards that day when he fulfils his promise to forgive our wickedness and remember our sins no more (Jer. 31:34), and to wipe every tear from our eyes. "There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away" (Rev. 21:4).
The Promised Land that awaits us is God's good creation restored and glorified, a place where his people will dwell in his presence forever and where they, having been glorified, will be free from sin and flourish as they live the life that he intends for his people.
That's a Promised Land to look forward to. That's a pilgrimage worth making.
There are quite a lot of incredible images being posted online from the riots in London over the past few nights, like this one of a burning bus. It is hard to believe that these riots are really happening just a couple of hundred miles south of here. In some ways, it is hard to get your head around this, to see people setting random cars on fire, throwing things at store windows, huge numbers of police in riot gear rushing to restrain people hurling bricks at them.
But here we are. As I have been following the events unfold on Twitter, a lot of the blame seems to be focused on policies the Conservatives have implemented. I am certainly not an authority on the political scene in the UK, but these kinds of blanket accusations are never helpful, nor are they accurate, because of the complexity of the situations. Certainly, the economic conditions in Britain right now are not good, but if terrorizing your community is is how you voice your protest to the situation, the issue goes far deeper than your frustration over not having work. This is symptomatic of significant cultural and social problems, and they are just coming to the fore in an ugly way.
This blog is not usually a forum for commenting on current events, but since this is so close to home, there are a few things I think are worth discussing. In the first place, I don't think you can properly understand the situation without recognising that at the core, human beings are religious beings. Everything we do is either in service to God, or to an idol. The events transpiring in London are fundamentally spiritual in nature. Some people have observed that the youths who are organising and leading a lot of the rioting are laughing and seem to think of this as something of a cheap thrill. In reality, though, it is reflective of the idolatry of their hearts. This is, ultimately, an act of worship in service to the false gods they devote themselves to.
James K.A. Smith, in his excellent book, Desiring the Kingdom, puts forth the idea that human beings are primarily directed to act according to what they love or desire. We do what we do because of what we love, and because we are oriented toward a vision of human flourishing. The problem comes when our ultimate love is reserved for anything but God. We then serve idols and pledge ourselves to distorted ideas of what it means to be human. And so, while the situation in London right now might be allieviated presently by means of significant police presence, and in the future by means of different economic policies, these will never get to the root of the problem. We are not really addressing the issue if we are not addressing the underlying problem of sin and idolatry.
Secondly, and pertinently, the church needs to speak into this situation because these sorts of events testify to the ongoing battle that rages for the heart of the city. We have a tendency in the modern West to avoid talk of the spiritual and the supernatural, but we cannot deny and must not ignore that cities are prime targets for the forces of evil. In the face of this, we need to loudly proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God, sharing the love of Jesus, and embodying the true justice, peace and freedom that come from acknowledging his Lordship over all of life. It is in worshiping and serving the risen Christ that human beings find their true worth and dignity. The rioting in London testifies to the despair of a generation that is searching and longing for these things. Local churches in the city right now need to seize on to the opportunity to bring hope into a desperate situation.
As the evening draws near again, and the people in London continue to deal with the unrest caused by the riots and the fear of what another night might bring, the collect for Aid against all Perils from the Evening Prayer service in the Book of Common Prayer is fitting:
Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the love of thy only Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.
I first heard about Pripyat a couple of years ago. Pripyat is an abandoned city built in the 1970s primarily to house those who worked at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, located in the north of the Ukraine close to the border of Belarus. It was abandoned in 1986 following the disaster at the plant. The ferris wheel you see in the photo to the left has become somewhat iconic—an amusement park had been built there just prior to its evacuation. It was never officially opened.
The nearly 50,000 residents of Pripyat were evacuated in short order. They were not allowed to take any of their belongings with them, save the clothes on their backs. In the years following the disaster, as radioactive levels in the region began to drop, looters ran rampant through the city, taking every valuable thing in sight. Though the city still stands today, it is decaying; not only have the looters done a great deal of damage to the existing structures, but the natural environement and time have taken their toll as well.
It is easy for us, I think, to look at disaster like Chernobyl as just an abstract even in history. We are far removed from it, not so much by time, but by the vast expanse that separated the worlds of the Soviet Union and the rest of the Western world.
Earlier today I was looking at photos of the abandoned city, and on the website where I had found them, a number of people had commmented that the images were "hauntingly beautiful." To be honest, I was quite disturbed by the comments. There is nothing "beautiful" about Pripyat. To begin with, its construction was typical of the Soviet era—long rows of uniform apartment blocks entirely lacking in character and aesthetic sensibility, built to house the faceless masses that would keep the communist machine running. And then an explosion, following which 50,000 people are forced to leave their whole life behind, carrying with them only their memories, whatever they could fit in their pockets, and for many, radioactive isotopes in quantities that would later claim their lives or the lives of their loved ones.
Perhaps the decaying, empty city is appropriate, reflective of the incredible brokenness of the lives of its residents, almost irreparable. It hardly needs to be said that here we see the effects of sin in an especially poignant way.
It is hard for us to enter into that brokenness, to understand what they went through. There was a short film shot partly on location in Pripyat in 2008, called The Door (it was nominated for an Academy Award) Only fifteen minutes long, the film conveys in a powerful way that brokenness, and the horror the residents of Pripyat lived through that fateful year. If you watch this film, I am certain that you will never again be able to think of the disaster at Chernobyl as an abstract historical event. I've embedded it below.
Regeneration, for Herman Bavinck, is not a matter of something entirely new being created within us, but instead is a re-formation of human nature to what it was originally intended to be. There is no new substance added to what is already there, he writes in the first chapter of volume four of his Reformed Dogmatics. He then extends the discussion to creation, and makes this profoundly important point:
Finally also the re-creation that will take place in the renewal of heaven and earth (Matt. 19:28) is not the destruction of this world and the subsequent creation out of nothing of another world but the liberation of the creature that is now subject to futility. Nor can it be otherwise, for God's honor as Savior hinges precisely on his reconquest from the power of Satan of this human race and this world. Christ, accordingly, is not a second Creator, but the Redeemer and Savior of this fallen creation, the Reformer of all things that have been ruined and corrupted by sin. Neither, for that matter, is sin a substance, but consists in lawlessness (άνομια); it is an actualized privation (privatio actuosa) that has indeed violated the form (forma) of the entire created world but did not and could not destroy its substance or essence. Hence, when the re-creation removes sin from creation, it does not deprive it of anything essential, nothing that was essentially and originally characteristic of it (though it was "by nature") and belonged to its essence. For sin is not part of the essence of creation; it pushed its way in later, as something unnatural and contrary to nature. Sin is deformity. When re-creation removes sin, it does not violate and suppress nature, but restores it.
This point cannot be made strongly enough, especially in evangelical circles where creation is often not of great concern. But the fact is, as Bavinck so clearly states, that if creation is not restored, sin gains victory and the Lordship of Christ is rendered null and void.
