SIN AND SEEKING GOD

A second recurring theme in Calvin’s thinking that we meet early in the Institutes is the idea that we only really seek God seriously when we are made aware of our misery as sinners – or, to put it another way, when we come to the end of ourselves.

Last week we noted that the goodness of God naturally leads us to him. While that should be true for all people (Romans 1:21; 2:4), it is, in fact, only so for those who have become his children. The instinctive response of those alienated from God is to shrink from him, even in his goodness and loveliness. The Apostle Paul spoke of those who “suppress the truth” by their wickedness, refusing to glorify or thank him in spite of seeing evidences of his greatness in the things he has made (Romans 1:18, 21). Again, he describes the natural attitude of the human mind and heart to God as one of “hostility” (Roman 8:7). Sin has so distorted the mind and guilt alienated the heart that the natural man can never see anything attractive in God. That being the case, people are not wooed to him by his goodness, but will only come to him when convinced of their misery. 

Calvin puts it this way:

“We cannot seriously aspire to him before we become displeased with ourselves... Each of us must, then, be stung by the consciousness of his own unhappiness as to attain at least some knowledge of God. Thus, from the feeling of our own ignorance, vanity, poverty, infirmity, and – what is more – depravity and corruption, we recognize that the light of wisdom, sound virtue, full abundance of every good, and purity of righteousness rest in the Lord alone. (I.i.1)

The strength of Calvin’s language when referring to this is noteworthy. He speaks of the need to see ourselves “in our shameful nakedness” to be a “teeming horde of infamies” (ibid).  And again, we must see the “miserable ruin into which the rebellion of the first man cast us” before we will feel compelled to seek God. His choice of words strikes us not only as unusual but as extreme, or, as we say, “over the top.” As a rule people today don’t talk about the state of the human heart in such terms.  In fact, it is almost a crime to do so. It’s not politically correct to be so negative and “judgmental”. What is more, we are told, it is profoundly disempowering and destructive psychologically. One could be charged with verbal assault for using the language Calvin does.  

Leaving aside the peculiarities of his terms (“shameful nakedness”, “teeming horde of infamies”), the question has to be asked, “Is he right in what he says about human nature?” Is it true, when I strip away the outward drapery (my public actions, words and appearances), that I find within my heart such things as pride, envy, lust, hate, bitterness and jealousy? The answer is inescapable. Of course I do. As much as I mightn’t like these things (which I don’t) and wish they weren’t there (which I do), they are nevertheless part of the fallen sinful nature that I will have until I receive a new, incorrupt body when Jesus returns.   

If that is the case then Calvin cannot rightly be charged with destructive extremism (as he so often is). Rather, he is demonstrating a courageous realism seldom encountered in our world today. Even more so, it is a realism seldom encountered in the church. Our perception of God and the gospel, and the kind of “genteel” life that Christians are supposed to lead, causes us to shun not only the radical language of Calvin but the severity of his diagnosis of the human problem. And because that’s the case, the remedy we adopt is so very different. We encourage “positive self-esteem”, repeatedly affirm and speak well of people, and assure them that they can do anything they want if only they will set their mind on it. We encourage people to come to church so they “feel good about themselves” and have an “uplifting experience” –not to be told that they are “miserable sinners” in whom is a  “a teeming horde of infamies.”   

  Certainly, if that’s all that Calvin told people he could rightly be accused of causing serious psychological and spiritual damage. He would drive us to despair. But he doesn’t stop at this point. His honest, undiluted diagnosis of the human heart prepares the way for the remedy of the gospel. Only as people are “stung” with the seriousness of their state and “displeased” with themselves, he argues, will they ever turn to God for the mercy he so freely offers in Christ.

The fundamental difference between this approach and that of modern psychologised gospels lies exactly in the kinds of responses each fosters. The latter encourages people to look within themselves and to make their own interests the centre of their existence. Calvin’s approach (incontestably the biblical one) points them in an exactly opposite direction. It says, “Such is the seriousness of your disease that you have to look outside of yourself for a cure. You have to go to God, and not rely on yourself.” Rather than self-reliance, it produces Christ-dependence; rather than self-absorption, it promotes self-denial. It leads us by the hand as it were, to a gloriously gracious God and an all-sufficient Saviour for whom and in whom we can live.

 

Andrew Young

Associate Principal GTC (South Island)