This last week, I found a devotional by Oswald Chambers that is comprised of segments from My Utmost for His Highest with a focus on the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus.
The end of yesterday’s caught my attention:
“Jesus Christ hates the sin in people, and Calvary is the measure of His hatred” (November 21st Entry of My Utmost for His Highest).
And mentally, I admit that I immediately added part 2 to that last sentence:
“Jesus Christ hates the sin in people, and Calvary is the measure of His hatred for sin and His love for people.”
It’s such a difficult balance, but I do believe the two are so interconnected: hatred for sin and love for people. It’s not as simple as the “hate the sin, love the sinner” mentality; it goes deeper than that, and I think as humans we can overestimate our ability to separate the two. We might start out correctly hating the sin (through the blessing of conviction), but our hatred inevitably leads into our hatred of the sinner, no matter how hard we try. Even in our own lives, there is constantly the temptation to allow hatred of our sin to lead into hatred of ourselves.
I think there does need to be this realization that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Many times I’ll hear people say that “they’re only human,” as if the term “human” denotes sin itself. But humans weren’t meant to clothe themselves in hateful, destructive lifestyles. Humans weren’t created to be completely separated from their Creator. We weren’t meant to feel this much pain. We weren’t meant to hurt one another. Yet, here we are. Pride crept in from Day 1, and we’re still sitting here, thinking that we can love people without the Lord’s help. That we can love ourselves without the Lord’s help. We’re hurting others and hurting ourselves with the hatred that naturally seeps out of us. We hate the very things in others that we hate in ourselves. Because we know something’s wrong.
I constantly cheapen how deeply Jesus knew this. When Jesus heard that his friend Lazarus – one that he loved dearly – had died, his reaction was nothing less than human.
“Now when Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet, saying to him, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’ When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled’” (John 11:32-33).
I’m definitely not a Greek scholar, but from what I’ve read, the word for “deeply moved” is embrimaomai, which refers to anger. The second part – “greatly troubled” is translated as tarasso, which literally means “troubled himself.” Therefore, according to the IVP New Testament Commentary, a better translation would be that he “became angry in spirit and very agitated.” It goes on to say that clearly, Jesus’ response was brought on by the wailing and weeping of those around him, and most commentators would agree that Jesus’ anger is directed toward the reality of death and the unbearable pain it causes to those he loves. I believe that he truly did understand the weight of it all, looking upward in the hope of the coming Kingdom while being present on earth. This is even when he knew the second half of the story – Lazarus would live again. Resurrection would come. He could have easily looked at them as foolish, foolish children with zero faith and been completely emotionally unattached from the situation – but I don’t think that’s in Jesus’ nature. He came to meet us where we were at: in the midst of the pain and confusion that we caused. He was angered deeply in his spirit that death was a reality, and that it is the consequence of our sin which we chose in place of life.
But that’s why I don’t think it stops at hatred of sin – there’s a part 2. A deep love for us, caused by a deep love of Jesus and jealousy for His glory. When God looks at us, He sees Jesus, and in that moment (and all moments simultaneously), feels deeper love than we will ever come close to understanding.
In the midst of realizing all of the pain we cause and the pain others cause around us, there is a temptation to want to wave a white flag in surrender and beg Jesus to take us home. One of the best ways I think it’s been said is in a conversation from Perks of Being a Wallflower:
There is so much pain. And I…I don’t know how not to notice it.
What’s hurting you?
No, not… not me. It’s them! It’s… it’s everyone. It never stops. Do you understand?
That is what makes the cross mean so much. Just like Jesus, we feel anger toward our sin and pain, even though we know the end of the story. That’s just it, though – we know Jesus died on the cross for us. We know that: “In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him” (1 John 4:9). That’s all we can do – completely look to Jesus, as we “lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:1-2).
Jesus is the only one that can allow us to look past our own sin and the sins of those around us and love others through the love that we’ve been given through Christ and what he endured.
And for that, I celebrate. Knowing that the cross doesn’t just allow me to feel peace in this present life, but to look heavenward to the day when we will be completely made whole, when sin will feel like a forgotten dream, as the “God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To Him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen” (1 Peter 5:10-11)
Seek It Like Silver 