Lying to others is wrong. Lying to oneself is deadly. These were just a few of several recurring thoughts I experienced while watching the film Gender Transformation: The Untold Story, which the Life Team here at Our Savior in Hartland, Michigan, presented during a public forum this past Friday. Our world is right now living the dreadful compounding of lie upon lie to others and to self concerning God’s magnificent design of male and female.
But here’s the thing. While perhaps not as conspicuously awful or with such unalterably horrible results as the deceit presented in the film, we all lie to others and ourselves. If we believe we don’t, then we’ve already proven we’re self-deceived.
I think one reason we end up self-deceived is because of the way we so often prefer to process reality. We have interpretive filters. We experience something, and as we do, rather than its meaning simply being its meaning, we wittingly or unwittingly recraft it to fit us more comfortably.
For example, have you ever said something you intuitively knew was hurtful, and even as you meant the words to cut your opponent, when they did, to protect yourself from feeling bad, you insisted he or she misunderstood you? That was an interpretive filter you used. Specifically, it’s called gaslighting. Most folks might say gaslighting is more others-deceptive than it is self-deceptive. Perhaps. Either way, it’s a self-insulating barrier preventing what’s real from getting through as it should.
But enough psychoanalysis. The better exercise is figuring out why things are this way and what to do about it.
The “why” is easy. The Bible says it’s because of Sin (Psalm 51:5, Romans 3:23-24, Ephesians 2:3, etc.). Concerning self-deception, Saint John digs into the why’s soil and discovers the contaminant’s results, writing, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us” (1 John 1:5). Paul digs beside John and finds more ruined soil: “For if anyone thinks he is something when he is nothing, he deceives himself” (Galatians 6:3). Shovel in hand, James hops into the hole and discovers the same, adding: “But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves” (James 1:22).
Again, the why is easy. But now, the harder part. What do we do about it?
I have two things to say in this regard. The first is Christological. We must always start with Christ and His Word.
As John, Paul, and James went deeper into the strata, other discoveries were made. Right after discovering Sin’s potential for self-deception, John also found the fertile soil of God’s gracious invitation, noting, “If we confess our sins, [God] is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). Paul found something else, too. Back in Galatians 3:11, he wrote, “Now it is evident that no one is justified before God by the law, for ‘The righteous shall live by faith.’” James made the same discovery. After nudging his readers from complacency, urging them to be more than just hearers but also doers of what the Lord desires, he dusted off a glistening stone etched with the words “the perfect law, the law of liberty” (James 1:25), which is James’ rhetorical way of pointing his readers to Jesus, the One who is the law’s perfection, the One who sets us free from the law’s burden so that we can be those who not only hear His Word but keep it (Luke 11:28).
While the three dig deeper still, the Psalmist arrives singing a faith-filled work song, one that asks God for help against deceit. The Psalmist sings, “Put false ways far from me…” (Psalm 119:29), and “Save me, O Lord, from lying lips and from deceitful tongues” (Psalm 120:2).
The second thing I want to say is as practical as it is Christological. Essentially, the Gospel nuggets are enough for faith (Romans 1:16). The faith it produces results in repentance. That’s what it does. The word “repent” (μετανοήσατε) literally means to turn around and go the other way—to change the direction of one’s mind or purpose. From a human angle, repentance is incredibly self-analytical. It wants to rid itself of faulty filters. It wants to remove anything that might deceive the self. It wants to boil things down to their mineral elements, see what’s actually there, and fix what’s broken.
For example, consider the following scenario.
Let’s say one of my daughters was troubled about something and asked for a moment of my time, but I reasonably replied, “I’m sorry, honey, but maybe later. I just don’t have time right now.” I had a sermon to write. I had a phone call to make. I had a meeting to attend. Repentance removes the filters and sees the situation for what it is. Relative to this situation, among the long and varied list of things a person should do, repentance understands the role of priority. And so, it hears what was said as, “I’m sorry, honey, but you’re just not a priority to me right now.”
Saying it that way doesn’t feel so good. That’s true, in part because of repentance’s natural direction. Remember, repentance is a reversal. The process of going one way becomes one of moving in the opposite direction. As a preacher, I think there’s more than one way to experience this reversal’s impact. Similar to exchanging the phrase “I don’t have time” for “you’re not a priority,” the same astonishing swap is possible when we invert our language, saying out loud the opposite of what’s actually true. Here’s another example.
I mentioned to Jennifer last week that one day, I’m going to preach a sermon in which everything I say is the exact opposite of what the listeners would expect me to say. The reason? It’s one thing for the average pew-sitter to make excuses for sinful behavior. But what if those same excuses were being commended from the pastor’s mouth? I can only imagine the congregation’s response to me preaching that presence in worship isn’t all that important. How startling would it be to hear me say from the pulpit that fidelity to Christ is just as important as fidelity to all the other things taking up space on our calendars? Would there be wide eyes as I say there’s nothing wrong with putting God’s Word in the back seat on occasion? Would there be gasps when I say God knows we sometimes need a break from Him and that He’s perfectly content playing second fiddle in our lives?
I’d go on and on, never once saying what you’d expect from a Christian pastor. I think the language reversal would be overwhelmingly eye-opening. Like telling my daughter she’s not a priority, it just wouldn’t feel right.
The people here at Our Savior will undoubtedly know if and when I attempt this. Until then, think about what you’ve read so far. Ask yourself, “Do I have interpretive filters that make lying to myself easier? Do I shield myself with excuses that do little more than keep me comfortable doing the things I know I shouldn’t?” If the answer is yes, then contemplate the dangers of insulating yourself in this way and repent. Turn around and go the other way. If the answer is no, then consider that you may already be self-deceived and don’t know yourself as well as you think you do. And then, as with the first answer, repent.
Cruciform Stuff 