Tag Archives: excuses

Necessity

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The Ten Commandments—God’s holy Law—are not complicated. Don’t have other gods. Don’t murder. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t steal. Of course, God’s Word insists that human beings cannot perfectly fulfill God’s holy Law, which is why we need Jesus. Still, while God’s Law may be impossible to enact perfectly, it’s not entirely impossible to understand.

Admittedly, part of the problem with perfectly keeping God’s Law is that human beings are profoundly ignorant. Also, admittedly, we live in a complex world thoroughly infected by sin. Together, this means navigating the world’s complexities and applying God’s Law can be challenging.

And so, a thought.

I had a conversation a few weeks ago in my office with a member of my congregation, a lawyer. A devout Lutheran Christian, he stopped by to ask my theological opinion concerning polygamy. I gave it. During the conversation, he shared with me what prompted his concern.

He listens to Lutheran podcasts regularly. He shared his concerns about something he heard a Lutheran pastor say concerning polygamy during an interview on a recent podcast. In fairness, I’ve yet to listen to the actual podcast. With that, I won’t go into the details. Nevertheless, I trust this member’s concerns. Why? Well, again, if only because he’s a courtroom litigator. He listens, analyzes language (which is the carriage of thought and intention), and measures appropriate insight relative to law. What’s more, I’ve known him for a long time. My guess is that he didn’t squeak past the bar exam. In other words, he’s no intellectual or theological lightweight.

Essentially, this member shared how the pastor played theological word games, ultimately resulting in polygamy’s acceptability. He noted that the podcast host’s better sense appeared to detect this, and yet, he did not push back but instead let the interviewee continue down what was already a fundamentally flawed theological trail, one that dismissed the fuller systematic of scriptural influence relative to the topic.

In other words, he made a determination based on one or two texts without employing countless others that give precise contours for the topic. In the end, polygamy was placed in a gray space, ultimately judged acceptable in certain circumstances, opening a theoretical door to Christians to practice it today.

Our conversation continued. I offered a brief explanation of a frustration I often experience as a pastor. I experience it with couples seeking divorce. I experience it with people teetering at the edge of significant life decisions—such as a job change or countless other challenges this involved world throws our way. Essentially, I explained that between the clarity of God’s Law and the impossible complexities experienced in life, a gray space often emerges. In that space, something unfortunate happens: sinful human beings prove a dark and inherent tendency to blur the lines between right and wrong, ultimately confusing truth with untruth. Why does this happen? I think it’s a sign of the sinful nature’s muscle for sidestepping faithfulness.

And what is the chief excuse in most of these situations? Necessity. Specifically, people claim their actions were necessary and that they had no choice.

I shared a quotation with my visitor during the conversation. I mentioned that Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “We do what we must and call it by the best names.” This is to say it’s far too easy for us to defend, reframe, and rename our actions until they seem not only justifiably acceptable but even virtuous. A stinging word of sarcasm meant to harm is explained away as merely tough love. A betrayal of trust is redefined as an essential compromise. A moral lapse becomes an act of practicality or common sense. Gossip is framed as concern or a necessary sharing of information. Cowardice in the face of truth is rationalized as maintaining peace or staying in one’s lane. Greed is spun as laudable ambition, and selfishness is recast as self-care.

In the extremes, polygamy becomes weirdly acceptable.

Saint Augustine said something about necessity. He wrote, “Necessity has no law.” When he wrote this, he was not commending Christians to whatever is deemed necessary in any situation. He was warning against thinking in such ways in situations that take serious discernment. He was concerned that once we believe necessity permits us, we risk losing sight of genuine faithfulness—not just what we must do, but what we ought to do.

What we feel we must do—or are being forced to do—is not the same as what we ought to do. I remember a time in my own family, not long after my brother died, his wife met another man, and he moved in to live with her and the two small children. Interestingly, far too many in my family saw it as a good thing, saying gray stuff like, “Well, in this circumstance, at least the children will have a father figure.”

Indeed, my brother’s death was a terribly complicated situation. Nevertheless, no. Living together outside of marriage is a sin. Father or no father does not complicate what’s right.

Again, don’t get me wrong. Life’s complications are real. Genuine dilemmas do arise, and with them comes the need to discern carefully. Still, be careful that the corrupted human will isn’t outmuscling the genuine discernment. The complexity of a situation never grants us the liberty to rewrite God’s Law according to personal preferences, steering our perceived necessities. God’s Law is not gray. The thing is, we all know it. It’s written onto our hearts (Jeremiah 31:33, Romans 2:15). It is a clear light in the darkness, revealing sin for what it truly is and illuminating the path of righteousness (Psalm 119:105). And so, by the power of the Holy Spirit at work within us for faithfulness, we guard against trying to justify sin by emotional reasoning or convenience, all beneath the banner of necessity. Faithfulness does not rationalize its choices, maneuvering to get what it wants. It clings to God’s Word of truth—even when it is difficult, even when it costs us something, even when that cost hurts.

My recommendation: When facing a complicated situation, before making any decisions, first look at the cross. Test the backwardness of what Jesus is doing there—the innocent One suffering and dying for the guilty. From there, settle into trusting that God’s way is always best, even when our wits are suggesting otherwise. There’s a clarifying freedom to be had in that trust. It resists the temptation to bend God’s Word to our opinions or circumstances, choosing instead to humble ourselves and be conformed to His will. Indeed, Saint Paul insists, “Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2).

How can Paul say this? Because after everything he endured personally (which he thoroughly expounds in 2 Corinthians 11:16-33), he learned God’s will is always good, right, and ultimately for our salvation.

The Barometer of Shame

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I’m very capable of “stupid.” We all are. It’s in our nature to be Sin’s fool. And then, lest we think we can hide it, our thoughts, words, and deeds prove to others just how deep the roots of Sin’s foolishness go.

I could share plenty of personal examples of my stupidity. But I really don’t want to. And why not? Because, as I’m sure it is with you, I’m ashamed of my foolishness—my failings, my flaws, my deficiencies. Although, for the sake of piloting toward something worthwhile this morning, this discussion brings to mind a generality that likely applies to us both—but only if as Christians we are willing to deal in honesty.

It seems to me that for an honest person, a telltale sign in most circumstances that you’re being Sin’s fool is to make excuses for something you feel shameful for doing. In other words, you know it’s wrong, and you get a sense of indecency from it, but you commit to doing it, anyway. And then from there, hoping to feel better about it, you do what you can to convince yourself (and others) it was virtuous.

Now, let’s be clear. I’m not talking about the sadness we sometimes experience in certain situations. Sometimes sadness happens when we’re doing something right. I often experience sadness when punishing my children. I don’t enjoy it, and yet, I know that correcting them is the right thing to do. But if while disciplining them, I do something I shamefully regret—let’s say I’m so angry that the punishment I inflict clearly exceeds the crime—then I know by shame’s pestering that I should repent and amend my behavior, even though I’m pretty sure I could, like most parents trying to save face, conjure countless rationalizations for staying the course.

In short, when you’re doing something that stirs your inner shame, but still you find yourself making excuses for the behavior—projecting it as dutiful, or describing it as your only option, or perhaps worse, scrambling to defend it by lifting portions of God’s Word from their appropriate contexts—it could be in those moments you’ve been duped into embracing Sin; or as I said before, you’re being Sin’s fool.

“Well, I know you said you didn’t want to,” you might interject, “but can you provide an example, something that comes to mind that you can share to shed light on this?”

Sure. The first example that comes to mind as the pastor of a school is the idea of making our students wear masks. Now, having let you into my feeble mind, give me some room to explain.

For starters, if you were to look backward across the expanse of everything I’ve ever written or said publicly over the last eighteen months, you’d discover that I rarely, if ever, used my energy to argue for or against masks. Those closest to me know I’m against wearing them. They also know my reasons, which I prefer not to cram down anyone else’s throat. Instead, my steady goal has simply been to do what I can to help keep people connected to Christ during a time when the government seems to be doing everything it can to divide Christians from Him. Of course, I’ve experienced circumstances requiring me to face off with the mask issue as it relates to the State’s impositions on churches. When that happened, I made it clear that requiring masks in public worship or study, no matter how people tried to twist the “love thy neighbor” premise, was not something I would impose because it would mean straying beyond the boundaries of God’s Word. I knew the issue to be one of Christian liberty. If you wanted to wear a mask in church, you were free to do so. If you didn’t, that was okay, too. But whichever you preferred, no matter your reasoning, I could not establish your preference as a law that could potentially prevent others from being in the presence of God to receive His Word and Sacrament gifts.

Getting closer to the point, I’d say some of the same theological principles spill over and into the practice of mandating the masking of children in schools.

Aside from the serious physical, psychological, and pedagogical damages masking causes among children—all of which form a mountain of absolute wrongness I’d feel shameful while climbing—I’m far more concerned about the shame found in trespassing God’s will. I say this knowing that the authority of God vested in the Fourth Commandment and given to parents to raise and care for their children is not something I’m allowed to usurp. It is the sole duty of parents to decide if their children should or should not be masked, and for me to impose such a rule without leaving room for parental exemption or recourse would be to stray beyond the borders of God’s Word and wield a sovereignty He did not grant to me. Even worse, if I did decide to participate in it—if I try to justify it by saying I’m obligated to comply with the Health Department, or it’s my duty as a Christian according to Romans 13 to abide, or that there’s no reasonable doctrinal stance that can be taken against it—I’d be defending something I know is wrong and I’d experience shame. I’d be Sin’s fool.

That’s the example that comes to mind.

But since I brought up Romans 13 (v. 1), I might as well go a little further, because it’s likely someone has already started pulling the pin from the “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities” hand grenade and is thinking of throwing it. Preemptively, I should say that I doubt in this circumstance it will detonate as expected. And why? Because as it meets with the discussion, there are plenty of other similarly minded Bible passages that help define and then test the legitimacy of governing authorities to be obeyed. Simultaneously, I’d say the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod and its centuries-old confessional documents have a pretty good handle on such texts, ultimately realizing their depth in the “Two Kingdoms” doctrine, which is the biblical teaching that not only understands the authority of the Church and the authority of the State, but also when, where, and how these two kingdoms meet. By this doctrine, Christians can know and understand what it means to be subject to a legitimate government established by God. And by legitimate, we mean that it maintains its divine ordination and does not transgress God’s moral law. Likewise, we can know by the Two Kingdoms doctrine the possibility of a ruling authority’s delegitimization, thereby knowing when we, as Christians, may find ourselves in an unfortunate situation requiring us to disobey men in order to remain faithful to God (Acts 5:29).

Digging a little deeper, especially since we’ve now gone down the rabbit hole of governments maintaining their ordination, we need to remember that the United States government, as well as the state and local governments, are not sovereign entities. In the U.S., all people, Christian or otherwise, live within the contours of a constitutional republic established on the premise that the citizenry is the sovereign authority. In other words, all federal, state, and local governments are, by design, holders of limited authority over and against the citizenry’s personal liberties and their right to act and defend according to concern of conscience.

That’s our form of government in a nutshell. It was thoughtfully constructed in a way that its executive, legislative, judicial, and all leadership bodies by extension would not be found suppressing its citizens’ lives, liberties, and pursuit of happiness.

This means, then, that when a body of unelected appointees, such as a Health Department, begins governing with seemingly inescapable sovereignty, the kind that leaves no room by exemption for citizens to self-determine in these ways, it becomes delegitimized, and I dare say a Christian is no longer bound to obey.

Now, I know this was a lengthy answer, but you asked for an example, and this is the one that came to mind. This is true, most likely, because I’ve had so many conversations about it lately. It certainly is a relevant topic right now.

In the end, as the pastor of a school, I pray we don’t have to face off with these things again. My hope is that the Livingston County Health Department will simply leave things alone, allowing the individual schools to determine their own fate. If that’s the case, then things will be a lot easier for leadership around here at Our Savior. But if they don’t, well then, we already know that doing the right thing can sometimes bring a measure of sadness. For the record, I’m willing to accept the reward of sadness dished out by the world for doing what’s right rather than to experience shame before God for doing what I know is wrong.