It's a Strange Badge of Honour

We’ve come a long way from being Pharisees. We don’t stand and proclaim our righteousness, when we know that inside we are just sepulchres full of old man’s bones. Oh, no. We would be shocked at such hypocrisy and maybe even shun someone who was audacious enough to try it.

We don’t try to come off as righteous. We fully and honestly believe that we are sinners, every day—thought, word, deed—and we take a strange pleasure in confessing it. It is as though we wear our sinfulness as a badge of honour; we pin it on our lapel and make sure it stands out. Nobody’s badge is the same colour, of course, but all of them mean the same thing—I am sinful—and we are almost proud of it. We hold our sinfulness very near and dear; and woe be to the man who suggests that we need not wear such a badge.

This situation is a very interesting twist, I think. I can’t call it hypocrisy—it’s not—it’s not claiming to be something we’re not, or acting one way and talking another. It’s quite the opposite; it’s claiming to be something we really believe we are, acting the way we talk. But it’s such a strange way to talk. Because we talk like we would die if we weren’t sinful. Because we talk like it’s a horrible sin to be un-sinful. Because we cling so dearly to the thought that we are sinful, so tightly to the idea that we are hopeless cases.

I find it intriguing in light of the thought that we are (supposedly, anyway) God’s children. Wisdom is justified of her children. Abraham’s children do the works of Abraham. “Ye do the deeds of your father.”

This strange talk evades a name. What should I call it? Can it be honesty? If I call it honesty, what then do we make of what we claim to be, if “the lusts of your father ye will do?” Can it be, perhaps, taking the Lord’s name in vain? We take his name to ourselves, calling ourselves His children—and yet we speak and act as though sinfulness is the most consistent and true trait of our lives.