Original Sin

 October 13, 2021

“How long, Lord? 

Will You hide Yourself forever? 

Will Your wrath burn like fire? 

Lord, where are Your former lovingkindnesses?”

—Psalm 89:46, 49

I hear sentiments like this more frequently than I used to. Division and vitriol have become a way of life as more and more people hide behind the anonymity of Facebook and Twitter while they shoot their accusations and insults at one another. Things most of us wouldn’t say to someone face to face are commonplace, widening the chasm between left and right, men and women, black and white, coastal elites and flyover middle America, vaccinated and unvaccinated. Despair prowls everywhere from the halls of academia to the haunts of blue collar folks. Even Christians are caught up in the angst.

We have forgotten our theology. The doctrine of Original Sin in particular, has flown the coop. We have abandoned the Biblical understanding of the pervasiveness of sin and our need for a redemption we ourselves cannot supply. We have bought into the prevailing world view that humanity is basically good, needing only better social, educational, and political systems to perfect that goodness. The Biblical view is that we are inherently evil, needing laws to keep us in line and grace to save us from ourselves.

If we as Christians truly believed this, we wouldn’t be surprised when people behave like the sinners they are, particularly Christian sinners. We expect Christians to act like saints, and when they act like sinners, we get angry, or discouraged. If we expected people to act like the sinners they are, we wouldn’t be disappointed, and when occasionally they acted like saints, we would be pleasantly surprised.

Ethan, the author of the 89th psalm, wondered how long things would remain bleak. Things weren’t going well in his world, so he cried out to God. But if we only read these verses, we would miss the most important part of the psalm. He spends most of his time praising God, remembering his goodness, being awestruck at his majesty. So when he turns his eyes from looking up to looking around, he sees life as it is, but asks his question in faith and hope instead of despair. 

Next time I’m tempted to look at the mess around me (or the mess within me), I’ll look first at the majesty of God. When I do that, the rest falls into its proper perspective, and my prayer can be made in hope instead of fear.