The Absurdity of Sin

This post is part of a continuing look at the teaching of the Christian classics, from my book Thirsting for God. One of the insights that helped me most in my pursuit of holiness was seeing just how absurd it is that we would ever choose sin. When Paul tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds, it helps to simply realize the absurdity of ever turning to sin.

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The desire to live a holy life is an ancient one; indeed, the writers of the Christian classics were all but obsessed with walking in purity. Their first lesson to contemporary Christians who perhaps desire it with less intensity would focus on the reasons why holiness is worth the effort. They would want us to understand the absurdity of sin.

Julian of Norwich describes sin this way: “The sharpest scourge that any chosen soul can be struck with, it is a scourge which lashes men and women so hard, and batters them and destroys them.” Fénelon pointed out that sin is self-defeating. “We refuse ourselves to God, who only wants to save us. We give ourselves up to the world, which only wants to tyrannize over us and destroy us.” Venning agrees: “Sin promises like a God but pays like a Devil.”

What do these testimonies mean? Away with the self-serving testimonies that sound as if we do God a favor by repenting of our sin! God does us a favor by making us hate the sin that destroys us, by giving us the will to fight it, and by offering His grace to forgive it.

Quotes like these also remind us that if sin is a rat, we should start treating it like a rat. If you didn’t want rats to break into your house, you wouldn’t leave out food for them, and you would plug up any holes through which they might enter. If you were unable to keep them out on your own, you’d ask for advice or get some help. If you truly hated rats, you’d go to great lengths to get rid of them.

But how often do we accommodate sin, feed its desires, and treat it in the aftermath as a casual or minor mistake? We don’t take sin as seriously as did the devotional writers of centuries ago.