The Loss of Forgiveness

What, Me Worry?

Contemporary American society is suffering from an epidemic of guilt, yet another side-effect of our culture’s loss of faith.

Part of Christianity’s genius is not only its perspicacious diagnosis of the human condition (sin as an inescapable fact of life), but its revitalizing remedy for this universal malady of the soul.

And that remedy is confession and forgiveness. We are assured that when we earnestly acknowledge our moral shortcomings, God forgives us.

One of the themes running throughout the Old Testament is God’s frequent act of mercy toward a wayward Israel. A phrase repeatedly used is this: “And God could remember their sins no more.” This is an extraordinary statement. Not only are our sins forgiven, but God can’t even remember what it is we’ve done! It’s that complete.

As Christians we live by grace. Grace is, in short, the state of being forgiven. It doesn’t imply perfection, only that we’ve been granted a restored relationship with our Creator.

Righteousness,” it’s essential to note, is not the same thing as “self-righteousness.” Rather, it means “right relationship with God.” Whereas sin separates, confession and forgiveness reconcile.

This is not a particularly hard concept to fathom. As parents we are eager to forgive our children when they misbehave. When we do, we don’t suddenly assume them to be perfect creatures, only that the loving relationship strained by transgression has been restored. The result is great joy.

Not long ago I read an article that provided a brilliant diagnosis of the roots of the current culture of ‘victimology.’ The author (whose name I no longer recall) argues that one of the effects of our increasingly secular society is that we’ve lost touch with the traditional religious means of obtaining forgiveness. In short, we no longer know what to do with our ever-burgeoning guilt.

Because our technological and scientific advancements have helped us to eliminate much suffering in the world, suffering our ancestors could never have avoided, we are tempted to think we can solve every human problem.

This, of course, is impossible. Which only compounds our guilt. If you combine the basic human desire for a clear conscience with the absence of any real means of obtaining it, what is one to do with the mass of unresolved guilt that weighs heavily upon the human soul?

Overwhelmed with guilt and without the means to eradicate it, we end up projecting it onto others. In our quest for justice, we ourselves are momentarily relieved of personal responsibility. Our conscience is clear.

All injustice becomes the sole fault of others who are robbing us of the perfect world we rightly deserve. And the more we perceive ourselves as a victim, the more virtuous (or sinless) we convince ourselves we are.

Combine this with the trendy expectation that perfection in this world is not only achievable but a right, and the result is widespread frustration and despair, which often leads to scapegoating.

In the 11th chapter of the Book of Romans, the apostle Paul rejects this way of thinking: “For God has imprisoned all in disobedience,” he writes, “so that he may be merciful to all.”

None of us, in other words, is perfect. We all sin. And unless we admit the fact of our personal sin, God cannot show us the mercy we need and desire.

One of the hidden dangers of victimology (or hidden benefits, depending on your point of view) is that it leads to self-righteousness.

And self-righteousness (or false purity) can cause us to “other” different people and groups, especially those standing in the way of our utopia.

In so doing we fail to recognize what we all have in common – sin. And because we think ourselves superior, it’s that much easier to denigrate or even demonize the ‘other.’

At worst this can lead to violence, where the other person or group is viewed as subhuman, evil, expendable even.