Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded.
Double-mindedness is a state which can and does occur all too often in my life. I know to do good. But as Paul so relatably states, “The good that I would I do not. The evil that I would not, that I do.” It can be incomprehensible to see the highs and lows spiritually that I confront on a daily, and sometimes momentary, basis. The duplicity that I perceive in others is not only an active agent in me, it actually takes ahold of me to a much greater degree than what I would be wont to admit. I have to speak the truth, especially to myself. The truth is that God knows who I really am. What I am truly capable of. The depths of man’s depravity in the 20th century crystallized, but hardly attained its worst. I believe that will come to fruition in the 21st. But I can’t change the world. I can hardly manage myself. So why bother? We’ve been given the Spirit of Christ. In whom was no guile. The word guile is fascinating. There was no duplicity. There was no malice. There was no intent other than what you saw. There was not even the desire, nor ability, to deceive. And who do I so often deceive? Myself. I tell myself all sorts of lies. No, I shouldn’t. But I do. Then I propagate those lies to others. Especially on those that I would esteem as my most intimate of relationships–wife, children, parents, brothers, sisters–it cascades down from there.
I tell those that I most love, “I love you.” But what I really mean is, “I love you because you like me. As soon as that changes, then my love is conditional, a bargaining chip in the delicate dance of relationship.” If it were not so, then why do we see divorce at such a rampant rate? Even among believers? Perhaps not with our children would we deign to even think about such a thought, but our love is so conditional. Mostly, because we don’t understand true biblical love. We’ve lost the view of love as sacrifice. We are not called to sacrifice anything in our day. We feel we sacrifice over slight inconveniences–the wifi goes out, it’s too cold, you name it–when in all reality we are simply enduring normal human life. Giving something that I highly value for the unmerited benefit of another is true sacrifice. That’s Calvary. That’s the Gospel. That’s what I’ve been called to do. To give something that I highly value for the unmerited benefit of another. That another may not even be aware of his need for my sacrifice. He may outright reject my sacrifice or at the very least be dismissive or demeaning of it. So be it. We dare to sacrifice once and should our meager offering be rejected, we insufferably hide in our shell of emotion, busyness, or self-pity. We can’t love others because we don’t even love ourselves. I don’t mean that in a self-affirming way, but rather we despise who we are, because of our duplicity and conceit and project those same miserable attributes on everyone else.
But I am loved and accepted in and by Christ. That is the very reason that Christ came. To make the outsider one in His holy body. The Jew and Gentile are one. The irreconcilable are made one. God and I have a familial relationship not possible, nor even conceivable, without the shed blood of the Cross. And He has accepted me in Christ. The Beloved. And Christ is my ultimate goal and example. The one in whom was no guile. Regardless of the circumstances that he faced. And did he not stare duplicity in the face when he addressed the Pharisees? Rather than stoop to their level, he called them what they were–hypocrites. But He never became what he so virulently attacked. He acknowledged the presence of hypocrisy, their indifference and incapacity to see their own condition, and their authority and influence on others. But he never relegated himself nor his disciples to simply be in such a condition as a result of our human failings. Quite the opposite. He instructed and prayed for them to be one. To love another–as He and the Father loved. For there to be a shadow of vanity. Just to be authentic. That word gets thrown around a lot these days. In my authentic state, I am a sinner. In my supernatural state, I am an accepted son of God because of His completed work at Calvary and His precious token of His presence in sealing me with His Spirit. Even so, I have to recognize the fake in me. The shallowness. The two-faced nature and posture I can adapt. Those who know me best see it the worst. Perhaps I can even fool them. Fair enough. But, thou God seest me. Who I really am. Where I’ve been. Where I’m headed–perhaps most importantly. That’s the prodigal’s brother. No, he never left the father’s farm, but he would well heed the father’s open reception to even one who was unworthy. Sacrifice. Love. When my love is fixed on Christ, I can readily my condition as needy and still understand the blessed repose I find in Him. I must allow His Spirit to unite my heart to fear Him.