Am I Evil?

I haven’t updated my blog for a while, partly because I’ve been thinking things over.  However, as a friend has left a comment on one of my previous posts, and it looks a bit long to reply to briefly, I’ll start a fresh page.

David, commenting on my notes about addiction, described how he

‘recently met with a counsellor in a church who used to offer a christianised version of the twelve-step programme, which, as I understand it, is the basis of the NA and AA approach. She said she had written a new course based more on the “Freedom in Christ” model developed by Neil Anderson. Now, I'm certainly no expert on these matters, but I think she said that foundational to the twelve-step model is the notion that “once an alcoholic always an alcoholic” and “once a heroin addict always a heroin addict”, hence the need for total abstinence. Again as I understand it, the Freedom in Christ foundational belief is that in Christ we have a new identity, no longer “an alcoholic” but a new creation in Christ. And so, one can be truly free from one's former addictions. An interesting difference considering that both courses claim to be Christian.’

I suspect that partly, again, this is a matter of language.  For some people, defining themselves first and foremost as ‘an addict’ rather than as a person, beloved of God, who happens to have a problem with substance abuse, can feel limiting and demeaning – as though their addiction is the most important thing about them.  For others, it may be a helpful reminder that they have addictive tendencies, and therefore will always need to avoid intoxicating substances, particularly the one they are addicted to. 

Perhaps the same applies to the question of whether it is healthy to describe ourselves as sinners.  On the one hand, we need to be aware that we are imperfect, and still need to work on growing towards being the people God created us to be.  However, accepting that we are imperfect needn’t mean continually feeling guilty about everything. 

A very few people advocate ‘spiritual self-loathing’, claiming that this was what Jesus meant when he said, ‘If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters--yes, even their own life--such a person cannot be my disciple.’  Oddly, they don’t believe he meant literally that we should hate our families, but do believe that he literally wants us to hate ourselves. 

Of course, only a tiny minority believe that Jesus meant any of that sentence literally.  In context, he simply meant that his disciples might have to risk being rejected by their families, or even killed, for following him.  But some people think it is worth ignoring the context in order to promote the idea that God hates everything about us, and that we cannot repent of our sins unless we hate ourselves.

There are several logical problems with this.  Firstly, if there were nothing but evil in us, that would mean that God could not love us, unless God loved evil.  Also, if absolutely everything we do, from a baby’s first instincts to be born, and, having been born, to breathe and to suck milk, is evil, then it makes the word ‘evil’ meaningless.  There would be no possibility of turning from sin, since everything a human did would automatically be evil.

However, being a pessimist, I sometimes feel as if this view must be true, even if I know that it makes no sense.  So, like any wrong-headed religious extremist, I resort to blatantly misinterpreting the Bible to justify my position.

In a counselling session a couple of weeks ago, my therapist asked how I saw myself.  I replied that I know I am evil, because Jesus said: ‘If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!’

Yes, I could see that Jesus was reassuring us that God loves us even more than human parents love their children.  But to me, ‘evil’ is such an extreme word of absolute condemnation that I imagined Jesus, his voice contorted with hatred, shrieking the words, ‘you are EVIL!’ at a terrified audience, and then adopting a voice of false sweetness again for the latter half of the sentence.  (I ignored the fact that we don’t know what words Jesus actually used, as he spoke Aramaic, the New Testament was written in Greek, and I’m reading it in English.)

The therapist suggested that, as these were people who would have grown up with religious leaders telling them that they were evil, Jesus was mentioning this idea only to challenge it.  Perhaps Jesus was saying that, if you are capable of giving good gifts to your children, you cannot be entirely evil.  

I couldn’t quite take this in at first.  I had become so obsessed with the idea that Jesus regards humans as totally evil, that it made me discount everything else he said.  I had told myself that when he said to the woman caught in adultery, ‘Neither do I condemn you,’ it was meaningless because he had already condemned everyone, and that when he said, ‘For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him,’ that cannot have meant saving humans.

But suppose I am wrong?  Suppose God sees us, not as evil monsters, but as perplexed, fragile, frightened creatures whom he dearly loves and wants to help, if he can only persuade us to trust him.  If so, then when we curse and condemn ourselves, he probably feels sorry for us, and frustrated that we are pointlessly making ourselves miserable.

If this is how God feels, then I feel sorry for him, too.  I want to be willing to accept his love.