Sinned

How do you plead?" the world demands. "Guilty."

And with this confession I find myself despised by non-Christians, who whisper among themselves, "See, I told you so, he's no better than we are—in fact worse, be­cause he's nothing more than a hypocrite."

I am despised by Christians, as well, but in a much more subtle manner, "Did you hear about Brother So-and-so? You mean you haven't heard? Well, it seems that he was caught running around with another woman . . . ! We must remember to pray for him."

And so I am sealed off from the rest of humanity—still too "holy" and "hypocriti­cal" to be received by the "sinners" as one of them, and too much a "sinner" to be acknowledged by the "saints" as part of their number.

I wonder if the Apostle Paul really knew the meaning of 1 Cor. 9:27, and what it means to be a "castaway" set on a shelf. I wonder if anyone who has not actually be­come a member of our elite corps of spir­itual misfits can appreciate the depths of despair, the bitter tears of regret, the con­stant, nagging thought, "If only I hadn't

Mine is a loneliness that defies descrip­tion. My Christian "friends" treat me as though I really weren't there because at this point they really wish I weren't here. They say I have betrayed a trust, and this is true. I cannot treat this fact lightly. And yet, in a greater sense, I wonder if this is the real reason for my having ^-become the studied object of their scorn, or is it rather that in my failure I have touched upon that most sensitive area within each of us.

Jesus said, "For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts, fornica­tion, adultery, . . ." I wonder how many of my Christian friends who silently sit in judgment secretly desire to commit the same sin I have committed? I wonder how many of my judges are actually as guilty as I, but have not yet been found out? How easy it is to hide behind a mask of righteousness and point the finger at someone else. How difficult to tear away the covering and hum­bly say, "Lord, it's me."

"You shall not commit adultery" (Ex. 20:14). "Everyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart" (Matt. 5:28). What makes this commandment unique in its consequences to the individual? If I had "fallen away from the faith" and embraced some other religion, I would probably be besieged with gospel literature, phone calls, personal visits from well-meaning Chris­tians. I would become the object of ceaseless intercession on the part of the Church. But because I am an "adulterer," I am shunned by friend and foe alike.

If I had killed someone or robbed a bank and ended up behind bars, I am sure there would be many praying for me, visit­ing me, concerned about me. But because of my immorality I am a source of embar­rassment to those who once called me "friend."

God has forgiven, but men cannot for­get. I stand as a living testimony to the possibility of failure within every Christian, the physical consummation of those evil desires that lurk within every Christian's heart. And so I travel a lonely path, walking with those who are impure, for­nicators, deceivers, liars, thieves—and with Jesus Christ.

He seems very much out of place in our company, but He has told us, he "who comes to me, I will not cast out," and, "if we confess our sins" (even the sin of im­morality, He assures me), "he is faithful and just, and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness." And so even though His disciples politely ignore me, as one who is "unfit to enter the king­dom of heaven," the Master Himself has received me and unashamedly calls me His own.

You may say that I am seeking to excuse myself from the consequences of my sin by pointing at the lack of love and understanding on the part of other Christians. I do not excuse myself from guilt, but neither do I exclude my fellow Christians.

In a special sense, I and I alone am guilty. but in another sense every Christian friend and co-laborer who failed to pray for me and with me is guilty. They share with me the guilt of having "betrayed a trust."

"If one member suffers, all suffer to­gether," Paul said. "The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I have no need of you,' nor again the head to the feet, 'I have no need of you.' " No, I do not deny my guilt. I say simply, "I do not stand alone." I stand condemned because of my immorality—my Christian brothers stand condemned because they think they themselves could not be guilty of such a sin.

The Lord has forgiven me, and deigned to receive me into His fellowship. His fol­lowers have yet to make up their minds as to whether I am "worthy" to be received back into the so-called "ranks of the right­eous."

Let my Christian friends remember: that, but for the grace of God, they might stand where I stand; that they are bound together with me in my failure in an indissoluble bond, the body of Christ; that to restore me as a brother does not mean to ignore me altogether. I plead with Christians everywhere to judge the sin, but not the sinner; to let their condemnation be replaced with com­passion; to receive the backslider, not from the heights of haughty, spiritual pride, but from the depths of humility, realizing their own vulnerability to my own peculiar sin. "Of some have compassion, making a difference" (Jude 22).