On Becoming Real – Part One

And while we’re on the subject of simulations, if you think imitation religion was only a problem for Jesus’ day, why do we use such terms as plaster saint, goody-goody, goody two-shoes, snob, or prig? Jesus had a name for it, too: hypocrisy. In the cosmopolitan cities of His day, “hypocrites” wore masks and wowed the crowds in outdoor amphitheaters. Perhaps if Jesus were having the same conversation today, He’d say, “Woe to you counterfeit Christians, just actors playing your part!” And that brings it closer to home for me.

No, I’m not tempted by trumpets, phylacteries, fringes, or chief seats. I’d just like to avoid all the costly character-training I can – while at the same time I sail smoothly through life on waves of silent admiration. If you’ve ever read “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,” you’ll know what I mean. I’m starring in my own personal movie. It’s a nice, clean movie in which I play the saintly heroine. Sadly, I’m such a good actor that I sometimes convince even myself that I’m genuinely saintly.

But really, there is something much more insidious going on. When I was a little girl, my mother impressed so strongly on me the fact that my flesh has short-term vision that I had a vivid mental picture of my crafty, sneaky, doomed self-life plotting to lure my soul (which is immortal) into paying the price for its short-lived pleasures. As my dad reminds me, my flesh is a master at justification. It can make a whitewash job glisten more brightly than polished stone.

“You don’t know,” says Jesus, “that you are the wretched one and miserable and poor and blind and naked.”

Help! I approve the things that are excellent. Isn’t that enough? I have such nice taste in spirituality, and I honestly had no idea that I wasn’t real! Now what do I do? How can I ever get my feet on the ground?

Jesus has the answer. “I counsel you to buy of Me gold refined by fire…white garments…and eye salve to anoint your eyes so you can see.” If I don’t see sin in my life, I can ask the Holy Spirit to “convict [me] of sin, righteousness, and judgment.”

But when conviction comes, I cannot allow my inner actor to turn from heroics to melodrama. As George MacDonald points out in The Lady’s Inheritance, often only our pride is hurt when we feel devastated by our own sinfulness. Pride says, “How could I do such a thing?” Truth says, “This is just the way human nature is; this is the way my human nature is! In fact, I can never expect anything better out of it, so I had better turn to God for help.”