My Confession

None of our race likes to talk about Sin. Don't take me the wrong way. Most human beings love to point out the sins of others, while all the others like to point out the sin of pointing out sins. Evangelicals often talk about sin as something that will send you to the sulphurous pits of hell and satanspawn; but like a burning office building, you'll be fine if you just get out before it's too late. Then there are us Calvinists, who talk about sin at length with the tone of gardeners discussing a particularly nasty infestation of mites. It's easy to point out a problem when you get to be scientific about it.

What we don't talk about is Sin: our own sin, filthy, disgusting, flooding our lives and actions and tainting everything we touch. A glass of water may be pure and sweet, but drop even a tiny bit of muck in the bottom and no one will drink it. The things of our own hearts can be very good, but they can also be gross. That's why we keep each other at a distance and always wear our masks. We have to keep up the facade, because if anyone knows what we are tainted with, they will not touch us anymore. I believe there is no deeper fear in man than the fear of being cut off.

But I am getting married, and getting married means complete intimacy. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, intellectually--the bond of a covenant will bind us in all aspects of our humanity, and no facade will hide us from each other. Like Adam in the garden, I will be naked and know it, and all hiding and covering will fail. So my fiancee and I have begun sharing our sins with each other, our real sins, the kind that can crack friendships with the shock of them. I was terrified and horrified: terror at how she might react when she really knows me; and horror at being forced to look at my sin in the light, with someone beside me looking too, and having to call it what it is. She suffered in a similar way, although she tends to be more open with me than I am with her on this. And then we both had to deal with the fact that the other person had horrific sins, too, gross and ugly.

Jessie referred to our sin as shit. She spoke rightly. That's what Sin is, when you can see it clearly. Shit smells; shit steams; shit is that poison which our very bodies ache to expel, and the meaner, filthy creatures of the earth are drawn to. Hopefully even the word 'shit' offends you, for shit is offensive stuff. Sin is shit, and it is disgusting.

After we had talked for a while, we held each other for a long time. And I felt tears in my eyes. Just as man's deepest fear is of being cut off, one of our deepest joys is the knowledge that once a person has seen how filthy, gross, and undesirable we really are, that very person reaches down into our filth and touches us anyway. The physical part of our humanity consumates things, and to physically touch someone after they have shown you their shit is to say with your whole being that you embrace them despite it. It is an immensely powerful thing. That's the kind of love that sent a man to die as the worst of criminals, to be forsaken by God himself, because that man loves us while we wallow in shit. That's the Gospel, lived out and tangible in our lives. That's what our marriage will be a symbol of. May God bless it.