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I Am a Sinner

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Can’t Fool Me

Can’t Fool Me

By Rev. David Petersen

The first of Luther’s “Christian Questions and Answers” is “Do you believe that you are a sinner?” The answer, of course, is, “Yes, I believe it. I am a sinner.” These questions at the end of the Small Catechism are meant for those who intend to receive the Holy Communion.

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Luther doesn’t ask us if we have sinned. Of course we have. The real problem is not that we’ve sinned, that we’ve fallen short and sometimes forgotten who we were or failed somehow. The problem is that we cannot and do not love God with our whole heart and our neighbors as ourselves. Sure, we sometimes do some nice things and don’t hurt other people. We occasionally refrain from carrying out the evil thoughts in our heads. We sometimes look good in an outward way. But we never love God with our whole heart. Never. We always keep a part of our heart for ourselves. We are always thinking about ourselves and are highly aware of whether or not we’re hungry or cold or bored. We are always looking around to see who is noticing us, and we want to get credit and honor among our friends and neighbors.

The reason we’ve sinned is because we are sinners.That’s the problem. It’s not the sins we do but the sin we are. Do you believe you are a sinner? Yes, I believe it. I am a sinner. What does this mean? It means that we can no more stop sinning than we can force ourselves to keep our hand on a hot stove. We are helpless against ourselves. There is no cure for this and no exceptions. It is in our nature and is with us even when we do good, even when we try to pray or come to church or keep the Law. We are sinners.

This is a very unpopular idea. It is bad for self-esteem. It is not encouraging or uplifting. It is not praise songs and spiritual mountaintops. Rather, it is the killing truth of the Law: we are born into this world as selfish little pigs, evil and wicked and self-centered. Our working philosophy is always “I want what I want when I want it,” which is to say, “Now!” This is the anger that overcomes us in a traffic jam. I just want everyone to get out of my way. I am angry because I want to go where I want to go now. I can’t go because there are other people in the world. I not only wish the world was mine alone, but I am angry because I actually think it should be.

Many modern people understand something of this, but some refuse to call it sin. Some think it is the way that the tooth-and-claw of evolution has designed us. Being evil is a survival device like unto the long neck of a giraffe or the camouflaging spots of a leopard. In that case, fornication is only natural. That is what you are. You are following your instincts to survive and trying to propagate your genetic code for the species. This is what animals do. Who are we to say it’s sin? The best these thinkers can suggest is that we learn to cope, to suppress our baser desires when they threaten social stability. But then they encourage us to give in to them when we are alone or with other consenting adults. Note the irony: these are the same people who tell us that Christianity’s talk of sin makes them depressed.

In fact, Christianity is far more optimistic than they are, because Christianity judges evil for what it is, sin for what it is, and seeks not to cure it but to destroy it. Sin can be overcome...just not by us. The reason this view seems depressing is that they don’t see the problem. No perfectly healthy person walking down the street is thrilled to be offered a heart transplant. But for those who are dying of heart failure, it’s a Godsend. The only way the Gospel of Jesus Christ is a message of hope and joy is if it is a rescue away from evil, and that’s only so if the diagnosis has first been announced and even suffered.

Luther’s questions don’t stop with the Law. He also asks, “Do you hope to be saved? ”“Yes,” we say, “that is my hope.” “In whom then do you trust?” “In my dear Lord Jesus Christ.” And then a little later, “What has Christ done for you that you trust in Him?” And we confess: “He died for me and shed His blood for me on the cross for the forgiveness of sins.”

We are sinners, to be sure. But we are forgiven sinners. Every saint of God is. That is what a saint is: someone who has been forgiven, who has been baptized, who has been cleansed through the saving death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. What we cannot do, the Lord has done and is doing. He doesn’t cure sin; He kills it. One of the places He kills it and replaces it with His own righteousness is the Holy Communion. There He joins forgiven sinners to Himself. We eat His body and drink His blood to proclaim His death until He comes again that “we may learn to believe that no creature could make satisfaction for our sins. Only Christ, true God and man, could do that;” and that “we may learn to be horrified by our sins, and to regard them as very serious.” And, finally, and most importantly, that “we may find joy and comfort in Christ alone, and through faith in Him be saved.”

Yes, I am a sinner, a forgiven sinner, who lives by grace through faith.

Rev. David Petersen is pastor of Redeemer Lutheran Church in Fort Wayne, Indiana. His e-mail address is prdhpetersen@gmail.com.

1 Peter Kreeft, Christianity for Modern Pagans: Pascal’s Pensees (Ignatius Press, San Francisco 1993) p. 148. 2 Ibid.

Christian Questions with their answers. Luther's Small Catechism. © 1986 Concordia Publishing House. www.cph.org. Used with permission.

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