In
Christian language, the term ‘sinner’ is a theological term, which describes
the human condition of being separated from God. It applies to all human
beings, for those who believe that they are God’s children are as aware of not
being in God’s presence as those who see God’s absence as evidence that God
does not exist. Crucially, it is not a moral term: it is perfectly possible to
be a morally good sinner; and, indeed, all are some of the time and many are
much of the time.
In
Christian language, the term ‘saint’ is a theological term, which describes the
condition of having been made holy – that is, set apart for God’s use – by the person
of Jesus Christ. Among Christians, some believe that it applies only to those
who recognise this action on Jesus’ part; while others believe that it is his
action alone, rather than his action appropriated by our recognition, that is
effective. So there is some debate as to whether one can be a sinner without
being a saint, or a saint without realising it; but no question that saints are simultaneously sinners. Again,
and crucially, it is not a moral term: it is perfectly possible to be a morally
bad saint; and, indeed, all are some of the time and many are much of the time.
We
express what it means to be a sinner in particular ways. Ways that are shaped
by our personality, and by our cultural context. That is to say, people of a
common personality are habitually drawn to the same patterns of sinful
behaviour, particular ways of hiding from God and from our neighbour and,
indeed, from ourselves. Moreover, people of a common culture are drawn to
particular expressions of sinful behaviour, some of which we are simply unable
to recognise and some of which we simply refuse to face up to. While sin is
common to humanity, no individual human is drawn to every possible expression
of sin; and in those areas where we habitually struggle, sometimes overcoming
and other times failing, it turns out that nobody is a very original sinner.
But
we also express what it means to be a saint in particular ways. This is because
Jesus lays hold of the particular ways in which we live out what it means to be
a sinner and transforms these characteristics into something holy. Indeed,
there is no other raw material for him to work with.
That
is why over and over again we hear stories of Jesus inviting people to have
their deepest insecurity be transformed into their deepest insight. Peter, ‘the
Rock’, whose need for security at times pulls him back from the adventure of
faith and at other times pre-emptively lands him in danger, discovers that the most
ethereal things of God are more substantial than the solid foundations of
worldly society. Zacchaeus, compelled to collect more than is possibly needed,
discovers the joy of giving. The rich young man whose material wealth numbs the
pain of the world is invited to discover that life will be found, felt, truly
experienced, only if he will abandon his opiate. The leaders of Israel, set in opposition to God, his prophets, his people, the Romans, the world, are invited to embrace the vulnerable wound graciously gifted their father Israel, and to discover the favour of the Sovereign Lord for those who are oppressed.
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