The Arrogance of Hopelessness

Being in a room with junior high girls is kind of like being in the midst of a hurricane. Words are flying all around. There are grating high-pitched noises. You lose your sense of direction. I sat nestled between the folds of a beanbag chair taking in the chaos, watching conversation ping-pong from topic to topic in spectacular fashion. Somehow, a discussion of denominational differences became a critique of the new Beauty and the Beast and further morphed into an exploration of the trans-mutative properties of Disney magic (okay, I may have contributed to the last one myself). Yet when the question was asked: ‘Why do you attend church?’ the room fell deathly silent. For the next forty minutest the discussion limped along dragging behind it the corpse of a Sunday school lesson. With each painful moment I fell further and further into despairing concern. Where was the personal saving faith? Where was the depth of knowledge? Where were the evidences of regeneration?

I have, over time, found that I tend to fall into despair when I perceive (rightly or not) a lack of faith or a disregard for the Lord in others. I get irrationally affected by reading the news. I grieve over the weaknesses of others. Yet as admirable as these attributes might sound, they are largely based not on righteousness but rather on arrogance.

It bases opinions on something we cannot know

We are limited. We are limited both in that we cannot know the innermost thoughts of another’s mind AND in that we are so self-focused that we fail to notice even the most rudimentary cues in those who surround us. Since we are so woefully incapable of discerning the thoughts of another, why do we assume that we will be best suited to judging the condition of their heart? As disconcerting as it might seem, we must admit that only the Lord is capable and worthy to judge the heart of another. We can, and should, discern and correct sin (in the context of relationship) in the lives of believers, but hopelessness steals the place that only the Lord should occupy as it attempts to rightly understand the thoughts and motivations of another.

It assumes that we are somehow morally or theologically superior to others.

Implicit in the idea of hopelessness with other humans is the conceit that we are somehow morally or theologically superior to those we deem as lost or derelict. When we assume that what we immediately observe (with our flawed human senses) is the final verdict on another’s spiritual condition we imply that we understand or apply better the Word of God and how the Spirit is working in their life. While we may very well actually be more mature or more knowledgeable or even more practiced in our faith, we tread dangerously close to the position of the prideful Pharisee in Jesus’ parable who prayed: “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: swindlers, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I pay tithes of all that I get.”

 While our path to arrogance may not be this obvious, we subtly ease ourselves closer by cloaking it in righteous indignation or, in the worst cases, supposed concern over the state of others. The truth is, even those who hold positions of spiritual authority (elders, pastors, lay leaders, parents) need to lead from the position of the tax collector who pleaded with the Lord: “God, be merciful to me, the sinner!”

Our desire to help others should come in the form of one unworthy steward, gifted by grace, helping another along the path for we know that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” and that “there is none righteous, not oven one.”

It attempts to limit the power of an omnipotent God.

Lastly and perhaps most importantly, hopelessness, of any strain, attempts to limit the power of an omnipotent God. In our despairing over the depravity of the lost or in the waywardness of youth our shallow faith attempts to put limits upon what the Lord is able to accomplish in the hearts of those He chooses. Where we, in our bleak expectations, view the cold or unmoved soul as a lost cause or as a guilty party, the Lord sees an opportunity to display His glory either through his grace or regretfully, through His wrath. His power is not limited by the sinfulness of men. The miracle-inducing God can do whatever He wants. He can warm the coldest heart. He can fan the flame of devotion in the life of the most flippant teen. To assume that our assessment of an individual’s current condition (knowing too, that our assessments are flawed) is indicative of their final spiritual state is arrogant and ignorant. All believers can look back at a time in our own lives in which we were wayward, childish, unrepentant, and caked in our depravity and yet the Lord chose to move to convict even the most unrighteous of us.

Another thing to consider that I have learned (and must learn over and over) is that the Lord works at different times in the lives of others. Especially within the rhythm of education, it is easy to assume the path of spiritual grown rises in a linear fashion as we progress in school. We falsely assume that just as a junior would know more about composition than a freshman, that he would also be more obedient to the Lord than his younger peer. We need only to look at our own lives to see the falsity of that line of reasoning. We can hope, we can lead, and we can pray that our youth would progress in such a clean and orderly ascent of obedience but we know too that the Lord reaches out to His people at ALL ages, to the young and the old alike.

Ours is a God of power. Any attempt we make to limit that power will only result in our own folly. We do not judge fully or rightly the hearts of men. Those who appeared most righteous may hold within their hearts deep unrepentant sin. Those who appeared most disrespectful and wanton might just be changed by a movement of the Holy Spirit. We need only pray and open our eyes. Miracles never cease.