The Dead End of Sexual Sin

Article by Rosaria Champagne Butterfield

Unbelievers don’t “struggle” with same-sex attraction. I didn’t. My love for women came with nary a struggle at all.

I had not always been a lesbian, but in my late twenties, I met my first lesbian lover. I was hooked and believed that I had found my real self. Sex with women was part of my life and identity, but it was not the only part — and not always the biggest part.

I simply preferred everything about women: their company, their conversation, their companionship, and the contours of their/our body. I favored the nesting, the setting up of house and home, and the building of lesbian community.

As an unbelieving professor of English, an advocate of postmodernism and poststructuralism, and an opponent of all totalizing metanarratives (like Christianity, I would have added back in the day), I found peace and purpose in my life as a lesbian and the queer community I helped to create.

Conversion and Confusion

It was only after I met my risen Lord that I ever felt shame in my sin, with my sexual attractions, and with my sexual history.

Conversion brought with it a train wreck of contradictory feelings, ranging from liberty to shame. Conversion also left me confused. While it was clear that God forbade sex outside of biblical marriage, it was not clear to me what I should do with the complex matrix of desires and attractions, sensibilities and senses of self that churned within and still defined me.

What is the sin of sexual transgression? The sex? The identity? How deep was repentance to go?

Meeting John Owen

In these newfound struggles, a friend recommended that I read an old, seventeenth-century theologian named John Owen, in a trio of his books (now brought together under the title Overcoming Sin and Temptation).

At first, I was offended to realize that what I called “who I am,” John Owen called “indwelling sin.” But I hung in there with him. Owen taught me that sin in the life of a believer manifests itself in three ways: distortion by original sin, distraction of actual day-to-day sin, and discouragement by the daily residence of indwelling sin.

“How should we think about sin that has become a daily part of our identity?”

Eventually, the concept of indwelling sin provided a window to see how God intended to replace my shame with hope. Indeed, John Owen’s understanding of indwelling sin is the missing link in our current cultural confusion about what sexual sin is — and what to do about it.

As believers, we lament with the apostle Paul, “I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me” (Romans 7:19–20). But after we lament, what should we do? How should we think about sin that has become a daily part of our identity?

Owen explained with four responses.

1. Starve It

Indwelling sin is a parasite, and it eats what you do. God’s word is poison to sin when embraced by a heart made new by the Holy Spirit. You starve indwelling sin by feeding yourself deeply on his word. Sin cannot abide in his word. So, fill your hearts and minds with Scripture.

One way that I do that is singing the Psalms. Psalm-singing, for me, is a powerful devotional practice as it helps me to melt my will into God’s and memorize his word in the process. We starve our indwelling sin by reading Scripture comprehensively, in big chunks, and by whole books at a time. This enables us to see God’s providence at work in big-picture ways.

2. Call Sin What It Is

Now that it is in the house, don’t buy it a collar and a leash and give it a sweet name. Don’t “admit” sin as a harmless (but un-housebroken) pet. Instead, confess it as an evil offense and put it out! Even if you love it! You can’t domesticate sin by welcoming it into your home.

“God’s word is poison to sin when embraced by a heart made new by the Holy Spirit.”

Don’t make a false peace. Don’t make excuses. Don’t get sentimental about sin. Don’t play the victim. Don’t live by excuse-righteousness. If you bring the baby tiger into your house and name it Fluffy, don’t be surprised if you wake up one day and Fluffy is eating you alive. That is how sin works, and Fluffy knows her job. Sometimes sin lurks and festers for decades, deceiving the sinner that he really has it all under control, until it unleashes itself on everything you built, cherished, and loved.

Be wise about your choice sins and don’t coddle them. And remember that sin is not ever “who you are” if you are in Christ. In Christ, you are a son or daughter of the King; you are royalty. You do battle with sin because it distorts your real identity; you do not define yourself by these sins that are original with your consciousness and daily present in your life.

3. Extinguish Indwelling Sin by Killing It

Sin is not only an enemy, says Owen. Sin is at enmity with God. Enemies can be reconciled, but there is no hope for reconciliation for anything at enmity with God. Anything at enmity with God must be put to death. Our battles with sin draw us closer in union with Christ. Repentance is a new doorway into God’s presence and joy.

Indeed, our identity comes from being crucified and resurrected with Christ:

We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin. (Romans 6:4–6)

Satan will use our indwelling sin as blackmail, declaring that we cannot be in Christ and sin in heart or body like this. In those moments, we remind him that he is right about one thing only: our sin is indeed sin. It is indeed transgression against God and nothing else.

But Satan is dead wrong about the most important matter. In repentance, we stand in the risen Christ. And the sin that we have committed (and will commit) is covered by his righteousness. But fight we must. To leave sin alone, says Owen, is to let sin grow: “not to conquer it is to be conquered by it.”

4. Daily Cultivate Your New Life in Christ

God does not leave us alone to fight the battle in shame and isolation. Instead, through the power of the Holy Spirit, the soul of each believer is “vivified.” “To vivify” means to animate, or to give life to. Vivification complements mortification (to put to death), and by so doing, it enables us to see the wide angle of sanctification, which includes two aspects:

“Sin is not ever ‘who you are’ if you are in Christ.”TweetShare on Facebook

1) Deliverance from the desire of those choice sins, experienced when the grace of obedience gives us the “expulsive power of a new affection” (to quote Thomas Chalmers).

2) Humility over the fact that we daily need God’s constant flow of grace from heaven, and that no matter how sin tries to delude us, hiding our sin is never the answer. Indeed, the desire to be strong enough in ourselves, so that we can live independently of God, is the first sin, the essence of sin, and the mother of all sin.

Owen’s missing link is for believers only. He says, “Unless a man be regenerate (born again), unless he be a believer, all attempts that he can make for mortification [of sin] . . . are to no purpose. In vain he shall use many remedies, [but] he shall not be healed.”

What then should an unbeliever do? Cry out to God for the Holy Spirit to give him a new heart and convert his soul: “mortification [of sin] is not the present business of unregenerate men. God calls them not to it as yet; conversion is their work — the conversion of the whole soul — not the mortification of this or that particular lust.”

Freed for Joy

In the writings of John Owen, I was shown how and why the promises of sexual fulfillment on my own terms were the antithesis of what I had once fervently believed. Instead of liberty, my sexual sin was enslavement. This seventeenth-century Puritan revealed to me how my lesbian desires and sensibilities were dead-end joy killers.

Today, I now stand in a long line of godly women — the Mary Magdalene line. The gospel came with grace, but demanded irreconcilable war. Somewhere on this bloody battlefield, God gave me an uncanny desire to become a godly woman, covered by God, hedged in by his word and his will. This desire bled into another one: to become, if the Lord willed, the godly wife of a godly husband.

And then I noticed it.

Union with the risen Christ meant that everything else was nailed to the cross. I couldn’t get my former life back if I wanted it. At first, this was terrifying, but when I peered deep into the abyss of my terror, I found peace.

With peace, I found that the gospel is always ahead of you. Home is forward. Today, by God’s amazing grace alone, I am a chosen part of God’s family, where God cares about the details of my day, the math lessons and the spilled macaroni and cheese, and most of all, for the people, the image-bearers of his precious grace, the man who calls me beloved, and the children who call me mother.

Rosaria Champagne Butterfield is a former tenured professor of English at Syracuse University. After her conversion to Christianity in 1999, she developed a ministry to college students. She has taught and ministered at Geneva College, is a full-time mother and pastor’s wife, and is author of Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert (2012) and Openness Unhindered: Further Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert on Sexual Identity and Union with Christ (2015).

Originally posted at:  https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/the-dead-end-of-sexual-sin

Why We Call the Worst Friday ‘Good’

Article by  David Mathis . Executive Editor, desiringGod.org

It was the single most horrible day in the history of the world.

No incident has ever been more tragic, and no future event will ever match it. No surprise attack, no political assassination, no financial collapse, no military invasion, no atomic detonation or nuclear warfare, no cataclysmic act of terrorism, no large-scale famine or disease — not even slave trading, ethnic cleansing, or decades-long religious warring can eclipse the darkness of that day.

No suffering has ever been so unfitting. No human has ever been so unjustly treated, because no other human has ever been so worthy of praise. No one else has ever lived without sin. No other human has ever been God himself. No horror surpasses what transpired on a hill outside Jerusalem almost two millennia ago.

And yet we call it “Good” Friday.

What Man Meant for Evil

For Jesus, that most horrible of days dawned in Roman custody at the governor’s headquarters. His own people had turned him over to the oppressive empire. The thread that held the Jewish nation together was its pining for a promised ruler in the line of their great beloved King David. Both David himself, and the prophets who came before and after him, pointed the people to an even greater king who was to come. Yet when he finally came, his people — the very nation that ordered its collective life around waiting for him — did not see him for who he was. They rejected their own Messiah.

“It was the single most horrible day in the history of the world. No incident has or ever will be more tragic.”

In his own day, David had seen pagans plot against him as God’s anointed one. “Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord and against his Anointed” (Psalm 2:1–2). But now David’s words had come true of his greater descendant, as Jesus’s own people turned on him to hand him over to Rome.

Judas Meant It for Evil

Judas wasn’t the first to plot against Jesus, but he was the first to “deliver him over” (Matthew 26:15) — the language of responsibility which the Gospels repeat again and again.

The schemes against Jesus began long before Judas realized money might be made available to a mole. What began with maneuvering to entangle Jesus in his words (Matthew 22:15) soon devolved into a conspiracy to put him to death (Matthew 26:4). And Judas’s love for money made him a strategic first domino to fall in delivering Jesus to death.

Jesus had seen it coming. He told his disciples ahead of time, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem. And the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and scribes . . .” (Matthew 20:18). At first the traitor was nameless. Now he emerges from Jesus’s own inner circle of twelve. One of his close friends will turn on him (Psalm 41:9), and for a slave’s price (Zechariah 11:12–13): thirty filthy pieces of silver.

Jewish Leaders Meant It for Evil

But Judas didn’t act alone. Jesus himself had foretold that “the chief priests and scribes” would “condemn him to death and deliver him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified” (Matthew 20:18–19). And it all unfolded according to plan. “The band of soldiers and their captain and the officers of the Jews” arrested him and delivered him to Pilate (John 18:12, 30). As Pilate would acknowledge to Jesus, “Your own nation and the chief priests have delivered you over to me” (John 18:35).

On the day God’s chosen Messiah was grossly and unjustly executed, the human agents of evil standing at the helm were the formal officers of God’s chosen people. Fault would not be limited to them, but to them much had been given, and much would be required (Luke 12:48). Jesus was clear with Pilate who deserved more blame: “he who delivered me over to you has the greater sin” (John 19:11).

Even Pilate could tell why the Jewish leaders had it out for Jesus: “He perceived that it was out of envy that the chief priests had delivered him up” (Mark 15:10). They saw Jesus winning favor with the people, and quaked at the prospect of their own influence eroding (John 12:19). Jesus’s rise to renown posed such a threat to their fragile sense of authority, with its accompanying privilege, that liberal priests and conservative scribes crossed the aisle to work together.

Pilate Meant It for Evil

In a web of wickedness, guilty parties serve their complementary roles. The Jewish leaders drove the plan, Judas served as catalyst, and Pilate too had his own part to play, however passive. He would try to cleanse the guilt from his conscience by publicly washing his hands of the whole affair, but he was not able get himself off the hook.

As the ranking Roman onsite, he could have put an end to the injustice he saw unfolding in front of him. He knew it was evil. Both Luke and John record three clear instances of Pilate declaring, “I find no guilt in him” (Luke 23:14–15, 20, 22; John 18:38; 19:4, 6). In such a scenario, a righteous ruler would not only have vindicated the accused, but seen to it that he was protected from subsequent harm from his accusers. Yet, ironically, finding no guilt in Jesus became the cause for Pilate’s guilt, as he bowed to what seemed politically expedient in the moment.

“There is not one day, one loss, or one pain in your life over which God cannot write ‘good.’”

First, Pilate tried to bargain. He offered to release a notorious criminal. But the people called his bluff, incited by their leaders, and called for the release of the guilty instead. Now Pilate was cornered. He washed his hands as a show and “released for them Barabbas, and having scourged Jesus, delivered him to be crucified” (Matthew 27:26; Mark 15:15). Pilate’s part, no doubt, was more reactive than the conspiring Jewish leaders, but when “he delivered Jesus over to their will” (Luke 23:25) he joined them in their wickedness.

The People Meant It for Evil

The rank and file played their part as well. They allowed themselves to be incited by their conniving officials. They called for the release of a man they knew was guilty in place of a man who was innocent. Rightly would the apostle Peter preach in Acts 3:13–15 as he addressed the people of Jerusalem,

You delivered [Jesus] over and denied [him] in the presence of Pilate, when he had decided to release him. But you denied the Holy and Righteous One, and asked for a murderer to be granted to you, and you killed the Author of life, whom God raised from the dead.

As the early Christians in Jerusalem would pray, “Truly in this city there were gathered together against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed, both Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel” (Acts 4:27). Neither Herod nor the Romans are clean as well. In the end, in a surprising turn, Jews and Gentiles worked together to kill the Author of life.

And soon enough we come to find that it’s not only Judas, Pilate, the leaders, and the people who are implicated. We see our own evil, even as we see through the blackness of this Friday to the light of God’s goodness: we delivered him over. “Christ died for our sins” (1 Corinthians 15:3). Jesus was “delivered up for our trespasses” (Romans 4:25). He “gave himself for our sins” (Galatians 1:4). “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree” (1 Peter 2:24). What we meant for evil, God meant for good.

God Meant It for Good

God was at work, doing his greatest good in our most horrible evil. Over and in and beneath the spiraling evil of Judas, the Jewish leaders, Pilate, the people, and all forgiven sinners, God’s hand is steady, never to blame for evil, ever working it for our final good. As Peter would soon preach, Jesus was “delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God” (Acts 2:23). And as the early Christians would pray, “Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel, [did] whatever your hand and your plan had predestined to take place” (Acts 4:27–28).

Never has Joseph’s banner flown so truly as it did on that day: what man meant for evil, God meant for good(Genesis 50:20). And if this day, of all days, bears not only the fingerprints of sinners for evil, but also the sovereign hand of God for good, how can we not fly Joseph’s banner over the great tragedies and horrors of our lives? Since God himself “did not spare his own Son but gave him upfor us all, how will he not with him graciously give us all things” for our everlasting good (Romans 8:32)?

God wrote “good” on the single worst day in the history of the world. And there is not one day — or week, month, year, or lifetime of suffering — not one trauma, not one loss, not one pain, momentary or chronic, over which God cannot write “good” for you in Christ Jesus.

Satan and sinful man meant that Friday for evil, but God meant it for good, and so we call it Good Friday.

David Mathis (@davidcmathis) is executive editor for desiringGod.org and pastor at Cities Churchin Minneapolis. He is a husband, father of four, and author of Habits of Grace: Enjoying Jesus through the Spiritual Disciplines.