Every time I ask my nephew for blog topics he gives me the same answer.
Blog about hypocrisy.
I just roll my eyes and tell him to give me another topic.
I hate hypocrisy. I hate thinking about it. I hate talking about it.
I’ve wondered why I hate it so much. Maybe because deep down in my heart I know who I really am. Maybe because deep down in my heart I’m afraid of being found out, afraid of being discovered.
I talk about fear, but when I shut my eyes I see the shadow of fear closing in.
I talk about not worrying about what people say, but in the quiet of the night, I worry, I wonder, I wait.
I talk about money and materialism, but inside I see the pull towards more stuff, better stuff.
I talk about sex, but day after agonizing day my mind hurts for the battle for purity.
A couple of weeks ago I taught about Ananias and Sapphira in Acts 5. They were killed for their hypocrisy. I’ve had a hard time swallowing that lesson. Why did they die, while I still live? Why were they found out, while many remain hidden?
Who is this God we serve? Who is this God we follow? How does He choose? Who does He spare?
I’m afraid of hypocrisy, but I’m brave enough to admit it.
Jesus hated hypocrisy. He overturned the tables in the temple because of religious hypocrisy. Later in Matthew 23, He looked the scribes and the pharisees straight in the eyes and ripped them to shreds for being hypocrites.
They still didn’t get it.
They rolled their eyes and ignored Him.
They got together and planned to kill Him.
They were the ones who deserved to die, but He hung on a cross instead.
They were the ones who deserved to be punished, but He suffered instead.
He died for the hypocrites.
He died for me.
Skeptics have pointed their fingers at Christians for centuries and accused them of hypocrisy. “You’re not who you say you are”, they yell. “You don’t do what you tell others to do”, they complain. “We’d follow your Jesus if you weren’t such a hypocrite”, they whisper.
And they still don’t get it.
It’s not about my ability to behave my way out of hypocrisy. It’s not about my proving to you that I’m exactly who you think I am.
Freedom is about understanding that every ounce of my hypocrisy has been nailed on that tree for good.
Don’t get me wrong – I still hate hypocrisy.
But I’m not as afraid anymore.
Subscribe via RSS
Be a Fan
Follow Me
Subscribe via Email
