The Anger of the Pharisee

[You may not identify with Thabiti Anyabwile, but then again, you might.]

Calvinist Confessions, 4

by Thabiti Anyabwile

I am a Calvinist.  I love the glorious truths of God revealed in His word.  I praise God for His mighty works in creation, redemption, and providence.  I live, I trust, for the glory of God in all things.

I am a Pharisee.  I shouldn’t be.  How can anyone claiming to be a Calvinist living for the glory of God also be a peevish, joyless, and fearful little Pharisee?  It’s a shame.  But I’m a Calvinist and I’m a Pharisee.

Narrowness for the letter and not the spirit, suspicion of joy, and fear are not the only things that make it possible for me to be a Calvinist and a Pharisee.  There is a fourth reason why these two things blend together more often than they should, and why they blend together in my heart.  Anger.

I’m an angry man.  I don’t want to project on anyone else.  This is about my heart.  But I think there’s a lot of anger among us “Reformed” types.  So much so, some of us–let me just say I–need to be sent to reform school.  No I don’t mean Westminster or some place in Scotland.  I mean we need to be sent to a school that helps us deal with our anger, that makes us “positive members of society.”  We need help.  I need help with my anger.

You don’t believe it?  I have one word for you.  “Blogs.”  That’s exhibit A for the rampant anger in Reformed circles.  What a naked display of raw and random anger splattered across the virtual world landing on anyone with a keypad.

I’ve had my part in that.  Oh, you couldn’t tell?  Or only occasionally?  You see, really, more problematic than the displays on blogs is the respectable anger I nurse.  I’m not given to loud outbursts.  If that happens, we’re at Defcon 1.  We don’t go there.  We try never to use the red phone.

But beneath the poker face lives a small volcano regularly seeping lava over the lip of its opening.  That’s in the heart.  While on the outside… the slightly reserved and seemingly dispassionate face of the Pharisee.

Anger comes in many colors.  There is red magma of violent outburst.  As I said, that’s not my style as a Pharisee.  Resentment is a kind of anger.  It’s the warm orange anger that comes from the blend of disappointment, self-righteousness, and entitlement.  The anger of stinging words wrapped in religious jargon.  There is the parakeet yellow of angry backbiting and gossip, tale bearing and kindling strife.  James tells us this is murderous.  There is the green of jealousy and evil eyes.  There is also the swooshing blue of those who run when angry.  That’s the flight response.  There is the indigo of depression, which is sometimes a symptom of deeper anger.  Next is the violet of grudges and “silent treatments.”  Then there is the icy white of “cold war” anger.  Violet is close to “cold war,” except “cold war” arms itself for more serious retaliation.  I’m a good Pharisee.  I think I hang out somewhere between violet and orange, silent anger and resentment with occasional depressive moods.  Any of these sound familiar?

Of course, resentments and silent treatments are the preferred combination because it maintains the semblance of respectability.  I am, after all, a Pharisee.  I’m wearing expensive robes, long tassels, wide phylacteries, and I sit in the best seat in the house, where I may be seen.

I know there is such a thing as righteous indignation.  I know we’re to be angry and not sin, neither let the sun set on our wrath.  But the Pharisee that I am has lost count of the sunsets.  And isn’t there a difference between righteous indignation and being indignant because our “rights” have been trampled?  Too often, I don’t always see that difference.  That’s what makes me a Pharisee.  That’s what makes me angry.

As a Pharisee, I know it’s not polite to talk about anger.  Even now, there’s the sense that admitting anger is unpleasant.  Respectable people don’t get angry.  They’re cucumber cool, calm, and collected.  But Pharisee-ism is about wearing masks that hide inner realities.  It’s about pretension and show, being seen and applauded by men.  There’s no way to stroke that beast without becoming victim to it.  The voice in my head screams, Don’t tell on us!  Don’t remove the mask! But the High and Lofty One says, “I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite” (Is. 57:15).

If the truth were told, I’ve been angry for a long time.  I’ve been angry about a lot of things and angry about nothing in particular.  I grew up in an angry-sounding house.  With eight children, somebody somewhere was always angry.  I was angry when my father left the family.  I was angry when arrested as a teenager.  I was angry with “friends” who distanced themselves after my arrest.  I’ve been angry about all the “racial” mistreatment I’ve experienced.  Then I was angry that so many people denied it.  I was angry as a Muslim.  I played basketball angry–but we called it “intensity.”  I’ve been influenced at points in my life by angry men, some of them prominent political and historical figures. Worked for a while in state government, where many of the longest-serving people were simply masters of anger.  That patient, slow boil, I’ll-out-live-and-out-scheme-you-because-I’m-a-civil-servant-and-you-can’t-fire-me anger.

Would you be surprised if I told you that somewhere along the way, Anger became a companion?  Not the kind I’d walk with in public.  Most of the public can’t handle angry black men.  I’m angry about that, too.  Instead, Anger became a secret confidant.  The friend I’d call up when threatened.  The friend most ready to reassure me when I felt inadequate or insecure.  The friend that kept others at a distance or bullied them into submission.  A body guard of sorts.  I could control Anger; summon him at will.  I could justify Anger.  Someone did this or someone did that.  This was threatened or that injustice committed.  Something had to be done.  I had to strike back.  Pharisee.

There is such a thing as righteous indignation.  Absolutely.  We must oppose injustice, of course, because God uses means.  Pharisee.

God uses means, not mean people.

God is sovereign.  He even uses mean people.  Of course he does.  Pharisee.

But is that justification for your anger?  The anger of man does not work the righteousness of God.

You can control your anger.  Everyone gets angry.  ‘Tis true.  Pharisee.

Wouldn’t it be more godly to conquer your anger rather than coddle it?

I’m aware of the conquering presence of God’s Spirit in my life.  When the Lord saved me, one of the things He graciously did was rid me of so much anger.  He freed me from so much bitterness and even hatred.  It’s one Ebenezer I raise in remembrance of God’s gracious redemption.  Yet, sanctification is progressive.  He’s still working.  And the Pharisee is kicking and screaming, “Leave me this little anger!  Let me hold onto this grudge, this charge, this resentment!”  Old friends tend to stick around the longest.  They’re often the most difficult to ditch.

But I’m reminded of another Calvinist Pharisee (speaking anachronistically, of course) who did battle with his Pharisaical anger.  He writes to me: “In this [new birth, coming salvation] you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.  These have come so that your faith–of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire–may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed” (1 Pet. 1:6-7).  What is greater than the trials of this Pharisee’s anger?  The glories and power of my God’s salvation.

Oh Lord whose anger is holy and righteous, make us more aware of and dependent upon the great power of your salvation.  Nail afresh the sin of my anger to the cross of your wrath, that I might be freed from its power, pull, and guilt.  We need Thee every hour.  Amen.

 

Hunting Tiger Woods

[I almost don’t want to post this, but I agree with it so much that I really can’t.  C.J. Mahaney digs into this story in a responsible manner.]

Tiger Woods wants his privacy back.

He wants the media entourage to disappear from his life.

He wants to be left alone so he can manage his personal problems in private.

Not a chance.

The story began unfolding in the early hours of last Friday when he crashed his Cadillac Escalade into a tree and a fire hydrant near his Florida home. He refused to speak with the police about the incident, raising curiosity about the circumstances. The story has now escalated into allegations of marital infidelity, and that generated a blog post from Tiger that stated, “I have let my family down and I regret those transgressions with all of my heart.” This statement by Tiger has led most to believe that the allegations of infidelity are true.

Hunted by the Media

As expected, the allegations of adultery involving a public figure are attracting a media pile-on. This is a big story with a big audience and it’s a story that will not disappear soon. Tiger Woods is being hunted by the media.

But let us make sure we do not join the hunt. A Christian’s response to this story should be distinctly different. We should not be entertained by the news. We should not have a morbid interest in all the details. We should be saddened and sobered. We should pray for this man and even more for his wife.

And we can be sure that in the coming days we will be in conversations with friends and family where this topic will emerge. And when it does, we can avoid simply listening to the latest details and speculations, and avoid speaking self-righteously, but instead we can humbly draw attention to the grace of God in the gospel.

Hunted by Sin

But Tiger is being hunted by something more menacing than journalists. Tiger’s real enemy is his sin, and that’s an enemy much more difficult to discern and one that can’t be managed in our own strength. It’s an enemy that never sleeps.

Let me explain.

Sin Lies

The Bible in general, and the book of Proverbs in particular, reveals an unbreakable connection between our character, our conduct, and the consequences of our actions. These three are inseparable and woven by God into His created order.

Deception is part of sin’s DNA. Sin lies to us. It seeks to convince us that sin brings only pleasure, that it carries no consequences, and that no one will discover it. Sin works hard to make us forget that character, conduct, and consequences are interconnected. And when we neglect this relationship—when we think our sins will not be discovered—we ultimately mock God.

Sin Hunts

We’ve all experienced it: Sin lies to us. We take the bait. And then sin begins to hunt us.

One commentator on Proverbs articulated this truth like this: “The irony of a life of rebellion is that we begin by pursuing sin…and end up being pursued by it!….You can ‘be sure your sin will find you out’ (Num. 32:23…).”* In other words, sin comes back to hunt us.

In light of this fact, sin is an enemy Tiger can’t manage. He can’t shape this story like he does a long iron on a par 5. Tiger doesn’t need a publicity facelift; Tiger needs a Savior. Just like me. And just like you. And if by God’s grace he repents and trusts in the person and work of Christ, Tiger will experience the fruit of God’s promise that “whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy” (Proverbs 28:13).

Conclusion

Tiger cannot intimidate this enemy like he can Pebble Beach or any of the field of professional golfers. And there is no privacy he can claim from this enemy, regardless of his resolve, his silence, or the name painted on his yacht. It’s likely Tiger only perceives the press hunting him out of a vain “curiosity about public figures.” But Tiger is being hunted and hounded by a far greater foe: the consequences of his sin.

And this story should humble and sober us. It should make us ask: Are there any so-called “secret sins” in my life? Is there anything I have done that I hope nobody discovers? Is there anything right now in my life that I should confess to God and the appropriate individuals?

And this should leave us more amazed by grace because there, but for the grace of God, go I.

—————–

*John A. Kitchen, Proverbs (Fearn, Scotland: Mentor, 2006), 294–295.

 

Why Moralism Is Not the Gospel — And Why So Many Christians Think It Is

by Albert Mohler

One of the most amazing statements by the Apostle Paul is his indictment of the Galatian Christians for abandoning the Gospel. “I am amazed that you are so quickly deserting Him who called you by the grace of Christ, for a different gospel,” Paul declared. As he stated so emphatically, the Galatians had failed in the crucial test of discerning the authentic Gospel from its counterfeits.

His words could not be more clear: “But even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you a gospel contrary to what we have preached to you, he is to be accursed! As we have said before, so I say again now, if any man is preaching to you a gospel contrary to what you have received, he is to be accursed!” [Gal. 1:8-9]

This warning from the Apostle Paul, expressed in the language of the Apostle’s shock and grief, is addressed not only to the church in Galatia, but to every congregation in every age. In our own day — and in our own churches — we desperately need to hear and to heed this warning. In our own time, we face false gospels no less subversive and seductive than those encountered and embraced by the Galatians.

In our own context, one of the most seductive false gospels is moralism. This false gospel can take many forms and can emerge from any number of political and cultural impulses. Nevertheless, the basic structure of moralism comes down to this — the belief that the Gospel can be reduced to improvements in behavior.

Sadly, this false gospel is particularly attractive to those who believe themselves to be evangelicals motivated by a biblical impulse. Far too many believers and their churches succumb to the logic of moralism and reduce the Gospel to a message of moral improvement. In other words, we communicate to lost persons the message that what God desires for them and demands of them is to get their lives straight.

In one sense, we are born to be moralists. Created in God’s image, we have been given the moral capacity of conscience. From our earliest days our conscience cries out to us the knowledge of our guilt, shortcomings, and misbehaviors. In other words, our conscience communicates our sinfulness.

Add to this the fact that the process of parenting and child rearing tends to inculcate moralism from our earliest years. Very quickly we learn that our parents are concerned with our behavior. Well behaved children are rewarded with parental approval, while misbehavior brings parental sanction. This message is reinforced by other authorities in young lives and pervades the culture at large.

Writing about his own childhood in rural Georgia, the novelist Ferrol Sams described the deeply-ingrained tradition of being “raised right.” As he explained, the child who is “raised right” pleases his parents and other adults by adhering to moral conventions and social etiquette. A young person who is “raised right” emerges as an adult who obeys the laws, respects his neighbors, gives at least lip service to religious expectations, and stays away from scandal. The point is clear — this is what parents expect, the culture affirms, and many churches celebrate. But our communities are filled with people who have been “raised right” but are headed for hell.

The seduction of moralism is the essence of its power. We are so easily seduced into believing that we actually can gain all the approval we need by our behavior. Of course, in order to participate in this seduction, we must negotiate a moral code that defines acceptable behavior with innumerable loopholes. Most moralists would not claim to be without sin, but merely beyond scandal. That is considered sufficient.

Moralists can be categorized as both liberal and conservative. In each case, a specific set of moral concerns frames the moral expectation. As a generalization, it is often true that liberals focus on a set of moral expectations related to social ethics while conservatives tend to focus on personal ethics. The essence of moralism is apparent in both — the belief that we can achieve righteousness by means of proper behavior.

The theological temptation of moralism is one many Christians and churches find it difficult to resist. The danger is that the church will communicate by both direct and indirect means that what God expects of fallen humanity is moral improvement. In so doing, the church subverts the Gospel and communicates a false gospel to a fallen world.

Christ’s Church has no option but to teach the Word of God, and the Bible faithfully reveals the law of God and a comprehensive moral code. Christians understand that God has revealed Himself throughout creation in such a way that He has gifted all humanity with the restraining power of the law. Furthermore, He has spoken to us in His word with the gift of specific commands and comprehensive moral instruction. The faithful Church of the Lord Jesus Christ must contend for the righteousness of these commands and the grace given to us in the knowledge of what is good and what is evil. We also have a responsibility to bear witness of this knowledge of good and evil to our neighbors. The restraining power of the law is essential to human community and to civilization.

Just as parents rightly teach their children to obey moral instruction, the church also bears responsibility to teach its own the moral commands of God and to bear witness to the larger society of what God has declared to be right and good for His human creatures.

But these impulses, right and necessary as they are, are not the Gospel. Indeed, one of the most insidious false gospels is a moralism that promises the favor of God and the satisfaction of God’s righteousness to sinners if they will only behave and commit themselves to moral improvement.

The moralist impulse in the church reduces the Bible to a codebook for human behavior and substitutes moral instruction for the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Far too many evangelical pulpits are given over to moralistic messages rather than the preaching of the Gospel.

The corrective to moralism comes directly from the Apostle Paul when he insists that “a man is not justified by the works of the Law but through faith in Christ Jesus.” Salvation comes to those who are “justified by faith in Christ and not by the works of the Law; since by the works of the Law no flesh will be justified.” [Gal. 2:16]

We sin against Christ and we misrepresent the Gospel when we suggest to sinners that what God demands of them is moral improvement in accordance with the Law. Moralism makes sense to sinners, for it is but an expansion of what we have been taught from our earliest days. But moralism is not the Gospel, and it will not save. The only gospel that saves is the Gospel of Christ. As Paul reminded the Galatians, “But when the fullness of the time came, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the Law, so that He might redeem those who were under the Law, that we might receive the adoption as sons.” [Gal. 4:4-5]

We are justified by faith alone, saved by grace alone, and redeemed from our sin by Christ alone. Moralism produces sinners who are (potentially) better behaved. The Gospel of Christ transforms sinners into the adopted sons and daughters of God.

The Church must never evade, accommodate, revise, or hide the law of God. Indeed, it is the Law that shows us our sin and makes clear our inadequacy and our total lack of righteousness. The Law cannot impart life but, as Paul insists, it “has become our tutor to lead us to Christ, so that we may be justified by faith.” [Gal. 3:24]

The deadly danger of moralism has been a constant temptation to the church and an ever-convenient substitute for the Gospel. Clearly, millions of our neighbors believe that moralism is our message. Nothing less than the boldest preaching of the Gospel will suffice to correct this impression and to lead sinners to salvation in Christ.

Hell will be highly populated with those who were “raised right.” The citizens of heaven will be those who, by the sheer grace and mercy of God, are there solely because of the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ.

Moralism is not the gospel.