Many of the dynamics of sin in life can be explained by a simple idea: the fear of holiness.
Consider an example.
I slipped walking up the sledding hill.
The sandy soil wasn’t frozen yet. It gave way under the pressure of my foot in a most unexpected fashion. Suddenly my body was in free-fall towards the earth, no longer trustingly supported by my right leg.
We wouldn’t get far in life without deeply ingrained systems to deal with exactly this sort of problem. Without thinking, my left leg shot out to my right side to halt my downward trajectory. A fantastic flailing of limbs followed—I’m sure it was very graceful to see.
And I didn’t fall.
And I walked on up the hill.
Instead of falling, I earned some sore back muscles, a ligament on the side of my knee that was none-too happy about the sudden stretch, and a left hip that is still grumpy about the whole affair a few days later.
The irony of the whole situation? It wouldn’t have hurt at all to just fall over into the several-inch deep snow blanketing the hill. If only I had time to have a little conference with my instinctive fall avoidance system I would have reasoned it into submission: “Hey, look, you’re dressed in all kinds of padded outdoor clothes and there is a bunch of snow on the ground. Just let this one go, it’s not really going to hurt.”
But that instinctive fear of falling kicks in and works to protect the body at all costs.
Even when the costs are far greater than just falling over would be.
Fear
The instinctual fear of falling explains so much about why some sin hangs around so tightly.
The fear of falling triggers whenever you unexpectedly depart from normalcy. Sitting down is normal; you don’t flail limbs doing it. Sitting down and then missing your chair = limbs flailing. As soon as you move slightly outside of normal, the fear-driven instinct of self-protection hijacks your bodily systems and aims to protect normalcy at all costs.
Normalcy is key.
My life, your life, right now contains certain patterns of sin and brokenness that are so deep, so connected, so intertwined into who we are that to try to touch them sets off instinctual alarm bells: “protect this area at all costs—this is normal.”
Remove this sin, indeed, touch this sin, and what do you have? Something abnormal.
Never underestimate the power of normalcy.
A deep commitment to normalcy means that my body will sacrifice the health of my back muscles, my knee ligaments, my hip tendons, all to keep upright. Even when it is completely unnecessary to do so. Fear controls. Fear sacrifices to protect its own.
The gossip struggles with gossip because without it their life makes no sense. The porn addict continues on for the same reason. The father with explosive anger hates the explosive anger, but every time life tips slightly outside of normalcy, that is the way to right the ship.
Whatever the sin, those deep-seated ones are always monitoring the situation in life to hijack all systems and protect the status quo whenever any threat emerges. Departing from normal is scary.
Many of the dynamics of sin in life can be explained by a simple idea: the fear of holiness.
Stay tuned for more on fearing holiness.