Lamentations for a Culture in Denial

This post will be a bit different than others, so it is only right that I warn you that sensitive topics will be covered. Below are some observations, or lamentations, for a culture that appears at every turn to deny one of the most basic premises of reality and lie to itself when it comes to the principle of impermanence.

Galatians 6:7 reads, “Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows.” We are lying if we think our choices do not affect us—or others. Perhaps you may know some people who seem relatively unscathed by some of their less-than-admirable decisions. However, that’s grace, not permission to go and do likewise.

Perhaps unlike any civilization that has come before us, we live in a culture of backspace, white out, edited text, photoshop, fix-it-in-post, and auto-deleting messages, which is ironic in an age where the internet remembers. We tell children and families that the effects of puberty-blocking drugs are completely reversible, and we minimize the major risks, side effects, and even trauma associated with and caused by abortion. (While more resources exist supporting both claims, I have only included one for each here.) We can do whatever we like, and it won’t affect our children, our parents, our church, or our family. Our psychological happiness is the priority, and the repercussions of our choices are minimal at most.

Even the most sacred institutions among us, despite our standards, dreams, and high ideals, are now functionally impermanent. Take marriage. We insinuate (if we do not teach and model outright) that in marriage there is always an escape, and middle school dating and prenups don’t help. In 1950, the divorce rate was less than 22%. By 1970, just twenty years later, it had more than doubled, leading to approximately half of children born to married couples in the 1970s witnessing their parents’ divorce. The reason? As studies would show, a lack of commitment, at 75%. As governor of California, Ronald Reagan introduced no-fault divorce in 1969. He later called it one of the worst mistakes of his political career. Even so, for upwards of seventy years, we have treated people and covenants, even those designed to support and protect us, as expendable.

While I doubt whether this is unique to our time, we have been conditioned to explore and assess how to minimize or totally evade even the most permanent consequences of our choices. Several months ago, while paying for a delicious-looking smoothie, I noticed next to the register a small container of what looked like tea bags. Upon closer inspection, I realized that within the bags was a small serving of powder you put in a drink to avoid a hangover the next morning. My thought was how this is just like giving condoms to teenagers. Birth control certainly has its place in the hallowed conversations of married couples who honor and treasure the gift of children. At the same time, however, it can be used in unholy contexts to selfishly enjoy what God intended to happen in the emotional, spiritual, and psychological safety of marriage.

It is our nature to avoid what we actually deserve, and commitment scares us. I submit that the culprit behind such hesitance is not only fear but a recognition, even if a subconscious one, that God was right all along, that we are truly as grass (Is. 40:7)—fallible, mistaken, and wrong more than we like to admit. We don’t trust ourselves to do right and sometimes to do wrong. Our own lack or fear of commitment betrays our knowing that we may indeed mess up.

Perhaps this is why reversibility appeals to us. If we are not fully committed, surely there will be no consequences, or they won’t be as severe. Yet this is where we are deceived. Making a choice even to not do something remains a choice. The paradox of heaven is that duty—radical obedience and love—rather than depending on the pseudo-security of loopholes, is the safest place we can be. True security, contrary to the thinking of our world, is not found in one’s ability to escape but in honoring your commitments (which in marriage, is until death do you part). Not trying to find a way out but confession and keeping to your word and to God is the way to freedom.

While at the house of some relatives earlier this year, I noticed that one of the brief news cycles on TV featured an engineer who had lately invented mechanical legs for a snake. He had studied how their bodies move and used lizards for inspiration. As strange as this may sound, the news segment sobered me. “If we are feeling bad for the serpent and going so far as to autonomously rob of him of his God-given punishment,” I thought, “what else is coming?” In a not as serious but still significant way, such an event seems to point to the same subtle principle: We seek a way out of our punishment—and sometimes help others carve a way out of theirs.

Returning to Galatians, Paul continues in verse 8, “Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life.” No fruit is an accident. It is dependent on how we sow. Breaking up our unplowed ground and sowing righteousness leads to life and unfailing love, while planting wickedness, depending on our own strength, yields the fruit of deception (Hos. 10:12-13). When we live contrary to God’s design, whether intentionally or unintentionally, suffering follows, but one thing is sure: That which we sow we shall also reap.

So, what is the takeaway? How do you sow what is right? Do not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time you will reap a harvest if you do not give up (Gal. 6:9). If you have sown seed you regret, begin sowing righteously. Your Father’s storehouses are filled with the pure seed of the kingdom.

Regret is part of the human experience, but it is not part of the God experience. When we like sheep go our own way (Is. 53:6), it leads only to suffering (vv. 7-12). Yet in the words of George MacDonald, “Obedience is the opener of eyes.” Obey, Christian, and trust. Be not afraid to commit your way to the Lord (Ps. 37:5).