Hate the Sin, Hate the Sinner
This post contains frank discussions about religious trauma, sexuality, and self-harm. If you need healing, it's never too late to get help.
Reading the Christian Bible and not grappling with the ancient concept of sin is almost impossible. It is there shortly after "in the beginning," and it's present throughout the theological narrative of scripture. It evolves to the point of personification, where it is defeated through a sacrificial death on the cross and eradicated in a future kingdom of heaven on earth. I am neither an advocate for a sin-free gospel nor a sin-free worldview.
And yet sin can be deeply problematic. Why? Because once sin is internalized as a reflection of the human state, it can become almost impossible to remedy. Suppose sin is a description of actions that cause harm, robbing people of dignity, abusing power, or any action that prevents human flourishing. In that case, sin can be a meaningful category to discuss human failing. However, if sin primarily describes ontology (our nature) and not ethics (our behaviour), then we are in danger of never breaking out of painful cycles of shame.
Some people never move on once they convince themselves they "are" a sinner. I speak personally, but I am one of those people. I chased, even obsessed over, a nebulous state of holiness. But even when I believed I had "carefully considered what pleases the Lord," the legal fiction that was the bedrock of my faith never erased what I believed God truly thought me to be. If God was an all-knowing father telling me I was at one point worthless, there is no good news that could change that. The psychological damage is too deep. As human parents, we know the value of telling our children they are "good." Why? Because if we tell them they are bad, they often accept it and harm themselves in profound ways. My parents spoke to my goodness with every fibre of their being, and yet our God seemed very different from them.
The evangelical vision of sin can render the "goodness of creation" irrelevant. A good creation reflects little of their reality. When Adam and Eve committed sin, the world around them changed. Their actions caused thorns to grow upon the earth. Unfortunately, evangelicals spent immense energy trying to force Genesis into some literal and historical category while missing its profound theological meaning. Creation is good, and yet human hubris and selfish action have the potential to cause it harm. Causing harm is at the root of sin. Although the first three chapters of Genesis are rather silent concerning scientific or historical truth, they are profoundly apt in diagnosing how sin (i.e., harm) can upend human relationships at every level.
Ironically, many evangelicals in North America seem almost obsessed with doing just that. Instead of a posture of harmony, they adopt a posture of combat. And because they have defined sin ontologically, what they are warring against is the flesh and blood of their neighbours. An evangelical cliché goes: "Love the sinner but hate the sin." On the one hand, this sounds wise and even merciful. In reality, however, evangelicals equivocate sin with the sinner. This can leave many people feeling as though, as sinners, they are only worth the hatred sin deserves.
If we get this wrong, we can profoundly harm people and sin against them in truly dark ways, even with a false description of sin becoming sin itself. I've been open about the harm purity culture caused me in my life. At different points, the hatred I expressed towards my mind was intense. But what I've rarely shared is the hatred I even expressed towards my own body. At one point as an adult, after briefly watching internet pornography, I felt so much shame and self-loathing that I painfully struck repeated physical blows against my own penis, all the while quoting 1 Corinthians 9:27.
At that moment, it was impossible for me to see myself as a normal human being behaving in normal human ways. I couldn't extend myself grace, love, or acceptance. Because at that moment, my view of myself was that the self can never escape its nature as a sinner. Worse than cancer. Worthy of nothing. At that moment, the underlying purity culture framework of sin that dominated my thinking was causing me immense harm. Looking back on that day, I now only think of that as the sin at work in my life. I only see one cancer present that needs fighting against.
In therapy, I learned that my experience is not unheard of for some people in religious cultures with certain views of sin and holiness. In therapy-not the church-I learned to accept myself as human. And I had to do this by redefining the religious message of sin I had internalized. I had to, or else the next step in my self-harm would be permanent. I can't imagine anyone wants to tell me that a particular belief about sin is more important than my life. I know that any self-respecting evangelical wants to see someone like me internalize grace and forgiveness more than hatred and shame. And because of that, I am trying to speak back to the broader culture I grew up in because there was a disconnect between its good intentions and my experience. My goal isn't to throw stones. It's not easy to talk about my experiences. In fact, I'm filled with a lot of embarrassment about them.
But I hope pastors, teachers, and anyone who claims to be an evangelical will confront what went wrong. I hope they will see that the gospel is not a race to define sin in its most devastating form but is rather an invitation to the broken to find liberty. The gospel exposes those who put holiness above humanity and condemns those who cause harm. It's not a weapon to cause shame. It's hope.
Some might tell me I'm venturing outside a historical or traditional understanding of sin. But if we can't let harm be a guiding light of our theology, we don't deserve anyone's trust. Many of us have been holding on to our religious trauma for years, and it's finally blowing up. We want to hold onto our faith, and if that requires disassembling things that cause harm, can you blame us?
After all, isn't the Christian life a struggle against sin?
