January 7, 2018

Hypocrisy

He replied, “Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you hypocrites; as it is written: “These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain; their teachings are merely human rules.” You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to human traditions.” – Mark 7:6-8

I cannot abide a hypocrite. They push my buttons every time. I struggle to be kind, compassionate, forgiving. Do not speak from both sides of your mouth, as the cliché goes.

I know. There are times when others must look at me and see hypocrisy. It is so easy to preach and not so easy to live. As the apostle Paul says in Romans 7: Why do I do the thing I know I shouldn’t do.

That said, I am trying to live an authentic life. I try to live according to what I say. I try to live my faith. I think most of us fit into that category. We are sinners who are trying. And then there are the hypocrites.

A dear friend died earlier this year from an absolutely horrible disease. Her husband grieves. I have tried to be a friend to him, as his late wife and children have urged me to do. But honestly it turns my stomach to hear him lament in one breath and not five minutes later speak of the lust he feels for another woman. How can he truly still be grief-stricken and yet be so determined to find someone else so soon?

I know he is lonely. He is retired and bored and wants a companion. I understand that. His late wife – of 42 years I might add – wouldn’t want him to spend the rest of his days alone. But whatever happened to respectful mourning?

He urges me to move forward in my own grieving process. I remind him that it is a process. One step forward, two steps back. Another day it is two steps forward and one back. I’m not sure he wants to grieve. He wants his life back and will fit anyone into the space. Perhaps he isn't truly a hypocrite, I tell myself. Maybe he's just desperately trying to mend a shattered heart with a band-aid called lust.

Whatever the motivation, I see disaster looming on the horizon. No one person can replace another. People are uniquely different. Failure to understand this basic fact can lead to much unhappiness. I’ve just seen it too many times.

Maybe part of my struggle with his words and action is the faith he proclaims. He bought a new Bible, one that will allow him to find the different books as we discuss them at church. He leaves it at church so he won’t have to carry it to and from home each week. He doesn’t open a Bible at home. He’s clear about that. He’s a believer, he says. But he doesn’t care to read or study God’s word.

My heart aches for what he is missing. I know that a true believer longs for God. I pray for him to be filled with the Spirit, to hunger for knowledge. He would rather coast to the finish line, secure in a salvation he claims.

He is a good man. He will be the first to tell you that. He is also a blind man who refuses to see beyond himself. He is not alone, of course. He has the time and resources to do good for others but he can’t see that. He wants it to be about him.

I find myself seeking distance, even though I know his adult children count on me to help carry the burden. But, honestly, I am tired and my own grief at times consumes me. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to walk this road. I don’t know if I even want to.

We are all a tumbled mass of flaws and desires. We are humans, sinners, telling ourselves we are living right even as we careen toward the unknown. It’s just so hard even when you try to follow Jesus with each step. It’s impossible when you don’t even try.

I hope he finds someone wonderful to share the remainder of his life with. But mostly I hope he finds Jesus in the midst of it all and comes to know that chasing after Him is the only way to truly live.