Must We Relinquish Human Nature for Submission?

image description: upward-facing shot from the bottom of a stone well in grayscale

BY david woods, YALE ‘26

It is human nature to seek value or to find purpose rationally, but what does that look like?  

I wake up in the morning, stumble out of bed towards the bathroom—toothbrush and toothpaste in hand—and relish in the thought that I have died to the self in a way that’s productive and life-giving. After all, it’s what Christ—through the full blessings of life in Him—would have wanted. But the truth of the situation is that I’m still dreaming; the alarm on my phone has yet to exclaim its energetic chirping, and, in reality, I’m lying in bed, asleep in more ways than one and unattuned to the realization that I hinder myself from reaching a goal that might indeed be impossible: take, for example, the value I derive from searching for academic success as a Yale student or that which comes from the ever-present desire to feel belonging amongst friends.

We use this seeking, this sensory perception, as the impetus for validation, security, comfort, or whatever ephemeral word we might use to supplement or replace contentment in His love. But this kind of thinking is not inherently bad. Indeed, it is from these thought processes that we come to recognize the power of repentance and righteousness that exists through Christ. Whether or not we do is another consideration entirely. This season of Lent, I find it appropriate to address the implications of striving for perfection, of being one with Christ, amid what seems to be characteristically an imperfect body of believers. 

How is one supposed to motivate oneself to continue in their path towards righteousness, towards eternal rewards and moral virtue, without becoming mired by any of the intrinsic expressions of making such progress—things like pride and glee—that have come to be attributed to the modern idea of success through hard work and determination?

In Chapter Five, verses seven through eleven, James tells us something to the tune of good things come to those who wait. He means that there is suffering in patience, but there are lessons and integrity to be found in suffering.[1] In essence, wait. Wait not for the good of the self, for the blessings we count are the ones that go to those who have persevered. In other words, it is a noble pursuit to face hardship and come out victorious, being overcome with the compassion and mercy of Christ, but is it wrong to find solace in this kind of triumph? 

The lectionary for today is an excerpt from Luke 6, verses twenty-seven through thirty-one:

“Jesus said, ‘I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.’”[2]

Indeed, these are great words to live by, and some of them have become immortalized within our culture; here, I’m speaking specifically of the “golden rule” that comes in the last verse. But, pragmatically speaking, this passage is one that can comfortably be filed under the easier-said-than-done section of life. It’s true that a lot of the commands that are presented in the Bible can be interpreted this way, and for good reason. Metaphysically, Jesus has no reason to tarry with complex sugar-coating and hand-holding as a part of the necessary propositions that constitute His nature and essence; and historically, his words needed to have a sort of canon so as not to be disputed. However, for the common man, one like you or I, a prima facie impression might entail the onset of anxiety or thoughts of insufficiency. 

And so, no one is denying that it will be difficult to live a Christ-centered life; much of the premise behind Lent is, in fact, facing this difficulty. It is a season of mirroring the temptation and desire that Jesus faced in the desert under strafe from the evil one. And, while this gives us information on how to act, it leaves us to question what should be one’s reaction. It would be perhaps harsh to reject the notion there is not a joyous contentment to be found in the actions that lead to our happiness; why would a loving God seek that we deny ourselves the freedoms of expression through our emotions if not solely for His Kingdom? But, who wouldn’t feel a sense of gratification in being able to walk with someone and act as a beacon for Christ when this person accepts the truth of The Gospel and proclaims Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior? 

I find that the culmination of these considerations can be boiled down into a simple, albeit transformative and essential question: does submission to the will of God require that we relinquish human nature? The answer can be elucidated through a close reading of Romans 12:2: 

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.”[3]

God does not expect from us things that are not possible; He understands the limitations we possess through His action of becoming fully man in Christ, but it is one thing to be called to perfection, to attempt to make the most out of what He gave to us in our earthly realm. It is completely different—and transformative even—to realize that perfection does not come from this world. We may see glimpses of it, and perhaps we have a reflection of it from Christ, but we can never grasp the reality of it, and trying before subsequently failing or perceiving a false sense of success to bolster our egos will only cause us to take our eyes off of Jesus. 

God is aware of the value of fleeting emotions in learning—even when those emotions are prideful in the face of supposed victory, unstable in building unfaithful foundations, supplemental to His grace, or some combination of the three. However, we are a New Creation in Christ, and, as such, we have the ability to be free from sin. God knows our hearts—He can see intention behind every action, genuineness in every surrender—and He shows His strength in our weakness. He delights in our healing and sanctification, but this doesn’t mean our sanctification process is finished. 

So, although we should not seek out sin, if we never let ourselves stumble or fall, then there would be no conception of humanity from which He could plant a meaningful relationship. That is, there would be no “human” in the human nature (because human nature is imperfection) , and the ability to grow—one that we get through the process of living both actively and reactively in the face of strife or doubt—would become lost to a disingenuous, unchanging, and egocentric conception of life without self reflection.

And so, even if, when I wake up, I might not have died to myself in the sense that I have foregone all of my worldly notions of disparity, reconciling that is possibly the best conclusion I could have made. For, with that, I begin to understand my humanity in Christ, that He sees purpose for me on this earth and that His love persists in imperfection. It’s not about feeling shame or guilt in denying what’s familiar or intuitive (using past experiences and wins to feel whole); it’s about being okay with seeking to understand what’s foreign (accepting that we are incomplete) and trusting that God’s light will shine through.

SOURCES

[1] James 5: 7-11 

[2] Luke 6: 27-31 

[3] Romans 12:2