(Before you read … a note)
I’ve edited this several times after sleeping on it for a day or so. Earlier today, as I painted a piece of furniture, I sensed God nudging me to read through one more time.
This musing started as a journal entry; I had no intention of sharing. I journal to process what I’m thinking and feeling, much of which sits between me and God (which is probably good).
Like any relationship, sometimes those of us who follow Jesus have to talk about tough topics. Not that this is an earthshattering or controversial topic, though I pray it’s eye-opening for some, or because I’m sharing details of my life that are too private (remember, I’m choosing to take up space now).
I also want to stay true to what God has called me to do—to encourage and build people up (1 Thessalonians 5:11). In person, I’m careful with my tone, body language, and words. But on the page, that’s a bit more challenging.
So, as you read, consider this coming from a big sister or good friend, someone who’s seen a thing or two through her life and ministry experience. And if you have a different perspective, I’d love to hear it. After all, we’re called to encourage one another.
Here we go.
The book I’m reading
I recently started reading Gently and Lowly*, an insightful book by Dane Ortlund. It has sat on my TBR pile for a while, but now I’m 55 pages in and finding many gold nuggets to consider. While I wish I’d plumbed its pages sooner, I’m not sure I was ready for it. Have you ever had a book like that?
Anyway, I’m having a bit of an epiphany and want to capture my thoughts before they flee.
“What elicits tenderness from Jesus is not the severity of the sin but whether the sinner comes to him.” - Dane Ortlund
I’m not yet sure where else Ortlund will bring me today, but here’s the thought that erupted when I considered his words: what if we’re wrong about how we respond to people who sin? Yes, Scripture is clear that “all have sinned” (Romans 3:23), but somewhere along the way, it seems we’ve created hierarchies of sin.
For example, a man can control his wife (that’s okay), but she can’t speak out and ask for help without being told she’s likely the problem (that’s not okay). A pastor can preach holy living in the pulpit, but create a toxic work environment for his staff. Any leader, male or female, can struggle with anger, impatience, and a general lack of compassion, but someone who’s gone through a divorce carries the proverbial scarlet “D” on their chest for the rest of their lives, or at least until they’ve provided sufficient proof that they have “biblical grounds”, especially if they want to hold a leadership position.
I don’t think I’m being cynical or bitter here. In my experience, as a woman who experienced a divorce, I’m held to a different standard. And before you start to quote verses at me as to why this is the case, keep reading, or maybe go back to my previous post here.
A Short Story
A few years ago, I joined a denomination I’ve come to love for its healthy balance in its core values, theology, and, mostly, how it’s lived out.
I worked at a church when I joined, and wanted to become consecrated, or now, thanks to a recent vote at Council, ordained. But before I could even apply, I had to be interviewed by a committee to discuss my divorce. This pre-screening helped them decide whether, according to their perspective, I had biblical grounds to divorce my now ex-husband over a decade earlier.
I sat in this interview with three men who asked me personal questions about my previous marriage. At the end of the questioning, I was informed that they wanted my ex-husband’s contact information so they could talk with him and see if he had the same perspective on what happened.
I hadn't spoken to him in over ten years, nor updated him on my life or where I lived. For personal reasons, I don’t want him to have any information about me. Yet, for me to be considered for this program, he needed to be contacted for his perspective on the divorce.
(Side note: This was the second time I had this same conversation. The first was with a different leader at another church. He determined I had biblical grounds.)
To my memory, I wasn’t asked how my relationship with Jesus grew from that time. I was asked questions about “what happened,” not how Jesus met me there.
What if we’re wrong
I think about this experience as I ponder Ortlund’s quote. I’m not being critical of their guidelines; to some extent, I understand. But when does someone who’s walked through a divorce get to leave that behind? If divorce is a sin, doesn’t Jesus cast our sins as far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:12)? Why then, for example, do I need to continue to explain what happened when someone else who sins doesn’t?
Didn’t Jesus build his church on Peter, even though Peter denied him?
Didn’t God choose Paul to spread the Gospel to the Gentiles, even though he once murdered Christians?
This leads me to wonder: What if we’re focused on the wrong thing? What if we’ve become so entangled with the details of life that we miss the point?
I understand that systems and organizations need structure, guidelines, and boundaries. I attend church and sit on the board for that church and our denominational district. I love serving my local church and Jesus’ broader Church this way. But what if our attention is too focused on the consequences and we miss the opportunities for mercy? Not permissiveness, but inviting people to draw near to Jesus for the chance to repent and heal.
What if, instead of demanding “right” and adhering to manmade rules (yes, some of those in the church are manmade), we help people experience Jesus’ forgiveness, His tenderness?
What if we start asking: Do people come to Jesus? He wants them to; that’s what the author writes. It’s why Jesus came to earth (Luke 19:10; 2 Corinthians 5:18-20). So, why do we place one sin worse than another? When did we start hanging on to consequences that Jesus, Himself, forgives?
“What elicits tenderness from Jesus is not the severity of the sin but whether the sinner comes to him.”
Ortlund appears to say (I'm still reading, so bear with me here) that Jesus doesn’t have a hierarchy of sin. Jesus doesn’t love someone less if they murdered a person or more if they only secretly lust after another. Sin is sin, Scripture tells us that we all do it, and Jesus died for it all (John 3:16).
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I remember teaching this concept to grade schoolers during the Nickelodeon era of kids' ministry. I grabbed a bunch of ingredients to make brownies, but one of the eggs was bad. When I mixed up the ingredients, even though just one thing was rotten, we talked about how the entire batch was spoiled. It didn't matter whether the chocolate was the best or the milk was fresh from a cow. The kids realized the point —sin affects our entire being, no matter how “big” or “small”.
When did we start ranking sin? Yes, there are legal and moral issues to consider. But, when it comes to Jesus, where did He say that one sin was worse than another, outside of grieving the Holy Spirit? Where is His list of things that keep people from Him?
Jesus draws close
Isn’t the fact that we all sin the very reason He rescued us (Matthew 1:21)?
He touched the leper (Mark 1:40-42).
He ate with tax collectors (Luke 5:27-32).
He healed a woman who bled for twelve years (Mark 5:25-34).
He touched a blind man and healed him (John 9:1-6).
He called out to a dead man and brought him to life (Luke 11:42-44).
He breathed life back into a young girl after she died (Luke 8:40-56).
He chose a disciple who rejected him (John 21:15-17).
Imagine, for a moment, if we created space for people to encounter Jesus’ tenderness and mercy. Instead of judgment or condemnation, we emulated His compassion and grace.
What if it's less about determining whether or not abortion is “right,” and more about extending compassion and care to those seeking it? (BTW - This is a kingdom question, not a political stance.)
What if we’ve gotten it wrong about ourselves, too?
What if instead of holding Jesus at arm’s length, because if He “really knew” us, or what we’ve done, we came to the throne of God boldly, humble, and hopeful that the God who sent Jesus to die for people, while we were still sinners, continues to extend that love and grace today? He already knows us and what we’ve said and done. He knows, and He still died for us. He knows, and He still extends mercy and compassion to us.
What if that’s the point? Not the size of our sin but the expanse of His arms —so far that they were nailed to the cross to take the punishment for ALL sin? What if Scripture is true when it says that heaven rejoices over ONE sinner who repents (Luke 15:7)?
What if we should rejoice, too, instead of rejecting them? What if we get to help them experience His grace and forgiveness?
What if that’s the hope we get to carry into the world?
Social justice has its place. Standing for truth has its place. But unless our motives reflect Jesus’, unless we’re doing all these things from a place of love, we’re merely a clanging gong driving people further from what is true.
God so loved everyone that, even while we still did all the things that went against His law and ways, He sent His Son to die so we might live and be drawn into His embrace, lavished with His good and perfect love that is so far and wide and high and deep that it will take an eternity to experience.
“When you come to Christ for mercy and love and help in your anguish and perplexity and sinfulness, you are going with the flow of his deepest wishes, not against time … As truly God, Christ cannot be any more full; he shares in his Father’s immortal, eternal, unchangeable fullness. Yet, as truly man, Christ’s heart is not drained by our coming to him; his heart is filled up all the more by our coming to him.” - Dane Ortlund
I’m curious, how do you think we can create a place for people to experience Jesus’ tenderness? Is this something you long to experience yourself?
A random story
Have you ever smelled something that wasn’t there? Scientists call this an olfactory memory; I had one a few days ago. I miss my mom, but it’s been more than usual the past week or two. One day, out of nowhere, I smelled the hand lotion she used when I was young. Or maybe I remembered it. Either way, the scent was strong, almost like she was just around the corner. The memory sent me on a hunt to see if I could find what she used, and I did. Jergens Original Scent. So yes, I bought some.
Have you ever experienced something like that?
A couple of other articles
Last year, in the midst of supporting my parents as my mom battled cancer, I had the joy of writing for In Touch Ministries. One article addresses sin, while the other weaves the story of Mom’s cancer with a child’s book. I pray they encourage you. You can read them by clicking on the links below.
How to Confess Sin Without Beating Yourself Up
How I Survived Death (And Will Again)
Women’s Devotional Bible: The Message
We’re getting closer to the official release of NavPress’s The Women’s Devotional Bible: The Message* on August 5! Don’t forget you can preorder a copy, or order The Gospels and their accompanying devotions* now.
*These are affiliate links. If you purchase books through these links, I receive a small commission from Bookshop.org, a platform supporting independent bookstores by helping them maintain their presence in local communities.
I never thought that Don Walker would go through a divorce, BUT yet it happened!! I met a Godly woman who I "fell in love with" just 3 years after my wife of 40 years was 'called' Home by Jesus, from Lung Cancer. Counseling never covered the grief of a loss against a grief of a divorce. This woman was divorced. God has forgiven me for this mistake, in not trusting God that this was not His will for me!! Focusing on the "hierarchy" of sin, and not the sinner is not serving Abba God!! Thank you, Kim, for bringing this out in the open!!