128 Sermon Illustrations on Conscience

I remember when a boy my mother had a beautiful vase. I was charged not to touch it. My fingers, however, boy-like, itched to touch it. I frequently went around it, and peered behind it. I wondered if there might not be some painting on the bottom of it, as there was on the sides. In lifting ii up, one day, when I had grown bolder, it fell to the hearthstone and broke into a thousand pieces. I knew I had wounded the mother heart in that moment. She heard the crash and came in. I knew that I deserved punishment. But she only said, “My dear boy; do you see what you have done.” It was burned into my memory then what it cost to disobey law, and in all the sixty years that have elapsed since then, when I have looked upon the treasures of others, I have heard her voice saying to me, “Do you see what you have done?”

— Bishop D. A. GOODSELL

The following is told of Mr. Frank Crossley, a great promoter and founder of London missionary work:

Mr. Crossley was conscience incarnate. While yet a poor apprentice he had got free admission to a theater through the connivance of a fellow workman who kept the door; but when, as a renewed man, conscience demanded reparation for this sort of robbery, he reckoned up the entrance fee he had evaded, and sent the theater company sixty pounds.--PIERSON, “The Miracles of Missions.”

Is there any difference between the vibrations of sound on the tympanum of the ear and those on the surface of the water? Science does not seem to see a great difference, but Ruskin finds, in the differing effects, an illustration of the mystery of consciousness:

It is quite true that the tympanum of the ear vibrates under sound, and that the surface of the water in a ditch vibrates, too; but the ditch hears nothing for all that; and my hearing is still to me as blest a mystery as ever, and the interval between the ditch and me, quite as great. If the trembling sound in my ears was once of the marriage-bell which begun my happiness, and is now of the passing bell which ends it, the difference between those two sounds to me can not be counted by the number of concussions. There have been some curious speculations lately as to the conveyance of mental consciousness by “brain-waves.” What does it matter how it is conveyed? The consciousness itself is not a wave. It may be accompanied here or there by any quantity of quivers and shakes, up or down, of anything you can find in the universe that is shakeable--what is that to me? My friend is dead, and my--according to modern views--vibratory sorrow is not one whit less, or less mysterious, to me, than my old quiet one.

The role of human conscience in revealing to us God's will and standards. Conscience is innate in all people, but the norms or standards vary from culture to culture.

A missionary to northern Brazil observed a very nervous and fidgety native with sweat on his brow enter the village and seem very uneasy even in the presence of his friends. Later, the missionary had learned that this fellow had just killed a man of another tribe. Although in this society it was not considered wrong to kill a member of another tribe, this man was obviously under the pressure of a guilty conscience. While societal norms do set the conscience, there is also the witness of God in the nature of our relations with other human beings that overrides the errant social standard.

Roger Penrose writes a book in which he argues computers will never be able to duplicate human intelligence and reasoning. He believes the secret to human thinking will be found on the quantum mechanic level, similar to the basis of gravity; both would be asymmetrical.

"The very fact that the mind leads us to truths that are not computable convinces me that a computer can never duplicate the mind."

Amputees often experience some sensation of a phantom limb. Somewhere, locked in their brains, a memory lingers of the nonexistent hand or leg. Invisible toes curl, imaginary hands grasp things, a "leg" feels so sturdy a patient may try to stand on it.

For a few, the experience includes pain. Doctors watch helplessly, for the part of the body screaming for attention does not exist.

One such patient was my medical school administrator, Mr. Barwick, who had a serious and painful circulation problem in his leg but refused to allow the recommended amputation.

As the pain grew worse, Barwick grew bitter.

"I hate it! I hate it!" he would mutter about the leg. At last he relented and told the doctor, "I can't stand it anymore. I'm through with that leg. Take it off." Surgery was scheduled immediately.

Before the operation, however, Barwick asked the doctor, "What do you do with legs after they're removed?"

"We may take a biopsy or explore them a little bit, but afterwards we incinerate them," the doctor replied.

Barwick proceeded with a bizarre request: "I would like you to preserve my leg in a pickle jar. I will install it on my mantle shelf. Then, as I sit in my armchair, I will taunt that leg, 'Hah! You can't hurt me anymore!'"

Ultimately, he got his wish. But the despised leg had the last laugh.

Barwick suffered phantom limb pain of the worst degree. The wound healed, but he could feel the torturous pressure of the swelling as the muscles cramped, and he had no prospect of relief. He had hated the leg with such intensity that the pain had unaccountably lodged permanently in his brain.

To me, phantom limb pain provides wonderful insight into the phenomenon of false guilt. Christians can be obsessed by the memory of some sin committed years ago. It never leaves them, crippling their ministry, their devotional life, their relationship with others. They live in fear that someone will discover their past. They work overtime trying to prove to God they're truly repentant. They erect barriers against the enveloping, loving grace of God.

Unless they experience the truth in 1 John 3:19-20 that "God is greater than our conscience," they become as painful as poor Mr. Barwick, shaking his fist in fury at the pickled leg on the mantle.

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Martin Luther King, Jr.: “The church must be reminded that it is not the master or the servant of the state, but rather the conscience of the state.”

Jeremy Taylor (1613-1667) was an Anglican biship, theologian and devotional writer. Taylor on how to know if your intentions are pure:

1. Your soul's health is more a concern to you than your physical health.

2. You are not concerned about the opinions of people, but only of God's.

3. You are in private what you are in public.

4. You are not concerned about the effect of actions, but leave them to God.

5. You love and honor virtue wherever it is found.

6. You despise the world and all its vanities.

7. You are not anxious concerning the instruments and means of your actions,

but use those means God has made available to you. (riches/poverty)

[Ordered changed in sermon and some language cleared up. My wife Celeste said this sounded like a Jeff Foxworthy "You know you are a redneck" comedy routine.]

Why Good People Do Bad Things: Cornelius Plantinga goes toe to toe with sin.

Item: A pastor at a neighboring church has a call to a new ministry. I hope he goes. I don't know him personally, but I do know that he is very effective. Just maybe, if he leaves, some of the people who are raving about his gifts and flocking to his congregation will take a look in my direction!

Item: A few weeks back I made a purchase for our church. Certainly it was for the benefit of one of the programs we are running right now. But elements of the purchase were really only for my own use. Can I get away with routing the whole payment through the congregation's budgeted line items, and thus save my own professional-development allowance for other things?

Item: I meet weekly with a men's Bible study/fellowship group. They ask me how I'm doing. Regularly I tell them I'm so busy, too busy. One friend asks me if I'm spending enough time with my family. There is a humble pride that wells up inside when I assure them of my godly intent to be a good husband and father, while in the same breath acknowledging that my faithfulness to Mistress Church kept me busy seven days last week.

Remembering these things brings a little embarrassment, and I'm glad about that. At least there is still some screeching in the ears of my soul when the "vandalism of shalom" (Plantinga's term) works its dissonant stealth.

But what bothers me, in these reflections, is the ease with which I envy, the passion with which I lie, the fortitude with which I sacrifice my family on the altar of self. And I'm a "good" person-at least in the eyes of society. So I read Not the Way It's Supposed to Be, turning every familiar corner with consternated recognition.

"I can see clearly now"

Plantinga's book is marvelous, on a number of different levels. For one thing, it is clear, logical, and to the point. A "breviary of sin" he calls it: a brief introduction, listing, defining; an orderly arranging of information about the topic. There are few questions about sin that linger without some address in these pages. The enigma of sin itself remains, of course, and Plantinga never tries to explain that inexplicability. But his purpose for the book is precise ("to present the nature and dynamics of sin"), as is his method:

I shall define sin, describe how sin corrupts what is good and how such corruption spreads, discuss the parasitic quality of sin and the ironies and pretenses generated by this quality, compare sin with folly and addiction, and conclude by describing a couple of the classic "postures" or movements of sin (attack and flight).

A second delight is the clear imagery Plantinga paints. We grapple to philosophize or theologize doctrines about sin, but Plantinga lifts our eyes from the page to the screen. Can you remember the scene in the movie Grand Canyon, where the stranded motorist is terrorized by young toughs, and the tow-truck driver negotiates an uneasy peace when he says, "This ain't the way it's supposed to be"? Can you picture the spread of contaminating pollution? Can you visualize the blood-red belly of a parasitic worm? Can you dance in the streets with revelers cloaked behind masks of deceit?Plantinga ushers us into the world of Proverbs 1-9, where sin gains wily personhood and corruption masquerades as our next-door neighbor. Even the patterns of sinful behavior are postured: first, evil hammers at us in unrelenting attack; then, if our resistance seems ready to hold the castle doors in place, stealthy vapors of hell spirit us away in flight from the soul's true home and the mind's proper lodgings.

Trained vision

Third, this is a book about sin in which sin is never the main character. Plantinga begins his travels in creation's innocence, and, after wandering for a while in the murky underworlds, leads us round eventually to re-creation's shalom. Throughout the journey, it is the light from above that guides and not the trembling darkness below.

Fourth, this is a book in which the author seriously attempts to live the message. I've plagiarized a multitude of times in my preaching and writing, each occasion resolving to carry better the Truth along conduits of truth. I'm attempting something Plantinga seems to have achieved to a remarkable degree. Along with the usual sourcing footnotes, he supplies a plethora of acknowledgments to colleagues and acquaintances who have generated a thought or urged a contour of investigation. It is not a necessary literary feature, perhaps, in our usual publishing pursuits, but one that, in this case, ties the message to its medium.

I happen to think that Plantinga's preface overestimates real awareness of sin in previous generations and, by the same token, underestimates a corresponding awareness in our own society. But every generation needs to be reminded of the reality of sin.Plantinga says he wrote this book for nontheologians. Even non-Christians who are troubled by undefined evil would read his words with profit, he suggests. And it's true. If you have a conscience, get this book. And if you don't . . .

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Not the Way It's Supposed to Be, by Cornelius Plantinga, Jr. (Eerdmans, 202 pp.; $19.99, hardcover). Reviewed by Wayne Brouwer, senior pastor at Harderwyk Christian Reformed Church in Holland, Michigan.

Copyright (c) 1995 Christianity Today, Inc./CHRISTIANITY TODAY Magazine

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REALISTIC SELF-KNOWLEDGE: WE ARE SINNERS

Browning tells us that what won him for Christ was this, that while others tried to soothe his angry conscience, and kept urging that, really, things were not nearly so bad as he was making out, Christ looked him in the eyes and told him bluntly that he was a desperate sinner, worse, much worse, even than he realized. And that, queerly enough as you might think, the man was not discomfited but heartened. Here at last, he felt, is one who understands and knows the facts. And since His desperate diagnosis is so accurate, may not His optimism also justify itself even in me. Well does He know what is in human nature, and yet, knowing the worst, He still has confident hope.

... A. J. Gossip, The Galilean Accent

DANGER ZONE - Signs That Your Relationship With God May Need Attention

A foolish old farmer, so the story goes, concluded one day that the oats he had fed his mule for years were simply costing him too much. So he hatched a plan: He mixed a little sawdust in with the feed, and then a little more the next day, and even more the next, each time reducing the amount of oats in the mix.

The mule didn't seem to notice the gradual change, so the farmer thought things were fine and kept decreasing the proportion of oats. But weeks later, on the day he finally fed the poor beast nothing but sawdust, the mule finished the meal ... and fell over dead.

A silly tale, perhaps, but it serves as a parable of the backslider -- the Christian who slips further and further away from God through unrepented sin or neglect. Though we know our souls cannot survive on spiritual sawdust, we may well convince ourselves that a little won't hurt too much, and a little less real spiritual food won't be missed. Then, over time, the proportion of sawdust increases while the oats gradually disappear. Before long, the change is complete, and our starved, sawdust-stuffed spiritual life has collapsed. The intimacy we once enjoyed with the Father has evaporated.

This process can be so subtle, progressing in such small increments, that we fail to recognize the problem. Yet the "mule" does display a few symptoms warning us that all is not well. We might summarize them under three headings, each describing a critical loss in our spiritual life: the loss of love for God, the loss of fear of God, and the loss of faith in God.

LOSS OF LOVE FOR GOD

The first Christians in the city of Ephesus received a fine grounding in the Word of God from the Apostle Paul. His letter to them burned with a passionate love for God that was no doubt contagious. Paul prayed that they, "being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge" (Eph. 3:17-19). He fervently hoped that they would be among those "who love our Lord Jesus Christ with an undying love" (Eph. 6:24).

Sadly, not many years later, Jesus gave John a disturbing message for these Ephesian Christians:

I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance.... Yet I

hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love. Remember

the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things

you did at first. -- Rev 2:2,4-5

The Ephesians' passionate "first love" was gone. They were apparently still going through at least some of the motions of devotion to God, but their hearts had grown cold.

What specific "red flags" might go up to indicate that our first love for the Lord is waning? Think of the telltale signs of a love grown cold in human relationships; the parallels to our love for Christ may be useful.

LOSS OF JOY. We take joy in what we love. When we lose the joy in our relationship with someone, it's a sign that our love for that person has somehow diminished. A loss of joy in our relationship with God is thus one indicator that our first love has dimmed.

King David experienced such a loss following his adultery with Bathsheba. In Psalm 51 he described his anguish when he recognized how far he had fallen from God. In that prayer for mercy, he cried out to the Lord, "Restore to me the joy of your salvation" (v. 12).

AVERSION TO PRAYER AND GOD'S WORD. We want to spend time with those we love. We want to pour out our hearts to them and listen as they open up their own hearts to us. So when we develop an aversion to spending time talking and listening to someone, that's a second sure sign of love lost.

We talk to God in prayer and listen to Him as we study and meditate upon the Scriptures. As a devout rural pastor once put it, "I have a relish for God. If you love squash, you eat it for breakfast, you eat it for dinner, you eat it for supper. You just can't get enough of it. And if you love God, you just can't get enough of Him. You want to pray and read the Word." If, on the other hand, we've grown reluctant to spend time with Him in these ways, this is a sign that our love for God has cooled.

When Adam and Eve disobeyed God in the garden, what was the first token of their fall? They tried to hide from the God whose fellowship they had once so naturally enjoyed (Gen. 3:8).

AVERSION TO CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP. I once saw a pet-lover's bumper sticker that said: "Love me, love my cats." When you love someone, you love the ones he or she loves. You enjoy spending time with the friends of your friend. But when a friendship turns sour, you tend to lose interest in that person's friends as well, and you want to avoid people who are likely to talk about the person you want to forget.

For that reason, Christians whose love for God has grown cold because of sin tend to avoid fellowship with committed believers. They don't want to be around people who remind them of the one they're trying not to think about. In Hebrews 10, the author closely associates fellowship with God and fellowship with other believers. "Let us draw near to God," he says in verse 22, and, "Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing" (v. 25). Clearly, we cannot draw near to God without a corresponding desire to relate to others who love Him as well.

MISPLACED TREASURE. Jesus said, "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (Matt. 6:21). We are made to love, and love we will. If we lose our love for God, other loves will fill His place in our hearts. Time once spent with God will be devoted to other pursuits that yield little or no spiritual fruit.

Thus the backslidden believer often becomes immersed in an array of worldly concerns as substitutes for the old spiritual life. Entertainment replaces prayer and time in the Word as a form of "diversion" -- that is, something that diverts attention from troubling thoughts that might lead to serious self-examination. "Safe" secular acquaintances with no spiritual interests take the place of Christian friends. Energies once spent in evangelism, outreach, or other forms of ministry are now focused inward on financial or career goals. Money once designated for church and charity is redirected to more selfish or frivolous ends.

Once we stop searching for the one pearl of great price (Matt. 13:45-46), we will devote our time, energy, and money to the pursuit of other treasures. Having lost our first love for God, we will go -- in the words of an old '70s song -- "looking for love in all the wrong places."

LOSS OF FEAR OF GOD

Though we often think of love and fear as opposites, the Scriptures remind us repeatedly that a mature relationship with God is characterized by both attitudes: "The Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love" (Ps. 147:11). When we drift away from God, we lose not only our love for Him, but also our healthy fear of Him. And if "the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom" (Prov. 9:10), then the loss of that fear is the beginning of dangerous folly.

What are the signs that we no longer fear God? Since "to fear the Lord is to hate evil" (Prov. 8:13), we need only examine our attitude toward sin. A growing attachment to sin -- a sure sign that we are losing our fear of God -- typically manifests itself in several stages:

COVERING UP SIN. In the first stage, we recognize our wrongdoing, and in our shame we try to hide it. Adam and Eve provide the classic example: After their fall in the garden, they tried to cover themselves with fig leaves (Gen. 3:7). King David, too, knew the trouble that comes from refusing to confess sins to God and from trying to "cover up ... iniquity" (Ps. 32:5).

Of course, trying to hide our sin from God is useless:

Does he who formed the eye not see? Does he who disciplines nations

not punish? ... The Lord knows the thoughts of man; he knows that

they are futile. -- Ps. 94:9-11

But in this early stage of disobedience, we fool ourselves into thinking that somehow He won't know what we've done as long as we don't admit it to anyone.

DENYING RESPONSIBILITY. When we realize we can't hide our sin from God, the next step is to insist that what we're doing wrong isn't really our fault. Once again, note the pattern in Eden: Adam blamed Eve, and Eve blamed the serpent (Gen. 3:12-13).

Our excuses are legion: "Yes, it's an ugly little habit, but I was raised this way." "Of course I'm not supposed to hold grudges, but how could anyone be expected to forgive what they did to me?" "People with artistic personalities just have this weakness." Whatever the excuse, the sin continues, and the sinner moves further and further from God.

PROCRASTINATING OVER REPENTANCE. Once we realize we cannot shift the blame -- for at some deep level we know that we truly are responsible for our wrongdoing -- our next strategy is to put off the day of repentance. Augustine of Hippo, the celebrated fifth-century bishop whose autobiography, The Confessions, recounts his promiscuous youth, remembered praying this prayer: "Lord, give me self-control, but not yet!"

Believers who are actively disobeying God forget His warning: "Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts" (Ps. 95:7-8). They wait until tomorrow to repent, but tomorrow never comes. Their hearts harden like lumps of clay left in the hot sun, becoming useless because they can no longer be shaped according to God's will.

JUSTIFYING SIN. If we put off repentance long enough, our consciences become seared (1 Tim. 4:2). We stop trying to hide sin, make excuses, or delay our reckoning with it; instead we begin to convince ourselves that it isn't really sin after all. In time we may even grow brazen in our wrongdoing, openly defying God or others who condemn our behavior.

King Saul was a master rationalizer. When the prophet Samuel rebuked him for disobeying God's command to destroy everything in the enemy city of Amalek, Saul tried to justify his behavior by claiming that he had saved the best of the booty to sacrifice to the Lord. Samuel pointed out that the king had nevertheless disobeyed God's clear instructions. Yet Saul adamantly insisted that he had done no wrong (1 Sam. 15:1-21).

Other biblical backsliders repeat this pattern. Having slain Abel, Cain defied God with the impudent challenge: "Am I my brother's keeper?" (Gen. 4:9). The high priest Caiaphas had an elaborate rationale for murdering Jesus: If He wasn't put to death, he reasoned, the Nazarene's followers would cause trouble, the Romans would react violently, and the Jewish nation would be harmed (Jn. 11:45-50). Having Jesus executed, he insisted, was obviously the right thing to do.

The hardened believer thus embraces sin and refuses correction. All fear of God is gone. "This is the way of an adulteress," says a biblical proverb. "She eats and wipes her mouth and says, 'I've done nothing wrong'" (Prov. 30:20).

LOSS OF FAITH IN GOD

Unrepented sin can eventually lead to unbelief and a disastrous rejection of God. Consider, for example, the children of Israel who hardened their hearts in the desert. Having lost their initial loving gratitude for all that God had done to save them, they persisted in sin, until they finally lost faith altogether. They concluded that there was no God on the mountain after all and that something else must have delivered them from bondage. So they worshiped instead a golden calf of their own creation (Exodus 32).

Sadly, I can recall several Christians I've known who followed a similar path, rejecting the Lord altogether. Despite every indication of genuine faith, they gradually slipped deeper and deeper into sin. They lost their love for God and their fear of God and in the end no longer believed even the essentials of the faith. Finally, they declared themselves Christians no more.

Why does loss of faith follow loss of love and fear? First, we must recall that prayer, meditating on God's Word, and fellowship with other believers feed our faith. Thus, when we avoid these spiritual disciplines, we starve our faith. The old "mule" needs its oats; sawdust in the feed bag is deadly.

Perhaps another reason for loss of faith is that those who justify their wrongdoing must deny the truth of Scripture. Once they have undermined in their own hearts the claims of God's Word with regard to morality, they have opened the door to doubts about its other claims. Ever since the serpent first tempted Eve, the devil has sought to seduce believers with the unsettling question: "Did God really say ... ?" (Gen. 3:1).

Affirming God's existence and His claim to our obedience while habitually disobeying Him creates a tension in our souls that is ultimately unbearable. We can never fully convince ourselves that our behavior is justified when God has plainly said it isn't. But if we refuse to repent, the only way out of the dilemma is to conclude that either He hasn't truly spoken or that He doesn't exist after all. The result: "a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God" (Heb. 3:12).

I have taught many students from Christian families who went looking for another faith because they wanted to hold on to some particular sin. Typically, they end up in some form of New Age religion because it makes few moral demands. They relieve themselves of the inner tension by denying that there is a God who commands: "Be holy, because I am holy" (1 Pet. 1:16).

EXAMINE YOURSELVES

"Examine yourselves," the Apostle Paul instructs us, "to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves" (2 Cor. 13:5). Do we find evidence that we've failed to address sinful patterns and hard-heartedness toward God? Are there signs that we have lost our first love, our fear of the Lord?

If so, God still stands ready to help us find the way back to Him. The spiritual disciplines we've forsaken -- prayer, Scripture study, Christian fellowship -- can serve to rekindle our love and a healthy fear, driving us to repentance and a new beginning. Then the prayer of Jude (vv. 24-25) can become our firm hope:

To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his

glorious presence without fault and with great joy -- to the only God our

Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our

Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PAUL THIGPEN is a fellow in theology at the College of St. Thomas More in Fort Worth, Texas. Most people would be surprised to know that even though he's written professionally for 12 years, Paul still types with two fingers. "They're very fast fingers," he says.

Rev. David Holwick First Baptist Church

February 14, 1999 Ledgewood, New Jersey

MOTIVES MATTER

2 Corinthians 1:12-22

I. Being misunderstood.

II. Search your conscience.

A. Paul first looks within himself. Three questions to ask.

B. When your conscience doesn't condemn you - but should.

C. When your conscience does condemn you.

III. Be open and above-board.

A. Paul wants to operate by godly principles. 1:12

B. He is not manipulative but open. 1:13

C. Paul makes a real effort to clear up this misunderstanding.

IV. Aim for clear relationships.

A. Misunderstanding can lie hidden in the heart.

B. The Bible commands Christians to settle things. Matt 5:23-24

C. Clear relationships are tremendously important.

V. A change in plans.

A. Paul's original "Plan A." 1:15

B. "Plan B" 1 Cor 16:5-9

C. Faithfulness in commitments.

VI. Yes and No.

A. God is a "yes" person.

B. Paul is a "yes" person.

C. You be a "yes" person.

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The following comes from A BAPTIST MANUAL OF POLITY AND PRACTICE by Norman H. Maring and Winthrop S. Hudson, Judson Press: Valley Forge, PA, 1963.

"It is frequently stated that the primary characteristic of Baptists is their love of liberty. 'Soul liberty' and 'the right of private judgment' are heralded as the special watchwords of the denomination. Although in our tradition there has been a cherished emphasis upon the liberty of conscience, this has not always borne the same meaning which some modern interpreters give it. Initially resting upon their belief in the sovereignty of God over the conscience, rather than upon human dignity and individual rights, early Baptists advocated a responsible freedom which had certain recognized limits. Today this doctrine of liberty is often taken to mean that each individual is free to adopt whatever views he will, without any restraints at all. Many Baptists thus take pride in their lack of agreement, boastfully asserting that where there are two Baptists there are at least three opinions. Early Baptists, however, would have regarded such a conception of freedom as unwarranted license, a view which can lead only to chaos. Thus, though liberty of conscience has been an important strand of Baptist tradition, the meaning of that concept today has been twisted beyond all recognition." (p. 5)

A few years ago, abortion advocate Naomi Wolf (famous of late as an advisor to Vice President Gore) let the cat out of the bag. She admitted that although feminists pretend not to know that fetuses are babies, in reality they do know. She confessed that abortion is real sin, and feminists have known it all along.

The problem is, she wants women to keep aborting. They can hold candlelight vigils at abortion facilities afterward, if they like, to show their sorrow. But you may ask: How could anyone hold such a cynical, callused view? The problem is that Naomi Wolf is in denial, too. She just pretends not to know that God will not be mocked.

In his book, The Revenge of Conscience, Jay Budziszewski reminds us that human beings have been playing the denial game ever since the Fall, in the Garden of Eden. To understand times like ours, we need to understand this fact. People sometimes feign ignorance of the moral facts, but they know more than they admit.

The Bible mentions five ways (apart from direct scriptural revelation) in which God has made His moral requirements known.

One is the witness of conscience. In Romans, Paul says that even pagans know God's moral law because it is "written on their hearts, their consciences also bearing witness." Sin comes not from ignorance but stubbornness, for they "suppress the truth."

Another is the witness of God-ward longing, In Acts we read that the Athenians built an altar to "the unknown god." At some level, they knew their idols could never save them -- but they had an intuition of a mysterious Holy One who could. This is a universal intuition, which tells us that we were made for God and not for ourselves.

Third is the witness of God's handiwork. Creation cries out about the Creator. Not only the heavens, but our bodies proclaim His eternal glory. Even hardened abortionists find it impossible to shut out completely the knowledge that they are destroying the image of God. Abortionist Warren Hern writes: "The sensations of dismemberment flow through the forceps like an electric current .... Some part of our cultural and perhaps even biological heritage recoils."

Next is the witness of the harvest. As the Bible warns, every sin is linked with consequences: Whatever we sow, we reap. We may pretend ignorance, as people pretend ignorance of the harvest of the sexual revolution. Yet there is a difference between playing dumb and really being dumb.

Last is the witness of our design. God makes some of his intentions plain just through the way he made us -- it's in the "blueprint." Our physical design informs us that man was made for woman, not for man, and our emotional design reminds us that children are not curses but gifts.

Ultimately, no one is ignorant of the moral law, no matter how much he may deny it. We know it from the forms of witness built into us by the Creator; and a good resource for learning more about this is Jay Budziszewski's new book, The Revenge of Conscience. Call us here at BreakPoint to find out how you can order a copy.

And whenever people try to play the denial game with you, tell them that denial is really just a kind of self-deception. Because God's law is written on our hearts.

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Copyright (c) 2000 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

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Simply following the course of this world - simply doing what comes naturally - simply doing what everybody else is doing - leads to death.

You may already know about Claude Eatherly. He was one of the World War 2 pilots who dropped the first atomic bom on Hiroshima and Nagasaki [Holwick: He actually was the pilot of the weather plane that gave the go-ahead for the bombing]. He came back from war a changed man. He had become sullen, morose, withdrawn. His friends hardly recognized the miserable man.

Upon his retirement from service in 1947, he refused to accept a pension from the government. He tried to send his medals back to Washington, but his friends prevented him. He felt so guilty he could not sleep nights. He would wake with a start, crying out for the hurting children whose death he had delivered.

He apologized to the mayor of Hiroshima for his actions. He sent money to care for the children that he orphaned. He confessed to the council of the city that it was he who had given the go-ahead order.

He became a drifter, a drinker, a bum. He abandoned himself to liquor and cards, drifting from job to job, always seeking an escape from his overpowering sense of guilt. The United States government, instead of punishing him for what he did, praised him and tried to make a war hero out of him. But whenever Hiroshima and Nagasaki are mentioned in a conversation, he would blush, his face working with emotion, and walk away. He couldn’t stand his guilt. Since no one wanted to punish him for what he had done, he vowed to force someone to punish him for what he would do. He began committing crimes, hoping to be caught. He was, only to be convicted, sentenced - and released, either to freedom or an insane asylum.

Then he suffered the worst indignity of all: Hollywood offered him $100,000 to make a film of his life.

His remorse highlighted the ethical quandary of winning a righteous war that nevertheless cost such a huge toll in human lives. Passing judgment on whether he was a hero for speaking out about his suffering, or a malingerer out to capitalize on his wartime experiences became a way to stake a claim within the debate about nuclear weapons. Eatherly was aware of his predicament, and it grew into a larger question on the use of nuclear weapons that would go on to outlast him and his legacy: “I have been having such difficulty in getting society to recognize the fact of my guilt, which I have long since realized,” Eatherly lamented to Anders [an anti-nuclear activist] in one of his letters. “The truth is that society simply cannot accept the fact of my guilt without at the same time recognizing its own far deeper guilt.”

________

The final paragraph is taken from "The Hiroshima Pilot Who Became a Symbol of Antinuclear Protest," by Anne I. Harrington, August 6, 2020, The New York Times Magazine; .

"Conscience," said an Indian, "is a three-cornered thing in my heart that stands still when I am good, but when I am bad, it turns around and the corners hurt a lot. If I keep on doing wrong, the corners wear off and it does not hurt anymore."

--Construction Digest

As two assassins

stealthily crept into the sleeping Duke of Clarnence's

bedchamber one is suddenly stricken with pangs of conscience. "A man

cannot

steal, but it accuseth him; he cannot swear but it checks him; he

cannot lie

with his neighbor's wife, but that it detects him. It is a blushing

shamefast

spirit that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles;

it made

me once restore a purse of gold that I found; it beggared any man that

keeps

it; it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing;

and every

man that means to live well endeavors to trust to himself and to live

without

it. . . .Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill

the

duke." William Shakespeare, King Richard III act 1, scene 4.

\reference{Acts 24:16}{Acts 24:16} \reference{Rom. 2:14-15}{Romans

2:14-15}

"He who sacrifices his conscience to ambition burns a picture to obtain the ashes."

- Chinese Proverb

Instant Quotation Dictionary, p. 69.

Secret sins, laid upon an enlightened, active conscience,

unforgiven, are a source of great pain and suffering. David said, "My

sin is ever before me." An incident occurred in one of our meetings,

that strikingly illustrates this truth.

A gentleman in high standing in the community where he lived,

belonging in a family in high social position, not a blot on his

reputation, strictly honest before men as far as was known, yet one

thing greatly troubled him. He asked the privilege of seeing me alone.

When alone, he said:

"I desire to become a Christian, but I have a thousand dollars that

don't belong to me, which I took from a man two years ago. I cannot

keep it. I will come out with a public confession, or anything else

you advise me to do."

I asked him if any one charged him with it or mistrusted him. He

replied:

"No, sir, I don't suppose any one has the least idea that I am mean

enough to do such a thing. But I did it, and can't live so. The man

who lost it is a personal friend of mine. None but God and myself know

anything about it."

I asked him if he was able to return it to the man.

"I am," he said, "but I have had it two years, and that is worth

eight per cent."

"Well, that would be eleven hundred and sixty dollars. Can you pay

that amount?"

"I can," he said.

That day the man who had lost the money received eleven hundred and

sixty dollars ... This man who had taken the money, then gave himself

to Christ, and the last I knew of him he was an active Christian.

Memory is just as active now as before, but the sting is gone, so

that it is no longer a guilty memory. Christ's blood put out the fire

in his bosom, and he has peace. There must be an application of the

justifying righteousness of Christ to the soul, or his sin, in all its

guilt, weighing him down, would be "ever before him." -- A. B. Earle,

From: "Incidents Used ... In His Meetings," published in 1888

It is a very terrible thing to let conscience begin to grow hard,

for it soon chills into northern iron and steel. It is like the

freezing of a pond. The first film of ice is scarcely perceptible;

keep the water stirring and you will prevent the frost from hardening

it, but once let it film over and remain quiet, the glaze thickens

over the surface, and it thickens still, and at last it is so firm

that a wagon might be drawn over the solid ice. So with conscience, it

films over gradually until at last it becomes hard and unfeeling, and

it is not crushed even with ponderous loads of in iniquity. --C. H.

Spurgeon

A man murdered another on the shores of Lake Michigan. He

threw the body into the water and ran away. Three days later the

body was washed up in front of the murderer's cabin. The guilty

man, troubled by conscience, confessed his crime and surrendered

himself to the authorities, exclaiming: "Ah, yes, I know the

tides did it! The tides did it!" When the tides of memory,

conscience, and reason begin to roll in on the judgment day

every secret thing will be made manifest. --Howard W. Ferrin

A little boy was seen one day lounging around a circus tent. If there is anything in the world tempting to a boy it is a circus, and, knowing this, a gentleman said:

"Come, Johnny, let's go into the circus."

"No," said the boy, "father would not like it."

"But your father need not know it," said the man.

"But I will know it," said the boy, "and when father comes home tonight, I could not look up into his face."

Ah, how important! Able to look into our Father's face! He has been very good to us. No good thing has He withheld from us, and yet so many times we find ourselves unable to look into His face. God help us to live so close to Himself, so pure and so holy, that all the time we can be able to look into His face.

An Indian, being among his white neighbors, asked for a little

tobacco, and one of them having some loose in his pocket gave him a

handful. The day following, the Indian came back and inquired for the

donor, saying he had found a quarter of a dollar among the tobacco.

Being told that as it had been given to him he might as well keep it

he answered, pointing to his breast, "I got a good man and a bad man

here; and the good man say it is not mine I must return it to the

owner. The bad man say, 'Why? He gave it to you and it is your own

now.' The good man say, 'That's not right; the tobacco is yours, not

the money.' The bad man say, 'Never mind; you got it; go buy some

dram.' The good man say, 'No, no, you must not do so.' So I don't know

what to do and I think to go to sleep; but the good man and the bad

man keep talking all night and trouble me; and now I bring the money

back. I feel glad." --Christian Age

Too bad "the good man" didn't know enough to tell him to give the

tobacco back along with the quarter. --D. V. M.

The tale is told of a certain king had a magic ring. The ring sat

on his finger as any other ring, yet it had mystic qualities. Whenever

an evil thought came into the mind of the prince, or he was tempted to

do an evil deed, or had done a wrong thing, the ring pressed painfully

upon his finger. Such a belonging, for painfully reminding us when we

do, think, or say the wrong thing, is the possession of each of us at

birth. It is called conscience. Even though it is not a material

thing, it too can become dulled, tarnished, lost, or cast away.

Jesus said to the woman at the well, "Go call thy husband." To

another He may say, "Go call thy wife whom thou hast wronged." To

another, "Go call thy child whom thou hast neglected." To another, "Go

call thy father and mother." To another He says, "Go bring thy bank

book." To another, "Go call the record of that business transaction."

To another, "Go call that slander which you uttered against another's

name." To another, "Go call that hatred or enmity which you treasure

up in your heart." To another, "Go call that secret habit which stains

and defiles thy soul." Can you meet these tests? --McCartney