A Note on Sinning for Friends (Part Two)

If you are beginning to suspect that you have a tendency to sin for friends, I’d like to say a little more on what I’ve found on the subject. Here is a list of three signs that you may have the same problem I have. The list is a little haphazard, but it’s what I have so far.

1. Fear. In our more honest moments, we are aware of the sad truth that we do not make good saviors. But we try very hard. I have one friend who in high school periodically fell into the same snare. In her times of compromise, I felt as if I’d been lax in my self-appointed role as protector. If only I had paid better attention, I could have caught the sin in its gestation and kept her from it. This mentality caused me to redouble my efforts, thinking that if I only watched her more closely, I could rescue her from every temptation. I studied her with paranoia. I began to think of her as both friend and patient, and I interpreted the slightest cough as a sign of underlying cancer. Even in seasons of grace, I would sometimes hound her for information, discreetly interrogating until I was certain she was indeed doing as well as she seemed. All the while, I yielded ground in my own life to a debilitating fear. People were prone to sin, and in all my watchfulness I could not stop them, and I could not stop myself.

2. Jealousy. When we consider ourselves saviors, we develop a natural wariness of rival saviors. I cannot overstate the destructiveness of this mentality. I take a friend’s burdens upon myself, and suddenly I am the hero. Look what a great friend I am! But my folly is revealed when I hear about another person who has spoken an encouraging word—to my friend. Put under the lens of truth, this kind of jealousy is revealed as hideous. It’s that gross sinking feeling when I hear that he has been inspired by someone else. It’s the fear I feel when she seems to be recovering, and her need for me steadily decreases. I find myself acting like the would-be mother in the story of Solomon, so desperate to be a caretaker that I ask the baby to be cut in half. When charity becomes entangled with my search for significance, my so-called compassion quickly turns grotesque.

3. Lack of trust in God. Towers of Babel come in many forms, but they’re all the same in the way their builders try to reach Heaven by their own mettle. In the times I’ve fixated on saving someone by my own strength, I reveal an age-old pride. The first two items in this list both stem from this lack of trust in God’s sovereignty. First, fear naturally arises when I think that God will not be enough for the people in my life. If He is not caring for them, then I must fill the role. Second, jealousy stirs when I see that God can be to my friends what I can never be: the perfect intercessor. Just like Cain, I see one whose sacrifice is better than mine, and my flesh despises Him for it. The only way out is repentance: repenting for making myself more than I am and making God less than He is.

So that’s all fairly honest, maybe more honest than I should be in a blog. But I don’t see a way of approaching truth without bringing things to light, so there it is. Let me know if this at all strikes home.

Check back next Sunday for the conclusion, in which the thoughts are less disheartening!