Religion, Self-Deception, and the Gospel
Eric Durso
The Gospel of Mark • Sermon • Submitted
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We’re studying the gospel of Mark. It’s been a remarkable study of self-righteousness, which apparently is something God wants to drill into the heads and hearts of his people because the issue keeps coming up again and again.
The most effective frauds are the ones that look most like the real thing. If there’s one thing you don’t want to have accidentally gotten a counterfeit, it’s God and salvation.
The last few weeks, we’ve been in Mark 2. In this section we see Jesus against the counterfeits, the Pharisees. Jesus is teaching a gospel (1:1), the Pharisees are teaching a religion.
I think this is a problem in the church. Many people embrace a religion with Christian forms, but are actually missing the gospel.
In the four previous encounters, Jesus gives us a picture of the gospel. Watch:
Mark 2:1-12, the story of the 4 men with the paralytic. What’s that all about? The cripple, the one who can’t do anything for himself, looks to Jesus with eyes of faith and Jesus says, “Your sins are forgiven.” That’s gospel, not religion.
Mark 2:13-17. Jesus calls Levi, the tax collector, to be his disciple, and then goes to a part filled with other sinners. Religion says, “But they haven’t earned it.” The gospel says, “No one can earn it. Receive it as a free gift by faith.” That’s gospel, not religion.
Mark 2:18-22 is the section about how the Pharisees expected Jesus and his disciples to fast. What does Jesus do? His followers don’t need to put on external forms of righteousness to be approved by God and people. No, the gospel is like a wedding feast where we celebrate the relationship with Jesus Christ. A religion is all about external forms, the gospel is about a joyful relationship.
Mark 2:23-28 is about Jesus defying their crazy Sabbath rules. The crazy Sabbath rules are religion. What’s the gospel? It’s understanding the work for salvation is done, and all you need to do is rest in Christ. He’s Lord of the Sabbath, Lord of Rest. Religion is work, gospel is rest.
Jesus is exposing counterfeit religion and teaching the gospel. Man-made religion calls for people to be good. The gospel tells people they’re not good, can’t become good, but can trust Jesus to save them from their badness and make them good. Man-made religion calls for people to adopt rules. The gospel invites people into a relationship with God through Christ.
Religion: Here’s what you need to do. Work hard. Gospel: Here’s what’s already done: believe.
Religion is an exhausting, unrelenting life of self-justification. The gospel is the freedom and rest of God justifying us. Religion is a constant fight for approval. The gospel is God’s unchangeable approval.
Mark 3:1-6, the climax of this series of conflicts between the gospel and false religion.
Put yourself in the shoes of someone here. Bustling crowd...
“He entered the synagogue, and a man was there with a withered hand”
Synagogue: Jewish place of worship
Pray, read, interpret, apply OT Scripture, blessing
Probably the synagogue in Capernaum - cast out unclean spirit.
Luke, a doctor, notes it was his right hand.
The Greek could literally be translated “dried up,” and is sometimes used to describe plants that have died and are dried up like old dead grass. Polio or stroke?
Probably prevented him from normal work and earning a living. One tradition says this man was a beggar - we don’t know for sure but it’s possible.
We don’t learn his name, and he’s actually not even the focal point of this section.
“And they watched Jesus to see whether he would heal him on the Sabbath, so that they might accuse him.”
Crazy Sabbath laws. Furrows, peanuts, eruvs.
There, not to worship, but to accuse
Jesus knows they’re there, and why they’re there.
And just like the previous section, where he and his disciples walked through the grainfields to violate the man-made Pharisaical laws, here, Jesus says to the man with the withered hand,
“And he said to the man with the withered hand: Come here.” One translation says, “Stand before us,” and that’s probably what’s happening here. The crippled man stands up, before all the synagogue, with the Pharisees watching.
Jesus could have:
Jesus could have waited a few more hours and healed the guy in private.
Or he could have waited until the next day, and healed him on another non-Sabbath day.
The guys didn’t ask to be healed.
Jesus is intentionally picking a fight with the Pharisees: “Your rules don’t matter, your heart is in the wrong place, your religion is a sham, and I defy it publicly.”
So Jesus calls the man forward. You can almost feel the dramatic pause right here as the cripple walks to the front. And as all eyes are on Jesus, and on the cripple, Jesus asks a question: “Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save life or to kill?”
The answer is obvious: it’s always lawful to do good rather than evil; save life instead of kill life. But the Pharisees don’t want to answer, because it would expose them. If they answer: “It is lawful to do good on the Sabbath,” then they lose the ground of the accusation they want to make. If they say, It’s lawful to do harm - well, that just doesn’t sound good. They’re silent.
Verse 5: Jesus looks around. And here is an insight into our savior’s heart. He is angry, and he is grieved at their hardness of heart. It’s true anger, but not unloving anger. It is the anger of love; the anger of one who wants what’s best for people. A pure and holy anger that grieves over the sins of those who persist in sin. He grieves over their hardness of heart.
And he said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” The man does, he’s healed, and immediately the Pharisees storm out of the synagogue and find the Herodians - who were normally their theological opponents - so they can conspire to destroy Jesus.
Let’s analyze this:
The religion of the Pharisees has made them hypocritical, calloused to human need, unable to admit wrong, and murderous in their anger. They would go so far as to kill defending themselves. Jesus, in contrast, would go so far as to die defending the outcast.
And yet, the fascinating part of all this, is that they are convinced - absolutely convinced - that they are Jesus’ moral superior.
The only way Phariseeism happens is by self-deception of the most severe order. Self-deception, by the way, is part of the human condition. You are prone to deceive yourself. And if you say, “No, I’m not.” Then you just proved my point.
We might ask why humanity is in such a terrible predicament these days, and the answer is this: we are terribly good at self-deception. You might think, “Well, it’s not all bad. It’s not like it’s killing anyone.” Well, self-deception isn’t murder, but most murders feel pretty justified in their crime. The petty thief says, “At least I’m not a gangster,” and the gangster says, “At least I’m not a dictator,” and the dictator says, “At least I’m not Hitler.” And of course Hitler has some self-justifying reason for doing what he’s doing.
The alcoholic remains an alcoholic because he can convince himself he’s not an alcoholic. Broken marriages remain broken marriages because both parties convince themselves they aren’t the contributing factor to their broken marriage. The divisive church member continues in his divisive ways because he can convince himself of his superior righteousness.
In other words, the reason why humanity can go on committing such terrible atrocities is because we are able to convince ourselves we’re not doing any atrocities at all.
In fact, the text we just read: Jesus’ murder is being planned - why? Because the Pharisees are delusional. They can’t see the insanity of their behavior. We have an almost infinite capacity to deceive ourselves. We really do. Sometimes the truth just burns, it’s too hot to hold, so we throw it aside. It’s too unpleasant.
Let’s think of some everyday scenarios. A teacher calls home and tells mom “Little Billy has been stealing.” And the mom fires back at the teacher, “No, my little Billy would never do anything like that!” or “Well, if you can been a better teacher, this would not have happened!” You see, it’s too painful to believe Billy’s a thief. The evidence is there. But it’s too painful to consider the possibility that my son is a thief. So we engage in self-deception.
A husband explodes toward his wife, “If you would get all your junk together, our marriage would be fine!” Of course, his words are betraying him. His anger obviously has something to do with the problems in their marriage, but that’s too hard to admit, too painful. It stings. So it must be someone else’s fault.
Let’s just do another one. A man is in bondage to secret sin. But he keeps telling himself “It’s not that big a deal. It’s not that big a deal.” Of course it’s a big deal, but he’s lying to himself and believing the lie. Now, he knows, but he doesn't want to know. He doesn’t want to think. If he admits how serious his sin is, he thinks he’ll crumble. He can’t face the reality of the depth of his own sin, so he engages in self-deception.
We have an almost infinite capacity to deceive ourselves. And we have techniques - these are the techniques of the religious. Look at the Pharisees and see how they deceive themselves.
Technique # 1: Emphasize externals.
There they are in the synagogue, a place of worship, looking to accuse Jesus. Can you see the irony? They’ve kept the form, and they’ve missed the point. They’re committing to attending the place of worship, but they’ve forgotten whom they come to worship.
A passive bystander may have seen the Pharisees in the synagogue, their attentiveness, and thought, “What pious Jews!” But it’s only external.
That’s why there are always nice, clean cut men in churches who come to church with smiles on their faces, with nicely ironed shirts, with their Bibles open - who are terribly distant husbands, angry and impatient fathers.
They can be a chipper and positive woman, but who’s actually a mess inside who has learned to make it all look good on the outside. This is also often the way people use social media. If I can create the appearance of a great online life, perhaps that will cover the evidence of the fact that my actual life is a wreck.
This is how self-deception begins. We look to external behaviors and convince ourselves that we’re okay because of them. Because I do X,Y, and Z, which are good, I don’t have to worry about my A, B, or C. My external works are more proof of my righteousness than my heart.
Technique # 2: Accuse others.
Notice what the Pharisees are doing. Verse 2: “And they watched Jesus.” It’s when we analyze other people for the purpose of self-approval. It’s another technique in self-deception.
Here’s another way it happens. A church member has been selflessly serving in the church, and has been getting the attention of the leadership. And jealousy starts boiling in your heart, and you start accusing: “He’s just a goody-two-shoes trying to get everyone’s attention.” You see what’s happening here: It’s too painful to think he may be more of a servant than me. It’s too painful to think that I may not be as generous as I thought. So I impugn his motives, and find a way to still think of myself as the better person.
A family member does something actually generous and kind. But you don’t like the thought of them being more generous and kind than you, so you start thinking of reasons why what they did is actually an act of selfishness.
If I can accuse others and convince myself that they’re worse than me, then I can continue to feel good about myself. It’s all about feeding the self-delusion.
Technique # 3: Never Admit Sin- even if it’s obvious.
You’d think that we’d be happy when our self-deception is unmasked. Wouldn’t we rather live in reality? It’s like when you’ve got the cream-cheese on your face. Wouldn’t you rather just have someone tell you? Aren’t they the true friend?
With cream cheese, yes. With the deep sins of our hearts, we can be fiercely committed to believing our own lies. We will deny the obvious.
I remember a girl I went to highschool with got caught up in sin - bad relationships, bad decisions. What was remarkable about it is how she began to create an alternate reality - essentially she began lying. Lying to herself, lying to others - about obvious things. It’s a form of insanity - and yet at the same time, I can’t say she’s all that different from me and others. The difference is her lies spilled out of her mouth. For most of us, we keep our lies within.
Look at the Pharisees. Jesus asks them: “Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save life or to kill?” The answer is obvious: It’s lawful to do good. It’s lawful to save life. But look: the Pharisees don’t answer. They can’t. For them to answer is to admit they’re wrong. And that’s too dangerous for them. They’ve built their whole lives on being right, being good. They would rather remain silent - deny reality - and embrace the difficult truth - that they’re wrong.
If they’re wrong, their whole life’s work comes crashing down. Their system of religion is proven a fraud, and their power is lost. They can’t give that up. They’re going to believe their own lies about their own goodness even when evidence to the contrary is staring them in the face.
Fourth: Destroy the evidence. Flee the scene.
The Pharisees plot to destroy Jesus. You don’t admit guilt, you destroy that which is exposing your guilt. That’s what they’re doing here.
The marriage is too hard, instead of accepting what it reveals about you, accepting it, humbling yourself, learning, and growing, you leave. Some people would rather destroy the marriage than face reality.
Too much accountability only exposes my failure, and it’s too hard for me to accept, I’d rather live in a delusion, and so I leave the church, leave the group, leave relationships. Often, saying “They’re too judgy.”
For the Pharisees, their desire to guard themselves from the reality of their failure would rather eliminate Jesus than confess their sin.
Sometimes it’s darker. I can’t face my failures - I need to escape.
I recently heard a story about Eisenhower in World War II. He would go into these towns in Germany and would find these “work camps” - where these atrocities were taking place. Corpses everywhere. And the officials in the town would act like they didn’t know anything about it. Now there was one town where Eisenhower was fed up with these leaders acting like nothing had happened, so he forced them at gunpoint to bury the dead. Afterwards, when they were all done, the mayor and his wife went home and hung themselves.
Why? Because they knew. They knew all along what was happening in their down, but they convinced themselves they didn’t know. But now they were exposed and the guilt was too painful to face, and so they wanted to run from the pain.
Do you know you know? Are you giving in to grievous sin - a lie, cheating, stealing, abusing, indulging - and you know it, but you don’t want to know it? Bury it. Rationalize it. Justify self?
Are there things about yourself you know are true, but even now, you refuse to face them, it’s too uncomfortable, the stakes are too high?
Do you have a religion - constructed to guard yourself from the bad news of your own personal failure and guilt: or have you embraced the gospel?
The only way you can stare into the abyss of your own personal failure, without being absolutely crushed, is by believing the gospel.
The only way to face the uncomfortable reality about yourself is by embracing the greater reality about what Jesus is presenting in his gospel. He is not saying, “Be good, and I will love you.” He is saying, “Admit your not good, and I will save you.” He’s not saying “If you’re a failure, you’ll disappoint me.” He’s saying, “You are a failure, and I love you, and I’ll forgive you, trust me.”
Religion says, “If you admit your failures, your life will come crashing down.”
Gospel says, “Only when you admit your failures, will Jesus rebuild your life.”
If you feel convicted that you engage in self-delusion, that you’re actually worse than you thought, then you’re like a patient started to see the serious of your sickness. And Jesus, the Great Physician, says, “Yes, you see it! Now, here’s how you heal.”
Religion is for those who feel well, content, and no great need.
Gospel is for sinners, broken, who sense great need.
Religion tells us there’s a choice. Be fully know, or fully loved. But you can’t be both. If you’re fully known, you won’t be loved. So hide in your religious trappings.
The Gospel tells us there’s another way. It says we are fully known and fully loved in Christ. We can face the deepest fears of our own depravity, and we can rejoice that we are loved beyond our wildest imagination. “I’m far worse than I ever dared think. My brokenness and depravity is more far-reaching than I knew. My corruptions are deeper than I imagined. And I can admit that because we can also say, “In Christ I am far more loved than I ever dared hope. In Christ, my sins are all completely forgiven. They do not define me, they do not own me, and they don’t have the last word on my life.
This is the cross, the death, the resurrection of Christ. He paid for those sins you’re desperately afraid of. God has no wrath against those who trust his son. He knows it all. He forgives it all. And He love all of you.
We must understand that what Mark’s gospel is teaching - what Jesus is teaching - is that humanity is so utterly hopeless, they cannot save themselves, and that they are prone to create methods of self-saving, even to the point of deceiving themselves that they’re actually good.
And the gospel says: “Give up. Come home. You’re forgiven. You’re loved. Rest.”