Why Matters -- the Sequel

I started with the premise that "'Why' matters." Why we do what we do is important. Here's one I ran across the other day.

Where I work parking is at a premium. The lady who runs the cafe in our building told me that she pays $8 a day so she can park close to work. If I wanted to park near work, I'd be paying nearly $700 a year ... and next year it exceeds that. Not being willing to waste that much money, I park a half-mile away. I get some sunshine and exercise and save $500 a year. What could be better? Well, the other day, as I was making the trek back to my car, I noted someone parking in a nearby lot illegally. "The gall," I said to myself, righteous indignation rising. "Righteous indignation" -- that's what we call it when we get angry because someone else is doing something wrong. It may not be indignation, and it may not be righteous, but if we can put a nice label on it, we feel better. Then I realized that the fuel for my "indignation" wasn't a deep love of that which was right. Instead, it was a quiet, hidden envy for the wrong. I secretly wished that I could get away with parking illegally and saving myself all this time, energy, and money. That was a shock.

What else fell under that category? How about that irritating guy at work who rarely seemed to do anything and suffered no repercussions? Or what about that jerk on the freeway that didn't bother going with the flow of traffic, but weaved in and out of lanes instead? Or the guy who decided that he was perfectly justified in stepping in front of me in line at the grocery store because he had two items and I had 20? I realized that more often than I recognized or was willing to admit, the reason I got angry at people who did things wrong ... was because I wished I could do them, too. Oh, I wouldn't do them. I am bound by my beliefs of what is right and wrong. But I wished I could. And I realized that, despite my moral beliefs, I didn't hate sin like I should.

Now, don't get me wrong. Righteous indignation exists. It can be done. Jesus did it ... more than once. There is no other way to describe His response to the moneychangers in the Temple or His dialog with the self-righteous Pharisees. But His was never indignation over His rights or wishes. It was always on behalf of others -- primarily His Father's rights. Righteous indignation can happen. I just suspect that it's not as common among humans as we'd like to think.

I suspect that if we truly hated sin and truly loved God, our response would much more often be like Jesus's reaction when He approached Jerusalem and wept. More often than He was righteously indignant, it seems, Jesus was weeping over sin. He knew the cost. He knew the consequences. He knew the human tragedy. He knew the outcome. That would cause grief more often than indignation.

It is good to be moral. It is good to have firm beliefs about what is right and wrong. And it is perfectly acceptable to see when someone does something wrong. Sometimes, in this case, we are even obligated to respond. All well and good. But when was the last time you felt grief for your fellow human beings who were suffering the consequences of sin? The next time you feel your indignation rising over it, maybe you need to check yourself like I do. Is it actual indignation, or is it secret envy? The heart is deceitful and desperately wicked. Don't I know it!