I woke up this morning, and as my eyes opened, two words popped into my brain. Where they came from I have no idea. It certainly wasn’t a part of any dream, or anything I talked with anyone about yesterday. So, I reckoned to myself, they must be from the Lord, and worthy of exploring. Here were the words: Seared conscience. I know, odd.
Yet, this morning, as I open Matthew’s gospel, and thumb through to the place where I should be focusing this morning, all I’m seeing is a community full of souls with seared consciences trying to trap Jesus. Then, there’s Jesus! Such a sweet heart, filled with compassion for these individuals… It was out of the depths of his desire to bring these hard hearts to repentance that he cleansed the temple, cursed a barren fig tree that represented unfruitful religious lives, attempted to show them their hearts in stories (like the Parable of the Landowner, or the Parable of the Marriage Feast), and wept over Jerusalem. Jesus loves even those with seared consciences.
There’s something about seared consciences that isn’t very pretty, or likable, really. Those in such a mental state are pretty much about appearances. There’s a tendency toward narcissism, making life “all about me.” Seared consciences result in Romans-1-behavior:
Seared consciences result in unbelief. It’s easy for them to lie to themselves, and consider their lies to be truth. Seared consciences result in questioning the authority of God, and allowing themselves to be The Authority of their Own Lives. Seared consciences result in blindness.
I’ve always tried to find myself in the gospel narratives. Which character am I? What part am I playing in the story? I generally pick the role of the “good guy.” I sure don’t want to be the seared-conscience-Pharisee, or the legalist, or Judas-the-betrayer… But the fact is that it was a collection of seared-consciences that betrayed Jesus, beat him until he was unrecognizable, scourged him, and finally killed him. Today, as I look at the events of Holy-Week-Wednesday, I want to be Mary of Bethany, tenderly anointing Jesus’ body for burial with her most reckless, scandalous love. The truth is that I am not Mary. The truth is I am one of the crowd of seared-consciences. If nothing else, my Lenten journey has proven that out. I am part of the collection of people that put Jesus on that cross come Friday.
BUT GOD loves even those with seared consciences. Jesus Loves Me this I know!
(…and somewhere, there’s a Mary, waiting to step out!)
**The words in bold are emphasized by me just to show, further, the unlikable character of an individual with a seared conscience. Again, I emphasize, Jesus loves even those with seared consciences! Hallelujah.