Sincerity and Sin Management

How much do you mean it?

When it comes to faithful people, a lot of greats come to mind, but there’s no one quite like Linus in the Peanuts cartoons. That kid believed with his whole heart, unflinchingly.

But sometimes his faith was misplaced. As many times as I’ve seen the Great Pumpkin movie, knowing full well the disappointing outcome, I can’t help but root for Linus. You just want to see his belief validated.

There’s one part in particular that got me this past year: when Linus explained to Sally, “Each year the Great Pumpkin rises out of the pumpkin patch that he thinks is the most sincere. He’s got to pick this one! He’s got to! I don’t see how a pumpkin patch could be more sincere than this one. You can look all around and there’s not a sound of hypocrisy. Nothing but sincerity as far as the eye can see.”

God knows I’ve approached faith like that.

Sincerity is a seamlessness between how you feel, what you believe, and how you act.

We recognize someone’s sincerity in their eagerness, honesty, and authenticity. It shows a purity of heart and motive. No pretense or deceit. No manipulation or hidden agenda.

Enter my complicated brain, because somehow sincerity also involved image control: the appearance of having no cracks or chips. It was something to be forged and hammered until it didn’t have a single dent; shiny and pristine. The question became not “are you sincere,” but “are you sincere enough? Can you prove it?” (To others, myself, and to God.) It became another way I could fail, at the risk of losing my relationship with God for all time.

Do you mean it? Do you really really mean it?

I do! I promise I do!

The cycle was such a jumble–being sincere enough to want to prove my sincerity, which then felt fake and made me question everything. Sincerity became another way in which I couldn’t trust myself.

And then it seemed like life, with all of its challenges and crossroads, was an ongoing test to prove my sincerity.

If I try really hard to show how sincerely I love God and want to do what is right–without weakness or questions or insecurity or sin–then I will become unwavering in my faith, nothing hidden and not a single doubt. Then I’ll be good enough for God. Then I’ll make it into heaven. Just that simple, right?

This can make me wrestle with the scriptures. Sometimes Bible verses seem to confirm this, that you have to keep that sincerity airtight, or else God won’t believe and bless you.

James 1:5-8 says: “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Such a person is DOUBLE-MINDED AND UNSTABLE in all they do.” (Emphasis mine, and this is how I’ve often read it–like the last part was in bold and aimed directly at me, accompanied by finger-wagging.)

My translation: You can’t just believe, you have to believe better. No one questioned Linus’s sincerity, but he felt all the strain of having to prove it. His words felt so relatable when he called after a disillusioned Sally: “If the Great Pumpkin comes…Good grief! I said ‘if’! I meant when he comes! I’m doomed. One little slip like that can cause the Great Pumpkin to pass you by.”

Except one little slip meant torture for all eternity to me.

Is sincerity actually a matter of meritocracy?

Recently we watched a church service online (as I haven’t yet found a safe place to land). After a whole service that seemed to keep coming back to sin (from singing the words “a wretch like me,” to the challenge of removing sin so we could better focus on God, to sermon points about submitting our sinful selves back to the Spirit), the pastor added, almost as an afterthought, “this isn’t about sin management”.

For me, sincerity has always been intertwined with sin management. Because if you’re sincere enough, you won’t sin anymore. Obviously. You’ll be furious about your sin. Outraged about it. Constantly on guard against it. Ashamed enough of it. (Can you sense the performance in these words, not to mention the pressure?)

I remember in Bible studies in the church I grew up in, it was a necessary point in the conversion process for you to be made aware of your sin, confess it, and show adequate remorse and repentance for it. (But according to who? Good question…) We’d read about the physical suffering of Jesus on the cross, watch The Passion of the Christ, and then tears were expected. Don’t you realize your sins put Jesus on the cross?

Do you mean it? Do you really really mean it?

I do! I promise I do!

The demands of sin management sincerity feel ingrained in me. But something God keeps gracefully reminding me is to release the heavy weight of constantly monitoring myself for those “slip-ups” of faith.

Because what if God doesn’t want us to get rid of the cracks - he just wants us to be honest about them?

What if sincerity includes saying, “I doubt,” “I worry,” “I mess up,” and “I don’t know”?

Sincerity isn’t sin management. It’s simplicity. It’s letting go of the performance of it all, and trusting that quiet voice inside that desires and delights in God.

It’s not the absence of sin, but the hunger that drives us back to God when we’ve missed the mark.

It’s not the absence of doubt, but the settling of the soul that goes beyond the current situation that leads us to hope in the promise of God (even when it comes with questions).

It’s not always having the “right” attitude and answers, it’s about showing up before God as all that you are, openhearted and openhanded, with honesty and integrity.

We can have urgency and eagerness about sin without making a performance or task list of it.

A verse that melts my heart a little is in Matthew 11, when John the Baptist sends a message to Jesus: “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”

This is a picture of sincerity to me. John is in prison, having put everything on the line to call even powerful officials to repent and getting people’s hearts ready for the Messiah, setting the stage for a spiritual revolution–and he’s facing doubt.

Jesus responds with such grace and no offense: painting a picture of all the good that’s being done and encouragement not to falter on his account. He then goes on to publicly praise John. He has fought the good fight. He is still eager for God’s kingdom. His sincerity is not on trial.

May we put our performance to rest and aim for the simply sincere life of following Christ, knowing God, and continuing to turn back to God.

Photo by Avery Evans on Unsplash