theology – fruitful faith

world + flesh + devil

The world, the flesh and the devil.

These three entities have been said to be the three sources of sin and temptation for Christians. That is to say that when we get it wrong, we can point to the influential lure of culture (the world), the weakness of natural desire (the flesh), and the overarching conspiracy of evil (the devil).

I say ‘and’ instead of ‘or’ because I don’t see these three as mutually exclusive. When a person does something wrong – let’s say: gossip at work – they can point to a) the culture of gossip at their work or in the ‘world’ generally, b) their own tendencies to want to stay ‘in the know’ about what’s going around the workplace, and c) a trans-historic, trans-cultural, quasi-personal gravity gently and subtly pulling people away from healthy and honest communication.

If we neatly point to just one of these three, we open the door to a) victim-hood (“Poor me, it’s so hard to be good in this world/workplace…”), b) shame (“Why am I such a horrible gossip?”) or c) blame (“It was an outright spiritual attack…”).

Acknowledging all three can help us to appreciate afresh the need to stand apart from culture (Romans 12:1-2), the need to acknowledge our culpability for our actions (1 John 1:9), and to be on guard against the old serpent up to its typical schemes (2 Corinthians 2:11).

good fear, guilt and shame

There are obvious reasons why fear, guilt and shame have a bad reputation inside and outside the Church. There is really no need to illustrate this point, but…

Fear of judgment, rejection or punishment can be crippling.

Guilt that is exaggerated, overly-negative or simply mistaken is paralyzing.

Shame, too, when it is insulting, degrading and merciless, can be dehumanizing.

But that’s just simply not all there is to Fear, Guilt and Shame. They can be not only unavoidable feelings that one will eventually encounter in life, but even helpful and self-protective tools to help us grow.

Fear can be protective. It can keep us from doing things that we know will harm others or ourselves. The opposite of this protective fear is selfish carelessness.

Guilt can be honest. It can reflect the willingness to admit we have done wrong and the need to set things right. The opposite of this honest guilt is the excusing or hiding sin.

Shame can be empathetic. It can connect our logical awareness of wrong-doing to a heart-level grief that together can motivate (through God’s grace) our work to amend our ways and undo the harm done as much as possible. The opposite of this empathetic shame is a calloused, arrogant or narcissistic heart.

grace and human effort

At the heart of the Christian faith is a conviction that salvation is God’s doing. God takes the initiative in establishing, maintaining and perfecting the relationship with all of creation, and humans in particular. Without God, there would be no salvation. Period.

This conviction has tended to be accompanied by an emphasis that downplays the importance of human effort. Most of all, it seems that in order to defend Grace, some feel the need to oppose any prescriptive statements about what Christians ‘ought’ to do, particularly when those statements are a) specific, b) all-encompassing, or c) strong.

I’m not going to get into the broad issues of biblical theology despite how relevant they are here. Instead I want to focus on the basic compatibility of Grace and human effort. And none of the following has anything to do with being under the Jewish/Mosaic “Law” (i.e. keeping kosher, observing Sabbath, or males being circumcised).

Augustine perhaps said it best: “Without God, we cannot. Without us, God will not.” (Google it)

Like a loving parent whose love moves them to refrain from doing everything for their children, God seems to require our active participation in our growth. “God will not” do things for us against our will.

This not only means we must participate with Grace, but also that being exhorted, instructed, urged, or encouraged to do specific things should be a normal part of our training and instruction in Christian community. This happens through preaching, teaching, discipleship and mentoring. We need to be told what we should be doing.

Trusting in Grace doesn’t mean resisting being told what to do. Quite the contrary, actually.

Yes, it is possible (and too common, actually) that “telling people what to do” is done from a negative posture of power, ego and control that runs against the values of the Gospel. But it is also possible (and more common than we may admit) that “telling people what to do” is resisted simply due to our pride and arrogance of not wanting to do what we should.

The Grace and Love of God is so overwhelming, beautiful and true that it should cast out all forms of fear, including the fear of being told what to do.

Being told what you are doing wrong and what you ought to do instead, can indeed be a “gift”, and expression of Grace. It can be a very practical way that God offers the power, assistance and help toward the transformation, healing and growth that all disciples of Jesus should experience.

political Christianity

Let me open with an if/then statement. If Christianity is anything more than B.I.B.L.E. (Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth), and I heartily believe it is, then it necessarily has to do with how the wholeness of life is played out in the here and now. This means Christianity necessarily has a political component to it. And here’s a yes/but statement. Yes, there is vastly more to Christianity than politics, but it is not apolitical.

The sweeping Story of Scripture presents a Gospel that cannot be contained by any single political party, even a ‘Christian’ political party. Indeed, the values and imperatives of Scripture cover pretty much the entire political spectrum.

The ‘right’ end of the spectrum will find its emphasis on personal responsibility affirmed and strengthened by Scripture. Consider Proverbs 6:6-11 as motivation to as right-wing folk will say, “get off your rear and work as much as you can, and stop relying on the government.”

The left end of the political spectrum, with its convictions about basic rights and freedoms, will find just as much support from Scripture; from the golden rule of treating your neighbour as yourself, through to the more sharp and radical command to love your enemies. Everything from social welfare, ecological preservation and non-violent pacifism have direct links to Scripture.

Even a controversial issue such as same-gender relationships finds the whole spectrum covered by Scripture. Conservatives will find their convictions about sex, marriage and gender affirmed by passages which echo through in both the Old and New Testaments. Progressives will find abundant biblical support for their passionate concern for the protection of the person-hood and identity of all regardless of any of their personal characteristics.

In addition to offering support all along the political spectrum, Scripture also offers subversion and opposition at all points as well. To the arrogant ‘conservatives’ wanting to stone the woman caught in adultery, Jesus the ‘liberal’ steps in to defend her basic freedoms with non-condemning, patient love, whilst at the same time pointing a stinging finger at the hypocrisy of those who are more interested in shaming someone else for their sin than they are at humbly acknowledging their own. To any and all at the progressive ‘left’ who slide into complacent and compromised affirmation of things that go against Scripture, Jesus represents someone who held to the authority of Scripture, even as he sought to direct people past erring traditional interpretations of it. Jesus was not interested in building a theocracy to manipulate people into obedience, nor was there any ‘moving on’ from fundamental Jewish convictions to make the faith palatable.

In other words, the Gospel of Scripture is always big enough to offer both comfort and challenge to everyone.

varieties of shame

Following on from the last post, I’ve been thinking more about possibly helpful – or at least unavoidable – forms of shame.

First, I want to acknowledge just how unhelpful some forms of shame can be. I think shame is most unhelpful when it focuses on the person and not the behaviour. “You should be ashamed of yourself…” “Shame on you!” “I hope you’re ashamed…” All of these focus the shame on the person.

Behind these statements is probably some kind of distorted sense of protective fear that wants the person to see what they’ve done, to take responsibility for it, and to change. But the problem with focusing the shame on the person is that it actually does the opposite. It takes their focus off of their behaviour and onto themselves as being shameful. They feel labelled, categorized, tagged-and-bagged as ‘bad’. This make a person feel trapped in this ‘bad’ state, and can make them feel like ‘bad’ people are simply bound to keep doing ‘bad’ things.

Let me quickly say that I don’t think the opposite is helpful either. To say with glee simplicity: “It’s OK, you are awesome!” Such popular positivism is well-meaning, and probably intends on letting kindness make a space for people to be their own guide and learn in their own time. However, it can also have the opposite effect. I don’t think any of us can truly or completely silence our conscience which reminds us that we are not perfect. Overly-positive commentary from others, whilst well-meaning, can actually end up reminding us of our negatives.

The goal is the acceptance of our behaviour and taking responsibility for it. And some forms of shame may just be helpful, necessary or unavoidable for this.

I am happy to be shown otherwise, but maybe it is helpful for us to feel some kind of shame when we have done something wrong. And I am distinguishing shame from guilt. Guilt is, I think, a logical admission, a verdict, in our minds that we did something. Shame, in this sense, makes our admission a felt reality, an experience, in our hearts.

But now… what about shame that is sourced not in our own judgment of our own behaviour, but shame that is sourced in the judgment of others, our family, our church, our city, our society? Can that ever be helpful or healthy? I am daring to suggest it can.

One possibly helpful example is an anti-smoking campaign in Aotearoa-New Zealand: “smoking: not our future”. This, it seems to me, is a movement that attempts to use shame in a helpful way. Rather than pointing the finger, negatively, at people who smoke, it signals the future, positively, at a society which smokes less. In principle, at least, it should be a good thing to promote good behaviour and discourage bad behaviour. Some forms of shame seem to be unavoidable for this, right?

How does this basic dynamic become unhelpful or even harmful? I reckon it happens when people use shame in ways that are a) disproportionate to the behaviour, b) self-righteous, c) impatient or d) forceful. In principle, even putting someone in prison can be done in ways that are a) appropriate for the crime, b) humble, c) measured and d) gentle.

So much moral discourse in our culture seems to assume that the way to help people avoid depression and self-harm is to avoid anything that makes people feel shame. I wonder if some of our overly-positive language serves to trap people in their own prison of self-judgment?

What if we accepted that sometimes people feel shame for good reasons, such as to come to a place of surrender and acknowledgement and taking responsibility? Our role is to empathise with one another in our mutually-experienced guilt and shame. We all get it wrong all the time about all kinds of things. It doesn’t have to be a morality contest… It can just be life.

Shame doesn’t have to be linked to self-hatred and self-harm. Shame can be re-claimed in a context of self-care and self-honesty.

If shame is such a wrong thing to feel, then it only makes us feel even worse when we feel ashamed. But if shame is a normal part of human living and learning, then maybe we are strangely enabled to not stay trapped in our shame, but to work through it to acceptance and change.

Theologically speaking, the Gospel of Grace doesn’t imply that we are ‘basically good’ people who have never done anything shameful. Rather, it is precisely because we have done those things, and (hopefully) have a healthy sense of regret, guilt and shame about them, that the Gospel of Grace is such good news.

on guilt and shame

It seems to be an unquestioned assumption in modern western culture that guilt and shame are bad, unhealthy and unhelpful. Most of the moral discourse is dominated by statements that flow directly from these assumptions.

I can relate! Who wants to feel guilty? Who enjoys shame? Not only that, both guilt and shame are shot through and warped with all kinds of unhelpful messiness. Like power, sex, or money, they can easily be used poorly and people get hurt.

But are these concepts entirely worthless? Is there any worth or value to them? Here are some thoughts…

Good Guilt?

Guilt can be good. As Auckland theologian Neil Darragh points out, guilt can be enabling guilt, in that it helps us to recognize and face our wrongdoing (or sin) and to seek and receive the help and grace we need to change and grow morally. There seem to be two opposite extremes we can and do go to here. One we might call false guilt or what Darragh calls ‘disabling guilt’. Here the accusation is worse that the behaviour, or there may be no wrongdoing at all that matches the accusation. At the other extreme, we have what we might call false innocence, or ‘getting off Scot free’. Here there is an absence of an accusation (from others or from self), but a presence of wrongdoing or sin. Both extremes fail to give us any help at ethical growth.

Good Shame?

Some of you might be thinking right now, “OK Dale, I take your point about guilt, but shame is another matter, it’s always bad…” Perhaps, given a certain definition, that is correct. But let’s try and get behind the word to the idea, and then we can think about what is the best word to use. Hear me out :)

Some people, quite helpfully I think, have distinguished between guilt and shame by saying that guilt says what I did is bad, and shame says I am bad. That kind of shame is at best incomplete and distorted, and at worst crippling and harmful. Another way to think about shame is in a relational sense. When a society, community or family shares certain values, as they do, certain actions and behaviours will simply be in conflict with those values. When a person does any of those certain things, they will naturally feel various kinds of shame, depending on how many people in the society, community or family know about it, and how much they know, etc. This kind of shame seems to me to be natural and unavoidable. And I’m willing to suggest here that it may even be helpful.

Having said that, I think a Christian influence on society, community or family will engender not just values concerning what actions cohere with those values, but also values concerning how to relate to people who act in ways that conflict with those values. A Christian community, in this sense, has both standards and an impulse to restore those who break those standards. In the remainder of this post, I’d like to suggest that the shame which seems unavoidable can serve a good purpose only in a community characterised by restorative discipline.

Restorative Discipline

As the two terms suggest, there are two dynamics are at work, I reckon, in how a Christian community deals with someone who breaks what they understand as Christian values. One (discipline) has a necessarily negative posture, and the other (restoration) is necessarily positive.

The positive dynamic is that of gentleness and restoration. Galatians 6:1 says that when someone is caught in a sin (imagine all the dynamics involved when this happens… and imagine how it often plays out…) “you who are spiritual should restore them in a spirit of gentleness.” As usual, Paul is writing these instructions as a corrective for what was happening. In this case, it seems that some of the spiritual leaders at Galatia were not being gentle or restorative when people were caught in a sin. Gentleness is appropriate because people whose sin is being found out are scared and defensive. Restoration is the goal because God wants healing, community and forgiveness rather than brokenness, isolation and enmity.

It’s much harder to deal with the other more negative dynamic. What words might we use? We have all kinds of understandable discomfort with words like ‘discipline’ or ‘punishment’. I think a good deal of our discomfort here flows from times where the ‘discipline’ or ‘punishment’ was seen to be disproportionate to the (mis-)behaviour. But on the other hand, surely various forms of corrective action are appropriate for various kinds of misbehaviour. Sometimes we need consequences to change.

At this point, it may be useful to remind ourselves of the need for a balanced view of human nature. We can err on the side of viewing humans as ‘basically good’ or err on the side of viewing them as ‘basically evil’. The tendency to think we don’t need corrective discipline (in appropriate forms) may flow from a belief that humans are so ‘good’ that they will quickly recognize their sin and repent of it. The reality is that we are too often stubborn, dishonest, fearful and prideful. Sometimes loving discipline (again, in helpful forms) is the only thing that can help someone come to terms with their sin. This is the best context in which to understand Paul’s command to expel a member from fellowship in 1 Corinthians 5:1-5. Of course the other side of the coin is to err on the side of viewing humans as ‘basically evil’. The belief that humans have little good in them may lie behind disciplinary actions that seek to force someone to repent. God does not bring us to repentance through discipline that is over-powering, intimidating, harsh or insensitive. Rather, it is God’s kindness that leads to repentance, as Paul seems to have needed to remind some ‘strong leaders’ at Rome (Romans 2:4).

Summary

Tying these threads together, I am basically suggesting that both guilt and shame, understood the right way and in the context of healing community, can be helpful and necessary. We may have a thousand stories or personal experiences of why “they made me feel so guilty” or “that church heaped shame on me”, and many if not most of these could sadly be accurate indictments of leaders acting from control, fear, anger and power. But I am daring to suggest here that if our community and the discipline of our community is characterised by love, honesty, truth, healing, then guilt and shame may just possibly be necessary wounds en route to repentance, reconciliation and growth.

love is grateful

I recently came across this gem of a quote on Facebook; beautiful in its profundity, and breathtaking in its brevity.

“Grace is the essence of theology; gratitude is the essence of ethics.” – G. C. Berkouwer

It captures the heart of what any Christian thinker has ever tried to say about the fitting human response to divine grace. The only way to respond to being given a gift is to say thank you.

My curious (and a bit obsessive) mind, always on the look-out for frameworks, pondered what the opposite might be. That earning merit (and love) is the opposite of being given Grace (and love), and is therefore the ultimate expression of bad theology. And that entitlement is the opposite of gratitude, and is therefore the ultimate expression of bad ethics.

In the back of my mind, however, was the framework of love and fear (wonderfully expressed by Michael Leunig here, scroll down and you’ll see it). It left me thinking there must be a correlation between gratitude and love, and between entitlement and fear. So I wanted to tease that out below (all the while hoping for a bit of it to drip down from my brain into my heart!)…

Love is grateful. Fear is entitled.
Love is surprised at what it has. Fear always needs more.
Love can freely give as it has received. Fear always takes.
Love can accept what it disagrees with. Fear tries to force it to change.
Love can cope without recognition. Fear clamours for attention.
Love is empathetic. Fear is narcissistic.
Love sheds tears on behalf of others. Fear only sees its own pain.
Love can fail and try again. Fear gives up.
Love is life. Fear is death.

moral fear

Ethical discourse, I suggest, is degraded and corrupted by fear. I’m not talking about the healthy protective fear that flows from love, but rather the unhelpful power-grasping fear that is its own source. Below I’ll suggest two equal-opposite examples of this power-grasping fear, and then I’ll offer a suggestion about a third, ‘middle’ way.

On the one hand, we can see a fearful response to ‘misbehaviour’. This kind of fear is reactive, and wants to (at best) guide or (at worst) control human behaviour. It often takes the form of wanting to ‘raise’ ethical standards, or perhaps turn back the clock to prior times where standards were ‘higher’. The logic seems to be along the lines of:

People misbehave
People misbehave because they don’t know what is good behaviour, and/or cultural moral standards are too permissive
Therefore, to improve behaviour, more moral instruction and/or more strict morals is needed

On the other hand, there seems to be a fearful response, not to misbehaviour, but to the effects of perceived misbehaviour. This, too, is a reactive fear, and wants to protect people from (at best) false guilt or (at worst) any guilt. It often takes the form of ‘updating’ or loosening ethical standards. The logic seems to be something like:

People harm themselves and others
People harm themselves and others because they feel acute moral guilt
Therefore, people will harm themselves and others less if we loosen ethical views that are too outdated and/or strict

The point here is not to say that morals never need to be adjusted in either direction. Arguably, they can be unhelpfully permissive or unhelpfully strict. The point has to do with the way that fear plays a role, both in the desire to make morals, ethics, and laws, more strict, or less strict.

As suggested above, fear can be helpful. Among other things, we should have a healthy fear of false guilt. Auckland-based theologian Neil Darragh calls this ‘disabling guilt’, signalling the way that victims of it are disabled from feeling and acting and being as they should. But this false guilt is flanked by what he calls ‘enabling guilt’, which – contrary to what we often hear – is actually helpful in that it assists us to face our wrongdoing, take responsibility for it, and amend our behaviour and grow morally and personally.

The problem with the two types of reactive fear above is that they tend to short-circuit moral discourse and reflection. Fear cements people, cornering them into angry and aggressive (or passive-aggressive and condescending) dismissal of those they disagree with.

Patient discussion is better. People may not instantly agree when it comes to a particular activity and whether or not feeling guilty about it is enabling or disabling. But at least they might be able to understand one another.

ordinary sin

The doctrine of Sin has been something I’ve had an interest in for a while, and some of my research and writing has touched on both sin and the forgiveness of sin. I think it’s a very important doctrine, and thus very important to understand with clarity and balance.

Scholars of Aristotle and Aquinas will be able to articulate it better than I, but I find the concept of the ‘mean’ or middle to be helpful here as at many points (nod to Aristotle). Just as a ‘virtue’ seems to be flanked on both sides by two opposing ‘vices’ (nod to Aquinas), so also a healthy view of a doctrine (or dogma) seems to in between two extreme distortions of it. Here’s a quick attempt to sketch this with regard to Sin.

The extreme of “totally evil”

At one extreme, the “totally evil” view is based on the persistent and tragic experience of everything from indifference, busyness and rudeness to violence, terrorism and death.

The positive of this view is its ability to summarize (though perhaps generalize) and account for all of this activity with a single concept. All of this ‘bad stuff’ is eventually the result of ‘sin’ at the personal level, and ‘Sin’ at a cosmic level. Humanity and all of creation is ‘fallen’. Like it or not, there is a great deal of accuracy for this view, both in terms of experience of reality and interpretation of Scripture. A patient and discerning assessment of human nature can see past the cosmetic self-righteous and moralistic posturing that masquerades as ‘goodness’. The best statements of so-called “total depravity” are about the full sweep and scope of Sin, reaching to every part of nature and human nature. There is no ‘part’ of creation that is free from the influence of Sin and evil. The brokenness and rebellion goes ‘all the way down’. And the irony is that trying to deny one’s sinfulness and assert one’s goodness is itself one of the surest examples and breeding grounds for sin.

The negative of this view is… well.. its negativity. In extreme form (hence me calling it an extreme view), it doesn’t appreciate or recognize any goodness to human nature. And a thoroughgoing doctrine of Grace is thus undermined, because Grace creates and sustains at least some good in all people.

The extreme of “basically good”

This leads to the positive “basically good” view. In a way, the very presence of the word “basically” is illustrative. Philosophically, it can signal a nod to Locke’s notion that the ‘basic’ or original state of human nature is a ‘tabula rasa’ or blank slate. In terms of modern usage, it can also signal a tempering of what could be seen as an absolute rejection of any evil in human nature. Few people would want to say that humans are “totally good” and I’ve yet to meet anyone who serious defends human perfection. So the “basically good” view is a very attractive option for those who wish to assert the dominance of human goodness, whilst not totally denying the ‘accidental’ circumstances of human ‘wrongdoing’.

The positive of this view seems to be the fact that it inherently avoids the absolutism of saying that humans are perfect. It allows us to enjoy the widespread acceptance and agreement of modern society, which is quite nervous and concerned about those who think that there is something ‘wrong’ with us. After all, that kind of talk makes people feel bad, and feeling bad is of course what makes people (accidentally) get tripped up into doing bad things, whether to others or to themselves. Surely the way to fix things is to avoid this talk of ‘sin’ and restore people’s self confidence!

And here we see the weakness of this view. At its core, this view is basically a way to justify oneself, and avoid responsibility for the ‘bad things’ that happen, either in the world or in one’s own life. It is a ‘weak’ view in that it is not strong at helping to understand, account for, or of course do anything to change, the very real and tragic things that people do. And wise therapists, social workers and addicts will testify that taking responsibility for one’s actions is the best way to work for change.

It seems that these extreme ways of looking at human nature tend to feed off of one another, rather like (and probably not unrelated to) right wing and left wing politicians. The more one person asserts human evil (more need for government and legislation?), the more another will assert human good (less need for government and legislation?); and vice versa. What is needed is a view that avoids the extremes and includes the positives.

The Doctrine of Sin

It could be true that the biblical content on human nature may tend towards an emphasis on human guilt rather than human glory. But the first thing to say about the Judeo-Christian notion of Sin is its remarkable breadth. Humans are “very good” (Genesis 1), and “crowned with glory and honour” (Psalm 8). To be a human is a glorious thing. But at the same time, there are “none righteous” (Psalm 14 & 53), and too often it is true that we continually think evil in our hearts (Genesis 3).

The second thing to say is that there is something quite ‘ordinary’ and everyday about sin. Every week at my church (Anglican/Episcopal), we are led by the worship leader or the priest in a confession that includes that we have sinned “in ignorance”, “weakness” and “through our own deliberate fault”. That seems true to my life and the lives of people I trust to be honest. Another great local Anglican confession prayer observes that “some sins are plain to us, some escape us, [and] some we cannot face.” I’m thinking here of the vast spectrum of ways in which we all “get it wrong”. We walk past one another without giving the human acknowledgement we all deserve. We steal and cheat. We parade our acts of charity on social media. We lust after power, sex, status, moral standing, theological achievements, acceptance and a thousand other things that may be fine to pursue, but not lust after. Even the ‘best’ person we can think of, if they are honest, has all manner of ‘ordinary sins’ the would admit to.

The third thing to say about Sin has to do with the implications… the ‘so what?’ of Sin. So we are sinful. So what? Well, if we are sinful, then we ultimately need forgiveness, and need Ultimate forgiveness. The forgiveness on offer through the gospel of Christ is something that is both a single once-for-all Act that cannot be repeated, and an on-going continual work that we must enter into more deeply. Another bit of local Anglican brilliance announces that “God forgives you”, as a once-for-all fact. But the stark announcement is followed by a gentle admonition: “forgive others… forgive yourself.” This is an ongoing process to deepen for the rest of our lives.

the uncomfortable freedom of Grace

I just finished a job at work, and not only did it take longer than I thought (I had to return to the job site to fix things), I didn’t do as good a job at it as I would have liked to. The clients are satisfied and will pay the invoice, but the workmanship was not my best. My errors involved trying to same time and effort: a.k.a. rushing and being lazy.

I was doing another follow-up job last week and I noticed a mistake that had been made by another team member. It seemed that he had also tried to save time and effort.

It is so much easier to focus on the mistakes that others make than my own. My tendency is to maximize and catastrophize the seriousness of others’ mistakes (“Wow, that’s pretty bad…“) and minimize and normalize the seriousness of my own (“Ahh, it’s good enough…” or “It’s not as bad as…“).

Grace is good news. We are loved as we are in spite of our mistakes. Grace covers our sin and shame.

But that’s not all Grace does.

Grace-powered love casts out and frees us from our fear, saying with the authority and voice of Christ, “Fear not.” (Me phõbos) One type of fear we can let go of, thanks to Grace, is the fear of not being perfect. When we don’t have to be perfect, we can admit our mistakes (or sins), even the serious ones; and we can be a bit gentler on the mistakes (or sins) of others.

This may be one example of the less “comfortable” work of Grace. After all, Grace “teaches” (paideuousa) us (Titus 2:12). This word for teaching is diverse enough to include usages concerning discipline and punishment or training.

I can’t speak for others, but I am grateful for the ‘uncomfortable’ help of Grace in assisting me to admit my mistakes and accept the failings of others.