The Abiding Mr. Hyde

The evil we seek to destroy is part of our very identity.

If Hugh Hefner, founder of the Playboy empire, had had a fling with Jessica Hahn, we would not have been surprised. But the revelations of Jim Bakker’s improprieties sent out shock waves. Hefner would not have to resign his position if a past affair became known. But Gordon MacDonald, president of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, resigned promptly after such a revelation.

We notice vivid contrast more than chronic immorality. Bakker lived one life on television and another in private, and the discrepancy disturbed us when it became known. But Christian leaders are not the only ones who have difficulty harmonizing their public and private selves. Beyond the outrage and embarrassment of the publicized tragedies, we must recognize that each of us engages in a constant battle to balance the public and the private in our own lives.

In his literary classic Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Robert Louis Stevenson portrays such a duality. Dr. Jekyll is a respected citizen and a prominent physician, whose only noticeable fault is a questionable acquaintance named Mr. Hyde. Hyde, an impulsive man without traditional social refinements, is suspected of murder. The book climaxes when Stevenson reveals that Jekyll and Hyde are the same person. Jekyll explains, “… when I reached my years of reflection, and began to look round me and take stock of my progress and position in the world, I stood already committed to a profound duplicity of life.”

The story is fiction; the syndrome is not. No one is exempt from the subtle pathology of the Jekyll/Hyde syndrome. A father screams profanity at his children when they act irresponsibly. A mother loses control and strikes her children in anger. A young woman hides her alcohol abuse. The examples go on and on. The public self is strong; the private self is weak.

Writing to the Christians in Rome, Paul describes it in personal terms: “For that which I am doing I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate” (Rom. 7:15; all Scripture references NASB).

A Case Study

Jan, a married woman, was dismayed over her increasing attraction toward Tom, a coworker. When Tom revealed his attraction to her, she became more confused. She was committed to her marriage and so felt guilty. However, the more she tried to remove Tom from her mind, the more preoccupied with him she became. In desperation, she anonymously sought the advice of a; radio talk-show guest. She was advised to remove herself from the situation and avoid further exposure to Tom, which meant quitting her job. Armed with new zeal, Jan promptly resigned and began looking for another job, telling Tom she was changing her life and would prefer that he not contact her.

During the weeks that followed, Jan lost control. Convinced she could no longer resist the temptation, she called Tom and told him she was ready to leave her husband. A brief affair followed, but both Tom and Jan knew their relationship could never work.

After attempting suicide, Jan was found by her husband and taken to the psychiatric ward at a nearby hospital. Once discharged, she came for counseling.

Faced with situations like Jan’s, Christians often throw up their hands and conclude, “She should have known better!” But Jan did know better. In the counseling that followed, she spoke often of her commitment to biblical living. She wanted to do the right thing, but ended up doing the wrong thing. Her experience illustrates two key contributors to the Jekyll/Hyde syndrome: battling impulses and viewing temptation as sin.

Battles Of Impulse

We all experience impulses: the desire to act rashly. In good decision making, impulses are filtered through sound reasoning. Jan’s decision to move in with Tom was impulsive. Because she didn’t think about the consequences, she made a rash decision. The first two counseling sessions with Jan revealed that her life was full of impulse. These impulses came in two forms, one resembling Dr. Jekyll, the other Mr. Hyde.

First, Jan was filled with impulses from the “dark side” of her nature. Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung called it the “shadow” of personality. Jung’s personality theory must be interpreted cautiously by Christians since he derived much of his theory from readings in the occult, alchemy, and parapsychology. Nonetheless, his “shadow” is an undeniable part of human personality, consistent with the Christian teaching about our fallen nature. Impulses from the dark side are egocentric, seek immediate gratification, and avoid responsibility.

Sexually attracted to Tom, Jan was convinced she could never be fulfilled without him. She craved Tom just as an alcoholic craves drink. And she was so preoccupied with impulse that she overlooked her family.

Jan’s impulse also came from what I call the “glossy side,” that part of personality that always wants to look good in public. Jesus confronted the religious leaders of his day many times about their excessive desire for respect and approval from others. They were ruled by glossy-side impulses.

Because Jan believed good Christians do not face sexual temptation like hers, she kept her battle private, constantly fearing what others would think if she were discovered. Like Dr. Jekyll, she wrapped her fragile self-image in the glossy self that she presented to others. Jan had learned to appear spiritual in order to avoid disapproval from other Christians.

The dark side and the glossy side are synergistic; the two combined are far more dangerous than either one alone. Dark-side impulses evoke glossy-side impulses. Whenever Jan felt attraction toward Tom, she felt tremendous guilt and told herself that “good Christians don’t face temptations like this.” Similarly, glossy-side impulses evoke dark-side impulses. Whenever Jan told herself, “Good Christians aren’t attracted to other men,” she became overwhelmed with her attraction toward Tom.

The two sides feed each other. As one grows, so does the other, resulting in hypocrisy and duality: an ageless battle of impulses. Jesus identified the pattern with the scribes and Pharisees (Matt. 23:27), and Paul noted a similar pattern in the gnostics of the early church (Col. 2:20–23).

Destroying The Dark Side

In The Empire Strikes Back, the great Jedi master, Yoda, is training Luke Skywalker to become a Jedi knight. The young Skywalker fears the dark side will become too strong if not destroyed immediately, and he feels drawn to fight a symbolic battle with it in a nearby cave.

Entering the cave with light saber drawn, the would-be Jedi faces the evil Darth Vader. Luke lops off Vader’s head during a brief fight. But as Vader’s black helmet lies on the ground, Skywalker’s own face gradually appears beneath the face shield. Has Luke killed part of himself?

Potential evil is as dissonant for us as it is for Skywalker in the movie fantasy. We want to destroy evil and live in spiritual peace. We want to remove temptation and live in clarity. So we take up our swords impulsively to purge evil by destroying it. We use arbitrary “shoulds” and easy answers, and the judgmental perspectives of the glossy side.

We strike down our dark side and feel immediate relief, as Jan did when she quit her job. But gradually we become aware that we have attempted to eliminate a part of ourselves that cannot be done away with, a part that only returns with greater force. And in the process of trying to defeat temptation and evil, we short-circuit growth.

We cannot destroy dark-side impulses; they are part of our human experience. But we can understand and then manage impulses.

Temptation As Sin

Most Christians would say temptation is not sin, but that giving in to temptation with inappropriate thoughts or actions is sin. Jesus was tempted (Mark 1:12–13), yet was without sin. Therefore, temptation is not sin.

But our reactions and our theology may be incongruent. If we could take those same Christians and put guilt meters on their foreheads, we might be intrigued by the results. In the presence of temptation like Jan’s, many meters would register significant guilt feelings.

The thoughts that produce guilt feelings are predictable. “Good Christians aren’t tempted to have extramarital relationships.” “If I were focusing on the Lord, I wouldn’t be noticing attractive men at the office.” “If others knew about this temptation, I would be asked to resign from the church leadership committee.” And so on. These thoughts are based on approval seeking, and on arbitrary rules without biblical basis. The Bible addresses adultery and sexual fantasy, but romantic attraction is not prohibited in the Bible.

Temptation is not sin. Temptation can be used for evil or good. If temptation causes sin, then the outcome is clearly evil. But temptation can also be productive. “Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing” (James 1:2–4). The same Greek word translated trials in verse 2 is translated temptation in verse 13. The source of temptation is internal (vv. 13–14), from within our character, but that temptation can be used to produce growth.

If temptation is viewed as evil, we will respond by trying to eliminate it, rather than manage it. The result is a battle of internal impulses that actually makes the temptation stronger. In fact, the more Jan tried to push the temptations from her mind, the more impulsive and irresponsible she became. In looking for ways to eliminate our dual nature, we only make the duplicity stronger.

Because Christians are well-trained at hiding temptation, many are left feeling alone and unspiritual. Temptation is fertile in the private life of one who cannot discuss it with Christian friends. Temptation plus isolation often produces sin.

When we do see the dark side of another, we are often so shocked that we respond reflexively. Gordon MacDonald resigned when his past infidelity became known, even though he had undergone a period of supervised restoration. He knew how Christians would respond: We rightly expect purity in our Christian leaders, but our shock in reaction to sin is sometimes excessive. If we allowed the open discussion of temptation and sin, we could learn many lessons from sincere Christians who have remorsefully acknowledged their errors. God uses broken servants when we allow him to. Remember King David.

Jan did well in therapy, progressing beyond her battle of impulses and her depression in just a few months. In the process, she learned two valuable lessons about herself, her spirituality, and her family: Life is difficult, and grace is the indispensable answer.

The Hard Life

Duality, in a sense, is an attempt to escape the difficulty of life. Because it is difficult to remain faithful in marriage, many resort to secret relationships. Because it is difficult to cope with hectic schedules and impoverished self-esteems, many resort to substance abuse, seeking to make life more bearable.

Tragically, efforts to make life less difficult end up making it more difficult. Secret relationships eventually produce marital crises; substance abuse produces greater stress and poorer self-esteem. As M. Scott Peck concludes in The Road Less Traveled, accepting life as difficult makes life more bearable. It also makes duality less necessary.

Articles and books on effective Christian living are often insightful and significant, but we must be cautious not to communicate that Christianity is a Band-Aid for all emotional hurts. Some things in life are meant to be difficult, and no easy answer will remove the pain. In an essay on intellect, Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “God offers to every mind a choice between truth and repose. Take which you please, you can never have both.”

No Place For Impulse

The road away from duality is paved with grace. Grace makes love unconditional, pain bearable, and hope substantive. When Paul was discouraged about his duality in Romans 7, he responded by recalling God’s grace: “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death” (Rom. 8:1–2).

Grace and impulse are completely incompatible. Impulse, whether from the dark side or the glossy side, focuses on self. Grace transcends self, because we do not deserve grace.

Many of us speak of grace as if we understand it, but we live by investing effort in earning God’s favor, condemning ourselves when we fail, and focusing on how evil our hidden desires are. David Seamands, in his excellent book Healing for Damaged Emotions, writes: “We read, we hear, we believe a good theology of grace. But that’s not the way we live. We believe grace in our heads but not in our gut level feelings or in our relationships. There’s no other word we throw around so piously.”

Why is grace so important in managing duality? Because we all have dual natures, we inevitably fail. Responding to failure becomes important in avoiding future battles of impulse. When we fully understand grace, we respond differently to failure. Rather than focusing on self (“I’m such a bad Christian”), we focus on God (“It is amazing that God loves me despite my tendency toward evil”).

Jan learned from her error. She appreciated God’s grace more as she realized God still loved her. Her life became more obedient as she began responding to God’s grace, rather than living her life by a glossy-side list of rules of behavior.

Goodbye, Mr. Hyde

What we need today is individuals who understand that life is difficult but that God’s grace transcends all of life’s trials and our failures. We simply need sincerity. We need Christians who live obediently in response to limitless grace.

Because God accepts us and loves us despite our sin, we know his grace does not depend on our performance. We can be whole before God, assured of his love. Recognizing our completeness in God gives us peace and enables us to act with consistent obedience. It allows us to look beyond the unworthiness of humankind and to focus on God.

Jan made a tragic mistake in her life. But as she moved beyond duality, she abandoned the battle of impulses, began to experience God’s grace, and allowed temptations to become stepping stones to greater understanding and wholeness.

Mark R. McMinn is associate professor of psychology at George Fox College, Newberg, Oregon, and author of Your Hidden Half (Baker).

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