Original Sin

A Texas man stumbled into a Texas emergency room complaining of dizziness. Nurses ran a Breathalyzer test. And sure enough, the man's blood alcohol concentration was a whopping 0.37 percent, or almost five times the legal limit for driving in Texas. There was just one hitch: The man said that he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol that day.

"He would get drunk out of the blue — on a Sunday morning after being at church, or really, just anytime," says Barabara Cordell, the dean of nursing at Panola College in Texas. "His wife was so dismayed about it that she even bought a Breathalyzer."

Other medical professionals chalked up the man's problem to "closet drinking." But Cordell and Dr. Justin McCarthy, a gastroenterologist in Lubbock, wanted to figure out what was really going on.

So, the team searched the man's belongings for liquor and then isolated him in a hospital room for 24 hours. Throughout the day, he ate carbohydrate-rich foods, and the doctors periodically checked his blood for alcohol. At one point, it rose 0.12 percent.

Eventually, McCarthy and Cordell pinpointed the culprit: an overabundance of brewer's yeast in his gut. In the absence of healthy gut flora, brewer's yeast had taken up residence in his stomach, and was turning any starch he ate into alcohol—and enough to inebriate him. The problem is by no means common, but happens from time to time. Usually, it's after a round of antibiotics that inadvertently wipe out the good bacteria that our bodies need to stay healthy and in balance.

Possible Preaching Angle:

The man's staggering experience is a powerful picture that sometimes we look for external explanations for internal problems, but sometimes the real problem is inside, deep inside in our life.

London's metropolitan police force has seen just about everything in terms of crime, and they've saved much of the evidence. A forward-thinking officer in 1874 began saving items from historic cases to show new recruits. The museum includes items like: Letters from the Jack the Ripper case, an oil drum used to dissolve murder victims in acid; Cannibal Dennis Nilsen's cooking pots; The umbrella-fired ricin bullet that the KGB used to kill a Bulgarian dissident in London during the Cold War; Items that once belonged to Charles Black, the most prolific counterfeiter in the Western Hemisphere, including a set of printing plates, forged banknotes, and a cunningly hollowed-out kitchen door once used to conceal them.

The museum houses evidence from some of the most twisted, barbaric criminal cases of recent history. It is not open to the public, as some people think it's just too gruesome for public viewing, but it is used as a teaching collection for police recruits. It also may show the monstrous side of humanity, what we have been and still are capable of doing to each other.

A black bear broke into the Knoxville Zoo in Tennessee. NBC News reported the following story: "A neighbor called the Knoxville Zoo late Monday night and alerted a ranger, saying there was a bear in a nearby park, according to a zoo official. A short while later, the ranger saw what he presumed to be the same bear climbing over a fence and into the zoo.

It was unclear where, exactly, the ursine interloper wound up. The ranger had to wake up the zoo's four resident bears on Monday to conduct a 'nose count.' “They weren't too happy with us." It's fairly common for zoos to encounter smaller animals like dogs, cats, or squirrels trying to break over or around or through the zoo's walls.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Apparently, the bear in this story couldn't handle all that freedom and wanted to return to comfort of captivity. Sound like a familiar story? How often do people attempt to turn away from the sin that has them in spiritual bondage, only to return to it again? (Prov. 26:11; 2 Pet. 2:22).

Stephen Steele writes about sculptor Gillian Genser who was experiencing headaches, vomiting, hearing loss, confusion, and suicidal thoughts. For years, doctors were baffled by what was afflicting her. They asked if she was working with anything toxic, and she assured them she wasn’t. She told them that she only worked with natural materials. They prescribed antipsychotics and antidepressants, but nothing seemed to help.

Finally, she saw a specialist who tested her blood for heavy metals and found high levels of arsenic and lead in her system. She was shocked, but still confused—how had she ingested those dangerous compounds? Finally, she talked to one doctor who was horrified to hear that she had been grinding up mussel shells for the past fifteen years to use in her sculpture. She had no idea that mussels can accumulate toxins over years of feeding in polluted waters.

The most fascinating thing about the story is who the sculpture was meant to be. It was Adam, the first man. Genser recognized the irony herself. She said: “It’s very interesting and ironic that Adam, as the first man, was so toxic. He poisoned me. Doesn’t that make sense?”

Steele comments,

And it makes perfect sense, because that is what Adam, the first man, did to all of us. He poisoned us. He rebelled against God – and we are contaminated by that rebellion. The message of the Bible, however, is that a second Adam – Jesus Christ – has come to cleanse us from this in-built corruption, as well as the other poisonous thoughts, words, and deeds we add to it during our lives. It doesn’t mean those who trust him will be perfect. Like Gesner, we will suffer the effects of Adam’s poison for the rest of our lives – but it will no longer define us forever.

The commune of Christiania, in the heart of Copenhagen, Denmark, was supposed to be like Paradise. But life in this fallen world is always impacted by human sin.

Founded in 1971, Christiania was devised as a post-60s anarchistic utopia. It was a place where people could live outside of Denmark’s market economy, free to build their houses where and how they wanted, to sell marijuana for a living, and to live as they pleased as long as they didn’t harm their neighbors. Denmark’s government oscillated between attempting to bring the community to heel or turning a blind eye as residents flouted property laws and drug laws.

But now, after 50 years, with worsening gang violence and fresh attempts by the government to normalize the commune, some residents see their dream of an alternative society fading. The infamous Pusher Street, once operated mostly by residents but now overrun by gangs, may be the first domino to fall.

One lifelong resident said, “Growing up in Christiania was the best childhood ever. We had freedom. Pusher Street was very nice back then … Five to seven years ago [drug dealers] got much tougher. Now they only want profit. They don’t bring good vibes.”

Christiania has long embraced cannabis while shunning more dangerous substances. But as gangs overtook the drug trade, harder drugs made their way in, along with some of the violence of organized crime. After a recent shooting, Christiania’s residents, who operate a consensus democracy where decisions are made by unanimous assent in town-hall-style meetings, settled on two conclusions: that Pusher Street should be shuttered permanently, and that the state should intervene—an extraordinary step for the anti-establishment community.

Possible Preaching Angles:

This shows the power of original sin. Even when we try to recreate “paradise,” it never lasts for long.

In the popular, BBC murder mystery series Broadchurch, the mystery is who in this lovely little seaside town could have murdered a child. The local detective, Eli Miller, is dubious that anyone from the town could’ve done it. This is a tight knit community of good people. She says, “We don’t have these problems.” In response, Detective Inspector, Alec Hardy argues with her.

Hardy: Anybody’s capable of murder, given the right circumstances.

Miller: Most people have moral compasses.

Hardy: Compasses break.

Tim Keller adds: “The fictional detective inspector is telling us exactly what the Bible says. You must not be in denial about your capacity for evil. You will do some really bad things in your life that will utterly shock you, unless you get ahold of this particular truth from the Bible. Blame shifting is therefore one of the most dangerous things that you can do.”

Eight-year-old Aryanna Schneeberg was playing in her backyard near Milwaukee, Wisconsin, when she was struck in the back with an arrow. A neighbor was attempting to shoot a squirrel, but his weapon missed its intended target and instead penetrated the child’s lung, spleen, stomach, and liver. She bears the scars that come with surviving such an injury.

We ought to think of Aryanna every time we hear a preacher explaining the Greek word for sin, hamartia, as “missing the mark.” Like most pulpit clichés, this one points to something that’s partly right. The problem, though, is that … we think of a bucolic setting where we are shooting our arrows toward a target on a bale of hay. The metaphor is almost comforting: We see ourselves not as criminals or rebels but as being off our game now and then. We reach into our quiver for one more chance to get it right.

That’s not how the Bible describes sin. The Bible says sin is lawlessness (1 John 3:4). When it categorizes sins, it consistently does so in terms that imply both perpetrators and victims: enmity, dissension, oppression of orphans and widows, adultery, covetousness. In that light, sin is less like target practice on some isolated piece of countryside and more like loosing arrows on a city sidewalk in the midst of a pressing crowd. All around us are bodies, writhing or dead, struck down by our errant arrows.

Possible Preaching Angle:

In a sermon on sin, a preacher might also quote the Puritan John Owen: “Be killing sin or it will be killing you.” That’s true too. And yet it doesn’t quite say enough: Our sin might also be killing those around us. “The wages of sin is death,” the Bible tells us (Rom. 6:23). That death might not simply be one’s own, but also one’s neighbors.

Legend has it that G. K. Chesterton, the famous philosopher/theologian, was asked by a newspaper reporter what was wrong with the world. He skipped over all the expected answers. He said nothing about corrupt politicians or ancient rivalries between warring nations, or the greed of the rich and the covetousness of the poor. He left aside street crime and unjust laws and inadequate education. Environmental degradation and population growth overwhelming the earth’s carrying capacity were not on his radar. Neither were the structural evils that burgeoned as wickedness became engrained in society and its institutions in ever more complex ways.

What’s wrong with the world? As the story goes, Chesterton responded with just two words: “I am.”

His answer is unlikely to be popular with a generation schooled to cultivate self-esteem, to pursue its passions and chase self-fulfillment first and foremost. ... (But) maybe there is something to Chesterton’s answer after all. In fact, theologian Reinhold Niebuhr was fond of saying that original sin—the idea that every one of us is born a sinner and will manifest that sinfulness in his or her life—is the only Christian doctrine that can be empirically verified. Everyone, whether a criminal or a saint, sins. Insofar as that dismal verdict is true, it’s hardly surprising that there is a great deal wrong with the world.

American evangelicals’ grasp on theology is slipping, and more than half affirmed heretical views of God in the 2022 State of Theology survey, released by Ligonier Ministries and Lifeway Research.

Overall, adults in the U.S. are moving away from orthodox understandings of God and his Word year after year. More than half of the country (53%) now believes Scripture “is not literally true,” up from 41 percent when the biannual survey began in 2014.

Researchers called the rejection of the divine authorship of the Bible the “clearest and most consistent trend” over the eight years of data. Researchers wrote, “This view makes it easy for individuals to accept biblical teaching that they resonate with while simultaneously rejecting any biblical teaching that is out of step with their own personal views or broader cultural values.”

Here are five of the most common mistaken beliefs held by evangelicals:

1. Jesus isn’t the only way to God. 56 percent of evangelical respondents affirmed that “God accepts the worship of all religions.” This answer indicates a bent toward universalism—believing there are ways to bypass Jesus in our approach to and acceptance by God.

2. Jesus was created by God. 73 percent agreed with the statement that “Jesus is the first and greatest being created by God.” This is a form of Arianism, a popular heresy that arose in the early fourth century.

3. Jesus is not God. 43 percent affirmed that “Jesus was a great teacher, but he was not God,” which is another form of Arian heresy.

4. The Holy Spirit is not a personal being. 60 percent of the evangelical survey respondents believe that “The Holy Spirit is a force but is not a personal being.”

5. Humans aren’t sinful by nature. 57 percent also agreed to the statement that “Everyone sins a little, but most people are good by nature.” In other words, humans might be capable of committing individual sins, but we do not have sinful natures. This denies the doctrine of original sin.

In the fall of 2022, the fishing world was rocked by a cheating scandal. It happened at the Lake Erie Walleye Trail tournament.

Jason Fischer, the director of the tournament, became suspicious when the five fish he estimated to be about four pounds each—or 20 pounds total—weighed in at nearly 34 pounds. Mr. Fischer inspected one of the walleyes and felt a hard object in its stomach that seemed unnatural. “It’s not like they’re eating rocks,” he said. He grabbed a knife and sliced open the fish as Jacob Runyan, one member of the two-person team that presented it for weighing, looked on. The next moments rocked the competitive fishing world.

“We got weights in fish!” Mr. Fischer shouted, holding up an egg-sized lead ball he plucked from the fish. He then spoke directly to Mr. Runyan as if he were an enraged umpire ejecting an unruly player. “Get outta here!” he shouted, interjecting the demand with an expletive. Members of the crowd accused the men of theft and demanded that the police be called.

Mr. Runyan and his teammate would have finished in first place and scored a prize of about $30,000, but they were disqualified after the lead ball—and subsequently several others—were discovered in the fish.

Cheating in competitive fishing is more common than many people think. There are many ways to cheat: have friends deliver pre-caught fish to them; fish in prohibited areas; put fish in cages before the competition; stuff them with ice, adding heft during the weigh-in that melts and leaves no evidence. In some of these tournaments, ounces can mean tens, or hundreds, of thousands of dollars.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Original sin, greed, and dishonesty permeate everything and everyone—even the world of professional fishing!

An elderly woman was scavenging for copper to sell as scrap when she accidentally sliced through an underground cable and cut off internet services to the whole of Armenia, large parts of Georgia, and Azerbaijan. The woman had been digging for the metal when her spade damaged the fiberoptic cable. As Georgia provides 90% of Armenia's internet, the woman's unwitting sabotage had catastrophic consequences. Web users in the nation of 3.2 million people were left twiddling their thumbs for five hours as the country's main internet providers were prevented from supplying their normal service.

A spokesman for Georgia's interior ministry said, “It was a 75-year-old woman who was digging for copper in the ground so that she could sell it for scrap.” Called "the spade-hacker" by local media, the woman--who has not been named-- is being investigated on suspicion of damaging property. The woman was temporarily released "on account of her old age" but could face more questioning.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Did Adam & Eve understand the implications of their choice in Eden? Of course not. Nevertheless, their choice changed human history. Our personal sins always have consequences that can affect others.

When David Schwartz left his university in 1972, he set up Rent-a-Wreck as a joke. Being a natural prankster, he acquired a fleet of beat-up shabby vehicles waiting the scrap heap in California. He looked forward to watching people's faces as he showed them round the collection of bumperless, dented vehicles. To his lasting surprise there was an insatiable demand for them and he now has thriving branches all over America and Scandinavia.

Schwartz said, “People like driving round in the worst available. If a driver damages the side of a car and is honest enough to admit it, I tell him, ‘Forget it.’ If they bring a car back late, we overlook it. One Los Angeles wife asked 'Where's the ashtray?' as she settled into the ripped interior. 'Honey,' said her husband, 'the whole car's the ashtray.’”

Who would have thought it? A fortune from broken down cars.

Possible Preaching Angle:

This world is broken. People are broken. God made the world perfect, but it got wrecked by humankind going their own way. But here’s the good news. God offers to mend broken lives through Jesus Christ his Son. Paul said “If anyone is in Christ he is a new creation. The old has gone, the new has come” (2 Cor. 5:17). There’s a place in God's kingdom for you.

In his best-selling book Essentialism, author Greg McKeown describes how we develop a sense of what’s called “learned helplessness.”

The phrase comes out of the classic work of Martin Seligman and Steve Maier, who were conducting experiments on German Shepherds. They divided the dogs into three groups. The dogs in the first group were placed in a harness and administered an electric shock but were also given a lever they could press to make the shock stop. The dogs in the second group were placed in an identical harness, and were given the same lever and the same shock with one catch: the lever didn’t work, rendering the dog powerless to do anything about the electric shock. The third group of dogs were simply placed in the harness and not given any shocks.

Afterwards, each dog was placed in a large box with a low divider across the center. One side of the box produced an electric shock; the other did not. Then something interesting happened. The dogs that either had been able to stop the shock or had not been shocked at all in the earlier part of the experiment quickly learned to step over the divider to the side without shocks. But the dogs that had been powerless in the last part of the experiment did not. These dogs didn’t adapt or adjust. They did nothing to try to avoid getting shocked. Why? They didn’t know they had any choice other than to take the shocks. They had learned helplessness.

Walt Whitman, one of the greatest of American poets writes in, "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" of his capacity for evil:

I am he who knew what it was to be evil,

I too knitted the old knot of contrariety,

Blabb’d, blush’d, resented, lied, stole, grudg’d,

Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak,

Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant,

The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me,

The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not wanting,

Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these wanting, ...

Stephane Breitwieser is “perhaps the most prolific art thief in history,” said Michael Finkel in GQ. The Frenchman has robbed more than $1.4 billion worth of art from nearly 200 museums and steals like he is performing a magic trick, without violence or a frantic getaway.

When 47-year-old Breitwieser sees a piece he likes, he says, “I get smitten. Looking at something beautiful, I can’t help but weep.” He never sells anything he steals, but simply brings the piece home to adore. “The pleasure of having,” he says, “is stronger than the fear of stealing.”

He became hooked after lifting an antique pistol from a French museum at age 22, and by the early 2000s he averaged a theft every two weeks. His trick is acting as casually as possible and waiting for a distraction, sometimes slipping paintings under his oversize coat while on guided museum tours. He did many heists with his longtime girlfriend, who’d cough softly when someone approached as he unscrewed display cases with a small Swiss Army knife. At an art fair in Holland, Breitwieser heard someone shout “Thief!” and turned to see security guards tackle another burglar. He nabbed a painting amid the commotion.

Arrested and imprisoned several times, Breitwieser was caught yet again last month after French police discovered Roman coins and other objects in his home, allegedly taken from museums in France and Germany. “Art has punished me,” he says.

Possible Preaching Angle: Greed; Temptation; Original Sin – This guilty person says, “Art has punished me.” But really it is the power of sin and yielding to temptation that truly punished this man.

In an interview, Alain de Botton, a famous British atheist, said, "I love the concept of original sin, the idea that we're all fundamentally broken and fundamentally incomplete." When asked why de Botton explained:

Because [original sin] seems to be such a useful starting point … Imagine a relationship in which two people think they're great—you know, perfect—that's going to lead to intolerance and terrible disappointment when they realize that they're not … perfect. Whereas imagine a relationship that begins under the idea that two people are quite broken and therefore they need forgiveness …

When asked to define "broken" he replied:

By broken I mean "not quite right" … So that's why the concept of original sin seems so plausible and applicable and also kind, because it basically says, "Look, when you meet someone new … just assume that something major has gone wrong here." Treat everybody you meet as though they were laboring under some really big problem, basically. That's the starting point of any encounter.

In Deep Down Dark, Hector Tobar tells the story of 33 Chilean miners who were trapped 2,000 feet below the surface for 69 days. They had to live in the dark, with almost no food, cut off from the rest of the world. They didn't know if they would ever see daylight again. Many of the miners, face-to-face with imminent death, took stock of their lives and realized they had a lot of regrets. Somebody asked Jose Henriquez, a Christian, if he would pray for everyone.

As he got down on his knees, some of the other men joined him, and he began to talk to God: "We aren't the best men, Lord, but have pity on us." He actually got more specific: "Victor Segovia knows that he drinks too much. Victor Zamora is too quick to anger. Pedro Cortez thinks about the poor father he's been to his young daughter …"

Nobody objected. It was the beginning of something special. In the deep down dark, buried under the earth, with death staring them in the face, the men got real before God and each other. They met every day to eat a meager meal, hear a short sermon, and then get on their knees and pray: "God, forgive me for the violence of my voice before my wife and my son." Or "God, forgive me for abusing the temple of my body with drugs." They confessed to each other too: "I'm sorry I raised my voice." Or "I'm sorry I didn't help get the water."

Meanwhile, above the surface a rescue effort had begun. People from all over the world began trying to help, or give, or pray for the men to be saved.

Unfortunately, the happiest part of the story is also the saddest. The drill cuts a narrow hole through the rock. The miners get food and supplies and iPads; they know that eventually they'll be rescued; they find out they're becoming famous and they might get rich. And then the confessing stops. The praying stops. The lure of money and fame undoes the transformative community that had developed in their shared suffering.

They were at their best when life was at its worst. "The Deep Down Dark" is the place where you know you can't make it on your own. "The Deep Down Dark" is the place where you realize you need God.

Possible Preaching Angles: Christmas; Christ, birth of—To use this as a Christmas illustration say something like, "God knew we all have Deep Down Dark places. He knew we could not make it on our own. He knew we could not find our way up to him. So he came down to us at Christmas …

In the fall of 1989 Princeton University welcomed into its freshman class a young man named Alexi Santana, whose life story the admissions committee had found extraordinarily compelling. He had barely received any formal schooling. He had spent his adolescence almost entirely on his own, living outdoors in Utah, where he'd herded cattle, raised sheep, and read philosophy. Running in the Mojave Desert, he had trained himself to be a distance runner.

Santana quickly became something of a star on campus. There was just one problem: Santana's story about his life was a lie. Princeton officials eventually learned that he was actually James Hogue, a 31-year-old who had served a prison sentence in Utah for possession of stolen tools and bike parts. He was taken away from Princeton in handcuffs.

The history of humankind is strewn with crafty and seasoned liars like Hogue—from high finance people like Bernie Madoff, to politicians like Richard Nixon, and even scientists like Jan Hendrik Schön, a physicist, whose purported breakthroughs in molecular semiconductor research proved to be fraudulent.

Lying, it turns out, is something that most of us are very adept at. We lie with ease, in ways big and small, to strangers, co-workers, friends, and loved ones. Our capacity for dishonesty is as fundamental to us as our need to trust others, which ironically makes us terrible at detecting lies. Being deceitful is woven into our very fabric.

People magazine once undertook a part-serious, part-tongue-in-cheek survey of its readers on the subject of sin. The results were published as a "Sindex," with each sin rated by a sin coefficient. The outcome is both amusing and instructive. Sins like murder, child abuse, and spying against one's country were rated the worst sins in ascending order, with smoking, swearing, and illegal videotaping far down the list. Parking in a handicapped spot was rated surprising high, whereas unmarried live-togethers got off lightly. Cutting in front of someone in line was deemed worse than divorce or capital punishment. Predictably, corporate sin was not mentioned at all. The survey concluded, "Overall, readers said they commit about 4.64 sins a month."

Possible Preaching Angles: Of course calculating our sins (according to our standards) is not this easy or precise. In the Bible, sin is not just a few bad acts that we do. It is a power that we are in (See Romans 3:9). As the writer Dorothy Sayers once said, "[Sin] is a deep interior dislocation at the very center of the human personality." The 20th century poet W.H. Auden called sin "The error bred in the bone."

We often hear someone say: "Well, I'm not very religious, but I'm a good person and that is what is most important." But is that true? Imagine a woman, a poor widow with an only son. She teaches him how she wants him to live, to always tell the truth, to work hard and to help the poor.

She makes very little money, but with her meager savings she is able to put him through college. Imagine that when he graduates, he hardly even speaks to her again. He occasionally sends a Christmas card, but he doesn't visit her, he won't even answer her phone calls or letters; he doesn't speak to her. But he lives just like she taught him—honestly, industriously, and charitably.

Would you say this was acceptable? Of course not. Wouldn't we say by living a "good life" but neglecting a relationship with the one to whom he owed everything he was doing something commendable?

In the same way, God created us and we owe him everything and we do not live for him but we "live a good life" it is not enough. We all owe a debt that must be paid.