On Sanford's Confession

Like many other South Carolinians, I was stunned by the news yesterday that Gov. Mark Sanford had been involved in an adulterous relationship for the past year. I've liked Sanford since the first time I heard him on the radio, doing an interview ahead of the 2002 SC Republican Gubernatorial primary. I voted for him three times that year (the primary, the run-off, and the general election), and then voted for him again in 2006. While I thought the possibility of a 2012 race for the White House had slim chances (too many in-state fights with Republicans, rated one of America's worst governors by Time, not charismatic enough, etc.), I nevertheless appreciated his emerging national voice on a variety of issues.

Yesterday, that voice was silenced. His private choices over the past year make his public stance irrelevant at best, laughable at worst. Besides losing national influence, Sanford already had great difficulty leading his own state--his own party, even. Those problems will only grow. Frankly, I wonder whether Sanford should simply resign his position now and focus on the counseling and reconciliation that he says he wants. What better way to demonstrate the genuineness of his repentance than to walk away from his powerful position in order to restore the marriage he has broken.

But this post is not about Mark Sanford. It's about you and me. As stunned as we are (and should be) by this news, it ought to serve as a sobering reminder of our own depravity. Here are some lessons that I'm pondering today in the wake of this news:

1. We must acknowledge that our biggest problem is not "out there." It is "in here." So much of the Christian's battle against lust is directed against the "out there." We install internet filters. We block television stations. We avoid magazine covers. The list goes on and on. Don't get me wrong, these are necessary steps in applying the gospel in the nasty here-and-now. But Jesus said that the problem is not what comes in from the outside. What defiles a person is what comes out of the heart. So my biggest problem is not "out there." It's not Hollywood, the internet, or cable TV. My biggest problem is within. And so is yours. If you live in that reality, it will humble you into realizing that you're a greater sinner than you would have ever believed, it will put your battle with sin "out there" in right perspective, and it will free you to extend grace to others who have sinned beyond your expectations.

2. We must measure ourselves against the right standard. Conservatives can be absolutely ruthless in identifying other people's sins. I was not blown away last night when I turned on Fox News and watched Karl Rove explain that Sanford's sin was not as bad as Eliot Spitzer's or Barney Frank's--both of whom are (surprise!) Democrats. Of course this isn't merely a problem for conservatives; it's a problem as wide as humanity. We tend to view our sin in comparison to others and thereby justify ourselves. But the standard is not others' behavior or even our own personal code of ethics. The standard is God's inflexible law. And until you find yourself crumble beneath its weight, you will not find the gospel to be the only antidote.

3. We must guard ourselves in our friendships--and especially in our counselees. Apparently the relationship between Sanford and his mistress began with seemingly innocent e-mails exchanged between the two, some of which included Sanford's counsel to her concerning a difficult marriage. Pastors, take note! Whenever we are called on to give counsel, especially marital counsel, to a woman, we must recognize the danger of our hearts becoming intertwined with theirs. This doesn't mean that a pastor should never counsel a lady, but pastors must be very careful in that context and should make sure that they are being held accountable for those conversations, whether they occur in private or over the internet.

A broader point of application: we must be careful as to our virtual friendships. Social networking sites like Facebook are wonderful means of communicating with people we haven't seen in years. But because of our sinful hearts, they can also be used of the adversary to cultivate unhealthy relationships from that which was initially innocuous.

4. We must seek accountability. No one is above committing the kind of sin to which Sanford admitted yesterday. Not you. Not me. If we shut ourselves off from others, sin will deceive us all the more easily. Consider these words from Hebrews: "Exhort one another every day, as long as it is called, 'today,' that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin" (3.13). The process is stated in reverse: first sin deceives, then it hardens. We combat that by speaking (and being spoken to) every single day. Accountability, of course, is not fool-proof; if a person is committing adultery, certainly he/she would be willing to lie about it. But intentional accountability is one means that God gives us to help fight sin.

5. We must be sobered by how our sin affects others. "No one sins on an island." "You can choose your sin, but you cannot choose the consequences of your sin." Just cliches, right? Wrong. Tell that to Jenny Sanford and the four Sanford boys. Part of sin's deception is to tell us that we can sin and get away with it, that we can sin and no one else will be hurt. A little laziness. A little carelessness. A little fun. In the end, a lot of heartache--and not just for you.

6. We must repent of putting our hope in people. Whether you are conservative, liberal, or somewhere in between, we all tend to expect way too much out of politicians. Listen to the words that we use at our political conventions: "change," "hope," "believe," "redemption." You'd think it was a mid-twentieth-century evangelistic crusade.

(And for those who might think I'm merely referring to Obama's "Change You Can Believe In," allow me to remind you of Ron Paul's slogan, "Hope for America." Hope for America? Really?)

Our political lingo is laced with theological (soteriological!) terms. Add to that the reality that we're always looking for a savior, someone to come and bail us out of our troubles. Consequently we rest our hopes in the Next Rising Star rather than the Sovereign Christ. And for that we must all repent.

7. We must look away to Christ. He is our Savior, our wisdom, our righteousness, our sanctification, our redemption, and will some day be our eternal reward. Look within and despair; look away and rejoice. Jesus, Jesus only, is our hope.