That struck me because it seems that much of modern culture is attempting to solve one of those problems by simply changing the language surrounding it.
Over the last several decades, we have become increasingly convinced that if we can remove a label, we can remove the reality behind it. If a behavior is no longer called sin, perhaps the guilt associated with it disappears. If a moral boundary is redefined, perhaps the consequences become less severe. If enough people agree that something is acceptable, perhaps it actually becomes acceptable.
The problem is that life rarely works that way.
One of the things I have observed over the years is that human beings are remarkably good at rationalizing almost anything. We can justify decisions, explain motives, excuse behavior, and convince ourselves that what we are doing is perfectly reasonable. Yet even with all of our sophistication and psychological insight, the human conscience remains surprisingly stubborn.
We can rename things, but the spot remains.
That is one reason I think Romans 1 continues to resonate, even in a culture that increasingly rejects its conclusions. Paul's argument is not merely that people commit sins. His argument is that people suppress truth. There is a profound difference between the two. One is an action. The other is a posture toward reality itself.
The older I get, the less interested I become in winning arguments and the more interested I become in understanding why people seem so restless. Why do people who achieve success still feel empty? Why do people who finally get what they wanted often find themselves disappointed? Why does the human heart continue searching long after it appears to have found everything it was looking for?
Augustine's famous observation still seems to explain more than most modern theories:
"Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee."
I think Guinness is pointing toward something similar. Calling is not simply about discovering what we are supposed to do with our lives. It is about being restored to the One who gave us life in the first place.
That may be why Peter connects calling and holiness so naturally. When he writes, "As He who called you is holy, you also be holy," he is reminding believers that calling is not merely vocational. It is relational. The Caller shapes the called.
That is not a particularly popular idea today because holiness sounds restrictive while self-expression sounds liberating. Yet I have spent enough years around people to notice that self-expression alone rarely produces peace. People can be remarkably free to do whatever they wish and still remain deeply unhappy.
Perhaps that is because we were not designed merely for freedom. We were designed for fellowship with God.
As I think about this chapter during this June Tune-Up, I find myself less concerned with cultural debates and more concerned with personal honesty. It is easy to identify the problems "out there." It is harder to ask where I may still be suppressing truth, excusing sin, or avoiding obedience in my own life.
One of the themes that keeps resurfacing throughout The Call is that God calls people to Himself before He calls them to anything else. If that is true, then finding our aim begins not with career planning, giftedness assessments, or life strategies, but with a willingness to walk honestly before God.
Because until that relationship is restored, the restlessness remains- the spot remains still
One of the most haunting scenes in all of literature occurs near the end of Shakespeare's Macbeth. After helping orchestrate murder and deception in pursuit of power, Lady Macbeth begins sleepwalking through the castle, endlessly rubbing her hands and crying, "Out, damned spot! Out, I say!" The tragedy of the scene is that there is no actual stain on her hands. No amount of water is going to remove what troubles her because the spot is not physical—it is moral. Her conscience is bearing witness against her, and she discovers what human beings have always discovered: guilt cannot simply be scrubbed away by effort, denial, rationalization, or the passage of time. Shakespeare understood something that Scripture has taught for centuries. We can change the language, explain the behavior, or try to suppress the truth, but the spot remains until it is dealt with at its source..
I found the same issue with Rev. Dimmesdale in the Scarlet Letter- he even tried the old practice of medieval mortification… to no avail!
One of the reasons this matters during a June Tune-Up is that many of us arrive at summer assuming our deepest need is rest. Sometimes it is. We need sleep. We need margin. We need time with family. We need to slow down.
But sometimes what we call exhaustion is actually something deeper. We have spent months running hard while neglecting the condition of our souls. We have become distracted, spiritually dull, or disconnected from the Lord. The result is that we feel tired in places that a vacation cannot reach.
That is why confession has always been such an important part of the Christian life. Confession is not merely admitting wrong behavior. It is agreeing with God about reality. It is stepping out of the shadows, putting aside the excuses, and allowing His grace to reach places we have been hiding. Strangely enough, that process which sounds so uncomfortable often becomes one of the most refreshing experiences in the Christian life.
David understood this in Psalm 32 when he described the misery of hiding his sin and then the relief that came when he finally confessed it. The burden was not lifted because David became a better man. The burden was lifted because he stopped carrying it alone.
Perhaps part of being refreshed this June is not discovering something new at all. Perhaps it is simply returning to what we already know: God is holy, God is gracious, and God welcomes honest people. The spot remains when we cover it. It begins to disappear when we bring it into the light.
"He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."
Friedrich Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil (Aphorism 146):
Song Link: The Abyss
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