For years, I believed in the depravity of humanity. In other words, because of what took place in the Garden of Eden involving Adam, Eve, and a serpent, the rest of humanity inherited a sinful nature. It was preached over and over again in churches, youth camps, and revival events. “Everyone must repent because all of us bear the mark of original sin.”
Even through my seminary years as we studied the theology of sin and the theology of good and evil, I couldn’t grasp a firm understanding of what it would mean to consider that perhaps humanity was not in fact inherently evil or sinful. I couldn’t fathom the possibility. It was too much for my theological framework to bear. I knew if I took that one block out and analyzed it, deciding whether it fit into my understanding of theological history and interpretation history the whole Jenga tower of my fragile theology would tumble.
I have always believed I was not good enough. Not that I was bad necessarily (even though the voice of religious authority in my life ensured me that even though I was saved, I was still sinful by nature), but there was always more I could be doing to gain favor with the Creator God. I believed that my role in this life was constantly try to make up for my sinful nature through any and every means possible, knowing all along that I was fighting an uphill battle I would never overcome.
In my studies as an educator, I believed strongly in the power of a strengths-based perspective rather than adhering to the deficit-perspective that the age of accountability and standardized testing was capitalizing on. Even though I had students who couldn’t read in my third grade class, I worked tirelessly to find some sort of written communication they understood whether that was a video game, a label on a t-shirt, or even their own name. And there was always some strength that could be built upon. That strength gave them confidence and courage to keep learning.
What if the same were true of our faith? What if instead of reminding ourselves and our congregations of the sinful nature, of the depravity of human souls, we instead, for argument’s sake, consider the possibility that humanity is inherently good? What if it was the very divine breath that was breathed into our nostrils started a transformation in the Garden of Eden not towards evil, but towards good?
It’s taken me six years to even offer this as a possibility, but I am overwhelmed with evidence that suggests that perhaps this is in fact closer to our human nature than what Calvin suggested. In the midst of the 2015 flood relief, I saw people of a mobile home community who had been without potable water for one week desperate for survival, make sure that other people had water before they did. I saw them self-monitor making sure everyone got one case of water before ever taking another case for themselves.
I see this every week in our work at the homeless shelter. When stripped of power, position, and privilege something miraculous happens: community and fellowship. If there is one person who has a bag of cough drops, she shares it around the table making sure that everyone gets one, even if she doesn’t know if she will be able to buy another bag.
Perhaps it is the fear of losing our power, privilege, and position that reveals our insecurity about who we are and why we were created. In this uncertainty, we become disciples of the hierarchy and importance of our culture’s values: beauty, wealth, and comfort. We become such ardent believers that we disguise our very core nature. Perhaps it is in the best interest of our culture’s need to preach consumption that we are reminded again and again that we are not pretty enough, not wealthy enough, and not comfortable enough that we engage in transactions that make us witnesses to a gospel of the depravity of humanity. Perhaps this is not of God, but is of the gods of capitalism and consumption.
If we believe that inherently God’s creation is good as Creator God uttered after each day of creation in the Genesis 1 account, then we will treat each other differently. Instead of looking for flaws, we will look for each other’s strengths. Instead of distrusting intentions, we will believe in the goodness and the divineness that was breathed into our lungs to give us life. Instead of attacking each other with divisive words, we will instead choose to encourage. Instead of engaging in business and activities that bring about the kingdom of a culture of consumption, we will instead invest our time and resources into the subversive acts that uproot this culture and bring about the kingdom of God.
Maybe it just takes one voice crying in the wilderness:
You are good.
Creator God, said so, and so say I.