Micah 6:6-8
The sixth fruit
of the Holy Spirit is goodness. Greek
philosophers argued more over goodness than anything else. One group of philosophers—the
Platonists--“goodness” was truth. Goodness
came from right thinking. Another group--the Epicureans--argued that goodness meant
having pleasure. It was having an overall sense of well-being and contentment. Being
happy was having a good life. A third group--the Stoics—said a good life was
doing the right things. Our moral actions made us good or bad.
They all
have their points, but the Bible doesn’t agree with any of them. The Bible
connects a good life with God. You can’t be good without God. Honoring God is where goodness starts.
These three
Greek views all have one thing in common. If you want to have a good life, then
you have to pursue it. They may disagree what “the good” is, but they all agree
it is doing one thing, not many.
Platonists said if you want to be good, then you have to give yourself over to
seeking truth. But you can’t be a part time truth- seeker. You can’t avoid the
truth or else you might miss something that is the key to understanding
everything else. Epicureans said you
have to go for happiness with everything you’ve got. Stoics can’t do good some
of the time—you have to do it all the time. Ecclesiastes 9: 10 says, “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with
all your might.”
Christians
don’t pursue knowledge or feelings or actions for their own sake, but for God’s
sake. God is our ultimate good.
But what if
we only halfway pursue God? Then we are
worse off than the Platonists or the Epicureans or the Stoics. At least they know what they are pursuing. If we aren’t willing to listen to God and do
what He says when He says it, then we are really just doing what we want. We
don’t follow God at all.
A lot of
people will argue with that. They say, “I don’t want to be a philosopher or a
theologian. I just want to live my life and not have to think so deeply about
God’s will. Why can’t I just live without getting theological or philosophical? I’m just an ordinary person living in the real
world, trying to cope with tough choices, messed up motivations, and sticky
situations.”
Ah, but
that’s where we’re wrong! We already are philosophers and theologians. We think
about God, and if we don’t, then we think about “the good.” We have to, in
order to make choices in everyday life. The question isn’t whether we want to
be philosophers and theologians, but whether we want to be good ones or lazy
ones. Every choice we make is a philosophical choice. When we choose to go to
college instead of working at McDonalds, then we make a philosophical choice
about what constitutes a good life. When we go to church instead of watching a
football game, then we’ve made a theological statement. When we change the
channel, because the show we are watching offends us, then we are making a
choice based on Christian principles. The only kind of choices we make are
whether we will order our lives according to what we think the good is, or will
we drift from one definition of “good” to another without choosing. If we
refuse to choose, then we shouldn’t be surprised that our life seems at times
desperately pointless and shallow.
We should seek
moral wholeness. The word for that is integrity.
Micah the prophet told us,
“He has showed you, O man, what
is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.”
Goodness isn’t just knowing good, feeling good, or doing good, but
it is pursuing God’s good with your whole heart in all situations and at all
times. Goodness is following God with integrity.
Not all of us
grew up in the church, of course. But for those who did, let me describe what happens
to us as we grow older. For most of us, there came a moment—usually at a youth
rally or weekend retreat—when as teenagers we committed our lives to Christ.
Maybe you remember such a moment in your lives, when went down in some revival
and prayed the sinner’s prayer. At that moment, you dedicated your life to
Christ, and declared that you would follow Jesus for the rest of your life. You
meant it, too. That Sunday, you got saved and became a believer.
But then
usually by the following Monday, things started getting complicated. You soon
find that most of your friends don’t share your commitment. A lot of you high
school friends are really Epicureans, but they don’t know it. All they want to
do is have fun. Their life is one long pursuit of a good time. Soon you begin
to realize that your friends seem to be having more fun than you. Their
philosophy starts pulling you in like a tractor beam. You start to forget that you committed to
following Jesus. You start making little compromises. Then you make big ones.
You’re still a Christian inside, but you keep quiet about it. You may even
start seeing yourself as “God’s secret agent,” hiding out among the sinners so
you can secretly convert them to Jesus. But inside when you really think about
it God doesn’t bring you any happiness at all.
Then you go
to college, where you believe like a Christian, but party like a pagan. While
in college you run up against atheist and agnostic professors. They don’t know
it, but they are like the Platonists. They pursue the life of the mind and seem
to find happiness being rationalists. You admire them, not because their
arguments are necessarily all that good, but because they look as if they have
it all together. They have beards, smoke pipes and wear tweed jackets--so they
must be smart! You want to fit in with
them, too, so you start to accept their semi-intellectual society with its
commitment to doubt and skepticism. Even though you can’t go full atheist, you
become something worse—a cynic about everything.
But you tell yourself, that you’re still
Christian, even though God has no real place in your thought life. Between college
parties and sophistic conversations, that old youth rally faith seems a little
quaint. Even so (you tell yourself) you can still be a Christian inside. But
you can’t be happy, either as a cynic or a Christian because you refuse to take
a stand one way or the other.
After
college, you get married, get a job, and start a “real life.” Now the parties
and the intellectual bull sessions are over, and now it’s the Stoics’ turn to
mess with your mind. It doesn’t matter what you believe or whether you have
fun. All that matters is that you take on adult responsibilities. That you “do
your duty” to God, country, family, and society. Life becomes about making a
living, raising a family, working at your job, and serving your community. Who
has time to question what is good or what feeds the Spirit—you are trying to
survive.
We may make
a lot of money. People may even admire us, but if we lose our integrity and
leave God behind, then what good are we?
When we grow
up, we have grown up temptations—temptations to drink too much, cheat on our
spouses, to tell lies in business. Every day we have opportunities to break
God’s commandments and no one is looking over our shoulders to see whether or
not we remain faithful. It’s up to us to monitor ourselves. No one sees what
grown-ups do until their sins come crashing in upon us.
Gordon
McDonald wrote that where he grew up there was a big oak tree in his yard. One
day it just fell down. Inside the tree termites had been slowly eating away its
insides, until it just collapsed, even though it looked healthy on the outside.
That’s what happens when we let the little compromises in our lives—one day we
just fall down. Little compromises eat at our insides, and we lose our integrity.
“What does it profit a man if he
gains the whole world and loses His soul?” What
do we get if we lose our integrity in the process? Are we choosing because it
seems the easiest thing to do? Or are we
choosing according to what is most likely to bring us closer to God, what is
most according to His Word? If we follow Christ, then here’s what “good” means:
We do justly—that is, what is
right. Justice is
the will of God. When we take a vow to God, such as a vow of marriage or church
membership, then we don’t break that vow. We don’t lie about others, or pass on
lies. We do this not to look good, but because we are living under the eyes of
God.
The Statue
of Liberty is a good example of integrity. The maker of the Statue of Liberty made
sure to finish the top of Liberty’s head, even though when he built it there
were no airplanes. There was no way anyone could see the top of the head. Yet
the maker of the statue finished the detail on the top. A life of integrity of
is like that. It doesn’t matter if anyone else ever sees our life, we want it
to be as wholly good as we can make it.
We love mercy—that is, what is
helpful to others. We don’t
make decisions based on what is good for us, but seek to help others receive
mercy. We don’t take advantage of people.
President
John Adams lived his life with integrity. During the Revolution, British
soldiers opened fire on the crowd, killing six men. Adams, an ardent patriot,
defended them in court, even though his cousin Sam helped incite the riot. He
showed mercy to his enemies for the sake of justice.
We walk humbly—that is, we don’t
take the credit. We are not
saints, but sinners. We can’t take credit for what we have done—we can’t even
be good without God.
Let’s not
any of us take too much pride in our own integrity. We aren’t that good. But we
have a God who is.
Sir Isaac
Newton received a reward near the end of his life for his scientific
accomplishments. When presented with the
award, he responded, “If I have seen farther than other men, it is only because
I have stood on the shoulders of giants.”
If we have any integrity, honor or goodness in our life, it isn’t our
doing. It came from Jesus Christ, God’s eternal Son, who followed goodness and
honor to the nth degree, even to the place of dying for us. If we have any goodness at all, it comes from
Him. Our job, then is to do for Jesus
what He has already done for us, to live lives of dedication to Him, and to do
only that one thing alone.