Out, damned spot! Out, I say!—One, two. Why, then, ’tis time to do ’t. Hell is murky!—Fie, my lord, fie! A soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?—Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him.
(Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 1)
With his characteristically sharp insight into the human condition, Shakespeare illustrates through Lady Macbeth the malady that afflicts all humanity: original sin. Scrub as we might, we can never remove its stain from our bodies or souls. We can emotionally detach (a soldier shouldn’t be afraid of killing someone!) or rationalize (who’s going to know what we’ve done?) all we want, but the evidence of our depravity (who would have thought that old man would bleed so much?), strengthened by the convicting power of the law, stops our self-deception in its tracks. We may not be compulsively washing our hands, but we’re every bit as obsessed with removing our guilt like Lady Macbeth. Taking a more positive approach, we speak of self-acceptance and cutting ourselves some slack, and repeat every affirmation under the sun to convince ourselves that either we’re not as bad as we think or our feelings of guilt are unwarranted.
This isn’t to say that human actions are only and always evil; it’s merely that the ultimate motive behind our actions is never wholly righteous, as Michael Horton explains in his article “Regents in Revolt.” Adam was created in true righteousness, holiness, and knowledge, with a heart inclined to worship, and that image (though warped and distorted) still remains in his descendants. Justin Holcomb picks up this topic, explaining how Adam’s failure resulted in a long line of prophets, priests, and kings all trying to love the Lord their God—and all falling short—until the arrival of the last Adam, who kept the commandment of the Creator and endured the creature’s punishment, removing the scarlet stain forever. It is this blessed fact that gives us hope: “If we confess our sins, then he is faithful and just to forgive us” (1 John 1:9). This declaration of forgiveness is something that Rick Ritchie’s essay “Comfort Ye My People” reminds us that we not only need to hear from the pulpit, but we should also pronounce to others as members of the universal priesthood of believers (Rev. 1:6).
Though we are new creations being renewed in the spirit of our minds, we still labor in bodies of death, waiting for the day when we finally lay down the sin that easily ensnares us. Meanwhile, we rejoice in the resurrection of Christ, the great event that comforts us in our sorrow and gives us strength for our fight. Unlike Lady Macbeth, our original sin no longer drives us to madness but into the arms of our Savior, who invites us to come confidently before his throne, where we can receive mercy for our rebellion and grace to help us in time of need.
Brooke Ventura associate editor
