Pulling Up Roots
by R.C. Sproul Jr.

The unexamined life, Socrates told us, is not worth living. The trouble, of course, is that one cannot reach such a conclusion without first examining one's life. Those out there living worthless lives have at their advantage that they don't know their lives are worthless. They go merrily about their business ignorant that they are wasting their time, and ours. Examining our lives, according to Socrates, is a necessary condition for a worth-ful life. If our lives are not worthless we know at least this much about them: that we examine them.

I agree with Socrates, but would add to his thought these thoughts. First, when we are examining our lives we need to avoid looking only inward. Our lives do not consist merely in our own solipsistic thought world. They include the created order, our friends, families, and neighbors. And I would add also that there is a ratio involved here. One cannot ask one- self, "Do I examine my life?", answer back, "Yes, I must because I just asked myself that question.", and then go back to watching, "So You Want to Be a Millionaire" content that one's life is indeed meaningful. The more we examine our lives, the more meaning there is.

Most of us live in the in-between. We want to have meaningful lives, but we're also rather conscious of that competing aphorism, "Ignorance is bliss." We recognize the importance of examining our lives, but know enough of ourselves that we don't want to look too closely. The trouble is that we don't often like what we find. When we look deep into that heart of darkness we find darkness. And when we look deep into the starry sky we see there the radiance of the holiness of God. And that's a contrast that we can do without.

With the conviction of our sin comes the knowledge of the command to repentance. And that means change, something we tend to find off-putting and so put off. Add to that our knowledge that we stand before God in the righteousness of Christ, and we remain fat and happy. It has been said rightly of the biblical gospel that if our understanding of it doesn't sound like anti-nomianism, we're not saying it right. The antidote to anti-nomianism is not to create a gospel of works, but to affirm the biblical truth that we are saved unto good works. We haven't been redeemed so that we can go to heaven. We have been declared righteous so that we can become righteous.

The incessant biblical commands to pursue righteousness (and here, by the way, most of our attention is directed inward, trying to get the moat out of our own eyes) is there not as a means of salvation, but as the fruit of salvation. But such makes them no less than commands. We still have to do it, even if such is not the ground of our salvation. We are fulfilling the law of Christ, as Paul writes to those chronic legalists, the Galatians, "Brethren, if a man is overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness, considering yourself, lest you also be tempted. Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. For if anyone thinks himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself. But let each one examine his own work, and then he will have rejoicing in himself alone, and not in another. For each shall bear his own load" (4: 1-5). The legalism of the Galatians was two- fold. First, they added to God's law what He does not require. Second, that addition was deemed to be a part of the ground of our salvation. That's the silly part, as if God would stand in judgment over us and announce, "Well, I see all your sins were dealt with at Calvary, and I see that you, by virtue of your union with My Son, have fully obeyed all My law, so welc- wait. What's this? You still have a foreskin? Straight to hell with you, you old goat." But what Paul did not find fault with was that they encouraged one another to obedience. Only we find fault.

And ironically, we do it because we don't examine our lives. That is, we yell at people who yell at us not because of our commitment to the Bible, but because we live in a relativistic culture. Sure, we paint it as "loving one another," or "judge not," but the truth is that we're uncomfortable encouraging one another to righteousness because we're worldly. Because we do not search our own hearts, and there root out all the lies of the world that we find there, the one killer weed takes deep root, that weed that says anyone pointing out that there are weeds in your heart is a heartless Pharisee to be roundly condemned instead of heard out.

Nevertheless, that's what we're here to tell you. It is with gentle spirits that we mock the spirit of this world, even when and where it lives in us. We don't mind being considered Pharisees, being called harsh and judgmental. We don't mind not because we are Pharisees, but because that's what it takes to get the weeds out. This is what we do in these pages, and in all the work we do at the Highlands Study Center. As we enjoin folks to live more deliberate lives, we are encouraging them to look deep within themselves, to see those weeds of the world that lurk there in the dark corners, those unspoken and too often unexamined assumptions that have no biblical foundation. The world's ideas find good soil in our wicked hearts.

We know the weeds grow well there because of our own self-evaluation. Another lie from the world that has flourished in the church is this one, that it is sheer hypocrisy to judge any sins of which the judger is himself guilty. Because we believe that lie, when we come and sound the alarm of worldliness, too many of you think we're saying we have this thing licked, that our gardens are pristine. Quite the opposite is true. I'm concerned about the depth and power of worldliness in the church because I am so well acquainted with the depth and power of worldliness in my own heart. I preach against my own sins, because I know them so well. If you want someone to preach against grumbling against God in the midst of severe persecution, go find a Christian in the Sudan. And I'd suggest you also have him preach to the persecuted Sudanese, not we fat and happy Americans. The American church is afflicted not with suffering but with prosperity. We're not guilty of morbid introspection, but moribund introspection.

As Laurence is wont to say, we are born into a particular time. And as the Bible says, we are born sinners. And so as we enter this world we come not just with ten fingers and toes, but with a meadow full of dandelions in our hearts. Every day as we move about this pagan world those ideas are watered and nurtured. The dandelions turn to seed and are carried forth to multiply. As we sit in front of the glowing, one-eyed brain-eraser we are giving Miracle-Grow to our hidden assumptions. As we surround ourselves with more noises, more distractions, more busyness, we are only averting our senses lest we see that our garden is not Edenic, but satanic.

It is only a shallow evaluation, however, that recognizes the dandelions and seeks to solve the problem with a lawn mower. When we merely lop the heads off the little monsters we find that they only multiply. We know we're not supposed to say that we live for the latest toy, but we don't tear the problem up by the root. We know we're not supposed to say that we just want to be entertained, but we'll never listen to a boring sermon on the subject. No, we need to get at the root, and it takes a sharp plow to break up the cold, hard earth. We need to dig up the whole thing carefully, lest we leave some of the weed behind to grow again.

They are out there, or rather, in here, those subterranean monsters that lurk beneath the surface, but are busy shaping the very ground that we walk on. We carry with us everywhere we go the seeds of our own destruction. And we need to get rid of them. We need to have the zeal of the professional soldier, not the haphazard indifference of the week- end warrior. We need almost to be frantic, to not rest but to drive them away. We need to not be satisfied with our puny and occasional victories, but rather seek to take every thought captive. That's not some, or even most, but every. The labor is hard, and the labor is painful. But the labor is fruitful.

And let us not forget that our Father, the great Gardener who delights to prune us to make us more fruitful, has not set us to do this work empty handed. He has given us tools, powerful tools to do the tasks He has given us. He has given us His Word, that serves to feed the weeds, that works as a mirror showing us where we fall short. He has given us the sacraments, that remind us that the job will one day be finished, and we will eat with the King. We have each other, spurring each other on to good works. And most important, we have His Spirit, who delights to work holiness in us, who is growing us into men and women who love God with all our heart, mind, soul and strength. We cannot afford toleave these tools rusting on the wall. They, unlike any other tools, only become stronger and more effective with greater use.

As we pull up the weeds in our garden, we find that we too will flourish. We find that we are growing in grace (for it is He who is working in us both to do and to will His good pleasure). The weeds lose their power to choke out the fruit we are called to produce. We don't want empty gardens, but gardens flowering with fruit. That's the connection between the purpose statement of The Highlands Study Center, to help Christians live more simple, separate and deliberate lives to the glory of God and for the building of His kingdom. All that we do is kingdom building. All that we do is the exercise of dominion, the tending of the garden. So if we poke you in the eye with either sword or trowel, please don't take offense. All it means is that one of us has a weed to pull. If we tromped on a flower, thinking it a weed, then our thinking needs to be corrected. (By the way, we love mail. We believe in encouraging each other unto good works enough that we love to be corrected). But if we tromp on a weed that you thought a flower, for goodness sake, be happy about it.

We need each other, and that rugged individualism whereby we go it alone, confident in our ability to examine our lives sufficiently without loving friends, that too is one of the weeds that comes from the world, not a flower that comes from the Word. We ought to take offense when our friends are silent, not when they tell us about the dandelions. They didn't put them there, and pretending they aren't there doesn't make them go away.

As you read, dig deep. Get your hands dirty. Look at yourself, and see if these things are not true. Remember as we consider the truth that we are slaves to our subterranean presuppositions, that it is the truth that sets us free.