Sin, the Problem of Grace, and White Lotus
How to think about human nature.
I often joke that I wrote my dissertation on sin because I’m an expert in it—on more than one level. But after six years of wrestling with the topic, including while writing Jesus of the East, I’ve finally begun to piece together a more robust view of human nature.
Andrew Sung Park once said that the only category Christians have to describe the problem of evil in the world is “sin.” But the Church—and Christian theology—has created another problem: how to deal with sin. Rather than healing the wound that often leads to more sin, the Church has historically focused on offering grace to the sinner instead of the sinned against. Yes, within any one person, there can be an admixture of both. But a good physician treats the disease, not just the symptoms. To stop the cycle of sin, the wound must be healed.
This was the work of Jesus—not to rescue people for a post-death existence, but to bring restoration to those wounded by a wounding world.
Too often, the Church has been preoccupied with granting absolution to those who caused harm, while neglecting the healing of those who were harmed. And perhaps this misalignment stems from a backwards understanding of how humans actually function, and what we are meant to become.
The Hebrew and Greek words for sin originate in non-religious contexts. At their core, they mean “to miss the mark.” Imagine an archer or spear-thrower aiming at a target. All of us are aiming—we act, think, speak, and choose in pursuit of what we believe to be right or beneficial. Even those we might judge to be the worst among us are still trying to secure some perceived good for themselves. And yes, I’m invoking my old friend Aristotle here.
(If you didn’t know, I keep a bust of Aristotle in my office. Thomas Aquinas once called him “the philosopher who knows.” Aristotle gave us a framework for knowledge—and while he certainly missed the mark on plenty, when it comes to human nature, he got more right than wrong.)
We all pursue what we believe will bring us happiness, or what he called eudaimonia—flourishing. In other words, even when our actions appear wrong or harmful, they are aimed at a perceived good. When people “miss the mark,” they are not doing so intentionally. They’re aiming—they’re just getting it wrong.
So if no one really intends to miss the mark, what is sin?
Many theologians have tried to explain it through the idea of a sinful nature—suggesting that we are incapable of not sinning. Conveniently, the only path to freedom from sin is then found through the Church and its sacraments. But what if that story isn’t working—neither for the Church nor for the world?
I’d rather describe human nature differently. What goes wrong is not that we’re inherently depraved, but that many of us struggle to bring our true intentions to the surface. Often, they remain hidden in the subconscious—formed by the stories we’ve absorbed, the beliefs we’ve buried, the identities we’ve inherited. And we live out those stories whether they serve us or not.
All we ever see are the manifestations—our actions, attitudes, feelings, and speech. And when those expressions are deemed wrong or harmful, we rarely take the time to uncover the deeper story that led us there. The Church, instead, has been quick to label such behaviors as “sin” and slot them into moral categories. I’m not here to debate what qualifies as sin and what doesn’t. I’m saying that moralization, without deeper reflection, creates more sickness—in both the Church and the world.
Instead of sacraments that impose grace like a bandage, people need guidance that helps them reach their true aims. The Church has told its own story well—but it has too often failed to help people tell theirs, let alone live into one that approaches wholeness and flourishing.
We need grace and forgiveness—but only insofar as they help us release old wounds and relinquish the belief that punishment will restore us. Healing comes from within, when we honor the deep need to mend. What is vengeance, after all, if not the misguided hope that retribution can bring resolution? Even vengeance, distorted as it is, seeks some vision of the good.
After watching the third season of White Lotus, I looked over at Paula and said, “Is this show about being unhappy no matter how beautiful the setting?” Once again, it told the story of suffering—not because of the lack of beauty or luxury, but because the characters couldn’t face the wounds we all carry. No amount of money, status, sex, or romance could fill that void. Especially in this season (no spoilers here), we witness something unravel that’s entirely preventable—if only the characters had the courage to face themselves, to tell another story.
Even though those characters can’t do this, we don’t need to feel imprisoned by the ways we look at human nature.
So what is our task?
It is not to discard the Church’s language, but to use it rightly—to make real and tangible change. We don’t need to erase the words sin or evil. We need to reveal how they’ve been misused to justify harm and maintain power. And then we need to show how true healing can happen—when we help people rediscover their intentions and live into a story that makes them whole.
This means we can:
Acknowledge the wounds we’ve received—and the ones we’ve inflicted
Learn to heal in a way that breaks the cycle of hurt
Seek wholeness through the abundant resources already within us
If you ever need help, I’m here. I’m not claiming I’ve found the way, but I’ve found a way—one that brings wholeness, healing, and peace.
You won’t have to dig up your childhood or confess anything uncomfortable. You don’t even need to change your beliefs. We’ll simply ask two questions:
“What do you want?”
“Is it working for you?”
And that’s often enough. The answers—just for you—can open doors in your career, relationships, finances, or whatever part of life feels stuck.
If you’re the ready student, I’m the teacher who can help.
Love the optimism of 'the abundant resources within us.' How wise is that statement! We so too often look outside ourselves instead of within. Thanks for this reminder!