One element of motivation for controversy that is difficult to identify and tough to prove, but which a look at our own hearts should convince us is real is this: sometimes we oppose a theological position or tradition because it makes us uncomfortable, specifically, by making us feel that we do not measure up. Of course, any examples I could put up of this, someone would dispute, citing intellectual disagreements with that tradition. And of course, such disagreements are rarely presented as, �Well, I don’t like that because it makes me feel that I am not a Christian.� But I think it is in general true that anyone who is a bit stricter or stronger on the law than we are, is a legalist or a moralist. It could be a sad person who does not understand the Gospel, or someone caught in the grip of the old nature still trying to obtain their own righteousness before God. Whatever the approach may be, sometimes one doubts that it really is an issue of doctrine at all, and suspects that it is rather a matter of the heart. Now that is not at all to say that real legalism or moralism could not inspire such feelings in us. Sometimes we may reject a position for that purely emotional reason, and actually have been right in the rejection, though not in the motivation. It would be quite a misreading if someone took this as a defence of legalism or moralism. To make somewhat more clear what I mean, let me risk an imprecise example. I have read narratives in books by Iain Murray and Faith Cook, for instance, about believers in the face of death and trial whose joy is thrilling; whose heroism is tear-jerking; and whose piety is humbling. And of course, it makes me feel that I don’t measure up. And since that is an uncomfortable feeling, one way of dealing with it is to deny that certain things in which these people far outstrip me are really of the essence of radical piety at all. This is by no means a plea for the cessation of distinguishing true from false piety or genuine guilt for things that ought to be repented of from a legalistic burden. It is a call to be careful of our motives for disagreement. May it never be that we reject an interpretation or a tradition simply because it makes us feel unworthy; in that case, I think we could never enter into the spirit of Psalm 51 at all. We want to reject what is an unbiblical imposition on the conscience of a believer; but we want to want to reject because it is unbiblical, not because it makes us ashamed of our laziness or dullness or domination by worldly ideals. In a way this is a call for tota scriptura. Let us hear the rebuke of James, that we are adulterers and adulteresses and that to be a friend of the world is to be an enemy of God: and let us hear the comfort of Peter, that we, who once were not a people, are now the people of God. But let us hear them together, and not reject James because he makes us squirm; nor take Peter because he makes us feel good; rather, let us receive them both because they wrote the word of God.
Returning to doctrines and traditions and our predecessors in the faith, we must be aware of the temptation to dismiss some of them, precisely because they surpassed us (while naturally disguising that with some doctrinal disagreement camouflage). For that folly, if applied consistently, would surely lead us to depart from Christ out of envy, resentment and spite; because He surpasses us all.