Sometimes a throwaway comment refuses to be thrown away.
A friend and I were talking about something good that might happen in her life—something she had hoped for and prayed about for a long time. But she was reluctant even to acknowledge the possibility. Better not to get too excited. Better not to tell anyone. Better not to hope too much, just in case it didn’t happen.
I understood the instinct. Who doesn’t?
“Expect nothing good and you’ll never be disappointed,” I teased.
“Well,” she said, “that’s just human nature.”
And without really thinking about it, I replied, “Then maybe that’s the human nature you need to deny.”
I’ve been thinking about that exchange ever since. Because she was right. It is human nature.
We protect ourselves from disappointment. We manage our expectations. We keep hope at arm’s length so it can’t hurt quite as much if things don’t turn out the way we want.
And suddenly I began wondering how many other things I excuse with those same four words:
“It’s just human nature.”
Maybe it’s really just the grown-up version of an argument we learned a long time ago.
You probably said it as a kid:
“But everybody else is doing it!”
And if you grew up when I did, there was a pretty standard parental response:
“Well, if everybody else jumped off a bridge, would you jump too?”
We didn’t know it at the time, but Mom was employing reductio ad absurdum—taking our argument to its ridiculous conclusion to demonstrate just how faulty our reasoning was.
Eventually, we grew up. We quit saying, “Everybody else does it.” We found a much more sophisticated justification for doing what we do.
“Well, it’s just human nature.”
And we are human, after all. We have natural tendencies. We have default responses. We do, as the old song says, what comes naturally.
What Comes Naturally
So what kinds of things belong in the human nature box?
Self-preservation — Protect yourself first.
Gossip — Pass along that interesting little tidbit. After all, it’s true.
Pride — Make sure you get the credit.
Worry — Of course you’re worried. Who wouldn’t be?
Control — If you don’t take care of everything, who will?
Impatience — Why can’t everyone just get with the program?
Anger — You have every right to be mad after what she did.
People-pleasing — Be sure everybody likes you.
And we could keep going: comparison, jealousy, discontentment, defensiveness, blaming, keeping score, holding grudges.
Human nature.
But here’s the problem:
Called Beyond What Comes Naturally
The apostle Paul knew that struggle intimately:
“I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate…. I want to do what is good, but I don’t…. I have discovered this principle of life—that when I want to do what is right, I inevitably do what is wrong.”— Romans 7:15, 18–19, 21 NLT
Does that sound familiar? Paul doesn’t deny the struggle. He doesn’t pretend that following Jesus somehow erased all those natural impulses. But he doesn’t excuse them, either.
He finally cries out:
“Oh, what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death?”
And then comes the answer:
“Thank God! The answer is in Jesus Christ our Lord.”— Romans 7:24–25 NLT
Scripture never presents our natural inclinations as trustworthy simply because they are natural. Jeremiah warned:
“The human heart is the most deceitful of all things, and desperately wicked. Who really knows how bad it is?”— Jeremiah 17:9 NLT
Jesus didn’t come to help us become slightly better versions of our old selves. He came to give us new life. And then He said something that runs directly against our natural inclination:
“If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross daily, and follow me.”— Luke 9:23 NLT
Give up your own way. Deny yourself.
Maybe another way to say it is:
Deny the Default
Denying the default doesn’t mean forcing ourselves into its opposite. Fear doesn’t require manufactured optimism. Worry isn’t conquered by pretending everything will turn out exactly as we hope. That’s not Christian faith either.
The Christlike alternative to “I won’t hope because I might be disappointed” isn’t presumption.
It’s trust.
I can rejoice in today’s good news without demanding tomorrow’s outcome. I can hope without knowing what God will do. And if disappointment comes, I don’t have to protect myself from it in advance because my confidence isn’t ultimately in the outcome.
That’s what I was trying to say to my friend.
Denying the default isn’t about denying your God-given personality, interests, gifts, quirks, preferences, or individuality. It’s denying the default setting of the flesh that whispers:
Protect yourself.
Talk about her.
Take the credit.
Worry about everything.
Control everything.
Lose your patience.
Get mad.
Make sure they like you.
Because here’s the thing:
Human nature may explain the default. It doesn’t excuse the default.
Jesus actually addressed this very idea in the Sermon on the Mount. Of course we love people who love us. That’s natural. Jesus asks, essentially, What’s remarkable about that? Everybody does it.
“If you love only those who love you, what reward is there for that? Even corrupt tax collectors do that much.”— Matthew 5:46 NLT
Human nature says, Love the people who love you. Jesus says, “Love your enemies.”
Human nature says, Get even. Jesus says, Forgive.
Human nature says, Look out for yourself. Jesus says, Serve.
Human nature says, Make sure people notice. Jesus says, Do it in secret.
Human nature says, Hold tightly to what is yours. Jesus says, Give.
Human nature says, Put yourself first. Jesus says, Take up your cross.
Following Jesus has never been about doing what comes naturally. It’s about choosing Christ when what He asks of us is the exact opposite of what comes naturally.
Joshua told the Israelites, “Choose today whom you will serve.” (Joshua 24:15)
That choice isn’t made only once. We make it again and again in the ordinary moments when our natural inclination and the way of Jesus point in opposite directions.
Human nature or Christ?
Alicia Britt Chole writes in 40 Days of Decrease, “In the small, undocumented details of life, choose Jesus over self.”
That’s where most of these choices happen, isn’t it? Not in the grand, public moments when we boldly announce that we have decided to follow Jesus, but in the small, undocumented ones.
When I’m tempted to compare.
When I want to defend myself.
When I want to tell the story that isn’t mine to tell.
When I insist on having my way.
When I’m angry enough to believe I have a right to stay angry.
When everything in me wants to do what comes naturally.
“It’s just human nature” shouldn’t be the end of the conversation.
For the follower of Jesus, that’s where the choice begins.
Because Mom was right all along.
Everybody else may be doing it.
It may even be human nature.
But that doesn’t mean I have to jump.
