How Bad Can I Possibly Be?

“I meant no harm. I most truly did not.

But I had to grow bigger. So bigger I got.

I biggered my factory. I biggered my roads.

I biggered my wagons. I biggered the loads

Of the Thneeds I shipped out. I was shipping them forth

To the South! To the East! To the West! To the North!

I went right on biggering, selling more Thneeds.

And I biggered my money, which everyone needs.”

Dr. Seuss, The Lorax (1971)

 

The book was better. The book was always better.

The 2012 animated adaptation of Dr. Seuss classic poetical picture-book The Lorax was, in my view, a mistake. The Lorax is simply not of such a genre as to be successfully adaptable into a feature-length film: it’s too short for its events to constitute the entire plotline, but too downright good to be anything but worsened by their augmentation and expansion. Part of the brilliance of the book The Lorax is the very ambiguity of where it takes place and who these characters are: at no point, for instance, does the reader see the face of the Once-ler, despite the fact that he’s arguably the main character, nor are we given any real details about the identity of the boy whose trip to see the Once-ler represents the story’s framing device. These people could be anyone, anywhere, and that lends the ecological moral of the tale a great sense of universal applicability: if the characters are simply too anonymous to act as scapegoats onto which the blame for environmental problems might be shoved, then oneself, as the reader, is forced to acknowledge one’s own responsibility in this sphere. The film, by contrast, gives both these key characters, as well as a host of others, pretty specific identities and backstories. That whole element of inescapable accountability beyond the world of the story that made the book so effective is thus lost.

There is one part of the film, however, that I like very much indeed, namely the song ‘How Bad Can I Be?’, which is sung by the Once-ler during a montage of the growth of his Thneed business and the accompanying destruction of the Truffula forests (and their inhabitants) needed for Thneed manufacture, a section of the plot roughly equivalent to the few lines of the book I included in my opening quotation.¹ This is the song’s chorus:

How bad can I be?

I’m just doing what comes naturally.

How bad can I be?

I’m just following my destiny.

How bad can I be?

I’m just doing what comes naturally.

How bad can I be?

How bad can I possibly be?

The first verse consists of the Once-ler attempting to justify his wanton felling of countless Truffula trees using the biological principle of ‘survival of the fittest’, the second of him attempting to justify it using the economic principle of ‘money makes the world go round’. He then resumes the chorus in a variant form:

How bad can I be?

I’m just building the economy.

How bad can I be?

Just look at me petting this puppy.

How bad can I be?

A portion of proceeds goes to charity.

How bad can I be?

How bad can I possibly be?

This song is, I think, the point at which the film comes closest to its book counterpart in demanding moral self-scrutiny of its readers. The Once-ler is probably the protagonist and definitely a character with which the viewer is encouraged to empathise, yet at this point in the story, he firmly takes on a role as its villain – and so those lyrics are perhaps the best articulation of the human propensity for denial of our sinfulness that I have ever come across in a secular motion picture. It is so painfully obvious to the viewer that what the Once-ler is doing is horribly avaricious and self-seeking and uncompassionate and, in a word, wrong, but the Once-ler himself just throws out excuse after flimsy excuse for why his actions are perfectly acceptable, acknowledges no need for change, and goes on doing what he’s doing.

Surely all of us have tried the same trick before God. I think we often try a lot of the same excuses, actually.

How bad can I be? I’m just doing what comes naturally. That is to say, a proclivity to a particular sin exists in my fallen heart, and it’s easier to vindicate that as an element of my God-given personality than to seriously wage war against the sin in question.² I’ll give a personal example, just so this isn’t all in the abstract: I have very little natural talent for offering emotional support (of a kind that isn’t just trying to fix the problem at hand) to the distressed, and am far from comfortable doing so, a fact which I am often tempted to employ as a convenient get-out clause from the Bible’s exhortation to weep with those who weep and so forth.³

How bad can I be? I’m just following my destiny. That is to say, an opportunity has arisen for me to do something I want to do, and it’s easier to assume that God is ‘opening a door’ for me than to acknowledge that pursuing said opportunity entails sinning. Personal example: I have, as yet, never done very badly on any piece of assessed work at university level. The circumstances are practically begging me to ground at least some corner of my identity and security in academic success instead of in Christ and, far too often, that’s exactly what I do.

How bad can I be? I’m just building the economy. That is to say, my indulging in a particular sin would appear ostensibly to be having beneficial effects on others, and it’s easier to pretend that the ends justify the means than to give up the sin and the benefit together. Personal example: I have, after more than one church service, been complimented on my singing voice, or told that hearing me sing has been encouraging in some measure, affording me a handy pretext for concentrating more on how I sound when I’m singing a worship song than the one I’m actually supposed to be worshipping. The edification of my fellow-believers is the ostensible benefit, my loathsome pride and self-obsession the sin it conceals.

How bad can I be? A portion of proceeds goes to charity. That is to say, I would seem to be doing pretty well at living for Jesus in other areas of my life, and it’s easier to kid myself that it’s possible to use godliness in some areas to offset sinfulness in others than to commit my whole self to becoming more holy. Personal example: by the grace of God, I’ve got a lot better of late at steering my mind clear of wilful sexual fantasy, but that means I’ll often compensate myself by indulging in other kinds of fantasies that, though they might seem more innocuous, are actually just as rooted in sin. Mainly they involve me being really impressive and other people being really impressed – pride again.

And if I thought the Once-ler was unconvincing when he came up with this stuff, how much more so am I! How bad can I be? Immeasurably. And I think-

Um, excuse me, could I say something?

Sorry, who are you?

Oh, sorry, I thought you’d recognise me; I’m the Imaginary Interlocutor. I live in the bit of your head where we manufacture counterarguments against and criticisms of everything you write. I’ve been in quite a few of your blog posts, actually.

Really? I’m terribly sorry, I don’t remember.

Well, thinking about it, I suppose you wouldn’t. I’m not normally very ostentatious, you know; I’m quite content to leave no more trace than an outline of a foil for your argument, a hypothetical question, perhaps an objection placed in the mouth of your reader. I don’t like to make a habit of speaking directly. It can be a tad confusing, and gives off the unfortunate impression that you spend most of your time refuting imaginary theological arguments in your head.

Well, I do spend quite a lot of time refuting imaginary theological arguments in my head.

Granted.

What was it you wanted to say?

Well, it’s just that … you’re talking about sin again. I mean, again. You do realise you talk about sin an awful lot on this blog? I mean, I get that it’s important and all, but the constant, unrelenting repetition of the whole ‘identify-and-express-suitable-shame-over-particular-sin-then-make-some-overwhelmingly-inadequate-statement-about-the-brilliance-of-the-cross’ thing-

The whole ‘repent-and-believe’ thing, you mean?

Whatever, you say tomato. The point is, it’s getting a bit dull. Would it kill you to change the record?

Um, yes, quite possibly it actually would.

I don’t follow.

Can we go back to the Once-ler and ‘How Bad Can I Be?’?

*Sigh.* If we must.

Thank you kindly. Here’s the thing: we’ve established that the Once-ler is totally unconvincing when he tries to pass himself off as a decent enough chap. To the viewer, it’s obvious that he’s basically a total scumbag. But the Once-ler himself is completely blind to the fact: how bad can I possibly be? And it’s the fact that he’s persuaded himself that he’s not that bad that removes any obstacle there might have been to him getting worse and worse and worse. It’s the fact that he won’t acknowledge any problem that prevents him from accepting any solution.

If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, [God] is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. – 1 John 1:8-9⁴

The reason I can’t let myself shut up about my sin is because if I do, I’ll start to deceive myself. I’ll drift into forgetting that it’s a problem – the biggest problem, in fact, in all existence – and that I need a solution of similarly titanic proportions. Slowly, I’ll forget that I need Jesus’ sacrifice on my behalf, that I need it desperately, more than I need the blood in my veins and the oxygen in my lungs. Without the righteousness given me in Christ, I can have no place in God’s kingdom, no place in the immortal order. And that, my dear Imaginary Interlocutor, is what real death is. So yes, it might very well kill me to change the record.

But, magnificently, if I acknowledge my sin before God, he is faithful and just to recognise it as already paid for by my Lord and Saviour’s death in my place. That’s a promise, that he will never lay any of my wrongdoing to my charge, provided I acknowledge that only in Christ – and not possibly by any activity of my own, since my natural self exists in helpless slavery to sin – is it atoned for.

That means not alleging pathetic excuses for my sin – just doing what comes naturally, just following my destiny and so forth. It means calling my sin what it is and knowing that I stand no chance of dealing with it by myself, but that, mercifully, Jesus has already dealt with it all. It means remembering that every day, lest I end up like the Once-ler, oblivious to my own wrongdoing even as I stand surrounded by the smouldering ruins of beautiful things that are its result.

If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.

But,

Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.

Blessed is the man against whom the Lord counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit. – Psalm 32:1-2 (emphasis mine, obviously)⁵

Does that satisfy you, my dear Imaginary Interlocutor?

Of course not. You must remember that I pretty much exist for nothing other than to provide counterarguments against everything you have to say.

That is a pity. Ah well, it was worth a try.

In conclusion: how bad can I be? Immeasurably. Grossly. You don’t even want to know. But never to such an extent that the most mind-boggling act of unmerited mercy in the whole of history, my Saviour’s death on my behalf, can’t handle it.

So does that mean-

Shush. This post has gone on long enough as things are.

But does it mean-

No. Romans 6. Can we please take this argument back into my head and stop bothering my charming readers with it?

Footnotes

¹ Do take the opportunity to familiarise yourself with the song before reading further: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYmrPn1CnzY. First off, it’ll probably be quite useful for understanding what the heck I’m on about, and second, it’s a really fun song.

² On this point, you might also like to check out my post ‘Myers-Briggs and Morality’, under ‘July’ in the box on the right.

³ See Romans 12:15 for that particular exhortation.

⁴ Whole chapter: https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20John+1&version=ESVUK. Go on, it’s only short.

⁵ I’d probably call this one a favourite: https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm+32&version=ESVUK.