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When Others Fall

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Too often as Christians we have a tendency to feel a strange sense of pride when we hear that a fellow Christian has fallen into sin. We share prayer requests for Christians who are caught up in disobedience, and we shake our heads with concern, inwardly judging that we are doing better than that fallen one, that we may not be perfect, but at least we aren’t where he is. We grow pride-puffed with even the slightest indication that we are more righteous than another. But, there could be no feeling in the world more in tune with the devil himself than pride, especially in the face of another’s sin problem.

Instead of feeling proud of ourselves when we hear about a sin issue in another, we should be filled with fear and conviction, knowing that in our next breath it could just as easily be us. Our immediate reaction should be humility and trembling, remembering that we, too, are vulnerable to any manner of temptation. In fact, the second we decide we have become elevated beyond any sin, we have invited pride into our hearts, making our own goodness an idol to be toppled.

Sin should always a be a source of grief, whether we are observing it in ourselves or in someone else. Pride has no place here. We are but sinners saved by the grace of a holy, majestic God, and when we begin to feel proud of ourselves, when we begin to take credit and pat ourselves on the back, looking down on those sinners who aren’t as far along on the path to perfection as we are, we had better brace ourselves for a fall of epic proportions. Realistically, when we allow pride to grow in our hearts, when we ooze outwardly with compassion for a sinner but smile inwardly with self-regard, we have already fallen into a pit of sin.

We must resist the urge to compare our best moments to someone else’s worst. As Christians we have only one touchstone: Jesus Christ. When we keep Him in steady view, we are much less likely to be wooed by our own good deeds, and we are much more likely to have genuine compassion for our fellow sinners.

When Laundry is Your Biggest Sin Problem

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Sometimes I’m struck by the absurdity of modern moral codes. We live in an age when it’s permissible to get on the internet and say anything you want in the cruelest and most harsh ways. In a time when moms everywhere are decorating their homes with throw pillows and supposedly esoteric art pieces that feature the f-word, simply because they find it amusing. When abortions are wiping out huge numbers of the next generation of human beings. We live in a world where men and women alike can’t make it through the day without watching videos of violent sexual acts in which women and children are victimized in the most horrific ways. Yet, over and over again I see posts on social media about what a worthless human you are if you don’t return a shopping cart when you go to the grocery store.

A recent Barna survey asked Christian women what their biggest sin struggle is, and the top two answers were disorganization and inefficiency. First of all, is a messy laundry room really classified as a sin? And are these really the worst things that women believe they are struggling with?

The less connected we are to God’s word, the less we will be able to recognize and understand sin and biblical answers to moral and ethical questions. As a whole our culture  is moving further away from the Bible every day. Even professing Christians are distancing themselves from the scripture or are so unfamiliar with it that they have no real understanding of their sin as it relates to a holy and perfect God.  I suppose it only makes sense from there that people begin creating their own brand of morality, one where leaving a shopping cart or having dirty dishes in your sink is more grievous than jealousy or hatred or lust or even murder.

These are times for self-examination. Times for letting God’s word form our worldview and not the confused, godless culture that we are now living in. These are times for mining the depths of our own hearts and considering whether we truly know Christ or we are just going through half-hearted motions. Any woman who would claim that her biggest sin issue is disorganization has an extremely stunted understanding of who she really is or how depraved and wicked, how desperately in need of a Savior. A woman who believes that inefficiency is her most urgent sin struggle has little comprehension of her position before the God of the Universe. In these survey answers there is no hint of Isaiah’s confession as he fell at the feet of the Lord: “Woe to me! I am ruined!”

It’s likely that many of the women Barna surveyed who claim to be Christians are, in fact, not. But, even among those who are truly converted there is a real lack of comprehension when it comes to the holiness of God. As long as large chunks of Christianity believe that their habitual sins are not that bad, as long as churches are fooled into thinking that shopping carts and messy desks are bigger problems than pornography and racism, jealousy and pride, the church will grow more and more ineffective in showing the world what it really means to follow Christ and to love Him with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength. And as long as Christians fail to identify and kill sin in the Body of Christ, we are proving to the world that we don’t read or live by the book that we claim changes everything.

We can’t be sensitive to the Holy Spirit, identifying and eradicating sin in our lives, unless we read scripture and do what it says. We can’t see ourselves accurately until we see God for all that He is. We can’t even begin to reach for sanctification and holiness until we begin to see the utter holiness of our great God as He is revealed in the Bible. Until we turn to His word, until we study it and live with it and treat it like food and air, then we will never be able to untangle the mystery of the human experience, and we will be fooled into believing that things like shopping carts separate the decent people from the awful ones. It’s all just posturing until we get real about the awful in our own hearts.

It’s time to take a closer look at ourselves.

Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting! Psalm 139: 23-24

Your Body is a Temple, Not an Idol

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Today I ran across an article about how science has now supposedly proven what the most attractive body type is. I clicked over, hoping that we have finally started moving back toward pale and chunky, like the objects of beauty in the paintings from the Renaissance. Imagine my disappointment when I realized that the article was comparing women who are thin vs. women who are thin who also have muscles. By the way, thin, muscular women are supposedly the ideal body type. Apparently now just being thin isn’t enough.

Those types of articles are poison to our hearts and minds.

I’ve heard it said that an idol is anything that you love more than you love God. But, have you ever considered that an idol can also be something that you think about more than you think about God? Even if it’s something that you hate? I wonder how many women out there, if we really admit it, spend a large portion of every day obsessing about the way we look? How many times a day do you have a hateful thought about some body part you despise? How often do you long for a body or face like someone else? Have you ever, like me, left the house for church on Sunday morning completely crushed by the feeling that you are not attractive enough?

Or maybe you are on the other side of things. Maybe you love your body so much that you show it off at every opportunity. Maybe it is what defines who you are in your mind. Maybe you love your face so much that you spend large chunks of your day taking selfies so that you can get the approval of the world on social media.

How can we not see that we are idolizing our bodies?

It must be one of hell’s favorite ways to make us spiritually blind. Because here is the truth about an obsession with appearance: it doesn’t just shift our focus from our spiritual condition to our physical. It also changes the way we see other people. Suddenly we aren’t looking at the people around us with spiritual eyes. We are thinking about their size or their skin or their hair. We’re playing a constant game of comparison, and we can begin despising those that we feel have been physically blessed. Instead of seeing them for who they are, we see them for what they wear and how long their eyelashes are and how they never struggle with acne and how they seem to be able to eat whatever they want. And there is no spiritual goodness in that. There is no love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness, or self-control in that. There is only pettiness and a brand of judgment that de-values humanity.

What more could Satan want in the women of Christ?

Let’s be brutally honest. At the heart of an obsession with our bodies is the desire to make women jealous and men lustful. I know we don’t want to hear it, but that is the basic truth of the situation. We want to be admired and adored and honored and we want the head seat at the banquet table, and isn’t that what all sin really comes down to? A desire to steal as much glory as we can? It began with the very first sin in the garden, when Eve realized that what she really wanted was to be God’s equal.

In 1 Corinthians 6, Paul warns against sexual immorality, and then he drops this truth that should bring us to our knees:  Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies. (v.20-21)

Why in the world do we pine for the fleeting power that comes with physical beauty when we have the eternal and perfect power of the Holy Spirit inside these shells? When we obsess about our appearance, when we waste heart space longing to look like someone else, when we starve ourselves and punish ourselves and hate ourselves because we don’t meet some arbitrary standard, and even when we desperately try to maintain a beauty that the Bible clearly tells us is temporary, we are not honoring God with our bodies. We are like the Pharisees, honoring God with our lips when our hearts are far from Him. (Matt. 15:8)

We should strive to look and feel our best. But, the endless soundtrack that we keep playing to ourselves? The one that says if we aren’t beautiful we don’t matter? The one that says that God bestows beauty on some and not on others because He is cruel? The one that wishes God had done a little bit better job of forming us? The one that causes us to resent women who have more of what we want? It is killing our spiritual growth. It is blocking our spiritual vision. And, it is making us fear the world more than we fear God.

Jesus came to this earth a humble servant. He could have chosen any body, any face. He could have been born as a beautiful little baby who grew into a movie star of a man. He could have given Himself those piercing blue eyes that we see in paintings. He could have had gorgeous hair and a chiseled face, and He could have caused people to swoon every place He went.  But, the Bible tells us that He had no beauty or majesty that would draw people to Him. (Isaiah 53:2) He was an ordinary looking guy. Or maybe He was even considered physically unattractive. It wasn’t His face that He wanted people to remember. It was the glory of God. His only concern was bringing glory to the Father.

We have the same glorifying power living inside these imperfect bodies today. Instead of spending all day thinking about how we wish we were seen by physical eyes, we should begin praying that no one will remember a thing about our physical appearance once we’re gone–that they will only remember the God-glorifying light that pours out of us everywhere we go, unfettered by our former obsession with ourselves.

When Our Beautiful Mess Isn’t

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I’m not going to lie. The kids and I have spent a lot of time listening to the Beatles lately. As one who was raised on the Beatles by Baby Boomer parents, I take some satisfaction in hearing all three of my kids belt out “She Loves You” at the top of their lungs while we drive home from school.

They are quite concerned about the spiritual well-being of the remaining members of the group, and Adelade and Sawyer are each currently writing letters to Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr, inviting them to come to our small town for church. But, if the traveling is too much of a hassle, Sawyer advised Ringo, “You don’t even have to come here for church. You could just go to First Baptist London.”

Yesterday in Sunday school, Emerald’s class was studying Paul’s letters to Timothy. As part of her lesson, she was supposed to write a letter to someone who has taught her something, thanking them. And, here is what she came up with:


Not exactly the “Sunday school answer” her teachers were probably looking for. Thankfully, they all have a great sense of humor and seem to be somewhat delighted when kids (especially the pastor’s kids) are a little weird.

Despite the fact that Emerald is possibly corrupting everyone in her Sunday school class, we really do occasionally listen to Christian music. Just a few days ago, I turned on a Christian radio station in time to hear a soundbyte from one of the DJs: “Just remember, nothing in your past is a mistake….if you learned from it.”

While the electric guitar kicked off the next song, I sat there shaking my head, wondering how it is that this is where mainstream Christianity has landed, in a place where sin is nothing more than “beautiful messiness,” where our pasts have to be declared good in order for us to feel that we can be redeemed from them.

God’s goodness is beautiful. His grace. His redemption. But, our past sin? Our current sin? Ugly. And all a huge, rotten, stinking mistake. If we call it anything else, we are denying our need for a Savior, and we are refusing to live in a posture of repentance and gratefulness for all that God’s love can rescue us from.

Can you imagine David looking at the overwhelming sins of his past and saying that they weren’t mistakes because he learned from them? Instead, he talked about his “broken spirit,” his “broken and contrite heart.” (Psalm 51) We don’t have to live under the condemnation of past sin, but we do need to have a proper view of what our sin means in the gospel story, and we don’t ever need to forget how depraved we really are. Once we start dismissing our past (or current) sin as nothing more than a good learning opportunity, then we have lost sight of how much we need Jesus and how far He had to go in order to redeem us in our sinful state. It should always grieve us to know that we sinned against God, even if He gave us a happy ending despite our disobedience. Anything we glean from past mistakes is a gift of the Holy Spirit, but it isn’t a means of justifying what we have done.

We are so desperate to call sin anything else that even our Christian radio stations assure us that there is no such thing as a mistake. Don’t be fooled, friends. Sin is waiting at your door, eager and willing to devour you heart and soul. I know a twelve year old and a nine year old who are willing to write letters to two brilliant old rock stars to tell them the truth about the sin that is killing them. Shouldn’t we be able to expect the same of each other? Of our Christian radio stations and books and pastors? Shouldn’t the church be about truth-telling and truth-believing, and not glossing over sin because that’s what seems most pleasant to do?

Don’t try to turn your sin into a show of you pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, of pride and self-satisfaction. There is plenty in your past and mine that is a mistake, no matter what we learned from it. Sin is wicked and wounds God’s heart. Let’s not ever let ourselves be lulled into believing otherwise.

What I Still Haven’t Really Learned at 40

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Today I’m 40 years old. The kids have been so into my birthday. For two days Emerald has been saying, “Happy birthday, Mama! You’re 50!” And all I can picture is me walking around in stretchy pants, doing high kicks, declaring that I’m 50 years old. Thankfully, I am not quite there yet, although I did recently discover that I can still do a cartwheel. It’s funny how things that every kid can do become suddenly impressive when you’re 40. I suppose that’s one benefit of getting older.

I’ve been working out my salvation with fear and trembling for about 32 years. God has been so good. He has been patient and kind and encouraging and powerful. He has turned me around and forced me to look up and has put a burning desire within me to speak the truth and to try to live the truth. I have grown so much in these 40 years, but there are some things I still haven’t really learned. And, these are the things that keep me tethered in large and small ways to this world, that make me love myself more than I love Christ. If I could only pray one prayer for my next decade, it would be that I truly learn that these are the things that stunt my sanctification and that grieve the good God who rescued me.

It isn’t about me. Everything within me reaches for glory like a sunflower reaches for the sunlight. I have to constantly fight my need for praise and honor, and it shows, in my parenting, in my marriage, in my blogging, in my ministering. It’s a sickness, this urge to steal the glory that belongs to Christ. Lord, help me to live for your glory alone. Help me to be reminded, even when it’s painful, that this life isn’t about me. It’s about you.

Rule following doesn’t equal holiness. I am a rule-lover from way back. It’s easy for me to rest in my ability to follow the rules, and I have very little patience with those who break rules. I am lacking in compassion when it comes to those who are struggling, even though when I struggle I expect patience and understanding. My love for rules often trumps my love for people, and I tend to have more of a relationship with moral behavior than I do with Jesus. Lord, please help me to remember that rule-following doesn’t please you if my heart is hard and prideful. Open my heart to people and help me to grow in compassion and understanding.

Out of the mouth, the heart speaks. I often feel convicted about what I say. I talk when I should be quiet, and I say things that I should never allow to leave my lips. I say that I have a hard time controlling my tongue, but the truth of the matter is that what comes out of my mouth is only a symptom of what is really inside of me. So, it’s not my mouth I need to tame, it’s me. My sinful and selfish heart. Instead of harsh words or gossip, prayer should be what’s pouring out of me. Prayer and praise and encouragement and love. Jesus, help me to tame my heart so that I can tame my tongue. Give me the desires of your heart instead the selfish wants of mine.

Every milestone in life is a good opportunity for some soul-searching. At 40, these are a few of the ways that I clearly see I need to grow and change. I know I can, with Christ’s help. One thing I have learned through the years is that I never have to give up hope that He can change me and make me more like Him. If I want to be a more fruitful disciple, a more loving wife, a more influential mother, a wiser friend, then these are three areas that I know must change. Maybe by the time I’m 50, I can put on my stretchy pants and do a few high kicks, knowing that Jesus has had another decade to mold me into someone more like Him. He has already proven that He is the most faithful friend. I love Him. But, I want to love Him more. I believe, Jesus. Help me in my unbelief.

It Turns Out That Mom Shirts Matter

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My Facebook newsfeed is filled with little boutiques that are marketing to moms like me, basic church-going women with 2.5 kids and a dog and the proverbial white picket fence who want to look cute when they’re running errands. I’ve noticed a huge rise in tshirts with little saying for moms: #momlife, Running on Coffee and Dry Shampoo, Mama Bear, Messy Bun and Getting Stuff Done, Mommin’ Ain’t Easy.

You get the picture.

The stuff is cute and harmless and lets moms show a sense of humor about our day-to-day struggles in parenting. But, as this trend has caught on, it’s also produced a different kind of tshirt that is a symptom of some things that we really need to consider as Christians. There is another breed of mom shirt that goes more like this: I love Jesus (but I cuss a little),  All I Need is Jesus with a side of Gangsta Rap, We pray on them Sundays, and we cuss on them Mondays.

These tshirts are adorably printed and at first glance may seem like a harmless way to point out that none of us is perfect. After all, admitting that we are sinners is an essential part of salvation and sanctification. We have to continually be mindful of our tendency to do what we shouldn’t–how else will we maintain a proper (humble) view of ourselves when compared to the perfection of Christ? But, I believe there is more to these shirts than a striving to stay humble.

Some years ago, a couple of buzzwords started cropping up in Christian circles. Transparency. Being real. No perfect people allowed. We were reacting against a stuffy church culture where Christians felt like they could never admit that they had failings and sin issues. We didn’t want a church life filled with a bunch of people who were pretending to be perfect. We wanted to feel free to open up to each other about our struggles, to lay our sin bare in order to better kill it. At least, I hope that’s what we were trying to do.

But, somewhere along the way, worldly wisdom crept in, as it often does, and we began to see our shortcomings as some kind of badge of honor. We actually began to take pride in our openness and in the very sins that are killing us. We laughed about our vices and joked about the things that were separating us from God. And, here we are, years later, and we don’t even realize that we are buying tshirts that advertise nothing more than a nominal Christian life. That is, Christian in name only. Not in true repentance or in heartbreak over our sin or in power or in truth. When we don’t even see the folly in wearing a shirt that speaks the precious name of Jesus in the same breath as a love for gangster rap.

I don’t know much about gangster rap, but according to the internet, here are a few things the genre promotes:  crime, serial killing, murder, violence, profanity, sex addiction, homophobia, racism, promiscuity, misogyny, rape, street gangs, disorderly conduct, drive-by shootings, vandalism, thievery, driving under the influence, drug dealing, alcohol abuse, substance abuse, disregarding law enforcement, materialism, and narcissism.

I don’t see anything in there that should even remotely be linked to the Christian life, unless we’re talking about Jesus’ ability to rescue us from all of those things and more. Yet, sweet little mamas are buying these tshirts, not even understanding what they are saying about the Christian faith, about what it means to be a follower of Christ, about the true Christian’s serious call to holiness and godliness.

How can this be? Because we have allowed our faith to remain so intertwined with the world. We have said, Sure, I’ll take a little bit of Jesus, but I also want a little bit of cussing and a little bit of entertainment that is directly opposed to His word and a little bit of being okay with the sins that stand in the way of my growth and hurt my witness.  After all, I don’t want to get too radical about this stuff. I’m not a weirdo.

And, slowly, slowly, with every little wordly decision that we make, we teach our kids and our mom friends and the lady at the grocery store that Christianity is just a little bit of a life change. Jesus only expects a little bit out of us. And, His power is only a little bit relevant to our day-to-day lives.

You may have one of these tshirts in your closet. I’m not condemning you for ordering a tshirt. It’s really not about the tshirt, you see? It’s so much deeper than that. It’s the fact that we have become so numb to the sick way that our world operates that we don’t even mind opening our hearts and minds to the sins that are destroying us this very minute. We are all infected with it–with a love for the things of this depraved world. But, the second we decide that killing the sin in our lives isn’t a priority, that’s the instant that we turn Christianity into a powerless, not-much-of-anything religion that is a little bit useful only when a crisis arises. This is not the abundant life Jesus promised. We are trading in the abundance of Christ for a cheap, faulty, wicked world.

And then we buy the tshirt.

Two Minutes Before the Wedding

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The wedding ceremony was going to start in five minutes, and Chad and I were in his office, trying to quickly hash out an argument we had been stewing over since the night before. It was going to be difficult for him, the pastor, to go out there and deliver an inspiring wedding day talk if his own wife was glaring at him from the audience.

We hate fighting. We both apologized and I rested my cheek on his as we stood there in a familiar embrace, both really unsure how to resolve the situation except to just get over it. We agreed that we would, and we parted ways, still awkwardly upset, but determined to put it behind us.

By the time I gathered our kids and found my spot in the sanctuary, most of the wedding guests were already in their places. A side door opened, and in walked the groom and his groomsmen. Chad led them to their places, and as the wedding music started, he turned to look at me, and he grinned.

It was a grin that saw the humor in the fact that we had been arguing in his office two minutes earlier. That here, at a beautiful ceremony that celebrates love and thanks God for marriage, we were living proof that marriage will sometimes cause you to waste a whole day being angry at the person you love most. And, it was also a grin that knew that everything is really okay.

I’m thankful for a life in pastoral ministry. Many couples can go weeks or months or even years without ever facing the ways that they are sinning against each other. But, a pastor and his wife always have a Sunday morning or a Sunday evening or a Wednesday night coming. They always have a wedding ceremony or a funeral to prepare for. There is always a close and important reminder that we are trying to live according to God’s word. And, there is always an urgency to figure things out, to be friends, to rely on each other and to spur each other on to holiness and godliness.

After the wedding, we decided to load up the kids and take the minivan to a neighboring town for tacos. Chad reached over and grabbed my hand. We didn’t have to hash things out any longer. We had said what needed to be said in those rushed moments in his office. We had been heard. We had been forced to face the issues. And, we had been reminded, when we heard wedding vows repeated with happy tears, what a gift from God that this life really is.

I thank God that He gives us so many checkpoints along our path in ministry. Every sermon, every teaching, every ceremony–they all help us remember that we want to live what we are saying. God is always working, even two minutes before the wedding starts. And, I’m grateful.

It Only Takes a Spark

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The 81 year old pastor stood at the front of the room with a kindly smile on his face. He was a legend of sorts, standing there before a crowd of young preachers (and me, a green preacher’s wife), conveying to us some of the many things he’s learned through his years of serving God and the church. We hung on every word.

This man has lived out the things that he has preached about for more than sixty years, and has managed to do it with strength, humility, and kindness. He hasn’t lost his love for people or felt put-upon by the weight of his calling. He has served God with gladness, and is still serving Him to this day, never wavering in his message that God’s word is true, God’s ways are good, and God’s grace is real.

Watching him, I wondered how he has managed to keep his amazing attitude, how he hasn’t buckled under the pressure of being who he is, such a sought-after godly example. And then, he gave me a hint.

He told us about an experience in his younger days of pastoring, when a new and unusual temptation cropped up in his life. He told us that he didn’t take this temptation seriously enough, and truly thought that it wasn’t an issue. But one evening, he told us, God cracked open the door of my heart and let me look inside... And, it was as black as a thousand midnights.  He realized in that moment that he was capable of any sin, even those that he thought he was above committing.

You could hear a pin drop in the room, as each of us admitted to ourselves, right then and there, that our hearts were just as wicked.

We get so sure of ourselves sometimes. We start believing that we could never be tempted to do this or that. We start feeling superior to those we see who are struggling. We look up one day and realize that we truly feel that we are too good to stumble or stray, and we rest in our own goodness. We take pride in following rules and consider certain sins as fodder for only more lowly Christians–those who haven’t attained our level of communion with Christ.

But, woe to those of us who ever decide that we are too good to fall. The truth is that inside each of us is the potential to do any manner of things that hurt everyone around us and grieve God. Lurking there, not so far underneath our cleaned up surface, is a keg of dynamite that can blow to smithereens everything in our lives that we hold dear. If we really stop to admit it to ourselves, we will see that even the holiest among us has a heart as black as a thousand midnights. When we start to believe that we are above ANY sin, we make ourselves dangerously vulnerable to temptation. After all, we don’t flee from that which we don’t feel is a danger to us. So, we pick up the sticks of TNT and we play with them without fear, forgetting that at any moment our deceitful heart could strike a match. We cannot afford to play with temptation as if we are immune to it. The Bible says to run away, fast and far.

When this dear pastor gave us these words of wisdom, wrapped up in his kind demeanor like a precious gift from Heaven, I began to understand how he has remained so humble, so honored to be a servant for Christ. It’s because he has chosen to remember that he is still a lowly sinner who has been shown mercy and grace by the Lord of Lords. The moment we forget that we are the very wretch that we sing about, we are already juggling the dynamite.

We must remember who we have the potential to be. And, we must remember that we didn’t climb out of the pit of depravity: Jesus dug us out. If it weren’t for Him, we would be there still, thinking that we’re having a grand old time. Our hearts will always try to lie to us. Unless we live on guard against our sinful tendencies, unless we refuse to decide that we are good enough to handle sin on our own, we will see our pride give way to failure.

And, the boom will be heard all around.

Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall. Proverbs 16:18

Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing,
but the flesh is weak. Matthew 26:41 

The Harmless Sins are the Most Dangerous of Them All

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Once more social media is filled with the news of Christian Grey. I watch with interest as Christian women plan evenings out that revolve around the new movie. They joke about how eager their husbands will be have them home afterward–their sexual passions stirred by an actor who isn’t their husband, portraying a twisted, cruel character who isn’t their husband. And, I suppose the prevailing attitude is that men don’t care by what means their wives get in the mood for sex, so long as they get in the mood.

But, if this is how we think of our husbands, we’re wrong. Men do care if their wives are ogling other men, even if those men are actors who live a thousand miles away in a different world. Even if lusting after a man you aren’t married to is generally considered harmless these days.

The harmless sins are the most dangerous of them all.

They are the ones we explain away with a little shrug, a wave of the hand, a joke. They are the ones we justify over and over again. They are the ones that are so easy to fall into. And, they are ones that are killing us.

But, I’m not just picking on 50 Shades of Grey. Temptation to sin is everywhere, and one thing that makes sin so appealing–one thing that convinces us that it is irresistible–is that we honestly consider most of it to be no big deal. Pornography, gossip, jealousy, hatred, dishonoring our parents, lust. All of these can seem utterly harmless to us when we are in the thick of temptation. We tell ourselves that it won’t hurt anyone, but we are wrong about that, too. Sin always hurts. We hurt ourselves and we hurt other people and we grieve God. No sin is harmless. There is always harm done. Always.

But, we aren’t left with no hope of conquering temptation, no matter how fiercely it tries to drag us into the pit. There is always a moment before sin in which we choose. That moment is where the battle for purity and holiness is won or lost, many times a day, every single day. Left to our own willpower, we would choose sin more often than not. But, if we know Christ, then we have been emboldened and empowered by the Holy Spirit to resist temptation in all its forms. If we think through all of the choices that we make in a day, we will get a fairly clear picture of what kind of faith life we’re leading. How often do we give into temptation with little or no fight? How often do we forge ahead with our sin, barely pausing to acknowledge that a real choice is being made?

Just a few days ago I started to write Chad a private message about an old acquaintance of ours. I was set to describe all of the ways that this person was annoying me on Facebook. The message was completely devoid of any kind of grace or kindness, and looked nothing at all like Jesus. Just before I made the conscious decision to hit send, the Holy Spirit miraculously opened my eyes to the fact that I had accidentally written this message to the person I was talking about. I quickly deleted the whole thing and walked away from my computer, knowing that I had just been given a precious gift of mercy that I didn’t deserve. I was horrified at the thought of this person reading what I had written. Yet, I was perfectly fine with God seeing it and with my husband seeing it, even though I knew it would likely hurt my husband spiritually and grieve my God.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen my wicked heart more clearly than in that moment.

We all make choices every day. Are we giving into temptation, or are we fighting, with the help of the Holy Spirit, to live a life that pleases God? Because, even though I was humiliated at the thought of this old friend of mine reading what I wrote about her, how can I forget that one day everything I’ve done will be made known? How can I ever feel proud of my goodness when I know how often that I very clearly choose to turn from God’s way and dive right into sin?

I’m so grateful that we have a God who can sympathize. We have a Savior who knows what temptation is like, even though He always made the right choice.  His blood was spilled for our harmless sins. But, no big deal, right?

A Kangaroo at the Manger

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Last night we had our annual Christmas pageant at church. There’s something so special and sweet about seeing a bunch of ragtag kids put on oversized shepherds’ robes and fake beards and take to the stage, shining a little light once again on that tiny stable in Bethlehem.

So many kids turned up to be part of it that we legitimately ran out of costumes. We hastily took the newbies to a Sunday school room and dug through boxes of odd, mismatched costume pieces from all kinds of kids’ productions of the past. By the time we got to the last little blonde haired, blue-eyed beauty, standing there all expectant, wondering which vital role of the Christmas story that she would play, we were down to an unidentified animal of some sort, brown in color, with a tail and feathered trim, pink-lined ears flopping adorably over the front of her hat. We didn’t know what it was. She didn’t know what it was. But, she was happy. And, the show went on.

I’m pretty sure we may have had a kangaroo at the manger.

And, in some small way it seems appropriate. There are times when I feel about as out of place in the Christmas story as a kangaroo. What business do I have there, on that silent night, peeking over sweet young Mary’s shoulder, gazing on the King of Kings?  When I consider how spiritually poor that I really am, how my wretched attitudes and thoughts wreck that beautiful scene, how I am in no way worthy of even standing nearby when God takes to the Earth, tiny baby so tenderly laid there in the rough-hewn trough where animals eat–when I really think about it, I just want to hide away in shame so as not to spoil the moment with my ever heavy humanity.

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But, then I remember that here in this place, in this little barn somewhere in the middle of a sleepy city, that God invited a teenaged mother. He invited a simple carpenter. He invited shepherds who spent every night and day with their smelly sheep. That’s not to say that those invited were as wicked as I am. But, one thing is for certain: every single one of them was a sinner, unworthy to even glance at that holy baby in the manger. Yet, there they were. Summoned by a choir of angels. Resting under the bright light of a special star. Gazing into the face of God.

You see, we are not the ones who are out of place. This is the world that we inhabit. This is the realm of sin and suffering and that never-ending wrestling with our bent toward sin. This is where we learn how to depend on Him, where we pray for assurance of His presence. I guess that is the real miracle of the manger. Not that we are there, but that Jesus is. Jesus, in his complete perfection, in His all-powerful everything-ness. Lying there on prickly hay, needing a young mother’s care.

God with us.

He didn’t have to come to this place. He didn’t have to invite us to come near. He didn’t have to tether Himself to a weak human body or strong human urges. But, He did. And, He did it all perfectly.

After the pageant last night, we folded costumes to packed them away for next year, and our little kangaroo happily skipped away to get cookies and punch. I’m not sure that we’ll ever again see a kangaroo at the manger. But, when I remember this night and that oddly sweet unidentified animal that sat up on her knees to try to get a better look at baby Jesus, I hope I remember how miraculously out of place God was in that manger. And, I pray that I never stop praising Him for it.

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