Results of
sin—separation from God
Adam and Eve hid from God after
sinning. As I read this narrative, I imagine a game of hide and seek between an
energetic toddler and a doting grownup. The toddler believes in the success of
her strategy as long as her chosen place of concealment shields her eyes from
her seeker. All the while, her seeker knows exactly where she hides.
Unlike an innocent game, however,
our naïve first mother and father allowed guilt to trick them into ignoring God
and hoping their futile attempts at camouflage would cover their shame.
I always found this behavior a bit foolish.
They were intimately connected to God. They knew they could not hide from their
Master Creator. So why did they even try? I suppose their act of willful
disobedience triggered irrational thoughts.
Their behavior, no matter how
illogical, is no worse than the way sin causes us to respond to God today. We
may not hide behind a tree the way story book illustrations portray Adam and
Eve, but we hide nonetheless. Don’t we?
Lent snuck up on me this year.
Before I knew it, I came face-to-face with an annual dilemma—what to give up,
if anything, or what to add in my life as my penitence in remembrance of the 40
days Jesus spent in the desert enduring the temptation of Satan.
I chose to give up the drug most
consuming me—sugar—in the form of sweets, treats, and regular sodas. Once I
made this decision, I spent my remaining pre-Lentin days in a gluttonous
escapade, acting as if I intended to give up my favorite vices for life. My
insatiable appetite mirrored an addict in the days and hours before checking
into rehab.
We even celebrate our fall from grace
and call it Fat Tuesday, making gluttony socially acceptable, even for those of
us who call ourselves Christians. Now, I am not calling Fat Tuesday sinful or
accusing those who participate in it sinners.
Enjoying those things we choose to
live without for a season is not necessarily a sin. Giving in or not giving in
on Sundays during Lent is not necessarily a sin. Falling off the wagon during
Lent is not necessarily a sin. Not participating in this tradition is not
necessarily a sin.
What is sinful is when I make any of
it more important than my Savior and my relationship with my Savior as I did
the days leading up to Ash Wednesday.
As the days progressed and my greedy
hunger for sugar swelled, my prayer time became more forced and lethargic. My eyes
rolled to the back of my head when I attempted to read the Bible. My mind
wandered each time I attempted to talk to God. Even journaling, the one
activity sure to center my thoughts proved fruitless. I blamed a restless sleep
or the normal ebb and flow of prayer. I concluded I must simply need or want
for nothing.
I never considered that my overindulgence
in ice cream and chocolate and Coca Cola could have played a more active role in
my declining prayer time other than simply causing a sugar and/or carb crash. That
is, not until I picked up the book, Masterpiece by Susie Shellenberger and
Billy Huddleston, and began reading chapter eleven about forgiveness.
The
paralytic—Jesus calls him son—tells paralytic his sins are forgiven—from creation—ate
what they knew not to eat.
Like most God talk, these sporadic
words and phrases spoke of my current dilemma. Fatigue did not cause my
flagging prayer life. Sin caused it. Like Adam and Eve, who tried in vain to
hide from God after doing what they knew not to do, I, too, hid from God after
over indulging in sin.
I knew my behavior was, indeed,
gluttony, one of the seven deadly sins. I knew the upcoming Lentin season
offered no sound justification for my actions. Yet, I did it anyway, purposely polluting
my body, the temple of God. How can I spend time with God and ask for
forgiveness when I know I am going to sin again later that same day?
I am not referring to general sin; asking
forgiveness for sin I never intended to commit or never realized I committed. I
am referring to purposeful, willful giving into the temporary satisfaction of
sin. I am incapable of remaining in God’s presence when I know I fully intend
to turn my back on Him after “amen” and sin again.
This realization, however, failed to
shame me in the way Satan would prefer. Instead, I remembered God’s first word
to the paralytic; “son.” I knew He still loved me as daughter. I knew He would
not take the time to speak to me through the words of Susie and Billy had He
not loved me. With a gleeful heart, I asked for genuine forgiveness and
restoration, and guess what? Like the paralytic, not only did He forgive my
sins, but He restored me as well.
Easter is my favorite time of year.
I enjoy celebrating with Lent because I see this season as a time of rebirth
and renewal. I come out of the worst part of my year, when I suffer and fight
through seasonal depression, my less productive months. My physical and
spiritual stamina returns. Lent, for me, is a loving act of re-planting so that
God can grow radiant spring flowers in me. I hold on to 1 Corinthians 10:13 and
remember that Jesus is the way. It leads up to the most precious of Christian
holidays, Resurrection Sunday.
So, on this Ash Wednesday, the
official start of Lent, let us all glory in the fact that God forgives us our
sins and leads us out of temptation. Let us rejoice that no matter what, God,
our Daddy, loves us and calls us His sons and daughters. There is no greater gift.
1 Corinthians 10:13 New International Version
No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to
mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you
can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you
can endure it.
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