The Civil War of the Soul

 

The Civil War of the Soul

Civil War of the Soul - Audio/Visual 

I was alive before I knew the law. But when the law's command came to me, then sin began to live, and I died. The command was meant to bring life, but for me it brought death. . . . When I want to do good, evil is there with me. In my mind, I am happy with God's law. But I see another law working in my body, which makes war against the law that my mind accepts. That other law working in my body is the law of sin, and it makes me its prisoner. What a miserable man I am! Who will save me from this body that brings me death? (Romans 7:9-10, 21-24)

The following is a true story; names have not been changed to protect the innocent. I confess – I’ve violated the law. What's worse, I don't want to stop. My misdemeanor actions began innocently enough. My route to the office takes me to an intersection where every person in California is turning west. I, on the other hand, want to head north. Each morning, I wait long minutes in a long line at a long light, mumbling, "There’s got to be a better way." And then I found it. While still a quarter mile from the light, I spotted a shortcut – the dirt shoulder. It was worth a try, I thought, and I drive a truck; what’s a little dirt? So, I swerved right, bid farewell to the crawling commuters and took my chances. It led me straight to the head of the line were few others were waiting. Lewis and Clark would have been proud.

From then on, I was ahead of the pack. Every morning while the rest of the cars waited in line, I veered onto my private autobahn and smugly applauded myself for seeing what others had apparently missed. I was surprised that no one had discovered it earlier, but then again, few have my innate navigational skills … well, with the exception of a clever CHP officer who was in hiding just off of that same shoulder one morning. And if it weren’t for some unfortunate driver who’d discovered my express lane and arrived just moments before I did, I probably would have been the recipient of a special “Greetings!” from the State of California. And it was then that I noticed the sign: “Shoulder Closed.” In other words, the shoulder was not meant for travel, but something to cry on if you got caught.

But my problem is not what I did before I knew the law. My problem is what I want to do now, after I know the law. You'd think that I would have no desire to use the shoulder again, but I do. Part of me still wants to use the shortcut. Part of me wants to break the law. Each morning the voices within me have an argument. My "ought to" says, "It's illegal;" my "want to" answers, "But I've never been caught." My "ought to" reminds me, "The law is the law;" my "want to" counters with, "But the law isn't for careful drivers, like me. Besides, the five minutes I save I'll dedicate to prayer." My "ought to" doesn't buy it – “Pray in the car while you wait in line with the rest of California," it says.

Before I knew the law, I was at peace. Now that I know the law, an insurrection has occurred. I'm torn. On one hand I know what to do, but I don't want to do it. My eyes read the sign, but my body doesn't want to obey. What I should do and end up doing are two different matters. I was better off not ever knowing the law. Sound familiar? For many of us, it’s the itinerary of the soul. Before coming to Christ, we all had our share of shortcuts. Cheating was a shortcut to success. Boasting was a shortcut to popularity. Lying was a shortcut to power. Then we found Christ, we found grace, and we saw the sign. Has this ever happened to you?

You've got a hot temper and then read, "If you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be judged." (Matt. 5:22) Wow, I never knew that you say. You tend to exaggerate to make your point and then discover, "Say only yes if you mean yes, and no if you mean no. If you say more than yes or no, it is from the Evil One." (Matt. 5:37) But I've been talking like that for years, you mutter. You enjoy letting people see your generosity and then read, "So when you give to the poor, don't let anyone know what you are doing." (Matt. 6:3) Oh boy, I didn't know that was wrong, you think. You have a habit of categorizing people into convenient little boxes and then hear Jesus say, "Don't judge other people, or you will be judged." (Matt. 7:1) Son of a gun, no one ever told me that judging was a sin, you whisper.

All these years you've been taking shortcuts, never seeing the sign. But now you see it. Now you know it. It would have been so much easier had you never seen the sign, but now the law has been revealed. So, what do you do? Your battle is identical to the one within the heart of Paul. The civil war of the soul. And how welcome is Paul's confession? How good it is to know that he struggled like the rest of us. Those who have been amazed by grace have been equally amazed by their sin. Why do I say yes to God one day and yes to Satan the next? Once I know God's commands, why am I not eager to obey them? Shouldn't these conflicts cease now that I see the sign? Does my struggle mean I'm not saved? These are the questions of Romans 7. And these are the questions of many Christians.

Maybe you've hit your head against a wall, like a bird flying into a pane of glass when it sees its reflection and then falls to the ground, momentarily stunned. Are there weaknesses within you that stun you? Your words? Your thoughts? Your temper? Your greed? Your grudge? Your gossip? Things were better before you knew the law existed. But now you know. And now you have an internal civil war to wage. But there are a couple of truths to take into that battle.

First, remember your position – you’re a child of God. Some interpret the presence of this battle as the abandonment of God. Their logic goes something like this: "I’m a Christian. My desires, however, are anything but Christian. No child of God would have these battles. Therefore, I must be an orphan. God may have given me a place back then, but he has no place for me now." But that's Satan sowing those seeds of shame. If he can't seduce you with your sin, he'll let you sink in your guilt. Nothing pleases him more than for you to cower in the corner, embarrassed that you're still dealing with some old habit. "God's tired of your struggles," he whispers. "Your Father is weary of your prayers for forgiveness," he lies. And many believe him, spending years convinced that they are disqualified from the kingdom. But honestly, who told you that you deserved forgiveness in the first place?

When you came to Christ, did he know every sin you'd committed up to that point? Yes. Did Christ know every sin you would commit in the future? Yes, he knew that too. So, Jesus saved you, knowing all the sins you would ever commit until the end of your life, right? Right. You mean he’s willing to call you his child even though he knows each and every mistake of your past and future? Yes. Sounds to me like God has already proven his point. If your sins were too great for his grace, he never would have saved you in the first place. It isn’t like your temptation is late-breaking news in heaven. Your sin doesn't surprise God. He saw it coming. So, is there any reason to think that the One who received you the first time won't receive you every time? Besides, the very fact that you are under attack must mean that you're on the right side, don’t you think? Did you notice who else had times of struggle? Paul did.

Note the tense in which Paul is writing: "I do not understand . . ." ". . . it is sin living in me . . ." "I do not do the good things I want . . ." "I see another law working in my body . . ." "What a miserable man I am." (Rom. 7:14-25) Paul is writing in the present tense. He’s not describing a struggle of the past, but a struggle in the present. For all we know, Paul was engaged in spiritual combat when he wrote his letter to the Romans. Do you mean the apostle Paul battled sin while he was writing a book in the Bible? Well, can you think of a more strategic time for Satan to attack? Isn’t it possible that Satan feared the fruit of this epistle? Could it be that he fears the fruits of your life, too? Could it be that you’re under attack – not because you’re weak, but because you might become strong? Perhaps he hopes that in defeating you today he will have one less missionary, or writer, or giver, or singer to fight with tomorrow.

But not only are you positioned as a child of God, but your principle is the Word of God. When under attack, our tendency is to question the validity of God's commands; we rationalize like I do with driving on the shoulder. The law is for others, not for me. I'm a good driver. But by questioning the validity of the law, I minimize, at least in my mind, the authority of the law. For that reason, Paul’s quick to remind us that "the law is holy, and the command is holy and right and good." (Rom. 7:12) The root word for holy here is hagios, which means "different." God's commands are holy because they come from a different world, a different sphere, a different perspective. In a sense, the "Shoulder Closed" sign on my forbidden shortcut was from a different sphere, too. The lawmakers' thoughts are not like my thoughts. They are concerned with the public good, at least in principle. I am concerned with personal convenience. They want what is best for the county, supposedly. I want what’s best for me. They know what’s safe. I know what’s quick. They don't create laws for my pleasure; they make laws for my safety.

The same is true with God. What we consider shortcuts God sees as disasters. He doesn't give laws for our pleasure. He gives them for our protection. In seasons of struggle we must trust his wisdom, not ours. He designed the system; he knows what we need. But since I’m stubborn, I think I do. My disrespect for the "Shoulder Closed" sign reveals an ugly, selfish side of me. Had I never seen the law, I would have never seen how selfish I am. We’re not lured by the shorter commute as much as we’re lured by the sign. Isn't there within each of us a voice that says, “I wonder how many times I can drive down that shoulder without getting caught"? But the moment we begin asking those questions, we’ve crossed an invisible line into the arena of fear. Grace delivered us from fear, but how quickly we return.

Grace told us we didn't have to spend our lives looking over our shoulders but look at us glancing in the rearview mirror. Grace told us that we’re free from guilt but look at us with guilt on our consciences. Don't we know better? What’s happened to us? Why are we so quick to revert back to our old ways? Or as Paul so candidly writes, "What a miserable man I am! Who will save me from this body that brings me death?" (Rom. 7:24) Simply stated: we are helpless to battle sin alone. And aren't we glad Paul answered his own question? "I thank God for saving me through Jesus Christ our Lord!" (v. 25)

The same One who saved us first is there to save us still. There is never a point at which you are any less saved than you were the first moment he saved you. Just because you were grumpy at breakfast this morning doesn't mean you were condemned at breakfast. When you lost your temper yesterday, you didn't lose your salvation. Your name doesn't disappear and reappear in the Book of Life according to your moods and actions. Such is the message of grace.

"There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." (Rom. 8:1) Of course, there’s a difference between stumbling in your walk, and abandoning the faith altogether. You can choose to walk away from your faith at your peril, but no power in existence can take your faith without your consent. (Rom. 8:35-37) You are saved, not because of what you do, but because of what Christ did. And you are special, not because of what you do, but because of whose you are. And you are his. And because we are his, let's forget the shortcuts and stay on the main road. God knows the way. He drew the map for crying out loud. Now that’s a shoulder you can use.

Grace,

Randy