Civil War
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 haven’t 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, now
under reconstruction, 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. 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 Season’s 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 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
petitions 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 sin 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. 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
for the public good. I am concerned with personal convenience. They want what
is best for the county. I want what is best for me. They know what is safe. I
know what is quick. But 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. He knows the way. He drew the map.
Grace,
Randy
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