"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do."(Romans 7:15)
Thanks, Paul. Thanks for getting it, for being real. Sin, hamartia, means falling short of God's righteousness. Paul does not run from the reality of sin. Instead, he exposes the depth of the Christian struggle with sin, giving words to my daily frustration. One can practically feel Paul's intensity increase as the passage continues. His frustration leaps from the page right to the strings of my heart. His words bring comfort because I resonate with him and also teeth grinding aggravation as I face the tension of my sin.
What a beautifully tragic discovery for a believer to realize their problems with sin do not vanish when they accept Christ. We are sinners. We are fallen. As descendants of Adam and Eve, we possess a sinful nature. Yet, we are redeemed. Jesus Christ paid the penalty for sin, removing punishment and bringing eternal hope. His blood redeems our humanity and draws us from the bondage of sin into the freedom of a relationship with Him.
And yet, I still struggle. Daily, moment by moment, I fall short. Paul's sinful human nature brought him to a horrifying awakening as he found himself doing very things he despised. Paul does not write as a stoic individual explaining a past predicament. No, his words express a cry for help, a pathetic exasperation for the contradiction he faces. He longs for deliverance from continual defeat. I identify completely.
Paul knows he does not act in accordance with the law. Let's talk about the word "law." Paul simply means God's commands. God's goodness. The Law that makes His righteousness shine. Similar to the law of gravity, stated clearly and felt powerfully as a force that keeps things together within the universe. So, are God's commands, establishing a created order and design. It is when I am outside of this order, or law, an inner turmoil of war wages inside of me.
The solution is not to escape. Paul does not end sitting in the tension with an Eyeore expression of acceptance. Instead, he transitions to victory in the Spirit. I cannot run from temptation. Instead, I run to Christ, which often means, again and again, I find myself running through temptation, tasting it's bitterness only to find myself at the feet of Jesus Christ. To see the grace of my Father even more fully. This is the gospel. The good news of Christ's redemption. So, while I battle the tension, while I shake my head at my own actions, while I feel caught in the tension of my sin, I see the grace of God more clearly. This leaves me dependent. Not working for an unattainable righteousness, but looking toward a righteousness which motivates my actions and leaves me humbly at the foot of the cross.
Love this. "Not working for an unattainable righteousness, but looking toward a righteousness which motivates my actions and leaves me humbly at the foot of the cross." There's something that feels deeply intuitive about the necessity of the tension of sin. Don't sin, but know that you will sin. I think that motivated accountability entails *some* dose of guilt; and even if it's not 'guilt' per se, it's definitely some internal experience that informs you of, and compels you to remedy, an incongruence between your actions, beliefs, and feelings. On the flip side, in seeking to attain unattainable righteousness, we end up with insoluble feelings of incongruence that not only fail to be constructive but also self-harming. So, I wonder if sitting in the tension well means embracing relationships, habits, and spaces that foster constructive incongruence.
ReplyDelete^- Josh Mastan (not sure why it didn't put my name)
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