Having spent copious amounts of time alone this summer has proven to be both enlightening and frustrating: a great big tornado of thoughts that stirs up both sand and mineral-rich soil. Some splendid soil I have discovered is the Stuff Christians Like blog. (I know, I'm woefully behind the times. In 2008 I was busy being 'scene' rather than tech-saavy or in the interweb know.) I'm currently playing catch up and have made it the middle of the 600's. One post in that range was about recognizing sin in our lives. #659 particularly struck me because earlier this week, I did a little bit of what I love to tell others to do: soul-searchin'. I had a come to Jesus meeting, party of two.
You see, I tend to sit on a high unicorn (not a horse, because that is what other people sit on. I think you might see part of my problem...) and think, "They really need to check themselves before they wreck themselves. They have some nerve to treat me like that." Then, I throw a pity-party. If pity-parties were a TARDIS, you can just call me the Doctor. If they were measured on a scale on outright craziness, call me Kim Jong-il ("License to il" if you will...shout out to Dr. Freeman!) or Benny Hinn (2 Timothy 4:3 as to how I hold the "prosperity gospel" and all that nonsense). Put simply, I can roll with the best of them when it comes to feeling sorry for myself. This is not a good thing. Anyway, during my soul searchin' I began to take frank look at my heart and the sins that I most often struggle with. Here's where the post on SCL (click it!) comes in.
To summarize, there exists a three car method drug-traffickers use when shuttling their goods around. The first car, "the smoker", barrels down the highway ostentatiously breaking the law in order to draw the attention of the lawmen. The actual mule, "the disguised" car, appears unassuming and normal and goes down the road nonchalantly. The last car, "the popper", only has a mission to protect the mule. If the police start to go after the mule, the popper races in front of them and causes a collision, disabling the police. The author points out how sin can be similar to this rather clever method:
The smoker = really obvious sins. Ones easy to go on a crusade against.
The diguised = more subtle, easier for me to justify or fail to recognize
The popper = once you spot the mule, these sins pull in front to disable your police car, Batmobile, etc.
I read that post and I thought back to my soul searching. I decided to fill in the blanks with my very own cartel of sins. These are the sins that I continually fall into in various ways, shapes, and forms.
1. My smoker car... harsh words/thoughts and gossip. Impatience. Worry. These sins clothe themselves as if they were Fish Camp counselors: neon, tutus, crazy hair, flippers, and tiny jorts. I totally recognize them and set out to eradicate them with an attitude similar to this owl.
2. My disguised car...pessimism, cynicism, being distrustful. Envy. You would think I have enough sense to see these coming. Nope. These sins are like the mono I had earlier this year: "My throat kinda itches. No big." Fast forward one week: "My throat is burning like a thousand angry suns. I haven't taken a shower in three days because I can barely crawl to my minifridge to vainly pour myself some more oj." I ignore their symptoms in favor of my crusade against my smoker sins or I make up a reason to justify them. These sins are similar, but I put envy in bold because it is my own personal Beutal: it amplifies my sickness. "Why can't I have a boyfriend like that girl? Why can't I have more money like this yahoo driving a Lexus? She's so pretty which makes me feel inferior. I hope it rains on her."
3. My popper car...self-pity. Selfishness. Pride. When I finally recognize my disguised sins and set about to repent of them, these three appear on the scene like the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. Instead of repentance, I flop down and throw a pity-party, sulking around vacillating between saying "Not fair!", "Woe is me!", and "Excuse me, God. I'm doing better than that person. Why can't You do what I want?"
Looking at these various sins, which include a fair amount of the 7 Deadlies, I'm appalled. I'm also very thankful and humbled. I mean, God loves me enough He sent His Sacrificial Lamb to atone for my blackness. He loves me enough to lower His staff and pull this silly sheep out of the pit. He loves me enough not to answer my endless barage of questions. (This is still working itself out in my mind.) Let me wrap up my musing with this verse:
"My mouth will tell of your righteous deeds, of your saving acts all day long - though I know not how to relate them all." (Psalm 71:15) I totally did a double-take of biblical proportions when I read this. The last part of the verse (which I took the liberty of italicizing) seemed to whisper and shout off the page. I don't know why things happen the way they do. I may not get how to relate all the things God does, but I do know they are righteous and good.
So, I'll keep telling of them...all day long.
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