Good morning…
In yesterday’s post I was grateful to sense the fruits of God’s Spirit growing early on my Easter Sunday branch, as I heeded Betty Skinner’s wisdom: “The big ‘I’ must die.” Twenty-four hours later, I realized my big “I” had not died, instead my big “I” was crouching inside, keeping score. Let me explain.
Two minutes after this picture was taken following the Easter service at our oldest son’s church, my “crazy” came popping out with a vengeance. Our family was walking to the car after an awesome time of worship when the kids began to complain. “I don’t like turkey.” “Neither do I.” “Me neither.” “Why didn’t we get to choose what we wanted for Easter lunch?” “I’m okay with eating turkey on Thanksgiving, but once a year is enough for me.” “I really don’t like white meat.” “Maybe we should just go out to eat.” What felt like ten minutes was likely less than ten seconds, but that was enough for my big “I” to fight back.
I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I think my melt down included phrases like “slaving in the kitchen all morning.” “How could I know you don’t like turkey?” “If you had said what you wanted to eat when asked, instead of ignoring me…” “If you had shopped for groceries yesterday liked you were supposed to, instead of laying around when we were at the lacrosse game…” Yeah, biting blame does not look good on me. As my defensive “crazy” popped out, this truth became evident: even when my big “I” pretends to die, she is tucked inside my human nature, keeping score.
I relate to the “Doobie-doobie-doo” verse in the Bible, as one friend lovingly calls Romans 7:19: For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. In the Message translation the verse is explained this way: But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can’t keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help! I realize that I don’t have what it takes. I can will it, but I can’t do it. I decide to do good, but I don’t really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don’t result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time. It happens so regularly that it’s predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God’s commands, but it’s pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge. I’ve tried everything and nothing helps. I’m at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn’t that the real question?
The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different (Romans 7:17-25).
At dinner I apologized for my “crazy” popping out, an outburst which seemed in my mind to last for ten minutes but likely stole less than ten seconds from our day. I asked our family of six, “Did anyone else feel their own “crazy” pop out today?” And we all told stories about the flawed flare-ups we had noticed seasoning our Easter.
The moral of my story? My big “I” cannot do what our big God has already accomplished.
…God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting people’s sins against them [but canceling them]. And He has committed to us the message of reconciliation [that is, restoration to favor with God] (2 Corinthians 5:19, AMP). For the death that He died, He died to sin [ending its power and paying the sinner’s debt] once and for all; and the life that He lives, He lives to [glorify] God [in unbroken fellowship with Him]. Even so, consider yourselves to be dead to sin [and your relationship to it broken], but alive to God [in unbroken fellowship with Him] in Christ Jesus (Romans 6:10-11, AMP). It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery (Galatians 5:1, NIV).
When my big “I” pops out in crazy ways, I try to remember, “On the cross Christ paid the price for even this.” Instead of donning the old yoke of slavery to sin, I sneak in beside our Savior who whispers, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:29-30, NIV).
…Sue…
