I found myself in that same place again today. Doing the thing I have told myself I will not do. Speaking the words that I have promised not to utter. Wishing I could start over on the conversation and not draw attention to my wounded place. Regretting that I opened the door to the sin that crouches and watches for the smallest opportunity to storm in.
Paul knew what he was talking about. “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. 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. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.
So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:15-25)
And I wish I could pull up a chair beside him over a cup of Starbucks and ask how he changed it. What went through his head right before he succeeded in kicking out the unwanted habits and closing the door to sin that one last time? What did it practically mean to see that deliverance from slavery in his mind and over his mouth?
But without Paul, and Starbucks being forty-five minutes away, I sit on my couch instead and I read the last sentence over and over again.
“Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord.”
And I give thanks that He is here.
And I give thanks that He knew when I woke up that I would mess up today, and He spoke love to me this morning anyway.
And I give thanks that He knows what it means to be wounded.
And I give thanks that He works on healing me, again.
And I give thanks that I can see what He’s changing in me.
And I give thanks that some day I’ll sit in Starbucks and explain to a hungry heart what went through my head right before I closed the door that one last time.
