sin – Dr. Kirk Lewis

No Longer Bent

Background Passages: Luke 13:10-17 and I John 1:8-9

I like to think I’m related to him. After all, we all would like to be related to someone famous.

C.S. Lewis, one of the 20th century’s most dynamic apologists of the Christian faith, is best known in the modern world as the author of The Chronicles of Narnia, a story rich in Christian symbolism. I first encountered his writings when I read The Screwtape Letters and Mere Christianity in college. The former an intriguing look at how Satan manipulates us; the latter a deep presentation of the validity of Christianity and what the life of a Christian is like.

He penned a lesser known book called Out of the Silent Planet. Similar to Narnia, it is a science fiction book written in the 1930s in which his protagonist journeys to another world. Like Narnia, he weaves Christian symbolism through the pages of Silent Planet. I admit I’ve only read snippets of this book, but within its pages Lewis uses his space traveler to explain sin to a people who never heard the concept.

After searching for a definition that would make sense to these aliens, the hero settled on the words “bent” and “bound.” Lewis defined sin as “misshapen.” “Not the way we were made to be.” “Not fit for our intended purpose.”

It is as good a definition as any. When a nail is bent, it cannot be hammered unless it is straightened. When an arrow is bent, it cannot fly straight. When we are bent, we are not shaped in the way God intended us to be. Lewis speaks of the sinner as one bound. Tied up. Unable to shake free. Trapped.

To paraphrase Romans, “For all are bent, and fall short of God’s glory.”

I’m writing today, recognizing my “bentness.” Okay, I made up that word, but you get the point. Sin makes us uncomfortable. We don’t like to think about our failings. While we know we sin, we also know that we don’t sin constantly. That we do some things right. We want to focus on that to make ourselves feel a bit better.

Here’s the truth about sin, however. When we break our arm, the rest of our body still functions as designed. We are not capable of doing everything we want to do until the arm is healed. Sin works the same way. While we can still do some good things, as long as sin is in our lives, we aren’t everything God needs us to be. We are not fit for our intended purpose.

Thank God his forgiveness is not just a heavenly thing that comes at the end of our time. Forgiveness is a daily gift for those who seek it.

Luke may not have written this story with that in mind, but it made me think again that God doesn’t wish for us to live bent and bound by sin. Look at Luke 13.

Jesus sat among the people in a local synagogue on the Sabbath, likely at the invitation of the local church officials who were somewhat excited to have this popular rabbi passing through their village. Chances are Jesus had never taught in this synagogue. He probably didn’t know too many people in the crowd. Teaching in the synagogue was simply his practice during his earthly ministry. Something he wanted to do. Something he enjoyed.

In the middle of his dialogue with the people about some passage of scripture, a woman captured Jesus’ attention, stopping him in mid-sentence. In those seconds of silence, you can hear the rustle of robes as the crowd turns to follow Jesus’ gaze.

What Jesus saw broke his heart. He swallowed a wave of overwhelming, God-inspired empathy. A lump of emotion filled his throat and the tears well up in his eyes.

“…a woman was there, crippled by a spirit for 18 years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all.” (Luke 13:11)

When you picture this woman, you have to picture a posture more than stooped. The curvature of her spine forced her shoulders forward and downward. Bent at the waist, hobbling on unsteady legs and a knobby walking stick. Unable to lift her head above her horizon. The woman lived with a stark debilitation that left her crippled and unable to function.

As Jesus’ voice trailed off, he watched as the woman shuffled for her seat along the wall. She didn’t approach Jesus. Made no request of him. She didn’t proclaim her faith in him as a miracle worker. She just wanted to sit to take the burden off her feet and her back.

The rustle of robes returns as the crowd turns back to Jesus, as if to say, “It’s just Miriam. She’s been like that forever.” They know her. They have seen her around the village. Some of them probably even checked on her from time to time.

“Miriam,” my name for her, does today what she has probably done every Sabbath for the past 18 years. There is no indication in scripture that this was an unusual event. No indication that today the spirit moved her to get out of bed and make the difficult journey to the synagogue.

She came, as she always did, to be taught. To worship and learn. Today was no different. She probably didn’t even now there would be a guest teacher in the pulpit. This was just her place on the Sabbath. Jesus called her a “daughter of Abraham” in verse 16, possibly recognizing that this was her faithful pattern on the Sabbath, the place she needed and wanted to be on any Lord’s day.

In the midst of the ordinary, something extraordinary happened in this synagogue on this day.

Jesus swallowed the lump in his throat, choking back his emotion. He stood and called to her before she sat down, asking her to come forward. With difficulty she tilted her head to see who called out to her. As she looked sidelong at Jesus, she sidled slowly, and probably a bit suspiciously, his direction until she stood, hunched over in front of him.

Jesus dropped to a knee with his hand lightly on her shoulder, the tilt of his head matching hers until he looks her in the eyes.

His word is simple. His intent clear.

“Woman, you are set free from you infirmity. He put his hands upon her; and immediately she straightened up and praised God.”

The woman came to God’s house bent and broken, bound by her affliction. Jesus set her free. The root word in Greek for “set free” is to “loosen” or “untie.” She was no longer bent by or bound to her ailment. She had been released from almost two decades of physical torment.

Jesus set her free, released her from her bonds, not because she begged him to, but because he wanted to. He set her free because he wanted her to be free. To be what God intended her to be. It was, after all, the reason he came.

I find that an excellent illustration of our sin and God’s forgiveness. C. S. Lewis says sin misshapes us. Leaves us bent and broken. Paul talks about being bound in sin. Tied up and shackled by it. A slave to it.

I think when Jesus sees us bound in our sin, he still gets that same lump in his throat. That same overwhelming sense of empathy that he learned while hanging on a cross. It is what compelled him to die for us…an empathic love that says, “I can’t stand to see you this way.”

It is what keeps him reminding us, through his spirit, that God stands ready to forgive our sins.

God does not wait for us to come to grips with our bent and misshapen selves. Through Jesus Christ, he called us to himself, looked us in the eye, and took the full burden of our “bentness” all the way to Calvary. In doing so, he said to us, “Straighten up. You are set free.”

Once set free, we can respond as this woman did and praise God who loves us.

But, there is another character in this story. The administrator of the synagogue, the one responsible for proper protocol, objected indignantly to the healing. He quieted the crowd with a stern, “holier-than-thou” stare and a thunderous exclamation.

Rather than challenge this upstart rabbi directly, he turned his back to Jesus and admonished the astonished crowd for getting excited about a breach in protocol, putting Jesus in his place and indirectly chastising the woman whom Jesus healed.

In the arrogant tone of the righteously misguided, he said, “There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.”

Protocol over people. Ritual over right.

Jesus would have none of it.

“You hypocrites! Doesn’t each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water?” (Luke 13:15)

There’s that word again. The word Jesus used when he told the woman she had been “set free” from her disability, is the same word translated “untie” in this passage. He’s saying, “You willing set your donkey free on the Sabbath to give him a drink. Yet, you balk at setting this woman free from an 18-year trauma.”

Jesus said it better than I did. He said,

“Then should not this woman, this daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for 18 long years, be set free (untied, released) on the Sabbath day from what bound her?” (Luke 13:16)

Here’s the kicker in this part of the story. We see clearly that the woman was set free, but what of the church official. His strict adherence to a distorted interpretation of scripture and church tradition, left him criticizing when he ought to be celebrating. His objection revealed just how bent out of shape he was. Revealed the sin in his life.

You have to wonder about the administrator. I wonder how many times this poor woman sought his prayers for healing over 18 years. I wonder if seeing her every Sabbath and now seeing her healed shamed him for his failure to invoke God’s healing.

This poor church official fell victim to a distorted spiritual view that at times inflicts all of us. C. S. Lewis said, “Those of us who do not think about our own sins make up for it by thinking incessantly about the sins of others.” It was and is a myopic view.

This church official, like me at times, got so busy “doing church” that he “did no good.” He could not recognize that his reliance on ritual blinded him to his own “bentness.” Bound to sin he didn’t know he had. Thinking that his body was functioning at 100 percent efficiency without acknowledging that his arm was broken.

When faced with our own sin, we have two choices.

We can fail to recognize that we are as bent spiritually as this woman was physically. Without recognizing our hypocrisy and seeking God’s forgiveness, we remain tied and bound to the sin.

“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us…” (I John 1:8)

Or…

We can recognize our misshapen selves. That we are living in a way that is not what God intended. A burdened, but repentant heart that stands hunched over before God seeking his forgiveness and willing to accept the grace gift of his forgiveness.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (I John 1:9)

The attitude of the contrite gives God the chance to put his hand lightly on our shoulder and tell us to straighten up. It is a moment for praising God and celebrating our new freedom in him.

When we have been untied from the sin in our lives, Jesus gives us the opportunity to be “surprised by joy,” to use again the words of C. S. Lewis. The woman in our story praised the one who set her free.

I’m grateful for my God who is relentless in his desire to forgive.

Passion Week-Wednesday: Betrayal

Background Passages: Matthew 26:14-16, Matthew 27:1-5, Romans 5:6-8, and 2 Corinthians 5:21

Jesus had to be a little grateful for his Wednesday. A quiet day. After the confrontations with the Pharisees and dawn to dusk teaching, Wednesday was more peaceful. His time in the temple was without controversy or confrontation. His time with his disciples laid back and easy.

Yet, in the back rooms of religious hierarchy where decisions are made, sinful men were plotting his death. In the bosom of his own fellowship, a disillusioned disciple made a choice.

Whether one betrays a country, principle or person the act of betrayal isn’t easily forgiven or forgotten. The names of history’s most infamous traitors remain on the tips of our tongues.

Brutus.

Benedict Arnold.

Judas Iscariot.

None of these names surprise to you. Had I asked you to name the three most infamous traitors, most of you would name these three men. Most of us would put Judas at the top of the list. How did he get there?

Judas is an enigmatic character. When Jesus called he followed. He must have recognized something different in Jesus. His words. The miracles he performed. Everything about Jesus convinced Judas that this was the Messiah for whom his people had waited.

Along the way, the words Jesus preached seemed less like the warrior king he wanted and more like one afraid to do what was necessary to free his people. Judas pushed and prodded his master, but Jesus’ message never strayed.

Knowing it would take money to feed the rebellion he desire, Judas let greed consume him. Two things happened that pushed Judas over the edge. When a woman anointed Jesus with precious perfume, John tells us that Judas protested what he felt was extravagant waste.

“Why wasn’t it sold and the money given to the poor?” objected Judas. John explains that Judas motives were not honorable. That Judas cared little about the poor and wanted the money for himself. (John 12:4-6)

Then after another of Jesus’ private sessions with the disciples on the Mount of Olives, Jesus told them plainly that his hour had come. That in two days he would be handed over to be crucified. (Matthew 26:2) It was the straw that broke the camel’s back for Judas.

The last three years had been a waste. The man he thought would rid them of the Roman occupation, the man he had thought would elevate him to a position of authority in a new kingdom, admitted he would die. Judas had enough.

Whether motivated by pure greed or by the desire to bend Jesus to Judas’ will, the traitor went to the religious leaders and bartered away Jesus’ life. He pocketed their thirty pieces of silver and waited for the right time to turn him in to the authorities. (Matthew 26:14-16)

Some will say Judas had no choice. That this was his destiny. Judas had a choice. He just chose poorly. Had Judas honored his commitment to Christ, the religious leaders would have found another way to get rid of Jesus. They had met that very night in the house of Caiaphas, the chief priest, plotting and planning his arrest and death. Judas just made it infinitely easier.

No. Judas made his choice. And, here’s the rub. He made the same mistake I make almost every day of my life when I reject the will of God and try to bend him to my will. And, together we put Jesus on the cross.

Wednesday night, you see, was the night the last piece of God’s plan to bring salvation to a rebellious world fell in place. The countdown clock was ticking and the only thing that would stop it was if Jesus turned his back on God and walked away. (Jesus also had a choice.)

For us up to this point in our weekly study, Jesus’ death on the cross has been hidden in the mist. Too unpleasant to think about. Pushed in the background of his continued teaching and life-changing lessons about love and devotion to God.

But, the week now takes a darker turn.

We tend to throw Judas at the top of the list of history’s traitors, making him a scapegoat, minimizing the role we played in Jesus’ death.

“You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly…But God demonstrated his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:6-8)

Judas betrayed Jesus in a despicable way. We’re just as guilty of betraying Jesus as anyone. Turning our backs on him for 30 pieces of selfish desire. Our rebellion. Our sin. While we were yet sinners…

“God made him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:21)

Judas stood with the soldiers in the Garden of Gethsemane as they arrested Jesus. He watched from a distance as the religious leaders manipulated the system. Jesus was sentenced to death on the cross.

Seized with remorse for betraying “innocent blood,” Judas tossed the 30 pieces of silver at the feet of the priests and elders. In his grief he found a tree on the outskirts of town and hung himself. (Matthew 27:1-5)

How’s that for a bit of irony? Both Judas and Jesus hung from a tree. Both bearing guilt. Judas dying for his own guilt. Jesus dying for the guilt all who would put their faith and trust in him. He died for me. He died for you. Sinners and betrayers all.

Jesus died for the sins of the world…to give each of us the chance and that choice to “become the righteousness of God.” To live in right relationship with him.

Though Wednesday was for Jesus a quiet day before his crucifixion, it brings with it a brutal reminder of our role in sending Jesus to the cross. It’s not a lesson we like to hear. It is one we need to remember. It is by God’s grace that we are saved.

Thank God for his provision. Thank God that from the moment of creation itself he planned a way to take away my guilt and my betrayal forever. Thank God for Jesus Christ his son.

A Matter of Choice

Background Passages: Matthew 4:1-11; Luke 4:1-13

He stood on the high bank
on the east side of the Jordan River,
looked down at the milling masses,
lining up to be baptized by John.
The butterflies in Jesus’ stomach fluttered,
the stirring of the Holy Spirit within.
For the past 18 years he waited.
Listening for God’s call
to begin the work he was sent to do.

“It’s time, Jesus.”
The voice within urges him on.

Jesus shuffles forward in the meandering line.
Waiting his turn.
Deep in thought.
His sandals sink into the mud,
Toes touch water.
Snapping back to reality,
he looks into the disbelieving eyes of his cousin,
staring back at him.

“Why are you here?”
“I am not worthy…”
“You should baptize me…”

“No, John, you need to do this for me…
I need you to do this for me.”

Rising from the cool waters of the Jordan,
Liquid cascading from his hair and beard,
Jesus wipes the water from his eyes,
Looks up to heaven…
a prayer on his lips.

The clouds break.
A dove descends.
A voice declares his name…

“My Son…”

Value and Validation.

A mountain top experience on the floor of a river valley.
Jesus slogs out of the river, climbs the bank,
Retracing his steps to the crest of the hill.
Jesus looks back at the crowd below
Waiting for their shot of redemption
Unaware that redemption stood beside them.

He turns away from his past.
Takes one step into the jagged edge of the wilderness.
Then another and another.
Into the desert to face the life options open to him.

Every step Jesus took into the barren, desolate and deserted landscape led him to a familiar place. I doubt it was his first time in the solitude of the wilderness. A place to ponder. A place to plan. A place to pray. Led by the Spirit as if the Father called to his son, “Let’s go someplace where we can talk.”

In the weeks after the spiritual high of his baptism, he found himself sitting in the shade of a grotto carved into the desert rock by wind and rain, looking back toward the setting sun over Judea…in the direction of Jerusalem where he knew his path would someday take him to the cross.

We call it the “Temptations of Christ” as if this was the first time Jesus faced his own human desires. We want our savior to be immune to the pressure of living up to God’s expectations. As God’s son, we want Jesus to know from the moment he was born that his role would be and how it would play out. We don’t think of him tempted as a young boy to lash out in selfish anger. Tempted as a teenager to disobey his mother’s command. Tempted as a man to stay with the family business rather than take that journey to Jerusalem.

We want to think that Jesus never faced the choices we face. Never faced the litany of options that pull us from God’s will. We want Jesus to demonstrate his rock-solid faith and obedience to God from the moment of his birth until he rose again into heaven.

To lock Jesus in that box of spiritual piety puts him on a heavenly leash, restrained from the possibility of sin. Negating the free will God gave him. Taking those possibilities from him makes his human birth unnecessary. His walk among us a sham. If the cross was not a choice, his ultimate sacrifice loses its meaning.

When Jesus walked into the wilderness, ready to begin his ministry, he faced a world of choices that would determine if he would follow the will of his Father or chart his own course. It was a time for Jesus to prepare himself mentally, emotionally and spiritually for the life ahead. He had to decide what kind of Messiah he would be. The Messiah God sent him to be or the one for whom the people would later clamor.

After weeks of prayer and preparation in the desert where all these possibilities flashed through his mind, Jesus awakens to his ravishing hunger. A voice begins picking at the heart of Jesus, trying to shake his resolve. The stone looks a lot like a biscuit. The voice says, “You’re hungry. To do this work, you’ve got to take care of yourself. Under the circumstances no one would blame you if you were a little self-absorbed. That rock looks a lot like a biscuit. Just say the word…” Jesus knew the power given to him by the Father. The counter argument of sin pushed him to selfishly abuse the God-given power. To place his own desires first in his life.

Yet, Jesus understood that selfishness served as a stumbling block to service and sacrifice. “Man shall not live by bread alone…” The work of God is not about us. It’s about those who need God’s touch in their lives. Living in the image of God demands that we set aside the selfish desires of our hearts and mirror the heart of God.

The voice in his heart says, “God will protect you in all circumstances. Hurl yourself from the temple roof. When the people see that you land unharmed, you will draw a crowd. Then when you preach, they will have to believe.” Jesus understood that we cannot bend God’s will to ours. We cannot force his hand by insisting our way is better. Jesus knew that calling attention to himself by an ostentatious show of power, might attract a crowd, but the faith it bought could not be sustained. “Do not test the Lord, your God…” His plan for our lives remains the perfect plan. Our errant decisions derail what God intended for us. We must avoid dictating the terms of our obedience to a God who knows us better than we know ourselves.

Jesus hears the voice say, “You’ve been asked to do the impossible. It doesn’t have to be that hard. I can set you up as ruler of the world with a snap of my fingers. Bow down to me. I’ll make it happen. No drama. No trauma. No painful sacrifice. Kneel.” Jesus fought the urge to take the easy road. It may have been a daily struggle throughout his ministry. As he began to grasp the magnitude of the sacrifice God asked of him, at a time when he could only imagine the agony that would come, he resisted sin’s easy path in favor of the road less traveled. He chose to connect with the one who offered real power rather than the one whose power was limited. “Get behind me, Satan. Worship the Lord your God and serve him only…”

To be sure, Jesus faced tough choices in the wilderness. We want the temptations of Christ to end in the wilderness, but they didn’t. Throughout his life on earth, Jesus faced the choice to do things differently…right up until the end. Sitting alone in the darkness of Gethsemane, agonizing over that which he knew lay ahead, Jesus fell to his knees. The depth of anguish in the prayer he pray to his God poured from his heart. “Please, take this cup from me. If there is any other way to do this, let’s find it.” When the voice inside him remained silent, he knew God’s way was the only way to bring salvation to a lost world. “Not my will, but yours be done.” A temptation. A choice. A decision.

If our strength to face the temptations we encounter feels weak in comparison to Jesus’ resolve, it is only because our connection to the one who gives that strength is frayed by our own selfish desires. We see it when we try to bend God’s will to serve our purpose. When we choose to follow the path of rebellion…the easy road…rather than rely on the power of God to keep us from stumbling on the rocks along the road he asks us to travel.

Will I live life my way or God’s way? Will I love or reject? Will I serve or demand? Will I help or hurt? Will I give or covet? The decisions we make must reflect his will and not ours. To live in the image of God requires us to make an active decision to do so. Every day. Every minute. With every decision point.

Sin will promise the world. God gives us the freedom to follow or flee. We do or we don’t.

A temptation. A choice. A decision.

Which will it be?

Afraid to Let Go

Background Passages: II Samuel 11:1-17 and 12:1-13; Isa. 43:18-19; Psalm 51:19 and Heb. 12:1-2

My brother celebrated one of those milestone birthdays years ago, determined to scratch parachuting from an airplane from his bucket list. With the appropriate time in the classroom, he strap a parachute to his back, climbed into a perfectly fine airplane and took off for his first…and only…static line jump.

In my mind a static line jump fits a on an insanity scale at a level slightly less than skydiving simply because it reduces operator error. Rather than jump, fall and pull your ripcord before you die, you climb out on the wing onto a metal platform with your parachute’s ripcord attached to a static line inside the plane. When you jump, you get two or three seconds of freefall until the line pulls the cord, automatically deploying the parachute. Blind panic assisted by old school technology. Once the canopy fully inflates, you enjoy the magnificent view from above as you glide to a soft landing on the good, green earth below.

My brother found himself standing on the platform flying at 5,000 feet, clutching tightly with both hands to the strut underneath its wing. Buffeted by the wind rushing past him. He waited for his instructor to give him the thumbs up to jump. At the appropriate time, the signal was given. He executed a perfect three-point jump. His feet lifted from the platform and one hand released its death grip. His fourth point, his right hand, refused to release the strut. He flapped wildly in the slipstream underneath the wing, unable to will himself to let go of his hold on that last vestige of safety.

Let’s leave him hanging there and come back to him in a minute and see if I can draw a point from this story.

David, God’s chosen king of Israel, did some pretty horrible things in his life. One particular incident would have spawned a salacious investigation in today’s news cycle. An affair with a married woman left her pregnant. David attempted to manipulate the situation by recalling her husband, Uriah, from the front line of battle to create the impression that the baby was a result of her husband’s leave. Her husband unknowingly thwarted the king’s maneuvering by honorably refusing to go home while his brothers were at war. David then compounded his sin by quietly ordering Uriah and his soldiers on a suicide mission where he would most certainly die, giving David the chance to marry the hero’s widow. David did some despicable things.

When God’s prophet challenged the king’s actions, David recognized his sin, feeling the heavy burden of remorse for his actions. He fell on his face in repentance, asking God to forgive him for everything he had done. David’s felt the sting of his guilt, but he would never now release from that heavy burden until he let go of his failed past and accepted the ever=present reassurance of God’s grace and forgiveness. Only then would his relationship with the Father be reconciled and restored.

Two things happen to us who feel genuine remorse when faced with our own sin. We can seek God’s forgiveness and start anew within the grace he provides, much as David did. Too often, however, we never move past remorse to repentance, clinging to our failure with loathing and self-pity, certain that God could never forgive anyone so unworthy.

I was reminded of that fact not too long ago when I visited with a former pastor who had walked far from the path God intended. He was certain he strayed so far that God could never use him again in kingdom work. The work of Christ on the cross cleared the path for forgiveness, but this man could not bring himself to let go of the past and find a new way of serving him. It’s a journey most of us have made at some point in our lives.

When we refuse to accept the grace of God and forgive ourselves, we tend to drag the past behind us like an anchor. Instead God tells us the same thing he told the people of Israel in Isaiah 43:18-19…

“Forget (let go of) the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing. Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”

The instruction is so clear. Let go of our sin. Release it into God’s forgiving hands. He makes a way in the wasteland of our lives to restore us for a new thing. A new work.

Let’s not leave my brother hanging on the wing.

Though it probably seemed like an eternity bouncing around in the slipstream, my brother eventually let go of the strut. The static line pulled the ripcord. The parachute opened. He enjoyed “a new thing.” For minutes on end, he floated lazily on his descent to earth 5,000 feet below with the wondrous panorama of sky and earth laid out before him. He called it “exhilarating,” and “adrenaline rush.” Yet, he only experienced the joy when he let go.

There may be nothing as miserable for a Christian who desires to walk the walk than to fail to do right. Walking in that shadow of guilt is debilitating, affecting not only our relationship with God, but our relationships with others. We can fall on our knees earnestly seeking and intellectually accepting God’s forgiveness. We will never experience full release until we let go of the past and accept the next new thing God prepares for us.

David got his life back on track by asking God to “Create in me a clean heart and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” (Psalm 51:19) It is a simple prayer of a fully repentant heart that says, “God, help me set aside my past and stay focused on you.”

The writer in Hebrews puts it another way by telling us to “throw off” or let go of everything that hinders us from serving God to the best of our ability. And, he even tells us how. Look at that remarkable passage in Hebrew 12:1-2.

“…Let us throw off (let go of) everything that hinders us and the sin that so easily entangles us. Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes upon Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.”

Guilt effectively destroys grace-filled living. Keeps us from believing God can use us in any significant way. I’m convinced when we let go of our guilt we will find life laid out before us in a wondrous panorama of God’s exceptional will for each of us. Exhilarating. An adrenaline rush of eternal proportions.

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