I was discussing church and salvation with a friend of mine earlier and he shared an interesting story a former pastor of his had told him.

The pastor had a young son and one year, for his birthday, bought his son his first bicycle. Of course, after a few months it was time to remove the training wheels. Once his son became accustomed to riding without the training wheels the father laid out some ground rules. Rule number one: only ride in the driveway and yard. They lived on a busy street, so it made sense; besides, their yard was large enough to keep the son content.

One day a few months later the father was on his way home from work, but when he got to the street he lived on it was backed up with traffic, which was unusual. As he got closer to his home he could see an ambulance. He pulled his car over and ran to see what happened and saw his son’s bike laying in the street. His son had just been put into the ambulance, so he ran back to his car and followed them to the hospital. The father sat at his son’s bed day and night praying for his son, but his son still died a few days later.

Heartbroken, the father drove home. Upon arriving home he walked up to the street and stood, looking at the bloodstained asphalt as people drove by. Then it struck him – to them, nothing has changed. His son died right there in the street, yet they keep driving through his son’s blood.

Of course, you can probably figure out where the story went. The pastor related it to my friend as being that every time we Christians sin, we’re “driving through” Jesus’ blood. And he said this is why he no longer considers himself a Christian. He believes in God, he believes Jesus died for his sins, but he doesn’t want to call himself a Christian until he can live up to the standards because he doesn’t want to break God’s heart by “driving through Jesus’ blood”.

Now, he’s been told that Jesus wants him to come as he is, that he can’t fix himself, that repentance is a process, that only the Holy Spirit can change him. Of course, he’s also heard the other argument: that the moment you accept Jesus and repent that there is an immediate change, that the old man is gone and you are a new creation and all addictions, vices, faults, etc. are gone.

This brings up several questions; first, while I do believe it breaks God’s heart to see Christians caught up in sin, does it not also break His heart to see someone who knows what Jesus did for them yet they still won’t turn their life over because they don’t think they are good enough?

Also, is there a difference between committing a sin and living a sinful lifestyle? In the past I’ve said that sin is a choice and that as far as God is concerned, all sin is equal, and I still believe that, but I guess I’m starting to question things such as motive. Not to justify sin, but is there a difference between someone who willingly puts them-self in a position where sin is a probability and someone who just isn’t perfect and happens to make an occasional mistake? Weird analogy here, but try to keep up. When I go grocery shopping, I take a list. I do this because if I don’t I know I’ll end up with something I don’t really need. So I make a PLAN as to what to buy. However, every grocery store has what is called an impulse aisle; Walmart calls it Action Alley and it’s the open space between the checkout section and the first row of aisles. Normally I don’t even stop when walking through Action Alley, but every now and then something will catch my eye and I end up buying it impulsively. I think sin is like that as well. There are situations that I know I shouldn’t allow myself to be put in because I know I would succumb to temptation. Yet, there are times where I let my flesh get the better of me, such as when someone cuts me off in traffic and I respond by cursing at them or showing a little bit of sign language. I don’t plan to say or do anything, it just sort of happens. But it isn’t an accident either. I choose to sin.

Which brings me back to the conversation with my friend; there are things we don’t plan to do, yet we still do them because at the end of the day we’re all human. Regardless of your name, status, title, job, etc. you’re human, which means you are not perfect. I still laugh at people who expect more of their pastor than of themselves. At the same time though, there are things each of us deal with and it is those issues that, left unchecked, will destroy us. For example, my father is a recovering alcoholic. Seven years ago he had a liver transplant. He can no longer drink. Yet the desire to drink is still there. It may be dormant but it is still there. Because of this, my father knows he can’t go to his old haunts. Sure, he can still hang out with his old friends, but he can’t do it at a bar. Even though it’s been over seven years since his last drink, he knows he’d be a fool to even test that temptation. Is he perfect? Far from it. But in the last seven years my father has come to know Christ and I know that without God’s help he wouldn’t have made it seven weeks sober, let alone seven years. 

I’m reminded of why I titled this blog Religion Sucketh. Religion leads to two things: pride and despair. Pride because we get so caught up in how good we are we begin to look down on others and their mistakes instead of helping those who fall back to their feet. And despair because it’s the opposite of pride. We are riding so high on pride that when we do sin, we have a long way to fall. Jesus wasn’t about religion.

My father’s story reminds me of 2 Timothy 4:7 where Paul says “I have finished the race”. It’s not about how fast you run, how far you run or where you place, it’s about whether or not you finish the race.

I’m going to make mistakes. It’s not a matter of if, but when. What matters is how I handle it once it’s done. Will I sit there, beat myself up and throw a pity party, or will I get up off the ground and get back to the race?

Questions? Comments?
Open floor.