I think at some point, most Christians have thought they’ve overcome a certain temptation and felt like they developed some sense of immunity to it…only to later realize that they are in fact still fallible.
It’s a disorienting experience, especially when you feel like you’re doing what you’re supposed to. When your Christianity is haphazard and passive by nature, I think you almost expect to ignore God to some degree. But when you’re going to church, and reading your Bible, and praying, and letting faith shape your life instead of relegating it to an hour or so on Sundays, falling into a sin you thought you’d outgrown will shake you to your core.
Pursuing the Lord eventually reduces sin, but I don’t think anyone fully “conquers” human nature on this side of life. I think the most devout believer still struggles with the flesh, and occasionally succumbs to it – though in dwindling frequency the longer they walk with the Lord. I think there’s a beautiful irony in that those sins being fewer and further between grieve you more and weigh more heavily on your heart the closer you grow to God.
Depending on your disposition, a transgression that you thought you were exempt from can propel you into panic, crisis and despair.
You might feel reluctant to even come before God or be around your brothers and sisters in Christ as you wrestle with the shame of whatever you’ve done.
And I have to say I think God gave us our emotions for a reason, and shame serves just as much of a purpose as the rest of them. When we feel shame, our instinct shouldn’t be to plug our ears and shake our heads, trying to silence our own consciences – but instead to confront it, interrogate it, and surrender it to God.
But while our feelings can be helpful, any faithful Christian knows that our feelings are not truth, and that we (or the enemy) can easily corrupt them as the heart is deceitful above all things.
We have a habit of feeling guilt after betraying God because we should. It’s a natural and normal reaction. I’d go as far as arguing it’s somewhat necessary for our genuine repentance. But we’re also flawed and fragile, so even emotions that serve a purpose can be twisted and contorted beyond anything God intended for us.
When we find ourselves frantic or forlorn, in disbelief of what we’ve done and maybe even doubting God’s love or grace, I think it’s important to remember what would please God and what would please Satan.
God wants you with Him, even if you’re trembling and even if your head is hung in disgrace. Any impulse you feel to flee from Him, to hide from His people, to avoid His Word, to linger in the distance between you and your Creator is not from Him. The devil is the only one with anything to gain when your fear of God goes from a humbled reverence to a dreadful withdrawal.
After you do something you never thought you’d do again, it can feel like you’re in a spiritual No Man’s Land. It’s not like you want to run towards the world; you know it has nothing of substance to offer you. But at the same time you feel like you’re in no position to come before the Lord. Even if you know logically that God’s mercy is supposed to be infinite, you feel like He’s run out of it for you.
But God tells us to forgive each other over, and over, and over again, without constraints and without limits, even when it’s undeserved, because that’s what He does for us.
Obviously, we should be doing this no matter what. But when we’ve defied God’s commandments and find ourselves spiraling, I think one of the most productive things we can do is try to extend the forgiveness we desperately need from God to the people that have wronged us – not because it will “earn it” or erase our sins, but because it will give us a better appreciation for what God has done and will do for us more times than we can count.
There’s probably someone in your life that has done something so wicked, so heinous, and so indefensible to you, that forgiveness feels impossible. But the reality is that you’ve done worse to God than what anyone has done to you. So challenging yourself to extend the grace you’ve been given can create a sense of peace and grounding, quieting the frenzy and anxiety that often consume serious Christians after a transgression.
When a Christian finds themselves trying to pick up the pieces after they’ve betrayed God, I also think we have to understand that we crave what we consume.
For most of my adult life, I ate like a spoiled raccoon. I didn’t pay any attention to ingredients, nutrition or food quality. I lived off of fast food, Uber Eats and pizza rolls.
I tried different weight loss methods like eating one meal a day and cutting down on carbs. I saw the benefits. But what really changed things for me was when my roommate moved out of my house, and I decided to start consistently cooking at home to save money.
I kid you not, I had just turned 30 the first time I purchased or even used flour. I was buying the cleanest I could. And for the first time in my life I was eating like someone that cared not only about how much I weighed but my wellbeing.
I noticed that the longer that I ate like that, the less I craved what I’d been eating most of my life.
Months after I started preparing my meals at home I got some kind of coupon for either Little Caesar’s or Dominos and thought I might as well take advantage of it. But when I did, the same pizza I’d ordered and inhaled time after time was much less appetizing or satisfying than I remembered it. It wasn’t inedible, but compared to what I’d been eating it tasted stale, artificial and mediocre.
Another day I saw that a popular food truck was in my area, and decided to stop there for lunch. I had the same reaction.
It’s not that I never want to eat overly processed industrial junk food, but the more effort I put into eating well, the less I desired it – and the less it satisfied me when I gave into the urge.
What I mean by that is the more evil you entertain, the more you will seek it out, and the more of an appetite you will have for it. The more you fill your life with the good, the righteous, and the pure, the less tolerance you’ll have for the opposite. So even when you do misstep, you don’t delight in it, but have an instinct to run back to your Father. And the sooner you do that, the less likely you are to seek refuge in the world and repeat your offenses against Him.
Sin is serious and requires repentance, but I don’t believe it’s what defines us.
Our faith, our habits, and our character are what make us who we are – and what should bring us back to center after our iniquities.
When you inevitably fall short of the glory of God, take it to heart and hold it with gravity. But don’t let Satan convince you that it’s all you are or all you’ll ever be. Turn back to the Lord in your defeat, your disappointment and your despondence and let Him take the wheel.
what do you think?