Wednesday, October 8, 2008


I decided that I am going to blog, first thing this morning. I have so many thoughts on my way into the office, then I do a load of other things and lose all my thoughts. I don't have the memory of a Jonathan Edwards.

I have a confession to make. I sin. I know that's not a shock to anyone, but I struggle with it. Not that I believe I am perfect, but I believe He is perfect and the scripture states "You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." Matt 5:48 (ESV).

Paul says to crucify the flesh, to put to death the deeds of the flesh. I try, my flesh is like the villian in some cheap horror film. I kill it and sacrifice it and slay it and it comes back, again and again. It causes me pain, I carry anguish over my failings with my flesh.

I was talking with the Lord this morning on my way into the office. I carry a lot of baggage that stems from theology passed to me from my Hyper-Calvinist mother. She was raised a presbyterian in North Carolina, which is very reformed. In addition to her Hyper-Calvinism, she believed strongly in God's punishment for sin, both those sins you are aware of and sins that you were unaware of. Even now, as an adult, as a pastor I have great fear of punishment, of reprisal. There are things that have happened in my life that I have told myself are punishments for my sins.

I realized that I sometimes view God though the lense of my sin. I see Him as angry. During the prayer conference this week, I tuned into the things that confirmed that belief. That God Doesn't and God Won't, and all the things that my sin does that moves me farther and farther from His presence and makes Him angry.

So this morning, I cried out for forgiveness again. I cried out for forgiveness for the same sins I have confessed over and over. It's guilt and self torture, and maybe even a lack of faith. Perhaps I am sinning by focusing so much on my own sin (see, I'm messed up). Perhaps one day I will find peace, rise above my sin and my flesh. Perhaps I will find a way to stake my flesh to the ground with a tent spike. Until then, I struggle with this mortification of the flesh.

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