"What I don't understand about myself is that I decide one way, but then I act another, doing things I absolutely despise. So if I can't be
trusted to figure out what is best for myself and then do it, it becomes
obvious that God's command is necessary. But I need something
more! For if I know the law but still can't keep it, and if the power
of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need
help! I realize that I don't have what it takes. I can will it, but I can't do it. I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such
as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep
within me and gets the better of me every time." - Romans 7:15-20 (MSG)
Down the 15 Freeway, on the way to Las Vegas, there's on old fence,
tattered and worn, protecting dry desert land that, as far as I can
tell, is completely uninhabited now by anyone who would ever need a fence.
Still. It's there. A solitary thing, holding the line.
I
pulled into a nearby turn off once, and took a picture by the fence.
There was just something about it that I wanted to capture. Something haunting, but dignified. It creaked
loudly as I leaned against it, threatening to give way. The posts were
weak, but the fence held. I'm no carpenter, but I figured it was due to
the cross beams. All that wood, sun bleached and splintered, still
strong after who knew how many years, because of its connectedness,
because the weight borne against it could be shared.
We're
no different, you and I. Each of us is a post, not
nearly as strong as we think ourselves to be, but when the sun gets too
hot or the winds of life grow too strong, we can trust in God to be our
cross beams. He helps us figure out how to distribute the weight, and He
tells us who to lean on and who not to lean on, because that's important
too, because some people can't handle it right now, they're not ready
for it, and others can.
These
past three months I have engaged in dark behaviors, moods and
tendencies that I thought myself well past. As a Christian I expected
more of myself. As a human being I was unable. Somewhere along the path
of faith I forgot that, oh yeah, Christians are still human.
Scripture tells us that we were once "children of wrath", that we
should work to evolve beyond this, but it also tells us,
repeatedly, not to forget that the world that made us that way is still
very much alive and well, calling us back to an existence that wants
desperately to dry us out, splinter us and shatter us to pieces.
I
thought I was a strong post. The Lord reminded me that I am but one
post. I thought I could bear a great load. The Lord reminded me that,
without Him, I can barely handle a single pound. The way we lean, the way we do or do not give way to the weight of this world, has a direct
impact on the rest of the fence. So
let's make a deal, you and I, okay? Let's stand together, as best we
can, and trust in the cross beams to take care of the rest. That way, no
matter what? We can stand strong.
