My kids and I went to drop a letter in the mail box this morning. Upon stepping outside, we were met with wet paint that ended part way in front of our door. Obviously, they left room for us to be able to come and go, so it was not a huge deal. I just made sure the kids knew the sign said “wet paint” and they were to stay away from the freshly painted walkway. On our way back, the kids raced up the stairs ahead of me but remembered my instruction while I snapped a few pictures to share with the world. It was not until I got inside and looked at the pictures that I noticed how close my son got to the paint. You can almost see the wheels turning in that little head of his, debating how close he could get before trouble ensued.
I find that I am often like a curious child in my walk with Christ. There I am, walking along the path on a spectacularly sunny day with Jesus at my side, when something shiny catches my eye. He takes my hand, “Come, child. Let’s go this way.”
But I tug back, “Aw, c’mon! I just want to go see what’s going on over!”
“You don’t need to go over there. Trust me,” He says.
“But it sounds like they’re having a lot of fun,” I pout, unsure why He is dragging me away from something that seems harmless.
The next day, the same thing catches my eye and I try to get a little closer, but Jesus tugs back.
The scenario starts out this way each time, but the direction it takes depends on the situation. Is this how it is for you as well? Maybe you genuinely don’t know why something is wrong but still feel that conviction tugging softly on your heart. Sometimes, we can see the why and we understand the why; yet we dance as close to the line as possible, hoping that if we are close enough we can see what is on the other side without fully stepping over it.
We loosen our grasp, until our fingers slip from His hand, calling back over our shoulder as we run toward the glimmer, “I’ll be fine!”
Then we stand in the clearing, not daring to get too close, but giddy at the small glimpse of something exciting peeking through the trees. Each day, on your walk, you now walk side by side, but you don’t let Him take your hand anymore, because it would stop you from taking another peek. Finally, one day you venture close enough to the edge that one more step would allow you to enter into the world on the other side.
I may not be very old, but I have lived enough life to know that resting your toes against the edge of sin is a dangerous place to be. Once you get that close, the dialogue with the Enemy begins. He reasons with you, “Oh, c’mon. Just a little. It’s not like it’s a habit or anything. Just this once let your guard down!”
The moment you let that guard down, Satan says, “Aha! Go on in, boys! We’ve got a new friend.” Then they throw every bit of temptation at you. You keep falling for the lies, until one day you say, “No!” He looks up from his cards (because for some reason I am picturing Satan engrossed in a game of poker).
“What did you say,” he says with a smirk.
“I…I said no!”
He collapses his fanned out cards and sets them on the table in a neat stack, rises slowly and looks down at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “Yeah, I’ve heard this before. So, let’s skip to the end where I help you see the light and you get on with whatever it was you were doing?…Um, was it pornography?”
“No,” you shout louder, trying not to buckle under pressure but feeling your knees knocking together, your body trembling. Your resolve begins to wear as he reminds you of the good times. Then he suggests something that makes your recoil and you respond with the appropriate disgust, “I would never do that!”
“Yeah,” he says, leaning back against the table, then gesturing behind you, “You said that back there too.”
Slowly you turn and look down at your feet. No line is in sight. You look up and find that you can barely make out the line you crossed in the distance. How did this happen? Ashamed, scarred, unarmed, bruised and broken, you close your eyes and whisper, “God, help.”
And He holds out His hand. Just like that.
For the first time in awhile, you see the beauty you missed on the other side of the line. You see the rays of sun streaming through the trees above. Blue skies stretch above you, the grass is lush, the path is still there…and He leads you right back to it. He came for me! He loves me! You looks back to see the look on Satan’s face, but all you see now darkness. Where there was once beauty, you now see it for what it is.
Crossing the line is not worth it. And believe me when I say that trying to skirt the edge will eventually lead to crossing the line. Don’t think that you are safe because you haven’t crossed a line. If you are spending a lot of time thinking of how to get as close to committing a sin as you can without going past your imaginary line, then you are already in trouble. Satan’s job is to get us to sin. If he has to wear us down by coaxing us into it slowly, he will take the time to do it. So be on your guard. Be firm in your beliefs. Know what God says is sin, and do not be afraid to set limits for yourself. I personally do not think that drinking alcohol is a sin (and I have seen the arguments from both camps on the matter), but I choose not to drink. I recognize the potential in myself to use it as a crutch and to abuse it, so I don’t open that can of worms. It is okay to have self-imposed limitations, even if the world thinks you’re crazy, if it is to keep you from sin. You know your own temptations better than anyone else!
Stand firm. Don’t dabble in sin. Satan isn’t in it for your welfare. What he’s dishing up is not worth the repercussions. It may taste good for a time, but you’ll end up with a stomach ache. Stay away from the line! Don’t get curious. Keep your hand firmly in His grasp. But if you should find yourself teetering on the edge, remember it is better to backtrack now, than to cross over and have to find your way back from there.
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