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SINS OF AVAILABILITY Who is the Christian who prefers light over darkness; who does not seek to live in darkness, and yet is here and there resigned to its enjoyment? The Christian who despises evil in the hearts of unbelieving men. Who sees wickedness for what it is: dangerous and wrong; who hates this wickedness and does not want it for himself, and who counsels others against it. This Christian knows what awaits the world at its death, which he believes is nigh unto approaching. He knows further that the cross is life; he knows its purpose, its history, and the price at which it was obtained. The Christian loves the Lord; he loves Jesus Christ; he hates sin, and he pledges a life of humble service for the great gifts and calling he has received. He hates the evil deeds in others and rejects them for himself. And he runs from sin—except when it's available. "The sluggard buries his hand in the dish, but will not even bring it back to his mouth." Imagine a john who pays for sex. He takes his prostitute to bed; he unclothes her. He kisses her on the mouth. Then, suddenly bored, he recommends that they do something else. Imagine a boy who loves hot apple cider. It's a crisp winter night, and his mother cooks up a fresh batch of cider for him to drink. The boy accepts a vial of poison from a stranger instead. He takes the first sip, and relishes it, but the stranger returns for his vial. The boy does not object when it is taken away. This Christian is not a wolf. He is neither shrewd, nor cunning; he is not strong and he does not hunt, or strut, or jockey for position in the pack. He is small and thoughtful, unimpressive, for the most part unassuming. His tongue is sharp, and it sometimes gets him into trouble, though not enough trouble for most people to notice. He is a man; naturally, he wants the same kinds of things that other men also want. But not particularly so. Now behold his indifference to things harmful. Here he is—he's lying on the street, his head propped up against the rear wheels of a car. The driver returns to the car with some groceries, keys extended; the man is still lying there. Perhaps he will get up soon. Oh! here he is again—he's seated at the bar, three beers in, with a semicircle of tequila shots arrayed in front of him, and a cavalcade of allies, monsters, mentors, strange women, old friends, and shewsters at his rear. This is exciting; how will it all play out? The man has an idea and he'll tell you if you ask him. The tequila looks good. He doesn't really seem to care. It is possible for a man to fall even if he has no special interest in falling. He may be bored. He may suffer from indifference. He may be licentious, or be a sluggard, or a drunk, and be uncommitted in all these areas. He might be unremarkable. But he needs to be encouraged, and he needs to put his fucking life in order. Who is the Christian who does not doubt God? Who has signed his life over to Christ, who rejoices in his decision, and yet falls into sin, here and there, when available? The Christian is me. -murrayjames 07/09/08 |