High School Chemistry. The class where a droning professor made sure you were never distracted from sending looks towards the green-eyed girl in the second row. The class you only passed because you were really good at blowing stuff up. And the class with more real-life application than you could ever know.
Remember what you learned? That this side of the equation must balance with that side or someone could die. That if you mix clear and red you can get blue. That sodium should not be mixed with water, unless you're looking for a good show. Remember acids and bases? Acid was the B movie villain's liquid of choice to fill his booby-trapped pits. If you got it on your hands, it burned; and if you got it in your eyes you called an ambulance.
Bases were deceptive though. They were the master planner villains with the sweet monologues. If you got it on your hands, it didn't burn. It waited for that satisfaction. It dupes you into thinking that it's only a liquid that feels a bit slippery on your hands. And an hour later when you're trying to enjoy your mom's bologna and cheese sandwich (or trying to trade it for a jello cup), you feel that patient burn.
It waited for you. For that perfect, unsuspecting moment to unleash it's venom on your epidermis. It knew you wanted to eat that sandwich, and it knew that you would have to skip your entire lunch period trying to find the chemistry teacher so he could reassure you that you were going to live. That scoundrel.
The base is the master of delayed consequence. It is only surpassed by our own sin. What do I mean? I mean that there are certain sins out there that are not considered as flagrant, as scandalous, as appalling as others.
Some sins are like acid. Quick and deadly. Murder, blasphemy, theft - these sins have near immediate consequences, if not with the law then by staining black a portion of your soul. I avoid those like a high school cheerleader avoids carbs.
But those bases, man I love that slippery feeling. You see, I have traded those acid sins for ones easier to hide. Pride, masked in humility, set forth as a virtue to garner praise from those watching. Lust, hidden behind dark hours and the delete key. Slothfulness, guised as a needed break. A bad day is my term for all my discontentment, anger, and belief that I could plan it better than God. I could mention my anxiety, lack of self control, envy, or ingratitude, but instead I'll just cram them all in this sentence and pretend I'm not quite that bad.
There is a lot of sin I tolerate. The number is very nearly proportional to how much I judge for the sins I don't tolerate. I excuse all manner of evil in me, and condemn any manner of evil in you. I know, I'm terrible.
It only gets worse. Not only do I dunk my hands in a vat of base sin (pun intended), Jesus tells me I'm an acid sinner too (Matthew 5:21-48). I don't murder in a way that leads to a gavel pounding and a barred door slamming, but in my thought life, I'm Jack the Ripper. I may never have known a one-night stand, unless you count all the times I wanted to (and Jesus does).
My hands smell like bleach tonight. Partly because I cleaned, and partly because the stench of my "respectable" sin lingers on guilty hands. Will you repent with me?
Jesus shreds me any time I start to think I've got a hint of righteousness. He is dead-set on giving me His own instead.
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Thank you, Brett. I read your blog for the first time and it blessed my socks off. There were several posts I very much identified with, not just this one. They reminded me of my sinfulness, the insignificance of my short time on earth, and the true meaning of greatness. I think the Lord gave me friends like you to drive me closer to Him.
ReplyDeleteThanks Britt, that's why I write. Or at least one of the reasons.
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