Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
I had read years ago it is a good practice to purge from your wardrobe each season. In the beginning, deciding what to discard was easy: The shirt from 20 years ago with the deodorant stains in the armpits, the 5-year-old t-shirt from the 5k run, the too-cute shoes that KILL my feet are a little harder to part with, finally have to go. I have pared down my closet and chest of drawers to where it is now a real sacrifice to purge anymore.
This is where I found myself the other day. I have this really cute apricot sleeveless summer top. It required a bit of effort to wear because being cotton it had to be ironed. The fit wasn’t perfect, but if I was diligent, with a pull and a tug, my fat would be concealed as best a little cotton top could conceal fat. Needless to say, it spent most of its time in the drawer, and yet I could not part with it.
That is when I realized this is what I do with my sin. I had purged the big ones years ago: not taking the LORD’s name in vain, honoring my parents, stealing, murder, coveting. It is the sins that I am comfortable enough with, but don’t fit who I am in Christ that I struggle with and didn’t realize until that apricot shirt was in my hand once again. Lying, I don’t lie except for white lies…do those count? Judging? Pride? I’m not proud, I’m not perfect by any means, but I’m not that bad. Self-righteous? Self-centered? Not really…I could be worse. A little pull, a little tug, and these sins are covered by strategic camouflage: a manufactured prayer, “church on Sunday” checked off my list, appropriate dress, and vocabulary, with a strategic “Amen” and “Thank you Jesus” timed just right I can keep these sins hidden. I can then focus on my fellowman’s need for Jesus, not my own need to turn inward and purge the things unpleasing to my Savior.
Once again looking at myself and feeling defeated, hopeless to conquer the old self that raises its ugly head and hurts my heart. I am ashamed of myself and embarrassed to face my Lord. I can only pray, “Help me. I am so sorry.”
True to His word, His character, His promise, Jesus wraps his arms around me and gives me hope for a new day. He is the God of second chances. He knows my struggle. He knows our struggle. He is the one who gently pulls out from the depths of our hearts, holds up our sin and asks if we will trust him enough to let it go. To be free and clean and uncluttered.
(Though it took a bit of courage, I let the apricot shirt go.)