That Fingernail of Sin

With a few open days, my hubby and I packed our bags and headed to our 'finca'.  As I had confessed to a close friend, I was hanging on by a mere fingernail.

This time I needed not only the silence our cabin provided, but my canvass and acrylic paints - time away to stop all aggressive ministry and sort through.  In our new line of mission work, I often feel overwhelmed by the needs, by the magnitude, by the 'no thanks' element and by my own dubious evaluations of legitimate headway being made with the children.

It wasn't until the following day when I tried to put words to my struggle and my husband Lloyd took a more conservative theological stand than I wanted to hear, that the last fingernail broke and down I plummeted. Much like our pup, Egipto, who upon arrival to our haven had jumped up on the screen that covers our water storage tank, and fallen through into murky waters, I was submerged, trying to keep my head above water.  Like that pet, who had been trapped between the water level and the overhead lid,  I was crying out for help.   I needed God to pluck me out and set me on safe, dry ground once more, just as I had done with Egipto.

I grabbed a blanket and headed to an isolated spot where I could lie down in the long grass and sleep.  God has a habit of speaking when I can still myself in such a manner.  He was however silent. 

What had crystalized, was the fact that  I wasn't, as I had supposed, spiraling downward because of the problems we were having with our flooding house.  Nor was I particularly discouraged because I had become the disciplinarian at the kids foundation and felt over my head in rebellion.  I couldn't even claim it was the cultural loneliness that had recently plagued me.  All these were a backdrop that had intensified emotions but weren't the cause.  It was, and here you can insert a drum roll, the question of sin.

I understand sin when it involves rebellious choice. When we choose our will over God's command, we separate ourselves from holiness.  We condemn ourselves to hell with such choice and only through redeeming grace can we redirect our paths toward heaven.  Fair enough.  But I must take sin by faith when the Bible claims that we are born sinful.  That I have a hard time comprehending, which is not to say that God is limited by my understanding.  I'm just pretty upset with Him for designing life that way.  Or is it really so?


I have been involved in fairly extensive facebook debates among Christian friends about homosexuality.  My spiritual buddies are a varied lot including hard core fundamentalists, wild and wooly liberals and everything in between.  They are a great group but, not surprisingly, we bash heads a lot.  While my tendency is towards a more conservative Christian view my sympathies lie on more liberal ground.


I am a woman often called to spiritual leadership roles.  I don't fare well at times with Paul.  I take a reasonably liberal view regarding my role.  Not only do I give myself some space I believe that freedom from the literal word of God is required for me to fulfill what God has called me to do and who He has created me to be.  I believe that that freedom comes from the essence of God's Word rather than literal interpretation. Is that same freedom applicable to other circumstances?


But the Bibles says ... Yes, the Bible says a  lot of things and the line between that which we keep and that which we toss  as cultural or no longer applicable seems to get more and more convoluted.  There are holes in our understanding - disturbing inconsistencies - yet we debate as though they don't exist.


Much closer to home at the moment than the homosexual dilemma are the kids and families who have become my current field of ministry.  I have discovered that there are at least two forms of rebellion expressed by our children.  One is an outright refusal to submit to authority.  It's a battle of wills much like Eden.  It's sin, pure and simple.  We can all relate and discipline decisions are easy to make.

The second is a more confusing form of rebellion.  Superficially, it seems senseless.  The child rebels at their own personal harm.  Not only are they incurring personal loss but no form of discipline breaks through it.  It is as though the child has an inner story that they are trying to express, calling out for help as it were and completely unable to vocalize through anything other than rebellious response. To castigate such rebellion is not only ineffective, it can in all likelihood compound the inner turmoil of the child and become counter productive and harmful.


This latter rebellion is most likely rooted in abuse that the child is experiencing and striking out against and which occurs in the home or close family circle.  In most cases, the child is a victim to those who were also victims to the same behavioral patterns.  To hold someone responsible for a sin pattern that has evolved through abusive cycles seems questionable.  While there is no doubt about how harmful this kind of verbal, physical and sexual abuse is to the recipient, who should really be held accountable to the damnation of hell for it?  Whom does the Lord judge and condemn for it?


God is holy.  What He requires goes.  But there seems to be a peculiarity in His nature if in judging sin, uncontrollable circumstances are not considered.  My conservative friends in a rather pulpit-pounding fashion proclaim that sin is sin.  Period.  I tend to agree, somewhat. My most liberal of friends bank heavily on grace and human logic.  I tend to agree as well.  But I also find it questionable and dangerous to simply retort, "Surely God would not judge us for that.  Surly we have rights in spite of our circumstances." Says who?  I find neither an ultra fundamental nor an ultra liberal view very palatable in its purest form.  I am also well aware that God is not subject to palatable theology.

So there we were, God and I.  He was daring me to spit it out and take Him on - to put Him to the test and see that He is good.  I was afraid.  What if He didn't stand the test at all?   I responsively and furiously dared Him to hold true.  The final fingernail gave way because I had no answer other than a very weak, "I really don't know, God."  Which was then followed by an "I'm not liking what I see about You either, God." Neither the not knowing nor the not liking seemed the least bit acceptable to me.  I should at least know if not like. Shouldn't I?

It was that two part dilemma that had me quickly spiraling downward.   Our flooding house, ministry pressures and dubious evaluation of effectiveness all unified as the backdrop to become the millstone threatening against my ever getting back up for air again.

Into such prevailing darkness, came a thought - just as one might hear a still small voice  What if I just love?  What if it's not about getting it right?  What if I don't have to have the theological response?  What if I don't have to worry about getting people saved as much as putting flesh to God's redeeming grace? What if God has freed me to love - just love - in spite of , because of and through?

As much as I might desire at times to do so, I cannot control inherent circumstances, nor God's sense of justice.  Instead I bank, in faith, on His redeeming grace.  I can control  my heart and what flows from it but not the decisions nor actions of others.  If my heart is filled with love, then that is the transforming power that will be released from it.

I remain of the opinion that my most fundamental of friends don't express grace well and my most liberal of friends can easily bypass holiness.  The tension between the two is my constant, inner spiritual struggle.  Finding a balance between grace and holiness that is aligned with God's intent and knowing where exactly to stand firm on lines that need to be drawn continues to evade me.   Perhaps that will never change.

Letting go of that struggle for the time being and accepting the call to love doesn't make things easier for me,  Not at all.  But my world feels a little more right.  I have a handle on how to get back to work and minister, where to set my hand to the plow and where to take off my hands and let God do what I can't - redeem.

My last fingernail gripping tightly to the comfortable soil of judgment let go and I was set free to love.