I spend some time working at a local homeless shelter each week. I don’t say this so you will see my good works and praise me before men, rather because I’ve had a few conversations there that I find particularly interesting.
I’ve gotten used to seeing some of the same guys each week, many of whom are really trying to escape the circumstances in which they are embroiled, but some of those circumstances are so complex that exit is not easy. There is one person I’ve spoken with a number of times who has a recurring problem with drugs. He knows it’s not a good choice and he knows it’s the reason he is a regular at the homeless shelter, but he still continues to make bad choices. The last time I saw was a few weeks ago when he told me he was going to be in jail for six months or so, but he wasn’t sad about it. He actually he seemed relieved because, as he explained it, “I won’t have access to drugs there and I’ll be able to get clean. Hopefully, that will give me a good start for when I get out.” I nodded and said I hoped so too. But then he added, in a rather nonchalant manner, that he had been in and out of prison a few times and every time he comes out, he soon falls into his old habits. I remember driving home that day feeling sorry for him and wished he wasn’t locked in an unending cycle of failure. But by the time I got home, my thoughts had changed.
I realized there is very little difference between he and I. We are both locked into a cycle of sin-repent-repeat. Every time I do something horrible, I fall asleep that night telling myself I’ll do better next time. But by the time I wake the next morning my evil desires have risen from the ashes of my shallow repentance, ready to scorch the skies of a new day with the fires of sin. I, like my friend in the homeless shelter, often wonder when this will ever change.
I am convinced, though I’m guessing very few people will admit this, this is the way of life for nearly everyone. We long to do the right things, but our broken nature constantly pulls us down every time finish repenting. We are all locked in a cycle that is not easily broken even though the simple solution to breaking this cycle has been told us time and time again.
I remember many times as a child being told that I should build a daily habit of reading the Bible and praying. Most of the time, however, I translated this into a spiritual version of “an apple a day keeps the doctor away,” and as such dismissed it. Life had to be more complex than that, or at least I thought it did. But now that I am older and confronted with the sinful ruts cut through my mind I look back on those times with a sense of regret. I certainly don’t regret hearing the advice, but I regret not following the advice more often than I have.
The psalmist asks the question, “How can a young man keep his way pure?” to which he responds by saying, “By guarding it according to your word.” This is the same advice I received as a child and it turns out it was spot-on, but I don’t mean to say that it is a promise. This is not a magical formula which says “if you read your Bible and try really hard, then you will never sin.” This is the sort of thing the Pharisees believed and you can see where it got them.
These words are part advice and part prophecy and are words to which I and my friend at the homeless shelter need to cling. We guard our ways by the written words of God, but those words only have power because of the word that became flesh and dwelt among us. When the two are disconnected, then the written words are as powerless over my sin as any other advice given by men. But when we open ourselves to the possibility that the written words of God are an extension of the word who was with God at the foundations of the world creating all that there is, we find that he gives us power to break free from the cycle of sin-repent-sin. His work created this world, his work brought God’s laws to us, and his work broke the chains of sin which drag us down.
I don’t know if my friend in prison will ever get this. I know I’ve told him time and time again, but he keeps saying he has to be stronger. Actually, I don’t know if I will ever get this: I think I need to be stronger too. But strength is not the way, weakness is. I wish he would find himself so weak that he finally knew he had no choice but to ask for God’s help. I wish I would do the same. A tough wish to be sure, but I think it might be the only way to get our attention. It certainly is the only way to change.
