How Can We Gain Victory Over Our Secret Sins? (Colossians 3:8–9)
It would be wonderful if our relationship with Jesus eradicated the allure of the darkness so prevalent in this world, but that won’t happen in this life. And whether it comes through the internet, television, purse, tongue or stomach, most of us are intimately familiar with the relentless persistence of secret sins.
The conquest of these persistent sins can only begin when we decide that we want to change. We are quick to say we want to be free. But we may derive “benefits”—pleasure, power, influence, ego—from these sins. Do we really want to live without these “friends”? Do we really want to be healed? We will never break free until we believe life without our secret sins is better, in every way, than life with them.
The other ingredient to victory is inviting others into the struggle. The sin cycle is fueled by secrecy. We may have confessed these sins to God countless times, but we hide them from others because we are afraid to risk people’s esteem. But transparency and humility before others is an opportunity to put teeth to our belief that God has forgiven us. It provides accountability in our spiritual growth. And perhaps we need to care more about offending God with our perpetual disobedience and less about our friends’ opinions.
Sin grows in the dark. The psalmist said, “You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence” (Ps 90:8). The light destroys the darkness. The way to strike a fatal blow against secret sins is to finally decide we want to be free and then invite a trusted friend into our battle.
Taken from NIV Essentials Study Bible
Dirty Rags No More
We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment. (Isaiah 64:6)
It is true that any shortcoming of God’s law offends against his perfect holiness and makes us liable to judgment, since God cannot look with favor on any sin (Habakkuk 1:13; James 2:10–11).
But what brought a person to ruin in the Old Testament (and it is the same for us today) was not the failure to have the righteousness of sinless perfection. What brought them to ruin was the failure to trust in the merciful promises of God, especially the hope that he would one day provide a redeemer who would be a perfect righteousness for his people (“the Lord is our righteousness,” Jeremiah 23:6; 33:16). The saints knew that this is how they were saved, and that this faith was the key to obedience, and that obedience was the evidence of this faith.
It is terribly confusing when people say that the only righteousness that has any value is the imputed righteousness of Christ. Clearly, justification is not grounded on any of our righteousness, but only on the righteousness of Christ imputed to us. But sometimes people are careless and speak disparagingly of all human righteousness, as if there were no such thing that pleased God.
They often cite Isaiah 64:6, which says our righteousness is as filthy rags, or “a polluted garment.” “We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment.”
But in the context, Isaiah 64:6 does not mean that all righteousness performed by God’s people is unacceptable to God. Isaiah is referring to people whose righteousness is in fact hypocritical. It is no longer righteousness. But in the verse just before this, Isaiah says that God approvingly meets “him who joyfully works righteousness” (verse 5).
It’s true — gloriously true — that none of God’s people, before or after the cross, would be accepted by an immaculately holy God if the perfect righteousness of Christ were not imputed to us (Romans 5:19; 1 Corinthians 1:30; 2 Corinthians 5:21). But that does not mean God does not produce in those “justified” people an experiential righteousness that is not a “polluted garment.”
In fact, he does, and this righteousness is precious to God and is, in fact, required — not as the ground of our justification (which is the righteousness of Christ only), but as an evidence of our being truly justified children of God.
God tells Abraham that he will destroy Sodom and Gomorrah, Lot’s home, so Abraham pleads for mercy. But the destruction will not be stalled any longer, so God sends angels to warn Lot and his family.
Fair Warning
Read
The angels questioned Lot. “Do you have any other relatives here in the city?” they asked. “Get them out of this place—your sons-in-law, sons, daughters, or anyone else. For we are about to destroy this city completely. The outcry against this place is so great it has reached the Lord, and he has sent us to destroy it.” . . .
When Lot still hesitated, the angels seized his hand and the hands of his wife and two daughters and rushed them to safety outside the city, for the Lord was merciful.
(Genesis 19:12-13, 16)
Reflect
God promised to save Sodom if only ten innocent people lived there (Genesis 18:32). Apparently not even ten could be found, because the angels soon arrived to destroy the city.
Lot hesitated to leave the city, so the angel seized his hand and rushed him to safety. Lot did not want to abandon the wealth, position, and comfort he enjoyed in Sodom.
The story of Sodom reveals that the people of Lot’s day had to deal with the same kinds of sins the world faces today. Lot was so content to live among ungodly people that he was no longer a believable witness for God. Instead of shaping his environment, he had allowed his environment to shape him. Do those who know you see you as a witness for God, or do you just blend into the crowd? Lot had compromised to the point that he was almost useless to God.
Respond
We can easily criticize Lot for being hypnotized by Sodom when the choice seems so clear to us. To be wiser than Lot, we must look out for the ways our culture attracts us and causes us to hesitate in following God.
Streams in the Desert – May 2
The Lord hath prepared his throne in the heavens; and his kingdom rules over all (Ps. 103:19).
Some time since, in the early spring, I was going out at my door when round the corner came a blast of east wind–defiant and pitiless, fierce and withering–sending a cloud of dust before it. I was just taking the latchkey from the door as I said, half impatiently, “I wish the wind would”–I was going to say change; but the word was checked, and the sentence was never finished.
As I went on my way, the incident became a parable to me. There came an angel holding out a key; and he said: “My Master sends thee His love, and bids me give you this.” “What is it?” I asked, wondering. “The key of the winds,” said the angel, and disappeared.
Now indeed should I be happy. I hurried away up into the heights whence the winds came, and stood amongst the caves. “I will have done with the east wind at any rate–and that shall plague us no more,” I cried; and calling in that friendless wind, I closed the door, and heard the echoes ringing in the hollow places. I turned the key triumphantly. “There,” I said, now we have done with that.”
“What shall I choose in its place?” I asked myself, looking about me. “The south wind is pleasant”; and I thought of the lambs, and the young life on every hand, and the flowers that had begun to deck the hedgerows. But as I set the key within the door, it began to burn my hand. “What am I doing?” I cried; “who knows what mischief I may bring about? How do I know what the fields want! Ten thousand things of ill may come of this foolish wish of mine.”
Bewildered and ashamed, I looked up and prayed that the Lord would send His angel yet again to take the key; and for my part I promised that I would never want to have it any more. But lo, the Lord Himself stood by me. He reached His hand to take the key; and as I laid it down, I saw that it rested against the sacred wound-print.
It hurt me indeed that I could ever have murmured against anything wrought by Him who bare such sacred tokens of His love. Then He took the key and hung it on His girdle. “Dost THOU keep the key of the winds?” I asked. “I do, my child,” He answered graciously. And lo, I looked again and there hung all the keys of all my life. He saw my look of amazement, and asked, “Didst thou not know, my child, that my kingdom rules over all?
“Over all, my Lord!” I answered; “then it is not safe for me to murmur at anything?” Then did He lay His hand upon me tenderly. “My child,” He said, “thy only safety is, in everything, to love and trust and praise.”
–Mark Guy Pearse