We all intuitively grasp, I think,
the difference between an isolated sin and a relational sin. Let’s say I mess
up and hurt myself: sure, I feel bad. But let’s say I mess up and hurt someone
I know: I feel worse. Let’s say I mess up and hurt Dave: I feel much worse. The
closer that person is to me, the more my sin becomes less and less about
itself, and more and more about how it affects the person I love, until the two
are linked. The sin becomes as much about the other person as it is about the
act itself.
But here’s the thing: every sin we
commit is relational, is against a being I value more than any person on earth.
If God did not exist, neither would sin; sin is sin only because God is God. The
more I value God, the more I see him for who he is, the more I see my sin for
what it is. One day, when I stand before God, this will be glaringly obvious: I
won’t be giving an account of myself to Dave, or my parents, or myself, or my
friends, but only to God.
This changes confession. I don’t
just confess the act; I ask myself, how
was this an act against God? How has this sin hurt God? The answer is
almost always deeper than it appears. I almost always see running underneath
the act a lack of faith, or pride, or misguided need for control, or more. And
coupled with the confession is a deeper sense of grief, because I have not only
disappointed myself, but I have wronged God, by both the sin and by my deeper
heart issue. And I grieve because I see what the sin has cost me: not just the
time or energy spent in sinning, but the other ways I could have been growing
or impacting others if I wasn’t in the sin.
I think Satan would love us to
think of sin, especially the habitual and unseen ones, in a diluted, isolated
way: no big deal, try harder next time, no permanent effects anyway. When in
reality, each sin is a deep lie, a deep act against God, cheating us and
changing us, crippling our relationships and ministry. The satisfaction it
promises are either non-existent, or much emptier, than the life-abundant we
could have. Because when the love of God pierces our hearts and draws us to
repentance, and we start to resist the sin and change—that’s when we start to
see the sin for how empty it is. And that’s when we start to see God’s love and
promised life for what it is.
That’s the most wondrous thing
about relational sin: understanding sin leads to a deeper understanding of
God’s love. To know you have wounded him means to understand his grace in a
completely new way. To act not out of self-inflicted guilt, but love-empowered
conviction, is to change with joy and greater ease. God, help me not waste a
single act of sin: may each one show me more about you and myself, and bind me
more fast to your grace.
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