Woe Is Me; I Am Undone

Yesterday's sermon and Sunday school came to an incredible intersection of sin, blame-shifting, disingenuous repentance and God's holiness. I knew it was one of those epiphanies that I needed to blog about to learn more and remember longer, but I thought I'd chew on it for a day or so.

Now I wish I'd blogged it in real time -- as I listened, but the clickety-click of my laptop would likely have been a distraction in this quiet, reverent setting.

God's holiness and man's depravity have been a prevalent theme in my Walk of late; I have asked the Lord to help me draw closer to Him. I have renewed my efforts to confess my weaknesses -- my worldliness -- my sin -- and implored Him who is able, to cause the things of this world to grow dim in my sight, because I have been too weak in my flesh to succeed. Ready or not, He is answering, and much dross is falling away.

He has stoked the fire and is refining His tools. The hay and the stubble smell of smoke. He is swelling His Spirit and solidifying His Truth. The Spirit is a sure teacher. The Son is a sure Saviour. He is a patient and capable Father, and He has assured me that I will glorify Him, whether through painful or pleasant means.

Sin is easy. It requires no malice of forethought. Left to myself, it's my first inclination; it's the prong I will choose when I come to the fork in the road. It's as natural as yawning in response to the body's need for oxygen. Guilt doesn't even require that the sinner realize what he's doing! Sin is as simple as falling short of God's glory -- and of course, God's glory is holy. Perfectly holy -- who can stand?

God's glory is so awesome that prophets, pagans and apostles alike have been undone by its conviction. Isaiah was faced with his own filth, proclaimed "woe is me," and dared not to speak before the angel touched his mouth with the burning coal. Judas' mob fell over as dead men when Jesus responded to their inquiry with His holy Name. And Peter -- poor Peter -- was so ashamed of himself after the fantastic catch that he implored Jesus to go out of his presence.

These men were not been able to stand, nor watch, nor speak. They certainly didn't imagine to dance. Surely, when I come into His presence one day -- in all its fullness and in all His glory -- I will fall prostrate until He lifts my head and wipes away my tears.

I think to imagine otherwise, I would have to think more highly of myself than I ought. And if I did, but knew I shouldn't, I wonder what that might look like? Perhaps I would over compensate with sarcastic self-deprecation, or I might carelessly toss around as empty, the profound catch words of the Christian creed: love and forgive.

But the Lord searches my heart and knows me -- better than I know myself -- and He would not allow me to live in that deceit for very long. Of that I am confident. He will be glorified in me.