I'd rather die here

Photo by J Murdoch on Unsplash

I have become increasingly aware of my frailties now that I am serious with my faith, far more than when I didn’t care. They say a dead man does not know he is dead, but a man who is alive is aware when his body is dying; my unfaithfulness has become crystal clear to me. It feels like a scene from a movie when you can finally see the ghost that haunts the house. This is not sin consciousness. In all of these reflections, I cannot help but make my thumb and index finger kiss repeatedly when I recall the scripture stating, “The heart of man is desperately wicked.”

I used to think I was a good person, but lately I have been forced to examine not the act of doing good, but the intentions behind it. I repeatedly ask myself why, and in doing so, I’ve unearthed layers of insecurity, pride, and at times, desperation. To my dismay, I have found that an act of love can simultaneously be an act of pride, forgiveness can mask vitriol, and apologies can serve as an act of dismissal. None of these are fruits of the Spirit. But who would have known? This is why morality can never be an anchor for judging the soul.

I’m filthy, and I think every man must come to this conclusion before he can truly surrender his life at the feet of the Lord. And oh, how filthy I am. If Isaiah could shout, “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips…,” then what can I even say? My lips are unclean for sure. If you have ever driven in Lagos traffic, you will understand this on a deeper level.

So why do I stay? If the consciousness of God highlights my sins, why do I stay in worship? The reality is that either with God or in the world, my sins remain. So why not stay and submit to the cleansing of sanctification? Ignorance is no excuse in the court of law, and God is just. Although I’m more aware of my inadequacies, it doesn’t deter me; truly, what shall separate me from the love of God? It’s my confidence in that love that makes me fall and rise until He comes or calls me home. My insufficiency is made perfect in His sufficiency.

Blessed is the man to whom the Lord will not impute sin. So I’m here in all my wretchedness, at His feet, because there’s nowhere I’d rather be. His sacrifice saved me from the consequences of sin, and while I’m being saved from the nature of sin, I look forward to when He’ll deliver me from its presence. He is my God; in Him will I trust. So when the torch is pointed at my failings, I do not see it as condemnation, but a call to submit to the potter’s wheel.