The Lie Beneath the Lie

Most of us are familiar with the Genesis account of sin entering into the world. The serpent approached Eve and convinced her that the forbidden fruit was the key to realizing her own divine potential:

But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

Genesis 3:4-5

We know that was a lie: the act of disobedience brought death, not divinity.

But it seems to me there was a lie underneath that lie. It was just as subtle as the serpent that delivered it. This is a lie that assaults the very character of God. Here it is:

“God is holding out on you.”

Believing this lie can lead to at least two terrible outcomes.

The first is outright disobedience. Eve, then Adam took this route. They instantaneously learned a harsh lesson: God’s prohibitions are ultimately for our protection. They exchanged fruit for thorns, paradise for pain, life for death, and glory for dust. Consequence is a cruel teacher for those who disobey God.

The second is bitterness. This may not be outright, external rebellion against God, but it’s just as toxic for the soul. Perhaps the inward, hidden nature of bitterness makes it even worse (or at least harder to recognize) than outward rebellion. The older son’s heart, after all, seemed just as far from his father as those swine his prodigal brother had fed (Luke 15:11-32). Grace and bitterness do not tend to peacefully coexist in the same heart.

I feel I should expound on this second outcome because it is one I am more familiar with than I care to admit. There have been times I have entertained the lie beneath the lie and experienced the bitterness that follows.

Life disappoints us all at some point. Here are just a few examples that come to mind:

  • That attractive man or woman that won’t pay any attention to you.
  • That job or job promotion which should have been yours.
  • That narcissist who has been blessed with so much talent and/or treasure (you, of course, would have used it all selflessly).
  • That hardship or tragedy that your neighbor deserved more than you.

Sometimes we choose to interpret some of these disappointments as God holding out on us. We often look back and see how silly we were to think this way. We realize that God was, indeed, working for our good (Romans 8:28).

We should know better. I should know better–especially when I consider that God “did not spare His own Son” for my sake (Romans 8:32).

Lord, you have loved me perfectly and blessed me more than I will ever deserve. Forgive me for those times I have failed to trust You. May I always guard my heart against lies and bitterness.

The war against the sinful nature

Paul candidly described the battle he faced with his own sinful nature in Romans 7:14-25.* God had gloriously transformed him from an enemy of Christ to an Apostle of Christ. He had been preaching the gospel for about 25 years by the time he wrote the Book of Romans. But he realized that evil would always be a familiar adversary in this earthly life:

So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.

Romans 7:21-23

Our relationship with Christ has permanently altered our relationship with sin–it no longer rules our lives. We are dead to sin (Romans 6:11). We have been set free from its power in order to serve a New Master with a glorious, new purpose (Romans 6:22).

But our old, sinful nature is like a deposed dictator who wishes to retake power and will seek every opportunity to do so.

This conflict I have described is part of a process known as sanctification--becoming more like Christ. It is a lifelong process. We should be growing and experiencing victories in our war against sin. But we never reach sinless perfection in this life. The closer we get to God, in fact, the more aware we become of the sin in our lives that has yet to be defeated.

Why bother, then, if the struggle never ends? This illustration came to mind:

We’ve all had the experience of turning the kitchen light on the kitchen light to find an unwanted, six-legged animal crawling along the floor or counter. I’m talking about cockroaches, of course.

The disgusting little critter usually evokes an immediate response–we either reach for the nearest can of insecticide or try to give it an old-fashioned stomp. We also know there’s bound to be more of them in hiding, so we take steps to get rid of them, too (cleaning up food crumbs, putting out poison baits or traps, etc.). We declare war on the invasive species.

What we don’t do is accept the pests’ presence as just “the way things are.” We don’t act as though they have the right to cohabitate with us and share our food. We know we’ll probably be at war with creepy crawlers our whole lives, yet the thought of allowing them to multiply and take over is never an option.

Believer, take heart in your battle with sin! Like Paul, you will experience both victories and failures as you seek to please God and die to yourself. But you must never live as though sin has some rightful place in your life.

*Scholars, theologians, and commentators have debated the meaning of Romans 7:14-25 for centuries. Some argue that this section describes the experience of an unbeliever–someone who doesn’t know the Lord. I believe Paul is describing the universal Christian experience of struggling with sin. I believe even those who disagree with my interpretation would acknowledge the believer’s responsibility to resist sin and the ongoing battle with the sinful nature (1st Corinthians 10:13, Galatians 5:16-18 and Ephesians 4:22-24 are a few other texts that come to mind).