Temptation: The choice to make life easier (or harder) on/for ourselves

“…’You are my Lord; apart from you I have no good thing…The sorrows of those will increase who run after other gods.” – Psalm 16:2,4

I needed to run into a department store to pick up…I don’t even remember what it was, now….but it doesn’t matter, anyway. It was going to be a quick stop, so as I pulled into my parking space, I asked my two kids if they wanted to join me or wait in the car. My daughter, Evelyn opted to stay in the car. “Really?” my 10 year-old son Alex challenged. “They have toys in there.” Without missing a beat: “I know,” Evelyn responded. “And I don’t need that kind of temptation right now.”

Try to not chuckle out loud as a parent overhearing your seven year-old talk so unwittingly big…and mature.

In that moment, at least.

Her short life experience has taught her that putting herself in an environment that will spark her cravings–perhaps cravings that didn’t even exist in her mind minutes earlier–and not seeing them fulfilled, will result in little more than disappointment. Disappointment that also didn’t exist prior to walking into the situation. She doesn’t have money for anything, and she knows, in our family, just because you want a toy or whatever, that doesn’t mean you just get it.

So, in her wise-beyond-her years elementary school logic, why even bother making life harder on herself? My son, on the other hand? Yeah, like most kids his age, he seems to be in a constant cycle of lust-turned to hope-turned to emotional-wreckage due to the willful exposure to things he suddenly can’t live without…only to find out he’s going to have to find away to live without them. At least until he saves up enough money to purchase that item on his own.

Admittedly, my son comes by this tendency right. Whether he even knows it or not at this point in his life, he’s a lot like his father.

I’ve spent way too much of my adult life facing the painful back end of a choice I thought would bring me some kind of pleasure. Some more dismal than others.

*There’s the moment I craved a certain article of clothing that I didn’t need but thought would make me look cool. I went to the store, spent more money than I really should have on it, was embarrassingly late to an important meeting due to a slow checkout line, and ultimately realized the clothing was cheaply made and I ruined it after one wear.

*There’s the moment I succumbed to the urge to make myself look good by making a work colleague look not-so-good and shared some confidential and personal information I’d learned to a group of other industry peers over a late-night dinner conversation. Only to spend several days later feeling sick to my stomach because I’d broken confidence, potentially altered others’ opinion about this person on my account, and feared that information getting back to the person who shared it. Not to mention, does anyone ever really walk away from someone who just gossiped and like and/or trust that person more than they did before the gossip?

*There’s the moment–as a married man–I decided I wanted to win over a hurting, female co-worker (whom I also found attractive), and stopped by the coffee shop on the way to work one morning to get her favorite coffee as a self-indulgent act of chivalry. Only to open the door to what would be an extramarital relationship that would break apart my marriage to eventual divorce and cost me the job that I very much enjoyed three months later.

…And there have been countless other instances where I walked through a door with flashing warning signs all over it (some, the same door over and over) thinking it’d make my life better…this time; but only result in a deeper hurt, sadness, guilt and shame than the heart-emptiness I tried to fill ever was. When I thought I needed to put someone who was annoying me in their place; when I drove over to a single woman’s house late at night for a drink and “to just hang out;” when I spent most of my time at a gathering of my friends or family ignoring them (especially my own kids…ugh) as I incessantly tried to manufacture the perfect social media post to proclaim how awesome I was for doing something awesome.

This isn’t an airing of my wrongs for the sake of self-condemnation. Anyone reading this can relate to one+ of these examples. And that’s why I articulate them here, because we’re all running after other gods and as the lead verse promises, sorrow (synonyms: regret, heartache, grief, sadness, trouble) will increase to those who choose that course.

I’m naturally a person who tends to put the weight of the world on my shoulders. When I’m living out of my flesh, I beat myself up a lot and expect that life isn’t going to go my way. In my spirit, I also deal with a sadness over the sinfulness of the world and how out of order, chaotic and distant people, societies, and belief systems are from how the Father intended them to be. That’s why I pay attention to the word “increase” in Psalm 16:4. I’m already dealing with some sorrow…some sadness. We all are. By running to another god in the pursuit of eliminating that sorrow, I’m doing the exact opposite. Maybe only burying it for awhile, but eventually, that sorrow’s going to burst out in tragic proportions.

In that same passage in Psalm, King David goes on to assert in verse 11, “You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand (NIV).” From what I know about David in scripture, I have to think this is self-talk as much as it is praise. A reminder to himself that it’s God’s job to take care of his/our pleasure.

Conversely, Satan couldn’t care less about our longings for wholeness and fulfillment, but isn’t going to stop tempting us to compromise–both spiritually and sexually–until our sorrows have wrecked our lives, and often the lives around us.

So how do we kill the idols that threaten to make life only harder for us? Honestly, I’m still working that out. Thankfully, though, there’s limitless scripture to guide me in that work. I start with choosing to belief to the best of my ability that I Corintians 10:13 is true:

“God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.”

Then, praying–literally–Psalm 139:23-24:

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there’s is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” 

If I/we mean it, this can be an incredibly risky prayer for us(!!) Because our hearts in their nature are pretty filthy…and there are tons of offensive elements about us that–when put before a sinless, stainless, mighty God of the universe–are surely cringingly gross in comparison. This same God delights in us, though, so in our gnarliest state (“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name, you are mine.” Isaiah 43:1 NIV), we can still come to him and ask for his help to unpack our mess, bring it all into the light via confession, and then repent of it.

In the Bible, Peter says, God “resists the proud but gives grace to the humble (1 Peter 5:5 NKJV).” When I’m stuck in my self-satisfied pride, I’m not seeking his strength. If I think I’m going to overcome any flaws of my heart on my own, I’m kidding myself, hardcore.

Author Elyse Fitzpatrick wrote: “Humble confession is the door that opens streams of grace to me. I know He’ll give me His help when I bow before Him, confessing that I’m hopeless and helpless without it.”

Augustine said: “He who conceals his [sin] will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will find compassion. Confession shuts the mouth of hell and opens the gates of paradise.”

I’ve learned that confession is only going to benefit me if I’m specific about what it is I’m confessing. I can say I’m an open book all day, but wow will my pride lock me up when it comes to putting the details of my folly on display in front of even my most trusted and loving confidants. My tendency is to go into details of what happened in the acted-out behavior, but truly, confession is also in spilling the dirt about my motives, desires and thoughts that drove me to the action in the first place.

I admit, I don’t often hate my sin. In fact, a lot of times, I really like like my sin. Which is why the truth that comes out of a Psalm 139 prayer is so essential. As I’ve learned to get more honest with God (and myself), my prayers have changed from “Lord, I want to change,” to “Lord, I want to want to change.” I want the desire to fight it. And often, unless I’m completely in a situation where I’m screwed, that desire’s absent. Because, again, I don’t want to honor the Lord like I say I do. So I prayer becomes one of wanting to want to honor Him.

It’s amazing that God can love us enough to absorb not only our sin, but our lack of discipline at times to turn from it. Not only love us, but work with us and not leave us on our own to figure it out—or not figure it out. And beyond that, work with us to resist getting to those points of temptation in the first place. Which is why, as I grow older and slowly gain more understanding of who (and how and why) God is, verses like Matthew 11:28-30 carry so much more meaning for me than they ever did growing up:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

One way to start a season, Part 1

We don’t always get a choice when we start a new season of life.

Someone you love is diagnosed with cancer. Or you are diagnosed with cancer.

Your boss fires you. Or your spouse walks out on you.

You lose everything in a tornado. Or in a fatal car crash.

There are countless circumstances that can dictate the end of one season and the beginning of another. Circumstances that form a line between “the way things were” and “the way things are now…indefinitely.”

As Ecclesiastes 3:1 says for every activity under the heavens, there’s a season–we’re always living one out. Good or bad.

Sometimes, we make decisions that can (and will) immediately change the trajectory of our life, which ultimately leads to the unfolding of a new season.

We make an impressive discovery or resolve at work that leads to a huge promotion.

We absentmindedly swerve our vehicle into another highway lane and clip a motorcyclist we couldn’t see during the quick glimpse in our mirrors.

We take a job across the country.

We tear our ACL playing basketball with the kids in the driveway.

For me, my season-turning born from the decision to divulge a secret to my wife. Something that didn’t feel too secretive at first, because it didn’t totally feel too…wrong. But that’s how all extramarital relationships go, right?

In September 2009, about 14 weeks into a relationship with a co-worker that went from, “You and her need to figure out a way to work together” in May to blatant flirtation in June and physical “intimacy” in July, I finally realized this whole thing was only destined to get worse if I didn’t blow all of this up and bring it into the wide open.

I had tried to stop the relationship dozens of times before. Tried talking with her and rationalizing with her. She (also married with child) agreed. But when no one’s watching (because no one knows to watch) and the thrill of being a part of something “sexy” that’s just between you and someone else is right in front of you every day, it’s impossible to face those demons alone in the dark. And you are alone because you’ve decided to not let anyone else in.

Could I have kept it a secret forever? Maybe. I don’t know that she would have ever told her husband. He worked in the same office we did (even!). It would have been super-messy for her to bring that to the surface. So, I convinced myself that God’s grace is enough to take care of my sins. And, for a short, miserable season through August and early September 2009, I tried to convince myself that I was forgiven and, thus, free from my sinful burdens–and any real need to bring this up to anyone in my circle. God and the woman and I dealt with it. We’re good.

And this is what I learned on the night of September 5th, 2009 is called “false repentance.” Interestingly enough, I was supposed to lead my church Sunday School class through Chapter 5 of the book we were reading through the next morning on this exact topic of false repentance. The more I read, the more my heart pounded. Did God forgive me for my infidelities? He’s an amazing Father and yes He did. Did God have big things in store for me and my life and my family? Yes he did. Could we go through the rest of our lives with a secret? Yes. Would I be stealing from her? Yes. Is stealing disobedient? Yes. Does God honor disobedience? No.

So, I had a decision to make, lying next to my wife that night. My wife, who had just two weeks prior given birth to our second child. That night was among the worst of my life. Sweat poured out of me. I couldn’t get physically comfortable. I was too tired to cry and too wired to sleep. I tried to rationalize and thought of dozens of worse-case scenarios. They were all worse-case. A best-case scenario was still going to suck, bad.

Ultimately, it came down to this: I can not tell her about my adultery and go on living the rest of our lives together with a secret. Because there’s a secret inbetween us, we’ll never experience maximum-level intimacy in our marriage. In fact, that intimacy will continue to decay over time, most likely. It may rise up now and then, but it’d never rise over maybe 50%. We’d peak at a 50% intimacy level. OR, I get it all out now. Drop our current intimacy level (surely) to 0% and, at LEAST over time, have a chance at 100% with her. One hundred percent intimacy would never be possible if I didn’t share what was going on.

So I did. Early the next morning.

As expected, she was stunned and angry and indignant. I was scared, self-protective (defensive) and mostly numb to her. We’d gone through similar things like this before. I had dropped a bomb on her 18 months earlier about a couple hours once spent with a woman that turned into more than a conversation. She almost seemed to expect this might happen again. Not even two hours after I shared the news, she had packed the kids in our Highlander and taken off for her parent’s house in Michigan, just as I expected she would.

I cried as she left, but I didn’t really feel sad. Just scared of what all of this was about to mean. I knew she was gone, but was sure she’d come back and, over a lot of time and pain and truth, we’d work this out.

That never happened. And this is how a new season begins.