We hear it all the time these days. ďItís not my fault!Ē Our children say it and so do our elected officials. Sometimes, itís even hard to tell the difference between the kids and everyone else. And, if we are honest with ourselves, in the quiet moments of the day we also say it too. I find myself wanting to disavow any responsibility for the messes I have made and all of the sins Iíve committed.
These days I think we are less likely to use the word ĎSavedí as though we donít really require saving. Rather, in our minds, we perceive that we need Ďrightingí or a mere Ďcourse correction.í Perhaps it is this faulty (aka sinful) mindset that propels us to find someone to blame. Letís think about Jesus from this perspective for a moment. He accepted blame for sins that werenít hisówithout even a word of protest! And his eyes, the eyes of this fully man-fully God savior do not look at us with blame. He looks through our eyes and into our souls with love rather than condemnation. Jesus doesnít need to cast blame, because his blood covered and obliterated it all!
If we circle this issue of casting blame and examine our hearts closely, we must conclude that we do indeed NEED saving. We canít save ourselves from the wallow of sin that we have created; the wallow of sin that traps us. How is it that we can convince ourselves in the face of such compelling evidence that we donít need Christís intervention?
When I was a little girl, my brother and I would take our play shovels into the back yard. We had a plan to dig to China. When we began excavating, we were exuberant and excited! We would imagine, as we dug, what we would encounter along the way. Were there new and undiscovered types of animals down there? What would the Chinese think when our heads appeared through the hole like a prairie dog popping up out of itís burrow? Would we be able to find new friends and share our discoveries with them? Five or six spadefulls of soil later, we would begin to tire and start taking turns. The exuberance was fading into a steely determination. We had set out to dig to China and BY GUM, we were going to do it! Another round of poorly aimed digs into our hole and determination died. In its place was hopelessness. Digging to China was impossible! Ultimately, we would abandon our Ďtunnelí which was not even deep enough to plant a rosebush in, and shuffle back to the house feeling defeated, sweaty, and badly in need of a shower.
We laugh now at our silliness! Why would we think that digging through the earthís core was possible for two kids equipped with a plastic shovel? We do the same thing when we try to blame our way to salvation. Blame is our Fisher Price spade and we are out in the back yard exhausting ourselves over an impossible task. Is it wiser to continue pursuing the impossible when it is easier to accept salvation? I think the answer is clear, but I admit that my own sin nature urges me onward too. Thatís a sin I need to confess. Itís time for me to climb out of that ridiculous hole and go take a bath! Perhaps Iíll occasionally be tempted to give China another try, but it will be as impossible tomorrow as it is today.
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