“But I say, ‘Walk in the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the desires of the flesh are against the Sprit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do.'”
~Galatians 5:16-17~

This is a picture from the top of the beach trail. The thought that I was ever at one point able to walk all the way down there seems so far away from my actual reality that I can hardly bear to think about how far away the beach is. The honeysuckle, such a sweet sounding name, are considered a foreign and invasive species. In the early spring, before even the mightiest trees begin to bud, the honey suckle plants are alive and well. It’s the same way in the fall. They are always the last to die, with their green leaves surviving even multiple winter snows. The only place these plants do not overtake the ground, or grow at all, is in the lowlands where the creek and river flood them out.

Such is the way of our sinful flesh, is it not? I’ve often not liked this particular doctrine, the constant reminders that our flesh is sinful, but also that even as believers sharing union with Christ we are waging a constant war against our flesh. Give me talks of love and joy and peace and all the beautiful fruit that is ours in Jesus, and leave the parts of the fleshly wars out. Wars are meant to be won! I’ll think to myself, “Come on, guys. Get it together. You’re telling me you haven’t yet figured this out? You’re telling me this is what victory looks like? You’re telling me even life in Jesus doesn’t get any easier?”

Even now the flesh calls. Even after I’ve said, “Lord, I don’t want this anymore.” Even after I’ve said, “Enough is enough. I can’t live like this.” Even after I’ve asked, “But Lord, we’ve dealt with this already, through the years and the years, O Lord, have we not? Oh, how many times? Oh, how many times? By your mercy, steadfast love and faithfulness, the one time death and resurrection of Jesus has taken this away and this sin is no longer a part of my life.” It’s like you might get a brief reprieve from the sin side. The joy of the Lord overtakes you. The Spirit of God fills the heart with such a lightness and freedom. The grace of God becomes far too real a gift to squander on phantoms.

But no sooner have the leaves begun to bud on the tree, and there appears the honeysuckle back at its feet. And I’ll have to believe that things can be different. Such is the way of my sinful flesh. It’s like this stubborn part of me that refuses to believe what other people are saying, no matter how many witnesses back up their claim. It’s the part of me that wants to figure it out for myself, that believes there has to be another way, and if there is, I will find it. If I’m gonna believe, if I am ever going to truly confess and believe, then I’m going to insist on learning the hard way. Like the men whose ships remained trapped and frozen in the artic sea for years and years, until their dying shivering breath was the final realization they were lost and doomed, only then comes

“Lord, there is no other way.”

I’d like to amend this part of myself. To give it to God and say, “I don’t need to learn like this anymore. I can be different. I can be holy. I can take my life and let it be something better than any mess I could ever make on my own. I believe this, Lord. Help my unbelief that I can be somebody other than who I was but only you can do this for me.”

Only You can do this for me.

And he does, friends. He does. At least I have to believe that he does, for what other hope would we have if he didn’t? Isn’t that what the battles are really about? The sin. The fears. The doubts. The question: What kind of Christian life is this when you can’t live in sin but also live here with sin? Either there is hope in this world or there isn’t.

God doesn’t sigh and say, “Seriously? You’re asking me this?”

He dies on the cross and tells us there is.