What Sin Clings Closely to You?

I’ve been contemplating one of the sins that clings closely to me. Sin? Maybe just a relatively harmless foible. I don’t want it to be a sin. If it is, I have to fight it.

When I was a child, I thought it was unreasonable of my mom to expect me to control myself when I was frustrated and wanted to scream and throw things. Her warnings about the dangers of bursting a blood vessel seemed irrelevant in my fury. Yet she managed to make it clear that temper tantrums wouldn’t be tolerated, so I’d better figure out some way to control myself.

Unfortunately, self-control isn’t something you master overnight. Anger can be particularly difficult to overcome because it feels so justifiable in the moment. Besides, I wasn’t hurting anyone, and not really hurting any thing. I was still small when I accidentally broke a toy in a fit of anger, and then immediately realized it wasn’t my toy, and I couldn’t fix it. From then on, even in my sudden rages, I learned to calculate whether what I was about to throw was expendable. Interesting—I could control that, but not my anger?

Sometimes a hissy fit could even seem funny later. One night, after I had prepared all the elements for enchiladas, I pulled the tortillas out of the refrigerator. Moldy! As I examined each tortilla to see if any were salvageable, I Frisbee-ed one at a time at the wall. Leaving them on the floor, I stomped out of the house and drove to the store. I was going to finish making enchiladas.

Even if someone had gotten into the path of a tortilla, it wouldn’t have hurt. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever hurt anyone in an incident of this kind.

Haven’t I? What was the state of my heart in those moments? What did my kids learn about my lack of control and apparent acceptance of that lack? A giant step on my way to honesty with myself was the look of terror in my tiny son’s eyes the first time he witnessed one of these outbursts.

That was over thirty-five years ago. I’m still fighting this? I have to admit I haven’t spent all that time fighting. Much of that time I was excusing myself. After all, who doesn’t get frustrated by things that don’t work the way they’re supposed to, or if everything goes wrong when they’re in a hurry?

I’m well aware that anger and wrath are on the “bad” lists in the New Testament. But I’m not a generally angry or wrathful person. It’s just that sometimes, I have to let loose. I might have been able to go on excusing myself if I had stuck to reading the King James translation of the Bible: “Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these; adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like” (Gal. 5:19-21). Whew, good thing I don’t do those things!

Do you know how the New American Standard translates the word for anger in this verse? With much clearer expression of the intent of the Greek word, that’s how. “Outbursts of anger.” In the English Standard Version, it’s “fits of anger.” Ouch! I do that.

I had to start asking myself what drives me to these outbursts; what, exactly, is wrong with these fits? At bottom, it’s about expectations. I expect things to perform as promised. I know better than to think people will. People don’t usually evoke my anger. But don’t I have a right to my expectations for things? No, in this broken world, my expectations are foolish.

I also realize that I sometimes operate on the hope that the laws of physics will make an exception for me. A couple of days ago, I dropped something and thought, “I knew that was going to happen.” I guess I was hoping my carelessness would work out this once. Why? As a favor to me? I want to be able to hurry my way through tasks and not be bothered with details. Silly!

As I’ve gotten more honest with myself, I’ve been pondering, How did Jesus react when he hit his thumb with a hammer? Seriously! We’re told he was tempted in every way we are (Heb. 4:15). He subjected himself to this world along with its physical laws. He must have dropped and spilled things, stubbed his toe, smashed his thumb, had an ax handle break while he was chopping wood.

Did he say, “Ouch! I thank you, Father, for this opportunity to practice patient endurance”? In the midst of an outburst one day, this was my sarcastic thought. But honestly, must it not have been something like that?

It won’t work for me to say to myself that I’m not going to act like this anymore. I have to look my anger and frustration in the face and admit what causes them. I covet what I don’t have; perfection in this life, everything going smoothly all the time. My selfish, unrealistic expectations have to become something else. I believe they have to become gratitude and praise.

After all, what do I have that I didn’t receive ( 1 Cor. 4:7)? My time isn’t mine. What I call my belongings don’t belong to me. My talents and abilities weren’t given to me for my use. My life isn’t my own. What’s more, “The anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God” (James 1:20).

Gracious, forgiving Father, teach me to humble myself to mourn and weep over my sin, repent, and beg your forgiveness, so I may walk in a manner worthy of and fully pleasing to you.

Scripture for Reflection

“Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 3:12-14 ESV)

Reach for More

Is there a sin in your life that you have been ignoring or excusing? What sin clings closely to you? Pray with the psalmist: “Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” (Ps. 139:23-24 ESV)

Through the gift of a faithful mother and grandmother, Diane Pendergraft grew up knowing Jesus as a friend. Married for nearly two-thirds of her life, there has been time for several seasons, from homeschooling to owning a coffee shop. She has three grown children and eight grandchildren. An element of this season is writing about literature and life at Plumfield and Paideia.

Photograph © Hannah Busing, used with permission