A few weeks ago, I made a “big” decision. All on my own, no consultation with friends, family, or God, I decided to quit this blogging thing and “move on” to something “better.” In fact, if you had visited this post within that time frame, you’d know that I even posted my departure. (Note: It has been deleted.) This morning, I read the first chapter in a new book that I’ve started, and this book presented me with quite the up front challenge.
What do I believe will not, cannot change in my life?
I’ll start by saying, I’ve believed there is much in my life that cannot/will not change. I learned how wrong I was through the recovery process, but I still find that I am subject to this creeping, debilitating doubt that sucks my soul dry and makes me weary.
Weary. That is what I have been. For months now. Burnt out. Dried up. CRISPED with my own fleshly submission and sickening unbelief.
I’ve tried to get out of this whole a few times on my own. You know…pray harder, need more Bible, hit those good blogs harder, do better. The usual. And I’ve failed. Increasing my unhappiness and my doubt and doubly increasing this one big fear: that God will leave me the way that I am.
I’ll admit it. I realized something this morning. My hands aren’t clean. My heart isn’t pure. I might have Jesus’ imputed righteousness, but I am waffling and wading out here in deep waters…the oceans are over my head (sorry Hillsong). Straight up, I’m drowning.
Then, God. Praise Him!
This morning, in the midst of my crippling self-doubt and God-doubt and just general certainty that today was going to be unproductive in the spiritual department, God whispered at me. With a surprising verse. Read it a bunch. Appreciated the moment. Got the significance. But this morning, I saw it. Spirit lead me, I SAW IT.
Genesis 3. Familiar? Yeah, I thought so too. Except, inflection is a strong literary tool, and Moses wielded that pen like a beast.
Genesis 3:5 (ESV): For God knows that when you eat of it, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.
My whole life, I’ve missed something important in this lie sold by the serpent. In this lie that twisted a knot of insatiable hunger in Eve’s belly. In this lie that drew her eye to something mysterious and breathy and hot. In this lie that convinced her mind that it needed more to be appropriately intellectual. (She’s me. I’m this chick. Once upon a time, I believed that I wouldn’t have been so dumb, but wow….I am an Eve-idiot every day.)
The lie that I missed: “You will know good and evil.”
I’ll try to demonstrate with internet savvy how I’ve always read that verse. “You will know everything.” Ah, I see. I will know everything. Which of course means, I will be all-powerful. Which in turn means, I can have everything. Got it. Bought it.
But what I’ve always missed about this line is this: “You will know evil.”
You will know evil.
Adam and Even ALREADY knew good. They knew it intimately and powerfully and in every inch of their skin. He walked with them. Talked with them. Loved on them. He created for them and blessed them and gave them every GOOD gift.
What did Satan promise….that they would KNOW EVIL. WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Did she miss it? Did she only hear what I’ve always heard, that she would be like God? He suckered her. Majorly. It’s like it was an asterisk thrown in there at the end of an infomercial: “All this great stuff will happen to you if you do this or get this or become this (except you could also burn from the inside out, develop long-term mental illness, or crave paper).” Still sold on the front end?
I am so often sold on the front end. I am so easily suckered by comfort and security and thinking I know what is up with everything and everybody, especially myself.
What I want to do with this revelation is this: recognize it. Recognize that the lie I buy into all the time is that evil is as desirable as good. Evil masks itself really well alongside the good things that God has given to me. It makes itself look innocent and worthy and needed for fulfillment and happiness and satisfaction.
But God is all-satisfying. Truly.
Yet, I know evil. I know it well. I bit that fruit. Tasted it. Savored it. Let it go down all smooth and silky and then hated the gagging, sickness it left behind. But that front end moment, I go back to it. All too often. Hoping that maybe this time, it won’t make me ill.
God cure me of this madness. Eradicate this idiocy in me! Show me the lie. Show me what is good.