I have been wrestling with Tim Keller and his “Prodigal Sons” message, based on Luke 15, for most of this week. He teaches that most of us think sin is like the younger brother, who has a list of things he needs to repent of. The older brother, who is also lost, doesn’t have a list of sins to repent of. He was good, and yet just as lost. Keller went on to say as Christians, we not only have to not only confess our sins, but we must also confess the reasons why we do good.
I have been stuck here all week. As I think about approaching 30, a little over 18 months away, I have been reflecting on me and my past relationships. I made it a point after I got save to not have sex again until I was married because that’s what God calls us to.
Ever since I made that commitment, I haven’t met a lot of people, or Christians for that matter, who want to make that same pledge. In fact, many were far from it. It has definitely been a struggle. I have not been perfect but I haven’t had sex in seven years and it is something I am very proud of, which in some ways is a good thing and a bad thing at the same time.
Like the older brother, somewhere my thinking shifted to, “If I honor God in this area, I will be blessed with the stability and girlfriend and eventual spouse of my dreams.” Not only did it not happen, but my insecurities, frustration and at times anger has flared in light of other Christians going wild–like the younger brother–only to one day come back and receive oceans of grace.
I am realizing I don’t think I made a commitment to God because He calls us to holiness. I made a commitment to God to not have sex because in some ways I thought it would pretty much guarantee a wife.
I am not about to go out and be buck wild now, but I have to confess the reasons why I am doing good. God hasn’t been the object of my celibacy. Like the older brother, an abundantly materially blessed life, a wife, that’s been the reason for my doing good.
God used to be more than enough for me. For all of us. Somewhere something changed. I want to get back there.
Sean M. Watkins 