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I Hate Sin

I hate sin. Have I said that lately? Maybe not here on the blog, but for those who do life with me . . . . they hear that statement a lot.

I hate how provocative and alluring it is.

I hate how it destroys relationships: friendships, marriages, families, churches.

I hate its deceptive nature and its brutal delivery.

I hate how it sends an invitation disguised as freedom and relief, but when you enter sin’s lair, you are trapped—bondage, shame, and guilt become your close companions.

I hate how sin is permeating our culture, the Church, the entire landscape, in a world created to display God’s glory. 

I hate sin.

With increasing frequency, I hear from women whose husbands are addicted to pornography, or involved in sexual immorality, and the betrayal is bleeding these wives to death.

And often the husband has justified his sin, because he sees it, not as a betrayal to her (or God), just as entertainment for himself, or in some cases, in defense of how he perceives he’s been mistreated by the wife.

I hate sin.

But in my hatred for sin, I pray I never recognize it in others or in our culture, while blind to my own sin. My sin is just as much a stench in God’s nostrils as the adulterer’s or the abortionist’s.

My sin is treason against a holy God.

Sin is that black ugliness that blots out all the glorious beauty of God’s holiness.

Jonathan Edwards describes God’s holiness as seen through Christians: “as it were the beauty and sweetness of the divine nature,” and so “Christians that shine by reflecting the light of the Sun of Righteousness, do shine with the same sort of brightness, the same mild, sweet and pleasant beams.”

May my hatred for sin increase my desire to grow in holiness, and may that holiness be the refreshing drink that draws others to Christ.

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