- Get link
- Other Apps
We need a savior. We are evil, evil continually rising from a corrupted heart. Our human nature is depraved, polluted, and thoroughly iniquitous. Don't believe me? Think that Genesis 6:5 is only historical? You imagine I'm being unnecessarily pessimistic? "I haven't murdered anyone," you protest. "I'm not, like, a Nazi war criminal," your mind challenges. Hrm. Read on.
This piece is pretty well-known. It has been floating around the internet ever since it was published in World Magazine in 2005. Our pastor read it to us on a recent Sunday and then it became known to me. Boy, did it ever. I urge you to read it. Better still, read it out loud. Best of all, read it aloud to your spouse or friend, together, with someone. The relentlessness of it picks up steam, and the commensurate heart conviction rate increases also. Or it should. The article deftly illustrates why "good" folks "like us" need a savior. We. Need. A. Savior.
Postscript at the end.
Seventeen minutes
It's the thoughts-ordinary, daily thoughts-that count
By Andree Seu Peterson
These are the thoughts of a woman driving home from the Stop 'N Shop on an ordinary day.
She conjures three comebacks she could've hurled at Ellen if she had not been caught off guard.
She spots the baby shower invitation on the dashboard and schemes a way to be out of town that weekend-then thinks better of it because she has a favor to ask the sender at a later date.
She sizes up a woman standing at the bus stop-and judges her.
She stews over a comment her brother made behind her back, and crafts a letter telling him off-and sounding righteous in the process.
She reviews the morning's argument with her husband, and plans the evening installment.
She imagines how life would have been if she had married X (a well-worn furrow, this).
She magnanimously lets a car merge into traffic, and then is ticked off when she doesn't get her wave.
She resolves to eat less chocolate starting today-well, tomorrow.
She replays memory tapes going back to the '60s, trying to change the endings.
Somebody rides up the road shoulder and budges to the head of a traffic jam, and she hates the driver with a perfect hatred.
She passes the house of the contractor who defrauded her and fantasizes blowing it to smithereens.
She passes Audrey working in her garden and waves-but thinks, "If Audrey has chronic fatigue syndrome, I'm a flying Wallenda."
She glares at a driver who runs a red light in front of her, forgetting that she did the same about a mile ago.
She checks her slightly crooked nose compulsively in the rearview mirror, and reassures herself it isn't too bad.
An inner voice tells her to turn off the radio and pray, but she decides that's the voice of legalism.
She brainstorms talking points for her upcoming woman's Bible study lecture on "Ephesians" and considers how she can improve it-and make it better than Alice's talk of last week.
She is angry at God because here she is a Christian and broke, while her good-for-nothing heathen of a brother is rolling in dough.
She thinks how much better her life would be if she were beautiful, and fantasizes all the bungee-jumping, maggot pizza-eating "fear factor" stunts she'd be willing to subject herself to to look like Gwyneth Paltrow.
She wonders how her parents will divvy up the inheritance-and how long she has to wait.
She rehearses two good reasons why her sister and not she should take care of the folks when they're too old. She thinks about her childhood and counts the ways her parents have screwed up her life.
The Johnsons drive by, and she recalls all the meals she made for them 10 years ago when Lydia had toxemia during pregnancy, and bets they don't even remember. Hmm, did they even send a thank-you card?
The word treachery flashes through her mind (Mr. Beaver's succinct epithet for Edmund in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe) but leaves no footprints.
An SUV cuts her off, and she decides to punish it by tailgating.
Her heart smites her for this. So she determines to try harder to live righteously from now on. Who knows, God may reward her in some amazing way: Her husband may give her grounds for divorce, and God will lead her to the arms of Mr. Right.
She tries to pray but doesn't get past "Our Father."
There are lots of other people that the woman does not think of while driving home with groceries, people who are not important to her social status, or just not interesting.
She doesn't think about AIDS-ravaged Africa, she doesn't think about the death sentence dangling over millions in Sudan, she doesn't think about missionaries, she doesn't think about martyrs in Kim Jong-il's prisons, she doesn't think about ways she could encourage her children.
She pulls into her driveway. Total driving time: 17 minutes.
And if you were to ask the lady, as she rustles parcels from the car, what she has been thinking about on the drive from town, she would say, "Oh, nothing in particular." And she would not be lying.
Imagine believing that we don't need a Savior.
Jesus brought light and cleansing to our blackened hearts.
Hurricane Irma was approaching Georgia on that Sunday. It was due to hit on Monday. Our church service runs from 3:00-4:30. After church, I stopped at the nearby grocery store to pick up a few last minute items. It was packed. Jammed. And a sheen of tension overlay the store. People were in more of a hurry than usual, pumped up from the weather forecasters' predictions of downed trees, lost power, and other dire unknown things that were sure to happen. I got into the self-checkout line, which was not any shorter but I was hoping that I might gain a slight time advantage.
I didn't, and I waited in line without moving, for a long while. As I stood and waited, and my stress levels increased, so did my thoughts. I began having a stream of consciousness, nothing-in-particular thoughts about everyone else in line. I judged their clothes. I judged their slowness of movement. I even judged their purchases. Shocked, I realized that I was the same as the woman in the article, thinking evil thoughts continually. Here, ten minutes after the service ended, still in my church clothes.
Daily repentance is necessary.
Daily repentance is necessary.
Daily repentance is necessary.
Thank you Jesus that You covered us with your blood, cleansed from our sin in Your eyes. Our sin has been erased from our record to be thrown into the vast outer places, as far as the east is from the west. Seeing my sin record before me, I stagger under the weight of carrying it, never mind a lifetime. I would have justly been penalized for it, had You not submitted to the Father's plan of the cross.
You bore the weight of eternity's sin of all the people You have chosen since before the foundation of the world, and their/my punishment. Thank You.
This piece is pretty well-known. It has been floating around the internet ever since it was published in World Magazine in 2005. Our pastor read it to us on a recent Sunday and then it became known to me. Boy, did it ever. I urge you to read it. Better still, read it out loud. Best of all, read it aloud to your spouse or friend, together, with someone. The relentlessness of it picks up steam, and the commensurate heart conviction rate increases also. Or it should. The article deftly illustrates why "good" folks "like us" need a savior. We. Need. A. Savior.
Postscript at the end.
Seventeen minutes
It's the thoughts-ordinary, daily thoughts-that count
By Andree Seu Peterson
These are the thoughts of a woman driving home from the Stop 'N Shop on an ordinary day.
She conjures three comebacks she could've hurled at Ellen if she had not been caught off guard.
She spots the baby shower invitation on the dashboard and schemes a way to be out of town that weekend-then thinks better of it because she has a favor to ask the sender at a later date.
She sizes up a woman standing at the bus stop-and judges her.
She stews over a comment her brother made behind her back, and crafts a letter telling him off-and sounding righteous in the process.
She reviews the morning's argument with her husband, and plans the evening installment.
She imagines how life would have been if she had married X (a well-worn furrow, this).
She magnanimously lets a car merge into traffic, and then is ticked off when she doesn't get her wave.
She resolves to eat less chocolate starting today-well, tomorrow.
She replays memory tapes going back to the '60s, trying to change the endings.
Somebody rides up the road shoulder and budges to the head of a traffic jam, and she hates the driver with a perfect hatred.
She passes the house of the contractor who defrauded her and fantasizes blowing it to smithereens.
She passes Audrey working in her garden and waves-but thinks, "If Audrey has chronic fatigue syndrome, I'm a flying Wallenda."
She glares at a driver who runs a red light in front of her, forgetting that she did the same about a mile ago.
She checks her slightly crooked nose compulsively in the rearview mirror, and reassures herself it isn't too bad.
An inner voice tells her to turn off the radio and pray, but she decides that's the voice of legalism.
She brainstorms talking points for her upcoming woman's Bible study lecture on "Ephesians" and considers how she can improve it-and make it better than Alice's talk of last week.
She is angry at God because here she is a Christian and broke, while her good-for-nothing heathen of a brother is rolling in dough.
She thinks how much better her life would be if she were beautiful, and fantasizes all the bungee-jumping, maggot pizza-eating "fear factor" stunts she'd be willing to subject herself to to look like Gwyneth Paltrow.
She wonders how her parents will divvy up the inheritance-and how long she has to wait.
She rehearses two good reasons why her sister and not she should take care of the folks when they're too old. She thinks about her childhood and counts the ways her parents have screwed up her life.
The Johnsons drive by, and she recalls all the meals she made for them 10 years ago when Lydia had toxemia during pregnancy, and bets they don't even remember. Hmm, did they even send a thank-you card?
The word treachery flashes through her mind (Mr. Beaver's succinct epithet for Edmund in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe) but leaves no footprints.
An SUV cuts her off, and she decides to punish it by tailgating.
Her heart smites her for this. So she determines to try harder to live righteously from now on. Who knows, God may reward her in some amazing way: Her husband may give her grounds for divorce, and God will lead her to the arms of Mr. Right.
She tries to pray but doesn't get past "Our Father."
There are lots of other people that the woman does not think of while driving home with groceries, people who are not important to her social status, or just not interesting.
She doesn't think about AIDS-ravaged Africa, she doesn't think about the death sentence dangling over millions in Sudan, she doesn't think about missionaries, she doesn't think about martyrs in Kim Jong-il's prisons, she doesn't think about ways she could encourage her children.
She pulls into her driveway. Total driving time: 17 minutes.
And if you were to ask the lady, as she rustles parcels from the car, what she has been thinking about on the drive from town, she would say, "Oh, nothing in particular." And she would not be lying.
Imagine believing that we don't need a Savior.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hurricane Irma was approaching Georgia on that Sunday. It was due to hit on Monday. Our church service runs from 3:00-4:30. After church, I stopped at the nearby grocery store to pick up a few last minute items. It was packed. Jammed. And a sheen of tension overlay the store. People were in more of a hurry than usual, pumped up from the weather forecasters' predictions of downed trees, lost power, and other dire unknown things that were sure to happen. I got into the self-checkout line, which was not any shorter but I was hoping that I might gain a slight time advantage.
I didn't, and I waited in line without moving, for a long while. As I stood and waited, and my stress levels increased, so did my thoughts. I began having a stream of consciousness, nothing-in-particular thoughts about everyone else in line. I judged their clothes. I judged their slowness of movement. I even judged their purchases. Shocked, I realized that I was the same as the woman in the article, thinking evil thoughts continually. Here, ten minutes after the service ended, still in my church clothes.
Daily repentance is necessary.
Daily repentance is necessary.
Daily repentance is necessary.
Thank you Jesus that You covered us with your blood, cleansed from our sin in Your eyes. Our sin has been erased from our record to be thrown into the vast outer places, as far as the east is from the west. Seeing my sin record before me, I stagger under the weight of carrying it, never mind a lifetime. I would have justly been penalized for it, had You not submitted to the Father's plan of the cross.
You bore the weight of eternity's sin of all the people You have chosen since before the foundation of the world, and their/my punishment. Thank You.
Precious sister,
ReplyDelete"Seeing my sin record before me, I stagger under the weight of carrying it, never mind a lifetime."
You NO LONGER bear your own sin, dear sister. Christ has borne it for you, in full.
Therefore, confess your sins daily as the Lord brings conviction, but walk - with JOY - in the freedom that is yours in Christ.
:)
-Carolyn
Yes, I know. Thanks Carolyn. sorry. It was a pre-salvation comment. ;)
DeleteThank you for the clarification. Though I do know believers who spend far too much time dwelling on their own sinfulness, which is really not productive, nor biblical.
DeleteSelf deprecation is actually an insidious form of pride that is common in churches. It masquerades as holiness, but it is not.
-Carolyn
I agree completely. A lot of people don't understand that continual self-flagellation and public moaning over sins that have been paid for is a form of self-centeredness!
DeleteElizabeth, you are a dear blessing in the Lord!!!
Delete-Carolyn