It’s interesting how we perceive our choices.

What one man considers as an opportunity to exploit his own flesh, another sees as an opportunity to subdue it.  Then there’s everything in between.  I’m convinced most of us are comfortable there.

My wife and I recently watched a documentary about the later years of Jeffrey Epstein’s life. Having witnessed parts of the story in real time last year, I expected to confirm what most of the world had already decided—that this guy was a real scumbag.

I felt safe enough sitting on my side of the television screen.  Sure, I fall off the wagon sometimes, but I’m not a pervert.  I was grateful that, because I belonged to Jesus Christ, I was the type of guy who was essentially incapable of committing sin on the same level as Jeffrey Epstein.

Complacency consumed me.

[Are Christ’s people immune to sin?  see: Common Sense and the Slipperiest of Slopes]

But, in the days that followed, I repeatedly sought to reinforce that conclusion.  I still needed a way to reassure myself that I could never even be tempted to indulge in the type of sexual depravity he’d been accused of.  I was looking for a magic bullet. Yet, even as a man who places a high value on righteous behavior, I eventually had to conclude that I had nothing on Jeffrey Epstein when it came to resisting evil.

Nothing.

In a frantic attempt to verify the moral safety net below me, I didn’t notice the big holes in it. I’d forgotten that I can never effectively prevail over my male impulses by dismissing the power they can have over me.  And since I have to live with the enemy in this world, I’d better learn to rely on more than just the leverage of my human will.

[How can I do that?  see: Marking the Subtle Red Flags]

The struggle to live faithfully to Christ’s commands is a lifelong commitment to endure in a conflict against the Evil One in this age.  And even though there’s plenty of encouragement along the way, immunity to temptation is offered to no man.  [see: 1Cor. 10:13]

There is, however, His promise.  I have the reassurance that the Spirit will lead me away from the battles I can’t win.  But, if I’m satisfied to cut deals with my flesh instead of subduing it, then no amount of guidance will be able to keep me out of the fight.

I’m gonna’ walk right back into it.

As a young boy, being found blameless was a condition I often sought desperately.

The older I got though, the more blameless I became.  Such was the learning curve of accountability.

But a few years ago, I discovered that being blameless was important to the New Testament authors.  Now that was interesting to me because, as one who’d been saved by my faith in Jesus Christ, I couldn’t understand why that term should even be relevant to me.

But that was based on what I’d been taught—not anything I’d read. 

For example, wouldn’t I already be “blameless” if I’ve been “washed in the blood of the Lamb?”  If Christ has rescued me from the slave market of sin [or saved me] and then declared me righteous because of my belief in Him [or justified me] and is setting me apart from the rest of the world as part of a growing process [or is sanctifying me], how much more blameless can I be?

So, the question was actually, “What does it mean for Christ’s disciple to be blameless?”

There are four similar Greek words translated as “blameless” in the New Testament.  The most commonly used is the adjective ἄμωμος [âmōmôs], meaning blameless, faultless or without blemish.  In his letter to the saints and faithful brethren in Christ who [were] at Colossae, the apostle Paul even suggested that the likelihood of them being presented blameless one day before Christ had a condition:

“And although you were formerly alienated and hostile in mind, engaged in evil deeds, yet He has now reconciled you in His fleshly body through death, in order to present you before Him holy and blameless [ἄμωμος] and beyond reproach— if indeed you continue in the faith firmly established and steadfast, and not moved away from the hope of the gospel that you have heard, which was proclaimed in all creation under heaven, and of which I, Paul, was made a minister.”  [Col. 1:21-23  [my emphasis]

So, since I’m able to read, I can see that blamelessness isn’t just a fringe benefit of my redemption. From a Biblical perspective, it’s intended to be a goal.  And that goal is accomplished by the Holy Spirit’s sanctification process working in me combined with the perseverance I demonstrate in keeping my faith intact.

[What’s my “redemption?” see: Different fruit, Same Good News.]

More specifically though, the ability to remain blameless rests in my willingness to draw near to the throne of Grace, to my High Priest, Jesus Christ.

He’s the only One who can make me spotless—again and again and again.

[see: Not Clean? …Not Good.]

I used to get anxious singing Amazing Grace.

It was all because of a couple of lines at the end of the second verse: “…how precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed.”  

They reminded me that I apparently lacked something every other faithful believer in Jesus Christ seemed able to share—that is, an explicit personal account of his spiritual conversion.  In other words, everyone who’d been “saved” seemed to be able to recall that experience at a specific place and point in time.

[What does it actually mean to be “saved?”  see: Different fruit, Same Good News.]

As a result, every time I heard the testimony of a brother describing the precise time he decided to follow Christ, I questioned the reality of my ever having actually made that same decision myself, since I couldn’t recall exactly when it was.

Every idea I could think of to fix the situation only seemed to deepen my feelings of inadequacy as a partaker of His divine nature.  I couldn’t bring myself to ask anybody if my faith in Christ was real, given its nebulous origin.  I was afraid of the answer.

So, I kept things to myself.

But even though I can’t remember that “…hour I first believed,” there was a moment in time I became convinced that it didn’t really matter.  And I think it’s worth mentioning here that I was never persuaded to that end because of an answered question.

In fact, I never needed to ask, because, by learning what Bible text actually does say, I was also able to determine what it doesn’t say.

[How did I learn what Bible text actually does say? see: Inductive Study? Sounds Like a Plan.]

That’s the remarkable thing about gaining knowledge.  Data isn’t just compiled, confidence is also increased.

And confidence is critical for me to develop as a disciple of Jesus Christ.  For how can I effectively wield the gifts God has granted me without it?   Or by what means does the hesitant man encourage his brother?

More importantly though, if I can’t secure enough confidence in my own ability to understand the what the Scriptures say, it’s highly unlikely I’ll possess the wisdom to discern who actually can.

It’s serious enough for someone else to challenge my faith with a baseless claim.

So why would I allow myself to do it?

Sometimes a word is dirty just by association.

A good example would be the term “sensualism,” a human condition precipitated by any kind of gratification to the senses—that is, by touch, sight, hearing, smell or taste.  The senses are a good thing, of course, having been created by God as part of the human makeup.

It’s just that they were never meant to heavily influence deliberated choices.

But don’t expect anyone to encourage you to discipline yourself against experiencing things sensually—unless it’s a dietitian.  The world revolves around the marketing of wanton pleasure on demand.  Anything sensual is good, and the more often, the better.

That must be why four different Biblical authors of the New Testament cautioned their readers against making provisions in their lives for sensuality.  Eight times, the word translated as “sensuality” was the Greek noun ἀσέλγεια [âsélgeia], referring to licentiousness, wantonness, sensuality, indecency, or vice.  Most of the uses of ἀσέλγεια were included as part of a list of sexually immoral practices.

On the other hand, everything sensual isn’t unclean for Jesus Christ’s disciples.  No lasting, intimate relationship can exist outside of the very necessary sensual realm of human sexuality that grows out of a legitimate covenantal marriage.  Nor can one absorb the beauty of a landscape, the voices of happy grandchildren, or the aroma of a pot luck dinner without the miracle of sensory awareness.

So, experiencing sensuality may or may not always qualify as sinful behavior.  But I can be sure that it’ll point me in that direction.

I simply cannot become mature living a lifestyle of unchecked sensual stimulation.  If I learn to engage every daily task or challenge using my senses rather than my rational faculties, it’s only a matter of time before I start choosing the path of least resistance.

Nor am I able to worship and experience the presence of the Lord exclusively through my senses.  Some congregations which claim to belong to Christ attempt to build and sustain membership by tapping in to the sensually triggered temperaments of visitors. This practice is utterly reprehensible and clearly distorts the intent of corporate Biblical worship. [see: 1Cor. 14]

Things that are sensual often invoke pleasure.  Pleasure is good.  But it cannot exist in constancy and continue to serve that purpose.

Sensualism isn’t the guy I want to hang out with all the time.  Nor is it the old friend I go see a lot to relive the good times.  It is, rather, that welcomed friend who knocks on my door from time to time.

But I’m never afraid to show him the door.

I hear this question raised too many times:

“Why do people who call themselves Christians rarely find the courage to act upon that conviction when they’re challenged on a personal level?”

One could argue, of course, that there’s more than one reason.  But, asking another question might easily explain why there’s usually just one reason.

For example, why will people who call themselves die-hard Kansas City Chiefs fans fight to the death to defend the reputation of a particular player or the team?  Because, aside from the money they spend on team paraphernalia and season tickets, it doesn’t cost them anything to do it.

That’s not to say passionate pursuits aren’t without emotional forfeiture from time to time, but the ones which could really cost us, we tend to avoid, and being a die-hard faithful disciple of Jesus Christ isn’t cheap.

Think about it.

Our congregations are stocked with principled, faithful members, many of which fearlessly defend unborn children, the Biblical institution of marriage and the authority of a moral system of governance.

However, embedded in these bastions of Christian fellowship are bargain-hunters looking for a discount on the price of inevitable conflict. They seek challenges to confirm their faith by responding solely to the charitable needs of the Body of Christ—good works which are indeed critical, but demand little expenditure of defensive, emotional capital.

But they don’t have to look far.  

The Great Deceiver sits among them in the pews, passing out the coupons. And he has the ability to convince them that any formidable resistance in the face of evil is a high-risk enterprise, and that simply being a nice guy and doing nice things is all that’s necessary to do the Lord’s work effectively.

Sin has the power to persuade me to stay in my comfort zone.  And I can testify from personal experience that an immature disciple is an easy target for this type of emotional manipulation. Hence, the otherwise virile man is rendered silent in the face of evil.  But that doesn’t mean he’s capitulated to its ideology.

Oh no, he really does hate it. He’s just decided that the price of acting to stop its advance is too costly.

And, on the basis of that high expense, he somehow justifies his decision, even though  “…any decision Jesus Christ’s disciple makes not to stand up in the face of evil is an open denial of our Lord’s authority to accomplish an effective line of resistance through the actions of that disciple.”  

[Read how this is happening today:  Are We a Body of Cowards?]

The reality is that, even though He could accomplish anything by His own devices, God clearly uses men and women He’s called to help prosecute and defend His divine plan for the ages.  [see: Titus 2:11-14]

So, I have to ask myself:  If I consider His expectations for me not to be worth the cost, I wonder how He‘s gonna’ consider mine when He returns?

“Silence in the face of evil is itself evil.  God will not hold us guiltless.  Not to speak is to speak.  Not to act is to act.”  —Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Some would argue that adoption isn’t what it used to be.

Even though the legal process behind it has remained somewhat unchanged over the past two millennia, most decisions to assume custody of another person have evolved from being grounded in a spirit of pragmatism to an act of selfless charity.

In the First Century, for example, it wasn’t uncommon for an adult male Roman citizen to either seek or readily accept legal adoption by a wealthy guardian who sought a qualified, responsible heir to protect and increase his fortune and lineage.

In other words, you were more likely to get adopted because you were needed rather than because you were in need.

I think this is an unusual practice for many to imagine today, perhaps seeming a little detached from what we’re accustomed to as being a proper motive.   But, consider that even the Biblical authors’ references to adoption reflected a legitimate human aspiration—that is, to become an heir to wealth, and then, to actually receive it.

[Why is it important to understand what an heir is?  see: Birthright Through Redemption]

In his letter to “all who [were] beloved of God in Rome, called as saints,” the apostle Paul exhorted the reader to fully appropriate the mindset of a lawfully adopted heir:

“For all who are being led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God.  For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!”  [Rom. 8:14-15]  [my emphasis]

If I’m being led by the Spirit, I’m able to recognize the Spirit who freed me from the slave market of sin.  That Spirit is the source of my joyful spirit [of adoption] which also anticipates the confirmation of my inheritance at the redemption of my body in a future resurrection!  [see: Rom. 8:23]

In order for me to truly grasp the significance of inheriting what God has to offer, it’s critical for me to be able to remain steadfast in obedience to the commands of Jesus Christ.

So, things certainly aren’t like they used to be.  The reasons for adopting have varied over the centuries, being driven by everything from sincere empathy to rabid greed.  But a true paradigm of its function has always been made visible by the original Designer.

And it has always revolved around the need to either have—or share what is priceless.

That’s why we long to cry out “Abba! Father!”