Mankind cannot help but follow two actions when presented with temptation.
On the first action; consider a man who is addicted to chocolate. Imagine this addiction is life threatening and yet he continues to eat chocolate even though he knows it is bad for him. Imagine, then, that this man remembers a specific type of chocolate bar that he especially enjoyed, but has forgone for many years. This chocolate bar made him feel ‘complete’; it fulfilled his every desire. He craves the chocolate because of how it made him feel, and yet he knows the chocolate, although available to be eaten once more, should not be consumed. This temptation drives the man to succumb to the chocolaty goodness or resist. If he succumbs, then guilt will capture the man, knowing it has taken him closer to death.
But what if the man resists?
Here, then, we encounter the second action. If the man turns away and denies himself the chocolate, then he continues to be imprisoned but in a different form. See, the man remembers the taste of the chocolate; the sweetness it held on his tongue. Although he knows that resistance is of benefit, although he knows the right thing to do is to resist, once he allows the chocolate to pass him by, he cannot help but wish that he did, indeed, indulge his senses to the wonders of the chocolate. The man is rent asunder at the contrast; aware that he could have had the chocolate and yet bewildered at his mystifying decision to deny himself the chocolate. He is now wracked by regret; perplexed at why he let slip the wonderful sensations of chocolate to tongue like sand through his fingers.
So in the face of temptation, the man is torn; to live with guilt or regret. What shall it be, dear friend? The question is less ‘to chocolate or not to chocolate’, but rather ‘to suffer guilt or regret’.
This is the daily, even hourly, struggle of the Christian in relation to sin; particularly those which we repeat. It is, to be sure, identifying sin as an addiction. But then, is not sin addictive? Does not Paul suggest that ‘I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.’ And yet, like the apostle himself, we do what we hate. Yet if we hated it, why do we do it?
The war of the flesh with the spirit is a battle of incomprehensible means. We are fought over by powers we cannot understand, and it is here that the temptation is presented. If a man is truly presented with an option he knows leads to death, why would he do it? Surely it makes no sense – whether rational, emotional or existential – to do something that brings harm to oneself. And yet in sin we continue to do that which destroys us.
In my heart, I feel I know myself well enough to suggest that temptation is wrapped in a pleasant offering; one that suggests ‘You will win’ if we indulge even though to do so is to lose. It is a trick, in a way; a lure like those we use when fishing. We are like fish that spot bait and jump to consume it despite knowing all along the hook that will catch us is hidden within.
Although I have assessed that this appears to be a manner in which sin operates, my only offer for how to combat this is to suggest an option not previously considered; the search for freedom. If sin is akin to addiction, and addiction is slavery, then to be set free is the only chance at resisting temptation without the wracking of regret. We are told that Jesus came to set the captives free; that those who bear His yoke will discover its lightness. In this way I know this gives me both the impetus to resist the temptation (and thereby avoid the guilt it would give should I succumb) and the release from the bondage of regret.
No doubt the proper exegesis of this issue is one that will take me a lifetime to unravel, but the epiphany of knowing what it is I’m confronted with at a very real level last night gives me the chance to finally articulate something I’ve been struggling with for months; perhaps even years if I have been subconsciously unaware of the struggle.
Reiterating the words Jesus came to fulfill, that were spoken also by the words of the prophet Isaiah:
The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the broken hearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favour and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion–to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendour.
Isaiah 61:1-3
Aiming the lens 