“I can’t get away with anything.!”
That is what our daughter Jenna would say growing up. She knew that if she did something she wasn’t supposed to do she would absolutely get caught.
It wasn’t a matter of if, just when.
We would tell her that even when we couldn’t see her, Jesus was watching and He would tell us because He loved her too much to let her get away with stuff. That might sound manipulative in some way to you, but it was actually true many times.
Despite that claim I know she got away with some things. Michael and I are not all seeing as it turns out. We have our blind spots. We miss things.
But Jesus doesn’t. He misses nothing.
Remember Psalm 139? No hiding places. No way to remove yourself from His eye.
There’s a comfort in that. He always sees me. He always knows me.
But there is a challenge in that. He always sees me. Always. And He loves me so He won’t let me get away with anything!
Jesus calls us out on our stuff. He won’t let it go.
This thing we call “conviction” is hard truth.
Ever been hounded by the Holy Spirit after you have done something you shouldn’t do? Ever felt like He was relentless until you confessed it and made it right? I know I have.
I learned this lesson the hard way.
It was the summer of 1990. I was a seminary student in Southern California about mid-way through my Masters degree in New Testament. I took a summer class that was a full year of Greek in six weeks. It was madness.
I loved it. I loved the language and I grabbed on really fast.
The six weeks flew by. I studied my brains out. I lived Greek. I aced all the weekly tests. I was all over it.
As timing would have it, my big brother decided to get married the final week of the class and I was in the wedding. That meant taking the final a day early so I could drive north in time for the festivities.
My Professor was gracious to allow me to do that. No problem.
The final was daunting for sure. So much stuff crammed in my wee brain.
My Professor trusted me. I got to take the test all by myself, alone in a classroom.
Part of the final was open book, and part of it was closed book. This is where things went awry.
Yep, you guessed it. There was one small part of the test where I wasn’t confident. But it was the “closed book” part of the test. I was alone in a room with the book. The temptation to open the book and take a quick peek overwhelmed me and, I’m sad to say, I did.
What? Did you hear that right? Seminary student cheats on test! News at 11.
It was completely ridiculous. The section I cheated on was worth quite literally 5 points.
I turned the test in and walked away.
And on the drive north the journey with the Holy Spirit whispering to me began.
And the journey of justifying my actions began.
Two days later I found out I got a 99% on the test. 99%! Even if I had screwed up that entire section, I would have still earned an A on the test and an A in the class.
So I justified. I convinced myself that there was no harm, no foul. My actions had not impacted my final grade at all so no big deal. I asked forgiveness from God and tried to put it to bed.
I returned for the fall term and pushed forward, ignoring the small voice inside that said I needed to tell my Professor and face the consequences. I was scared. The possible consequences were steep. I’d signed a code of conduct and could be kicked out. And I earned that A after all.
Guilt would set in. Then justification would push it down. Then guilt again. And so the cycle went. For months.
I finished the fall term of 1990 without telling anyone.
The winter and spring term of 1991 I spent in Northern England taking classes at Sheffield University. I was there to study, but also to get to know my mom who I barely knew. That’s a story for another day.
I had less units in my schedule. More time to think.
The still small voice was getting more insistent. The cycle was picking up pace. I was losing sleep. I knew in the core of who I was that until I truly owned this thing it would stand between me and God.
Relentless. Pounding.
I finally hit a place where my fear of the consequences had less sway over me than the desire to make things right. It took 8 months.
By the way, I don’t recommend this level of stubbornness.
It turned out that while I was in England, my Professor was on sabbatical in Germany. There was no easy way to reach him. No cell phones. No texting. I was able to get an address but no phone number. So I did the only thing I could do. I wrote a letter. Laid it out with a real pen and real paper. Sealed it up and mailed it before I could change my mind.
And waited for my fate to be revealed.
Interestingly, the weight came off my soul when I dropped the letter in the post box. There was a new lightness.
Of course I was concerned about what would happen, but the relief was palpable. I was at peace with God because I had finally been obedient. The power of the shame was gone because it was no longer hidden.
So I waited.
About three weeks later my fate arrived in the mailbox. I’ll never forget just staring at it. Afraid to open it yet dying to know so I could close this chapter that had stolen so much of my energy and joy.
I have enormous respect for my Professor. His response was hard truth – it is within my right to expel you from the program – but with incredible grace – it seems to me that you have suffered enough and I will be taking no further action.
When we both got back to Southern California for the fall term of 1991, we didn’t speak of it. He had forgiven me, it was behind us. It was done and over. As far as I know, nobody ever knew except the two of us. And the Holy Spirit. And now all of you!
I learned through that 8 months that while God’s love for me is indeed unconditional, He requires me to traffic in truth. When I don’t, He will call me out. And keep calling me out until I fix things.
I’d like to say that I’ve never done anything wrong since but that would be far from true. Thankfully my cycles are much shorter from sin to confession. I know by experience that the Holy Spirit loves me too much to let me get away with anything, so I cave much sooner!
It is an amazing gift to be loved so well. It is an amazing gift to be held to a high standard.
Maybe you have been wrestling with something and you just need to come clean. I promise, it will be worth it.
I really can’t get away with anything.
I’m so thankful.
