The Lines Blurred

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I managed to get from where I was in my walk, to the dark and sinful way of life that I recently crawled out of.  How is it  that I was not able to see it for what it was and not even go there?

I realize now that over time the lines had become blurred, and this was of my own  doing.  Little tiny things, dabbling in just little sinful  areas, is where things started.  Little by little over the long haul, the lines became less and less distinguishable and what once would have been very offensive to me was no longer all that bothersome.  Where once the lines divided what was God honoring from what was corruption, it was getting easier and easier to justify and be comfortable with my sin.

I  think of it like taking a gallon of white paint and dribbling in a bit of red.  On the surface of the white it is a harsh contrast, but if you stir the paint well, that little bit mixes in and isn’t even noticeable.  Adding a trace here and a trace there, slowly, it  is barely seen as the paint is changing from very bright white to a very very light shade of pink.  Without something white next to it,  one would not notice the change.  Over time a drop here and there of other colors or sins  would begin to change the appearance of the paint.  Sitting visible on the surface the color can be seen, but once mixed  in not so much.  However the more and more you add of other colors, the more the white paint fades and slowly changes color until it is black.

This  is how  the sins were that were slowly introduced into our life and marriage.  a drop here, a dribble there, and once we pulled away from other believers, we could not see the change in our white color to a light pink or gray.  The more we mixed in, the further away we were and the less  we felt the conviction of wrong.

No  one dragged me there  to that lifestyle, I allowed a tiny drop and then another and another  until I was too far from what was pure and white to notice any longer much less seem to care.  But I did care,  and at times something would trigger in me the desire to go back to my faith.  Eventually I would pay the price for the sins in my life, a price  I will feel forever.  I lost the home I loved, the husband I loved, and living with my daughter.  These  things cannot be undone and have been most painful to endure.  But it is my own fault, I allowed the drips of sin  to discolor my heart, mind and soul.

White paint in the form of God’s forgiveness, Word, church services, and right thinking, is being poured into the can of my mind and heart, and with each that is put in, the dark black paint is scooped out.  The more white that goes in, and the more blackened sin is removed, the brighter the color becomes.  My soul was forgiven when I repented, it is the rest of me, my thoughts and heart, that need the whitening process.

This holiday was a  celebration for me of the return of my soul to it’s place before the Lord.

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