The Good That I Would Do

By Rex from Ohio

If good intentions were building materials, I would like to inhabit a might fortress of my own making. I would be perfect, for such is my desire. I am filled with many righteous desires and plans, but they rarely become more than simple optimism. My good intentions frequently become sins of commission or sins of omission.

The commandments of God are plain and specific and readily available to those who know where to look. It isn't difficult to know what God expects of me. . . .

I believe that sin begins to dwell in us as a result of the fall, but also because we often nourish it through our actions. By indulging in a sin we are mildly tempted to commit, without full and complete repentance, we feed the weaknesses in us. Many people have surrendered their moral agency by indulging in sins that weaken and destroy their ability to choose. They add to the "sin that dwelleth in [them]" (Paul in Romans 7:20) through careless indulgence in things that have more real power than they realize.

Soon, such people are left powerless over the temptations that beset them, because sin dwells in them. All of their righteous desires and good intentions have no lasting effect because their hearts have become weak through self-abuse.

Some, unfortunately, discover that through the force of will they can build a fairly sturdy fortress around themselves and can be lulled into a false sense of security from returning to their former ways. This fortress is built with the good intentions that remain in a heart that still harbors a desire for right living. Good intentions are of no lasting value though because they are made of flawed material. Such fortifications are spiritually dangerous because their inhabitants falsely consider themselves to be santuaried away from evil. Even though they may enlist their friends and family to be guards upon the ramparts, they still fall because they build the fort with the enemy on the inside.

As long as a man's heart is ill, no bastion of self-control and good intentions will ever make him safe from the disease of sin. No army of friends and family to hedge up his way against further trespasses will ever be effective until he himself has purged from his own heart the desire to sin. So often I have seen people who make assignments to their friends to check up on them, be barriers to getting into trouble, or become a surrogate conscience. While these things may work for a while and may even buy some time for real safeguards, they cannot ever keep someone out of trouble whose very nature, because of sins that weaken, makes him seek trouble.

Though it has been said that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, no amount of prevention can help after the enemy is already within the gates, especially if we have built our house around him. The enemy cannot be expelled from the fortress until it is known and admitted that he is there.

Once the awful realization comes that we have built for ourselves a citadel of righteousness but have sealed the enemy of righteousness inside with us, we have no other choice but to do what we should have done in the first place--call upon the Lord of battles to come and save us.

He the Lord, strong and mighty in battle, is the only purifier of hearts who can overcome sin in us. He is the Sure foundation, upon which if we build our house cannot fall. He is the bulwark and rampart, the wall and the covering, the gate and true door. He is our avenger and the only force completely able to vanquish our enemies.

Originally published in the Journey newsletter.