The Way Back

It’s a Saturday morning in early spring, and my wife and I have decided it is high time to give the garage a good cleaning. After a hearty breakfast, we gather the brooms, the wet/dry vacuum, the tool for cleaning the cobwebs from the corners, and prepare to step out of the main house inspired by a mission that will bring order to several months of building chaos. Before we head out though, we decide we had better check in with the kids. One is watching a show on television, another reading a magazine upstairs in his bedroom, and the littlest is playing with her dollhouse. Everything seems to be in order. Just before crossing the threshold into the garage, we holler at the kids to let them know that if for any reason they need us, we won’t be far away.

I don’t know how it works in your house, but at my place the kind of cleaning the garage requires each spring is not something you jump into unless you are ready to give up the better part of a Saturday morning. The effort required can be a little intense, but there is a unique satisfaction that can only be found in the completion of a project like this. Now, picture this next scene. As Lori and I wrap up our effort, we exchange high fives, and enter the house feeling good about what we have just accomplished. We enter the kitchen, then round the corner into the living room, and what we see with our eyes can only be described as a disaster zone. If a small tornado had touched down in the middle of our house, the scene we now witness would make sense... but it’s a beautiful day, with clear blue skies. No tornadoes...not even a cloud.

I’m sure you can guess what happened in our absence. Our three kids, who had been engaged in peaceful and even somewhat productive activities before we began cleaning, had abandoned those activities for something else. As I stood with dropped jaw, I slowly realized that nearly all of the contents of their upstairs bedrooms had somehow made the transition to the living room floor. Not knowing what else to say, I resorted to the obvious question: “what happened here?” Wouldn’t you know, not one of my children had any idea what had happened? As they stood there with wide eyes, darting glances at each other, they tried to convince us that they were just as clueless as we were. It took an FBI style interrogation to eventually determine that my oldest son had convinced his siblings they should build a colossal fort in the middle of our living room...using bedding, couch cushions, kitchen chairs, every stuffed animal known to mankind, and random toys I’m fairly certain I’d never seen before.

This is a story I enjoy sharing when I have the chance. Not just because it is funny and cute. It is those things, but behind the cuteness lies a truth we must acknowledge. Just like my kids, you and I often make a mess, and many times would rather act as though we really don’t know how things went sideways, as opposed to owning up to our part in the debacle. Why is it that we have such trouble admitting when we’ve messed up? Is it because we are afraid of what others will think or say about us if we are honest with them? Is it because we are afraid of what could happen if we are honest with ourselves? Whatever the reason, we tend to run from the truth even when it’s staring us right in the face.

When my kids mess up, I often catch them in the act. I mean, right in the middle of it. And you know what? Sometimes, even then, they will tell me that what I’m seeing is not what is, in actuality, happening. Nothing to see here, Dad… As we get older, we often continue this pattern. What is different is that we find more “adult” ways to hide the truth and hide from the truth as well. We’ve all messed up. We all fall short.

The apostle Paul states it as plainly as it can be said. Read these words from Romans 3:23: “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God...” All have sinned. What Adam and Eve began as they listened to the words of the serpent, you and I have continued. As the apostle Paul points out two chapters earlier in Romans 1, it often seems as though we are inventing new ways to sin against God and each other. Remember the question that I posed in the introduction, promising we would return to it? Here it is again: “So what does it mean for us if the little good that is left in us comes from a God we are overwhelmingly seeking to distance ourselves from?” I think the answer should be fairly evident. Take a look at the brokenness of the world around us. The Bible defines sin as missing the mark. To put it simply, we sin every time we miss the target our creator has set for us. Every time I choose selfish behavior, I miss the mark. Every time I act in an unloving way, I miss the mark. Each and every time I chase after the desires of my own heart, instead of the desires of the heart of God, I miss the mark. And we are all guilty. All of us…

So, what do we do with this knowledge? As I stated in chapter one, if God is the one who spoke all of creation into being, he certainly has the right to expect something of those he created. The bad news is that we have fallen far short of the desires God has for us. We have all sinned. The good news is this isn’t the end of the story!