It’s funny how we always want to appear strong. We feel guilt for our weaknesses and fear that others might see them. If someone says something critical about us, even if it’s true, we’re quick to laugh it off or defend ourselves. We don’t want to be seen as anything less than someone who’s making it—really making it, and doing so with substantial impressiveness.
With our kids, we want to seem like wise parents who have grown far enough to guide them. At the very least, we fear being seen as someone who’s slipping backward. But often, that’s exactly how we feel. At least that’s how people who are self-reflective feel—those who don’t just cover up their guilt by plowing ahead without a second thought. True self-reflection can feel like a curse because we have to live with ourselves. We carry the guilt of not being who we think we’re supposed to be.
Then comes the self-flagellating: “I should be so much more by now,” I tell myself. “If people only knew how small I really am and how little I’ve grown over the years. How much I feel like I’ve gone backward.” These thoughts run through my mind so often. And I even feel ashamed of them.
Why do I think I need to put on a show? Why do I feel the need to make people think I’m more than I am? Where does that come from? Is it built into me? Is there even a goodness to that desire? Could it, in some small way, reflect God’s image in a deeply imperfect way?
Still, in the midst of all this, I find so much comfort in the “show” that Paul puts on in Romans 7. Right in the middle of his greatness—his deep insights and profound wisdom—he slams on the breaks and lets us see the darker side of himself that he could have very easily kept hidden.
“We know that the law is spiritual; but I am unspiritual, sold as a slave to sin. I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” (Roman 7:14-15)
He Goes on:
“For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.” (Romans 7:18-19)
It’s as if he’s saying, “I don’t want you to feel alone in this. This is me too.”
Isn’t it amazing how God has written the Bible this way? With every great person, there’s a moment when they stop and let us see their broken heart, their darkness—the heart that they broke and the darkness that they, themselves, caused. Paul didn’t have to do that. Honestly, it even seems a bit out of place sometimes. But he does it anyway. He stops and shows us: I’m one of you. Don’t think too much of me. I know how you feel. I’m not who I want to be. I fail constantly. I should be more. I can’t rescue myself from this body of death.
And then, I don’t feel so alone. I feel energized. I feel like I can get back up because Paul fell down. I feel like I can swing again because Elijah quit swinging. I feel like I can run because Samson didn’t seem to try. I feel like I can fly because Moses crashed. And I feel like I can be put back together because David was taken apart.
Feeling down sucks. But one day, we will overcome this body of death. We will stand before Him—not because we’re strong or impressive, but because He is. He is able to make us stand blameless with great joy. He is the only God our Savior. We are not our own gods.
