:: in a mirror dimly :: A theology and culture blog with the Bible in one tab and a news feed in the other.

While her husband sleeps, a woman still upset from their recent argument slowly walks over to her literature books. She picks up a collection of poems, but turns to the first page–a blank page with a note scrawled on it.

The gist of the note: I hope that you will one day read this note and think of me.

The next scene shows the woman on a train dressed in her best and no doubt anticipating a reunion with her former lover.

This scene takes place in the movie The Namesake. Not only does this speak powerfully to love, lust, and long-term commitment, but it also speaks to sin in general and how it pulls us back in.

Is it too simple and overdone to compare sin to pulling a weed, but not tearing out the roots? Perhaps, but let’s add another element to this idea of weeding. What if we were pulling weeds, but we didn’t want to remove them completely? What if we wanted to remove sin from the surface of our lives, but did not want it completely gone? What if we believe we are unable to remove the sin?

And here we have the dilemma of sin and obedience. There are parts of our lives, secret sins, and other harmful weeds embedded deep into our lives that we pretend to not want, but in reality cultivate in secret. We want others to see our lives of obedience, and we even desire to live in obedience, but unfortunately we can’t rip the last bits of sin out, we feel unable to fight it off, and sometimes we even want to keep the sin in place.

That is what happened with this woman who pulled her book from the shelf. She was married. She should have rid herself of that book with the note from the old lover, but for whatever reason, she still kept it. Perhaps she needed options, an easy out into familiar arms. Perhaps she didn’t believe she could ever remain faithful to her husband.

This is the test we face in our relationship with God. Do we believe in the power of the Resurrection? Do we believe God’s Spirit is greater than our desires, our inclinations to go our own way? It’s a daily struggle that only grows in difficulty as we move away from God, as we neglect our relationship with God. Other options emerge, especially the ones we’ve secretly kept on the shelf.

While praying at the local Taize service last night I had a little nudge from God, a small voice saying, “Receive my love.”

My first response?

“But God I’m still such a sinful selfish mess.”

After all these years of reading the Bible and following Jesus, the simple act of receiving God’s love, grace, and forgiveness is still rather hard at times. While God doesn’t just sweep our sins under the carpet, he doesn’t want us wallowing in them, beating ourselves up, alienating ourselves from his love and grace.

I tried to let go. I tried to step away from who I thought I was and tried to hear what God thought of me. It was a relief, a refreshing relief.

In an instant I realized that so much of my life is spent in a futile effort to be good, loving, and kind. And then John 4 came to mind, the part where Jesus tells the woman that those who believe in him will have living water bubbling up within them and overflowing.

I’ve been cranking away at the well of my soul, pumping up drops of water–hardly enough for myself let alone for those around me. But God wants to drill deep in where his Spirit resides and sent his life and love gushing up into and out of me.

If only we could believe how much God loves us.

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There are all kinds of old songs that mention singing a new song to the Lord. From Catholics, to Baptists, to even U2, the theme of singing a new song to God comes up all over the place.

I was reading Psalm 98 last night, one of the references in scripture to singing a new song, when I finally asked, “Why? Why should I sing a new song to the Lord? Aren’t the old ones just fine?”

I thought back to an evening during my semester in Jerusalem when I found out that I would be able to stay and finish my semester despite the turmoil in the midst of the 2000 intifada. Gushing with relief and gratitude, I penned a poem or song, I’m not quite sure, that I can only compare to a Psalm. It was a celebration of God. I’ve never written anything like that before or since.

Was this a new song? In a sense, yes. And the attractiveness of a new song is the celebration of God’s new work. If we are the people of God singing new songs, that means we are living with God and experiencing the new work of God. In fact, if we run short on inspiration and “material,” chances are we have lost touch with the subject of our new songs.