The flesh of a man is a violent creature with strength. He has been fed day and night with immoral thought, desires blood, and is willing to fight to the death. Who can possibly defeat him?
In stealth, I attacked. Even this great King was so easy to conquer. My flesh had won the battle. Using all of my strength, I twisted one arm behind His back and I pinned Him to the ground. With my foot, I held His arm in place and swung the mallet. The steel spike pierced, crushing the wrist bone. He bled, but spoke no words. Within moments I had nailed this great King to a cross. Then like a Roman warrior, I screamed a violent scream directly in His face. My battle clothes were red with blood and I mocked Him as the cross was propped up and dropped into a hole.
I wrestle with God, and I am the one who crucified my Brother. What I am attempting to say is: we are sinners and Christ gave His life to save us. Do we understand that He gave His life, and is now an advocate before the Father who understands the strength of our flesh? Our great King chose to surrender and our wrong desires nailed Him to the cross.
Many of us face the inward battle daily, as we attempt to overcome our fleshly nature. We fight the good fight, with our own flesh that opposes God.
My God, I recognize those foot prints in the sand. I have walked here before many times. The same path over and over again. I don’t have to think or argue within myself, to walk around this mountain. The trail is well marked with the patterns of my thinking. Those patterns of thinking are the reason my trail is so well marked. My wandering is led by emotions, circumstances, and a life time of learning wrong behaviors. But for the first time in my life, I can see a narrow trail just up ahead turning toward the right. The right way to think: about myself, my God, and the direction of my life. Should I follow it?
My war continues.
OK, OK, let’s just ease up a bit on the intensity, take the foot off the throttle of emotions, and make a sandwich. My favorite is Bologna, just like the song. You might remember the 1973 commercial of the child singing, Oscar Mayer has a name. Much of the way I think is bologna. That was a poor attempt of humor.
Love righteousness and do good…. Love your neighbor as yourself…. Love, love, love. My own personal favorite twisted way of thinking was hidden far deeper. It said something like, try to be nice to people and when you fail hate yourself. It said, because you have struggled and fell down a few times, your life will be a bologna sandwich. Life will be a few pieces of stale white bread, dry, with a little mold on the crust. It will have two patterns or more of wrong thinking for meat and all the yellow mustard of drama you can stand, to spice things up a bit. You like your sandwich. Its taste is something you have come to tolerate under the guidelines of: I can never overcome my past, my failures, and the pattern of the way I think. Bingo! The patterns of the way I think.
When I was a child, I thought like a child, but now that I am older I discovered I am stubborn. Or something like that anyway. As a teen, I preformed daily acts of disobedience. I had mastered the manipulation of lies, or so I thought. Rebellion was one of my best friends. He taught me techniques in how to obtain attention. I grew stronger, but not wiser. I learned how to fight and was beaten up a few times by bullies. But I always managed to get in a few punches. I learned if I caused trouble I would be noticed. I learned if I apologized I would be forgiven and would receive a cookie called “a hug.” All I was after in all of this drama was to be loved, noticed, and told I was a good boy.
This pattern of thinking was exactly how I acted in my relationship with God. The root of rebellion was my energy source I used to be noticed by God. It runs deep, it’s fruit is one source of rot within my heart. If I act out in disobedience then I can earn the punishment I deserve. Please God beat me with a switch. If I cause trouble then I can earn detention, and I can sit all by myself but at least I will be close to His office.
Little did I know as time went by and I gave way to my own flesh, thinking I had to create a ruckus to receive the punishment of His love. This meaning, in my immature thoughts, I believed the only time I could receive Gods love was when he disciplined me. I was feeding into a pattern that strengthened my own defiance. On the outside the world sees a “nice guy,” but on the inside I have been at war with my own thinking.
Just being able to see and understand what has been discovered is the greatest step of truthfulness I have learned about myself. I don’t have to wrestle with God to receive His love. I don’t have to pretend to win some great fight with God and act like a rebellious teen to receive His attention. I don’t have to eat bologna sandwiches all my life. I have learned I don’t have to act out, in the ways I have acted. I have learned grace, forgiveness, and God is a friend.
The weapons of my warfare are not carnal but mighty through God. Casting down imaginations and every high thing that exults itself against the knowledge of God.
Each man battles within himself his own wrong desires. Sometimes those desires are a mere seeking of attention. But they become a dangerous habit that draws up the darkness, deep down inside, a war within yourself. The pattern of self destruct forms a stronghold of sin. Sin produces death, but Christ was nailed to a cross for the purpose of freeing us from the wrong patterns of thinking that become strongholds. Some developed just because we did not know where to look for the love we needed. The kind of love we need and search for is not found in the crying out of “someone notice me,” or the acting out of rebellious things so we are seen. Some secrets we keep from the world about who we really are, the secrets things only God knows about. Even in these dark places of our hearts, God still loves us. He simply wants to share “life” with us and give us the things, hopes, and dreams to live fulfilled. He wants relationship built on trust, built on forgiveness and not rebellion.