Continuing Confessions, Part 2

I sometimes have doubt. Not about God, about me. That is the honest thing to say. When I wrote the previous post, I wrote in first person about fears I guess occur among those in American Christianity. I actually don't think about death too much. I do think about growing older, which approaches thinking about death I suppose. I do try to keep my cholesterol down! Leave the meat off the sandwich, but place a reasonable amount of cheese, please. Pepper jack.

I have determined doubts are totally a function of identifying with my old nature instead of the Risen Christ, alive in me by an act of grace on His part. My natural man is given to anxiety. There were once days and now occasional moments when anxiety over my Christian experience or even just having the money to accomplish something in particular is pushing into my heart. I am not concerned about this. I recognize it as part of the territory of being a fallen creature saved by grace and brought into new life in the spirit.

The struggle in Romans 7, eh? There are the times in my life--still--when I feel like the old me instead of the new me. Act like it, too, if I'm not diligent to submit myself to God even more fully in those moments. Plainly stated, there are times when I feel mean-spirited, down-cast, anxious, impatient, discourteous, a seeker of pleasure, wanting my own way, willing to lash out, and have done so if I've become angry enough to cast self-control aside willingly.

Of course, there are degrees to all of this and many folks would compare me to others or themselves and say that doesn't sound like the David I know. Well, we know comparsions among ourselves are not wise. These who would think I am not like I have described above don't know my thoughts or the jerks my heart goes through. I am all too aware that Jesus said something to the effect that there is no difference between an action and a desire. He was speaking of lust, I know. From my life experience, the principle really applies to all of our desires. If I embrace a feeling, identify with it, call it me and watch it bounce around in my heart, imagining logical actions that would feel satisfying to my old nature to live out, is there any difference? Isn't the desire to be sarcastic to someone I judge to be stupid the same as doing so? That judging someone to be insipid or insidious or whatever is a fairly large log in my eye.

Or so it is in the Wild Wood.