“I know how to, but I can’t do it,” my grandson said.
I pondered the words, because I knew exactly that kind of frustration. In fact, it is so much a part of the Christian life, isn’t it? And the funny part is, ok, well…not actually funny, but the Apostle Paul understood it too.
Which is, now that I’m writing about it, pretty comforting.
“For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” (Romans 7:15 ESV)
Recently I was in one of those situations. It was just a regular kind of conversation, but I had an irregular irritation to the subject matter. It niggled and stabbed at me. I had a flash choice. I could respond with silence. I could reasonably and respectfully answer with a question to help me better understand that person’s position. I could give a gracious response.
Or of course, another option. I could quip out a dart. To the heart.
I’d rather skip the bit about which I chose to do.
“For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.” (Romans 7:18 ESV)
Paul’s dilemma highlights that tension between equipping ourselves with the power of the indwelling Spirit through Christ, or giving reins to the sin which raises its ugly head in our hearts.
As a teenager that decision often meant choosing whether or not to follow the crowd. As a young mother it meant how I responded in the midst of diapers, melt-downs, and sleepless nights. In ministry it sometimes meant my reaction to discouragement, comparison, or watching as other’s successes surpassed our own. As our children grew to adults, it meant trusting God with their safety and direction in new ways and hands off.
I did not always get it right. I often let the angry word, the easier path, envy, or revenge quench the right thing I knew I should do. Each phase of life brims with a “desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out,” as Paul put it.
And now, this life, this crazy season of supposedly “easy retirement” is absolutely fraught with “I know how to’s…but I cant’s.”
I had no idea of how small I might feel or how much my worth seems diminished. I didn’t know that by the time I was supposed to “have it all together,” I would feel like I was coming apart at the seams. Words like insufficient, insecure, and inconsequential whisper through my mind. I never quite imagined before, as I observed those older than myself, the many different ways this aching flesh could still activate itself.
And frankly, when once I had very little sympathy for the cranky, pushy, whiny, or know-all attitude I occasionally witnessed, I wonder how often those very things are seen in me by others.
As I watched my grandson, his head bent over a soda can, while his little fingers fussed with a stubborn aluminum tab, I understood his frustration. I heard it in his little voice as he wrestled to open it, “I know how to, but I can’t do it.”
Because, while I want to demonstrate Christ in all I do, that reality feels as though it is still so far beyond my grasp.
The Apostle and I struggled with the same issue. When I gave my life to Jesus, He became my new Master. He forgave my sins and transformed my heart.
In this redeemed reality, forgiven and new, I still disobey. It disappoints and discourages me. And unfortunately, I have company in this Christian paradox.
We share Paul’s dilemma. He assures us that we don’t need to hopelessly throw up our hands in defeat. Paul inserts hope into this tension of forgiven-yet-so-prone-to-wander Christian walk. He declares us free through Jesus from the slavery of sin. ( Romans 6:22-23)
It is here, at the crux between what we know to be right, and what we choose to do, where Jesus calls us to meet with Him.
“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” (Hebrews 4:15 ESV)
Jesus has been where we stand. His Spirit within is available to stop what we say before the words spill out our lips. His guidance waits to walk the path we should go. His grace and mercy, able to turn us away from sin, never exhausts itself nor does His wisdom and strength wane.
My grandson’s words are a challenge to me today. They remind me to call my reply to a halt before I let the flesh respond. It’s a reminder that my road isn’t finished yet. The words of a child urge me to set my mind on the truth and instruction of God’s Word for everyday living. It invites my inner being to be governed by the Spirit’s power. And I am assured that “what I can’t,” He can.
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