I bewilder myself.

The confusion manifests in many ways, none more pronounced than the incongruence between belief and behavior. Too often, I do what I don’t want to do. I’m not referring to tasks I need to do but would rather avoid—like getting a preventative colonoscopy every few years. I’m talking about things I shouldn’t do but do anyway, despite knowing the dangers. I’m talking about sin—more specifically, a besetting sin. It’s the kind of transgression whose temptations carry a unique appeal, whose siege upon the soul never seems to retreat. Sometimes my fortifications hold, and I repel the attacks. Sometimes they don’t, and I fall.

I believe Jesus is sovereign.

“For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”
(Colossians 1:16–17, ESV)

I believe He is compassionate.

“But you, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.”
(Psalm 86:15, ESV)

The Lord will never withhold His endless mercies of protection, for He has both the power and the desire to extend them.

Yet I don’t always act like it.
Too often, my behavior suggests the very opposite. My great besetting sin is fear—fear over financial matters, to be exact. And this is more than mere concern. The degree to which I worry spans a wide spectrum. At its worst, such fret becomes an all-consuming obsession. I can’t eat or sleep. Every waking hour is spent constructing doomsday scenarios in my mind—the kind where I irreversibly fail my family. The anxiety takes on a life of its own. It becomes something that never is, something that has no real chance of ever being. Such bondage, and the behavior it produces, is not only a gross misalignment with reality but, more importantly, an affront to Jesus and the truths of the Gospel.

Paul writes:

“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)

We don’t know the exact context of these comments. Some scholars think Paul was referring to his persecution of the church before he was saved. Others believe he was speaking in the present, as an apostle. I’m in the latter camp—perhaps selfishly. Since Paul, as a blood-bought believer, struggled with the flesh, then maybe I’m not the spiritual fraud Satan wants me to believe I am. Perhaps I’m in good company. Like Paul, I too sometimes don’t understand my actions.

But I have hope—for one crucial reason:
Like Paul, I hate my sin. And that is massive. It means that John is not talking about me when he writes:

“Everyone who makes a practice of sinning also practices lawlessness; sin is lawlessness. You know that he appeared in order to take away sins, and in him there is no sin. No one who abides in him keeps on sinning; no one who keeps on sinning has either seen him or known him.”
(1 John 3:4–6, ESV)

John is making critical distinctions about sin. He is not talking about being sinless. All believers fall short and will not be perfected until Heaven. He is talking about those who claim to abide in Christ yet live in habitual indifference toward His glory. These individuals practice sin—they make a habit of it. They are unbothered by their actions and the weight they carry. Their apathy toward Christ’s honor reveals that they are not redeemed.

And here lies the reason I must not lose hope:
I’m not a noncombatant. I fight. However feeble my attempts may seem, I battle my sin because I loathe it. I hate dishonoring Jesus. That hatred itself is an important reminder. Amid the chaos, when nothing seems to make sense, it points me to one simple truth: I am indeed saved. And I continue to be a beneficiary of the Lord’s sovereign grace. Jesus hasn’t abandoned me.

“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
(Romans 8:38–39, ESV)

The Lord is still interceding on my behalf. He will help me ultimately prevail against this besetting sin.

“For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace.”
(Romans 6:14, ESV)

The genuine believer is a warrior.

“Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.
Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”
(Ephesians 6:13–17, ESV)

Fighters have God’s favor. Pacifists don’t.
Which are you?

May 1 John 3 have its intended effect: a soul-satisfying reassurance for the one, and a repentance-inducing alarm for the other.

May the Lord do both.