Three Deadly Sins (Part 1)

“Whitney, you’re arrogant, overfed, and unconcerned.” This was the second time God had revealed the results of His examination of my heart and life. This time, I didn’t brush past His conclusion, trying to convince myself that He hadn’t meant that for me. He had. And this time, I received it.

It was an ugly, beautiful weekend on the floor before my Maker. In His Word. In prayer. In consumption of content and testimonies. And in brokenness and repentance. With this pending mommy-free weekend, I had been trying to catch up on some “people time” to schedule long-awaited appointments with others. But with every unavailable, God was steering me to be available to Him. I’m grateful I was.

We don’t often make God a priority. We don’t pen Him in on our calendars, but we need to. Regular time to allow Him to search the contents of our heart and character and unveil what we’re ignorant and blind to about ourselves. There was much He had to say to me, and I was finally in a posture to listen.

God had likened me to Sodom. Most people know her for her rampant sexual sin and eventual bonfire that didn’t end well. The Lord had set the whole thing on fire for its wickedness. But what some don’t know is that like me, Sodom had many sins besides those of a lascivious nature. Through the prophet Ezekiel, the Lord proclaims these faults of hers: “Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed, and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy” (16:49).

It was some weeks prior that God had brought me to that passage, and now in this contemplative and ready state, He had brought me right back to this same place. Confirmed daughter, I am talking about you. I allowed myself to meditate upon those three words and examine myself to see how my life so aptly fit them.

Unconcerned. One relationship came to the forefront of my mind almost immediately. The Lord had been tugging on my heart regarding this person, and I was wrestling. I did not want to have a relationship with him. I did not want to be bothered with him. I did not want to love him. To me, he was difficult, needy, complaining, excuse-prone, and like the man lying by the Pool of Bethesda, unwilling to get up and walk in the ways he could. He had done something (or rather, not done something that he said he would do), along with the litany of annoyances I had against him, and I made a decision.

I do this well. I mentally pick people up, and I set them somewhere in my mind. And that is where they will stay. He had been set in the place where my will declared, “I will not give you any more of my space, time, or resources. It is a waste to me.” And essentially, what I said with my actions, or rather my inaction by no longer engaging with him, is that he was a waste. That he was a throwaway.

Since that time, up until the penning of this blog, God has revealed more and more to me just how unconcerned I was. And just how terribly unloving that is. Not long ago, I read this passage from Because He Loves Me by Elyse M. Fitzpatrick:

“Put on compassion and kindness and treat my neighbor the way that I want to be treated. If it is loving and helpful to do so, I can speak the truth to her in love, letting her know how her actions toward me were unloving, but I can also build her up by serving her in very practical ways. I can do this because the Lord speaks to me about ways I need to change, but he never withholds his love from me while he does so” (pg. 153).

Unfortunately, after a painful conversation, it became evident that I could no longer fight for this relationship. But these words struck me because they were the indictment he had against me. He told me that I only wanted to help in the way I best saw fit and not in the way that was helpful to him. He said that if he was unwilling to receive help my way, then I was unwilling to be present in any way. This was a painful truth. And though I had many justifications and frustrations for why I’d retreat, it didn’t excuse my sin.

One of the things the Lord has been pruning out of me during this two-year season of living with my sister is my refusal to use my voice. I’ve come to understand the power and necessity of speaking and having conversations, even if I am repulsed at my core at having them. Having a conversation could have prevented the deep wounds I caused him. He was right that I could not demand how I helped him. On the other hand, it was okay and necessary for me to communicate appropriate boundaries that I could not always give help in the way he wanted to receive it too.

I thought I was helping by asking (yet to him, demanding) to advocate with agencies on his behalf for things he kept saying he was going without. But he didn’t want me to make these connections for him. In my mind, all I saw was that he didn’t want to utilize the resources at his disposal; he just preferred to use me. It ended in a battle that left us both with scars. But at least for me, not without invaluable lessons learned. Now, I’m intentionally seeking and praying to walk in the way of love. For the character of love defined in 1 Corinthians 13 to define me. After all, I know a few people to whom I was this difficult, needy, complaining person, and they still served me. They still bore with me. And they still loved me. I pray God continually transforms me to love like this. To love like Him.

In my next blog, I’ll expose the nature of my other sins and how God is challenging me to abandon them for a better way.