The Wait of Sin

My pastor preached on revenge last week, and loving one's enemies this week (Matthew 5, the "But I tell you..." series). As a part of giving up the anger, we wrote "issues" on black pieces of paper and, during the prayer/response time, were free to nail them to six crosses spread throughout the sanctuary.

I went around cleaning up after the majority of the congregation had left. With a handful of black papers in my left hand, I knelt at the foot of a cross to scoop up more. And they were all over--all these black pieces of paper representing things we harbor, things we're bitter about... Was that what He saw--a black mass of sin--and He picked up each one that was dropped at His cross?

They were suddenly distasteful, these things in my arms.

Hours later, I'm blogging, and the title comes to me. The weight of sin...no, the wait of sin. What does that mean?

How long do I wait before I hand things to Jesus? How much of a toddler am I--"No, I do it!" Perhaps I spend too much time trying to be responsible for things I am not responsible for, that I'm overwhelmed before I begin to take responsibility for those things for which I really am responsible. Maybe that's my biggest flaw.

The wait of the sin of not trusting, not rejoicing, not believing that He is faithful in His love for me.

It's a new thought.