How Can I Change?/Tools of the Trade (I)

From Gospel Translations

cents, I was a heavy smoker. Some might say a nicotine fiend, a Chesterfield-regular kind of guy. I was addicted to smoking and I knew it.

Quitting was no problem—I had quit a dozen times. But when the urge to smoke became too strong, I would start back up again. So I decided to stop buying cigarettes. That didn’t work either. It only made me a nuisance to my friends since I was always bumming smokes from them. At my lowest point, I was scavenging half-smoked butts out of the ash tray.

Around this time I became aware the Holy Spirit was convicting me of sin and drawing me toward Jesus. Though my smoking was just one evidence of my internal state, it seemed symbolic of my whole life. I was stuck. Every attempt to stop smoking had failed. I could not see how I would ever be able to overcome this habit. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to.

I knew Jesus was primarily after my heart, not my habit. Still, I couldn’t imagine following him and smoking at the same time. So one evening I asked Larry, a believer I had just met, if a guy could be a Christian and still smoke. This was my version of the trick question the Pharisees asked Jesus about paying taxes to Caesar. They thought they could trap him no matter which way he answered.

My strategy went like this. If Larry replied, “No—one cannot be a Christian and smoke,” I would solemnly pronounce his answer to be legalistic and contrary to the principle that God looks at the heart. On the other hand, if he said, “Yes, no problem,” then I could dismiss Christianity as a meaningless set of powerless beliefs. Yet the question wasn’t entirely cynical. Part of me desperately wanted to believe—and be free.

Well, Larry gave me an answer I hadn’t counted on. “Suppose,” he said, “you wanted to encourage someone to trust in the Lord. Do you think you’d be more effective as a witness with a cigarette in your hand or without one?”

Hmmmm...good response. Suddenly the issue wasn’t smoking, but whether or not I wanted my life to glorify God. It was really a question of motive.

I’m now of the opinion that no person with true faith in Jesus Christ will be barred from heaven for having a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. But that’s beside the point, for God’s goal in sanctification is that we be conformed to the image of Jesus Christ. And I can’t picture Jesus walking up to the woman at the well (Jn 4:7-18) and saying, “Got a light? Thanks. Now, let’s talk about your sin. How many husbands have you got?”

By the way, I’m not a Chesterfield-regular kind of guy anymore. God had means available to help me kick the habit—the same means we’ll be examining in these next two chapters. Of prior importance, though, was my motive. God will always help someone whose motive is right, who really wants to glorify him and do his will. But he will not let us use him merely to improve the quality of our lives or change our circumstances. He’s after nothing less than our hearts. In holiness, motive always precedes means.

Before delving into the next section, let’s quickly review what we’ve learned thus far about God’s plan of sanctification. We are new creations who enjoy a living union with Jesus Christ. But we are still in a battle. We experience inward warfare and inward peace; we wrestle with sin and rest in Christ.

A clear understanding of this ten- sion between the “now and the not yet” will guard you from some serious mis- conceptions. For example, just because you encounter severe temptations and spiritual battles doesn’t necessarily mean you have done something wrong. A holy person is not one who never has any spiritual conflicts, or has achieved perfection. Rather, a holy person is one who is becoming more Christlike through the process of obeying God amidst life’s daily struggles.