Sometimes, no, often, the "little" sins are the ones which trap us. A little sin, or even misdeed, not wrong in content, but wrong in timing or priority, can and will build into bigger and more tenacious sins. The more sin comes in, the more it holds on, and eventually sin's deceitfulness hardens even the cleanest conscience.
For me, it all started when I was eight or nine years old. Nearly every Sunday I would go to the church library and check out a book or two from the children's section. My parents played very little role in advising me as to what my reading material should be, as they thought that the content of everything in the section for my age level would be appropriate. It was, after all, the library of a conservative, Bible-believing and teaching church. Then I would go home and read it after dinner, while my parents were relaxing or napping. My parents knew of and encouraged this practice. I had been reading a series of books, but one Sunday, the next in line was checked out, so I proceeded to find a different series to read. I found another series by the same author. Having discovered nothing objectionable in the other series, I figured this new one should be interesting and wholesome. The title gave me some misgivings, but, I checked it out anyway. When my parents took a nap later, I settled down to read, finding myself in a world which no child, especially one as young and impressionable as I, should ever read about. But it was so very interesting, so despite my little pricks of conscience, I kept reading, justifying my actions to myself. I thought: "It's not that bad, why else would it be in the church library?" Maybe an hour into reading the book, my older brother came in, and I cleverly hid the title from him. Out of curiosity, he asked me what book I was reading, but because I knew that the title revealed the book's subject matter, I pretended not to hear, and kept the cover hidden. Not to be deterred, my brother quickly snatched the book out of my hands, saw the title, and immediately went and got my parents. I tried unsuccessfully to explain away the title, but my mom would hear nothing of it. Incensed at the church library for having the book in the children's section, she took the book from me, told me to be more careful next time, and the matter was laid to rest. Or so my parents thought.
I hadn't finished the story, and I desperately wanted to. Inside my heart was laid a seed of distrust of and discontent with my parents' authority. So, the next time I obtained a book of which my parents' approval was uncertain, I read it in secret instead of taking it to them beforehand and asking whether or not I could read it. I soon became adept at sneaking books. I even read plenty of good, wholesome books, which my parents would have gladly allowed me to read. I just didn't have the patience to wait until all my schoolwork and chores were completed. So, I sneaked books, lots and lots of books. I don't even know how many books I read, but eventually, I was caught, my reading privileges were extremely curtailed, and I was watched more closely. However, to me, "Stolen water was sweet, and bread eaten in secret was pleasant." Instead of stopping, I just got better and better at hiding my sin, soon using outright lies instead of subterfuge to accomplish my sin. Invariably, I would be found out and punished with the loss of some privilege, and my mom could no longer trust me. One time I lost a privilege which I was extremely sorry to lose, and so for quite a while I stopped my reckless cycle of sin. However, I was sorry for the consequences, not the sin itself, and my own will could not hold forever. About a year and a half ago, I felt guilty about the sin itself, and I started to write down every book I had read without my mom's knowledge or permission since the last time I had been caught, and every time that I couldn't resist temptation, I would add another book to the list, planning at some to point to tell my mom. However, I couldn't bring myself to confess, fearing the punishment and displeasure of my mom, who thought that I had finally reformed. A little over a year ago, I went on a retreat called Journey to the Heart, and on that retreat God met me and broke me, and I confessed, first to my team and then on the phone to my mom. She met me with a mercy that was completely undeserved and promised to help me overcome temptation.
I wish I could say that I haven't stumbled since then, but that wouldn't be true. Since the Journey, I have read probably fifteen books when I shouldn't have and my mom doesn't know about. These past couple of weeks have been especially hard, and I confess that I have stumbled, using my old methods to accomplish my misdeeds. However, as someone wise once said, "the power of sin is in its secrecy," so I am baring my sin to the world, to my friends, and to my mom, who is ever nudging me onto the right path. The sin has been confessed to God, but I recognize that it is not enough, and I will continue to sin if I don't tell people who can keep me accountable.
I urge anyone reading this to confess to whoever is in authority over them whatever sin you are hiding. It's not worth it to keep it hidden away.
God bless!
Melody Grace
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