On Dealing with Sin

“Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.” James 5:16

I had surgery last week. Not a big deal, really, and everything turned out fine. But the whole procedure was a bit more than I had anticipated. I had a small lump just underneath the skin, parallel to my spine. Rarely cancerous the doctor said, but given its location, it warranted removal. I had undergone a similar surgery a number of years ago, painless and easy. A quick trip to the doctor’s office—a little cut and a little stitch—and fifteen minutes later I was on my way. I expected more of the same.

Boy was I in for a surprise.

My first clue should have been that the “procedure” was scheduled at the hospital. Curious, I thought; wonder why we’re doing this at the hospital? But it wasn’t until the nurse handed me the dreaded robe that it began to dawn on me that I was in for it. You know the robe—ugly green with a full slit down the back. I hate those robes. And the stockings. And the hair net. She cheerily told me to strip myself of all dignity and drew the curtain shut behind her. I stared at the garments in my hand. What was going on here? In my judgment, I didn’t see a need to remove anything more than my shirt. I contemplated protesting, but knew that resistance was futile. With bitter resignation I donned the garments. Things only got worse.

After sitting in abject humiliation for an hour, my doctor showed up with two—count ‘em two—attending nurses. I was brought into a full operating room complete with massive overhead lights and whirring machines. Perhaps the ultimate nadir of the morning came when one of the nurses helped me onto the table. Don’t use your imagination. The pulse monitor was attached to my finger, the blood pressure gauge was wrapped around my arm, and I was covered head to toe in a surgical sheet (not shoulders to toe, mind you, but head to toe.) This last bit was a mixed bag. On one hand, it was nice to have the additional coverage. But on the other hand, it added to the stress of the moment. I was a pariah, isolated in my own little cocoon with nothing to do but listen to the whirring machines and the beeping of my (now elevated) heart rate.

“This is a bit more of a procedure than I had anticipated,” I said from underneath the sheet. “Oh yes,” the nurse replied. “Everyone thinks so.”

And so it is with sin.

Entrenched sin can only be taken care of with a full surgical team. Dignity must be laid aside; others must be allowed into your shame. There can be no self-surgery with such sin—no way around the humiliation of exposing yourself to others in a less than flattering way. We cannot have both dignity and repentance; both self-respect and freedom. Would you be released from the burden of sin? Then you must lose your pride and submit yourself to the divine surgery, knowing that the attending nurses in God’s operating room will be—quite awkwardly—your brothers and sisters in the Lord. It’s uncomfortable, humiliating, and the only way.

Getting rid of sin often turns out to be a bit more of a procedure than we had thought. But the other option is not much of an option.