Everyone has it.
There is a thing you do that you can’t stop doing. I don’t know what it is. I know what mine is—a couple of them, actually—but I will not even name them. There are things you do that nobody else knows about, not even the people closest to you. Not even the people who live in your house.
That One Thing you do might not be illegal, but it might be. It might not even be immoral, but it might be. It’s probably the type of thing that would surprise people who know you. Pearls may be clutched.
“Sarah? She doesn’t strike me as the type of person to do that!”
It might be smoking… cigarettes or otherwise.
Or texting an ex in the middle of the night when you’re lonely.
Or hiding vodka in the very back of the pantry.
Or stealing once in a while.
Or snooping in your spouse’s phone.
Or reading your kid’s diary.
Or having sex with randoms.
I tell you, dear reader, these are all things I’ve heard from upright church women. There are no corners of our Christian world where secrets don’t hide.
We’re in the Book of Joshua in our “Bible in a Year” reading plan as a church. In this book, the Israelites have been slacking off a bit in their obedience. They’ve let those little habits creep back in, and it’s choked off the blessings of God. You’ve been there, I’m sure. You’ve caved to the temptation of That One Thing, because That One Thing feels SO good to do in the moment. We rationalize to ourselves that we deserve it. We belittle ourselves because we are weak. We make lofty promises to God that “tomorrow, I’ll do better,” and then tomorrow comes, and we’re taking that pill/sending those pics/nipping off that bottle. We get behind on our scripture reading—just one day, then two, then a week, then a month. We skip service on a Sunday, then two Sundays. We fall into a pit not all at once but inch by inch. We’re the frog in the proverbial pot of boiling water.
We wander the wilderness we created and wonder where God is.
That One Thing can feel minor. So inconsequential. And then it can feel like the world's weight on our shoulders. We can’t imagine life without it. We can’t imagine another day with it. It’s a noose tightening slowly.
That One Thing is a minor act of rebellion. It is the modern-day refusal to circumcise. It is a way for us to feel in control, even though the Thing actually controls us. It makes us feel young or cool or desired. It connects us to who we used to be, a small part we don’t want to let go of. I never thought I would use this phrase in my entire life—but it’s the foreskin of our soul (ew, gross, I know. I’m so sorry, I had to.)
We hide behind our fig leaves, just like the first people on earth. We run, even as God calls our name. Every time we lift that cigarette to our lips, we know that God isn’t looking at us in judgment but with sympathy, and yet… the stronghold is iron-clad. We’ve seen big, bold miracles in our lives and the lives of others, and yet… we don’t believe He can help us stop this One Thing.
If we wanted to stop, we could.
If we asked Him to stop the sun in the sky, He could.
But we don’t want that, deep down. We want to hold on to this One Thing for ourselves, our secrets, because so much of this world requires us to share. We’re expected to give all of ourselves to others: our time, talents, and love. So we pour out of our bodies until we run on fumes, and then we fill that tank back up with 99% Holy Spirit and 1% vodka. Or stealing. Or sex. Or binge eating. Or cutting.
The 1% poisons the whole tank.
He wants it all from us, and we keep that tiny vice for ourselves because we can not fathom who we are apart from it.
I do not know what your Thing is. All I know is that we have the power to pray for a circumcision of our hearts, for God to show us what we need to cut off. It’s not about losing. It’s about gaining. It’s also about sacrifice—because that Thing brings you a momentary rush of endorphins or serotonin. You are being asked to trade in the moment for an eternity. The math is straightforward… who wouldn’t want unlimited soup, salad, and breadsticks vs. a single serving? But it’s not easy. I get it.
When the rich young man approaches Jesus and asks how to get into the kingdom of heaven, Jesus knows what this guy’s One Thing is. He calls him on it, and the rich young man is deflated. The young man’s One Thing isn’t the same as yours. I don’t think Jesus would ask me to sell my Ikea couch because he knows I’m not gripping it like a lifeboat.
If you ran into Jesus today and begged him to take you with him. If you cried, knelt at his feet, and asked, “what do I have to do?”
He would look at you and say exactly what you need to let go of. It would be such a simple answer. It wouldn’t be a parable or a riddle to decode. Instead, he would kneel at your level, meet your eyes with love and say, “stop doing That Thing.”
Ask him. Ask him right now. Don’t overthink it. Visualize it. Listen to what He says, and then pray for a path to get there. As I do this, I claim and expect a miracle but prepare for a long journey. The other day, I was called out about something that hurt my heart. It was a behavior I regress to when I feel cornered or out of control. My first instinct? Defensiveness and denial. But I didn’t react that way. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t sulk off like the rich young man. I let it sit in my heart. I prayed about it for nearly two days and then emailed my therapist. I haven’t seen her in a while, so confident I’ve been that I can handle things independently. I circumcised my pride and, in a small miracle moment, she told me she had just had a couple of cancellations in her packed schedule. Hallelujah.
Once, I got a drug-resistant staph infection that nearly cost me a finger. The culprit? The tiniest pinprick of an open wound I got while cracking an egg. A microscopic puncture, nearly imperceptible, had opened up enough space for an intruder to enter. I didn’t know there was a problem until the telltale red streaks started working their way up my hand, and I was running a fever.
Once you get MRSA, you are more susceptible to it for the rest of your life. So it is with the little Thing you keep holding on to. It has pricked your heart just enough to let the enemy in, and we might not even notice the infection until things get bad enough we have to go to the emergency room. It’s not that big a deal until it most definitely is. We must be on guard and vigilant not to reopen the wound.
As I write all this, it would be easy to feel dismayed. The crazy thing is I feel full. I feel ready in a way I’ve never felt ready before.
Watch and see.
Watch and see what happens when you close the wound.
Watch and see what happens when it heals stronger than it was before.
Watch and see what your sacrifice produces for your tomorrow.
Watch and see what you are capable of.
Watch and see what He will do.