Behind every sinful impulse is a war for what’s true.
It rarely starts with rebellion. It starts with suggestion.
Something subtle. Something soft.
A whispered, “Did God really say?”
And just like that, you’re not in a decision — you’re in a negotiation.
Sin and lies are two faces of the same coin. One seduces, the other disguises.
One pulls you in. The other makes you believe it was your idea.
We don’t fall into sin because we want darkness — we fall because we believed something about it that felt true:
That it would satisfy.
That we deserved it.
That we’d get away with it.
That it wouldn’t really matter.
But every time we choose what’s false, a part of us bends out of shape to make room for it.
And the more room you make for lies, the less space there is for truth to convict you.
So again, I remind us — mostly myself:
Expose the lie.
Drag it into the light before it settles in and starts speaking for you. Before it rewrites what you know. Before it makes sin look reasonable and obedience look extreme.
This isn’t about shame. It’s about clarity.
The kind that saves your soul.
Because what you don’t name will eventually name you.