But God (Ephesians 2:1-7)

But God. Two words, six letters, two very different meanings depending on how it is said. These two words bring hope. They bring new life. They bring comfort, strength, and reassurance. Or, they can be the whining of an ungrateful child.

I've read Ephesians 2:1-7 almost exclusively this week. Beside me sits a stack of study bibles. One has incredible notes on translation and textual criticism (NET), another is the Greek key word study bible (highly recommended for in depth study), and the last one leans very much toward an evangelical understanding of scripture (the Quest study bible), but none of these has any notes, discussion, or help with these verses. One might think, from the utter lack of study notes, that the verses are all but self explanatory. Well, for someone like me, they are obviously not.

The first three verses are actually quite easy to grasp.

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.

I get this part. It's a simple description of me. I can comprehend being dead, sinful, passionate about the wrong things, and a child of wrath. In my flesh I see all this and more. The stench of death wafts up from my walking corpse like the foul odor of a fresh dog pile. I've carried out those desires of the body and mind...just like the rest of mankind. Of course, Paul wrote this in the past tense. He's describing the Christian before Christ. My problem is that I still see some of that in my current, post-salvation life. I can control the bodily part of sin easy enough. Not stealing is easy, I just don't do it. Don't be drunk with wine? Cake. I don't drink wine or any other alcoholic beverage. Staying faithful to my wonderful spouse? Done. These hands have touched no other. The desires of the mind, however, can be a different story entirely. Do I want to steal? Drink? Lust indifferently to my marital state? Yes, of course, duh.

In this I find the lesser utterance of "but God." I want what is not mine, feel the rebuke of the Spirit and whine, "but God, I should have it!" The stress of life leaves me wanting an escape and I whine again to God about the burden of my sobriety. Across my path wanders a woman obviously dressed in the manner of the world with her wares displayed for all to see. The whining sounds like a jet powering up for takeoff. I've "done" nothing wrong in any of these instances with my body, but those sins of the mind are right there to take up the slack. At times I'm left to wonder about the very state of my soul.

As I wrote earlier, there is another way in which the two words are used. Paul uses them in Ephesians 2 thus:

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.

But God. All of those things I see in my flesh, in my mind, make me a child of wrath. They make me worthy of nothing but the righteous justice of a holy God. They make me a vessel fit only for destruction, consumed by his fiery wrath. But God. For his own glory, motivated by his own love, in the richness of his mercy and grace did more than simply atone for my grievous sins. He made me alive to share in the resurrection life of Christ. But God...gives me hope. But God...gives me strength. But God...gives me reassurance of his love. But God...gives me new life in Christ!

Now if I could only hear Paul say but God more often maybe I'd quit saying it the other way.