Sweetness in Self Control by Ben Ertel
A niche fact about me that has become common knowledge amongst our Fellows community is that I love candy. It’s something I have quite the weakness for and I can’t perfectly articulate why I love it. I wish every day that this love was because candy is a healthy alternative to vegetables, but that is not the case. Neither is it that I find candy to be some sort of delicacy, as its most common distributors also function as gas stations. My closest guess as to why I love candy is that it is an easily disguised means of giving in to my lack of self-control. I can love candy and allow it to be a quirky and endearing thing people know about me while an incisive look could see that it is actually one of my greatest spiritual struggles.
I find that self-control is often, at least by me, the forgotten fruit of the spirit. While all the fruits of the spirit laid out in Galatians 5 are important to one’s spiritual walk, I continually find myself pursuing the fruits of the spirit our culture celebrates the most. I am seldom conscious of how saying no to a treat, reverting my thinking from unkindness toward someone, or waking up a bit earlier in the morning can be the Holy Spirit powerfully dwelling in me. I can’t help but think that God doesn’t care about the parts of my life I’ve deemed as mundane. I experience my struggle with self-control as saying yes to my flesh and replacing what God offers for everyday life with convenient imitations. I am prone to giving into what I want as opposed to what I know is more life-giving. What I want is not the natural sweetness of a fruit of the spirit but a cheap imitation of it. I want candy.
As I am growing in consciousness of my desire to be more self-controlled, I realize that it starts with continually saying no to myself. Within this realization is where I find a mind-bending question in the process of self-control: How can a fruit of the spirit be reliant on my personal control in order to see its manifestation? I’ve often found the relationship between the Spirit’s intervention with my personal self-control to be in conflict. Am I supposed to ask God for something that I am convinced I have to do myself? I am quite thankful that I find pretty sufficient clarity on these questions in what can be seen as Sunday school answers.
How can a fruit of the spirit be reliant on my personal control in order to see its manifestation? Because God wants to be a part of every part of your life (Romans 11:36 & Psalm 139). We are lucky enough to serve a God that is omnipresent; a God of the monumental and the mundane things, of the tragic and the trivial.
Am I supposed to ask God for something I am convinced I have to do myself? Yes. If we genuinely walk in a posture believing that Jesus of Nazareth had the power to save himself and his neighboring crucified men (Luke 23: 39) from the cross, we ought to ask for and believe in his ability to bless us with self-control. In reflecting on a piece of wisdom that was gifted to me today when another Fellow discussed the degree of privilege experienced in the western Church I realized its relevance to this topic. We avoid suffering at an alarming rate yet look to a Savior with scars on his resurrected body.
As I begin to walk in a posture of saying no to excessive indulgence, unkind thinking, and unnecessary sleep, I look to a God that desires to play a part in all of these things. I find an example in His son, who did not find equality with Him as something to be grasped (Philippians 2:6). Last but not least, I invite His spirit to dwell in me and empower me to follow the example set by Jesus. I feel especially encouraged in pursuing improvements in self-control to know that a triune God is at work. I look not to live a life pursuing cheap imitations but the true and real sweetness of grace.
