Smoking.

Over winter break, two of my friends started a big chapter of their lives. They moved to Texas to begin the pursuit of their dreams. It was a big deal. My guy friends from Charlotte (we refer to our group as "the guys") all got together to see them off.

After they left, there were two remaining guys and myself. They were both smoking, so I said I'd go ahead and have one to. It was probably my fourth cigarette over the course of about four years, and I really doubt it'll have much, if any, affect on my health. I think second-hand smoke has probably done worse things to me.

Anyways, I really enjoyed it. I knew I would - for some reason it appeals to me. It's disgusting, and as a habit would probably kill me, but I enjoy it.

You know what I don't enjoy? After the fact. We went to Chick-fil-A right after that and I got chicken nuggets. Every time I raised my hand to my mouth to eat another nugget, I caught a whiff of my fingers where I held the cigarette and it was revolting. I started eating with my left hand. Driving home from Chick-fil-A, I was certain that the smell of smoke permeated my clothes. Whether it really did, I don't know, but it had checking my jacket every couple minutes. I didn't want to smell like smoke. I didn't want everyone I met to catch a whiff and think I'm a smoker. There are connotations there that I don't want to be associated with. And I had tried to get the scent off of me - I went and washed my hands several times. I would've febreezed my clothes if I had any. But I couldn't get rid of it til I washed my clothes and took a shower.

You know what else I realized? That's a perfect example of how I tend to deal with sin.

Sin comes around, and I indulge. I enjoy it. I know it's disgusting, and as habit it would kill me, but I enjoy it. I remember the last time I enjoyed it, and know I probably will again, forgetting about what happens afterwards. Then, when it is afterwards, I try as hard as I can to run from what I just did. I do everything I can on my own so I'm not revolting to myself. I do everything I can to escape the connotations of being a sinner. But I can't get rid of it. It follows me like the stench of a cigarette. That is, until God's forgiveness washes over me like gallons of fresh water and I emerge anew, with the wonderful scent of His glory.

How long do I wait, scrubbing my hands in a dirty bathroom sink, before I let myself be engulfed entirely by Your cleansing grace?