I had a dream last night that I found quite disturbing - because in it I willfully engaged in sin. At some point I “came to my senses” – that is, I understood that what I was doing was entirely against the Lord, and the moment I did I stopped sinning the sin and immediately confessed it as sin before the Lord (yes…. I pray in my dreams too).

Now, some Christians guffaw at that sort of “piety.” These same will muse that because dreams are A] not ‘real’ and B] we are typically only semi-aware in them: whatever transpires in our nocturnal consciousness is “above reproach.” Some might even quote scripture to emphasize the point – since scripture teaches that “a dream comes through the multitude of business” (Ecclesiastes 5:3) – that is, a day full of activity is likely to produce a night full of dreams. Surely, they reason, we are not held accountable for any sin committed in our dreams – in fact, some would flush in anger at the very suggestion that sin is possible in a dream.

I have never been of that opinion myself.

I am careful to note that I have never found a verse that teaches me explicitly that I am morally accountable to God for whatever occurs in my dreams, but I do have many verses that teach that the root problem with me is not the outward act of sin, but the inward condition of sin – a truth that comes to light when I examine the way in which I conduct myself in my dreams.

I have prayed this prayer in the past, and repeat it as often as I remember: “Lord, show me my sin – show me how sinful sin is, and cause me to hate it like you do.” I used to expect that God would hit me on the head with a magic wand and suddenly my eyes would be open to the profound sinfulness of sin – all in an instant; but that hasn’t been the case. Instead (over time), I get insight into the line between myself and sin. I begin to see with greater clarity that sin is who I am, and not what I do.

So it was this morning that I saw this truth in a brighter light. The moment I understood (in my dream) that I was sinning - that I wasn’t supposed to be doing it – I cried out to the Lord, and ran away from it.

There is a subtlety there that I hope isn’t missed. Until I fully understood that I was “sinning” I was enjoying it, but as soon as I understood that it was sinful, I fled from it. The fleeing itself was “unnatural” – a response of my will; my truest self however was entirely sold out to sin. The subtlety here was really drawn out by the dream because unlike “the real world” where I suppress the desire to sin long before it bears fruit – in the dream I didn’t, allowing me to see the line between who I am and what I do.

If I suppress who I am, I can act like someone else you see. In fact, if I act like someone else long enough, I might even begin to imagine I am someone else. If I get good at suppressing sinful desires – I begin to look “righteous” -- I am not righteous at heart, but I behave in a righteous manner because I am suppressing the *real* me.

It is one thing to know intellectually that I am sinful. I might even go so far as to admit that I am utterly sinful – but part of me is still fooled into thinking that so long as I can suppress sin, I am not entirely bad.

I am disgusted anew every time I see myself for what I truly am, and with each iteration I am slowly becoming convinced that it really is true – that I really am incurably sinful. All the suppression in the world won’t cure it. I have asked God to bring me to the end of myself – to empty me entirely of self so that I will be a tool fit to His use. I have prayed that the Lord of the harvest would *send* me into the harvest – that is, prepare me for the harvest that I might enter into it in His strength and not my own. I am not surprised therefore that I am seeing with greater clarity the nature of my sinfulness.

I have learned that sanctification is -not- suppression; that is, I understand that I am not being sanctified in the least by simply increasingly my ability to suppress my sinful tendencies. Suppressing sin is not sanctification – it is called “Judaism.” Seriously, what good Jew doesn’t suppress his or her sinful tendencies? How is that any different than what most Christians do? I stand on this - we make a gross error when we imagine that suppressing sin is actually God sanctifying us – yet many do just that. Like a devout Jew, they study scripture and pray, and begin to withdraw from sin – and lo and behold the external countenance is changed. They do in fact sin less than they use to. They keep themselves from all sorts of sin – and in doing so they give the glory to God. But they are only sinners who have trained themselves not to sin.

No right thinking tree farmer imagines that a spruce tree is an apple tree when someone hangs a bunch of apples off of it. The presence of the genuine apples doesn’t make the spruce tree an apple tree – it only shows that someone has dressed up a spruce tree with apples - the spruce tree is still a spruce tree and the moment you stop dressing it up with apples you see that it is still a spruce tree.

There are some among us for whom sanctification is little more than the hanging of “good work” apples on the spruce tree of their lives. That is they begin to live righteously assuming that by doing so they will be sanctified – in fact they believe that their righteous living is in fact what sanctification is all about.

They are wrong of course.

God sanctifies us – that is, he changes us so that the part of us that loves sin becomes powerless allowing the part of Him that loves righteousness to live in and through us. It isn’t that we suppress the part of us that loves sin – it is that Jesus Christ took that part of us to the cross. When we are truly willing (and not before) to die completely to a sin, when we can honestly reckon ourselves dead to that sin; then it is held powerless on the cross. *THAT* is sanctification. Not a work that I do, but a work that God does in me; Christ has born the punishment for my sin, and has freed me from its power (even if I linger in ignorant bondage).

It is tragic therefore to imagine that the suppression of sin is the mechanism by which God sanctifies us – or even worse, to imagine that this same suppression of sin is (in and of itself) the “sanctification” that comes with justification. We are sanctified in the same way we were justified – by faith. We are foolish Galatians indeed, running about trying to sanctify ourselves as though we could change a thing.

So the dream I had this morning underscored this truth again for me. I am not a good man who sometimes sin – I am a sinner to the core who through conscious effort has learned to suppress my sinful desires.

Not that we shouldn’t suppress our sinful desires – God forbid! We are to make no provisions for the flesh, and always and ever we are instructed to live righteously – a Christian should suppress his or her sinful desires – but this is not to be confused with sanctification. Sanctification is consecration – being set aside for a holy use or purpose; or perhaps more pragmatically: being made holy. Not acting holy – but being holy. Not that we suppress our desire to sin, but that the cross of Christ renders it powerless in our lives.

I know, I know – I am always on about this, but bear with me. People, if we could make ourselves holy we would have done so already. Only God can make you holy, and He has already accomplished the means in sending Christ to the cross – all we have to do is believe it, and everyone who does can overcome through Christ, the power of sin in their lives. Not that they will never be tempted or suddenly be sinless – but that the apples will grow naturally from within rather than be forced on from without. They will desire to do righteousness rather than desire to sin and live in a state of continuing suppression. Christ didn’t die so that we could suppress our sin – the Jews already had that.

Why do I pray that God opens my eyes to the sinfulness of sin? Because I see in myself that I still try and redeem the flesh – that is, I continue to try and please God by my external acts of righteousness. I know that these things are not pleasing, never the less I continue to cling to them because the alternative is so alien to my sense of reasoning. Unless God shatters my dependence on my own righteousness, I will never turn to His. I am not talking about justification here either – I know I am justified by the blood of Christ and not by my own righteousness – I am talking about being sanctified. Unless/Until I see my sin for what it is, I will never truly reckon it on the cross, because I won’t see the need for it to be there. I can fix it, I can suppress it, I can deal with it – and as long as I do, I snub God’s provision and suffer the temporal consequences – a lack of genuine fellowship with God. I cannot pretend I am “in the light” when I am still working at trying to “look like I am in the light.”

Anyway – dreams are dreams, God can use whatever He wants to open our eyes a little more (if we ask Him) – and in my case He used a dream I had this morning to show me anew that I am a sinner at the core, and that the magnitude of my suppression of sin doesn’t change who I am at the core. The way of the cross is not the same as the way of the Jew – it may seem right to a man, but that way doesn’t lead to deliverance, it keeps one in bondage. We do ourselves an injustice if we re-label bondage as “freedom” just because we know we are *supposed* to be free. We have all heard the cliché about the prisoner who is set free but remains in the cell; I tell you that it is worse than this – it is an oarsman on a galley who has been freed, but continues to push on the oar even though he is no longer shackled to it – striving to please his master in the hopes that doing so will somehow give him what has already been freely given.

I am appalled and amazed that so many of us have entered into a walk with Christ that at once denies the possibility of freedom while resting (albeit uncomfortably) in the bondage of sin. Unless this infinite lull is addressed, it will be passed on to future generations of Christians.

I am reminded that David’s son would build a house for the name of God – we see that prophesy fulfilled in Solomon with the temple – but we also see it fulfilled in Christ who builds the true house (as in household/family) of God. Will this family be worthy of the name? Solomon built the temple with the finest materials – no expense was spared – this was (after all) a house built that was to be worthy of God’s name. If this was the shadow of what was coming – how should we conduct ourselves with respect to building the house of God? With beggarly materials – surely our God is worthy of better than we can give Him – in fact, unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labour in vain.