MIKE EATS SARDINES, AND I’M COMPLETELY GROSSED OUT
Yes, I’m turning this into a spiritual lesson. Buckle up.
This morning, I was putting on the full armor of God (as we all should, daily—Ephesians 6:11–18), and when I got to the breastplate of righteousness, I paused to thank the Lord. He’s given me a new nature, a new heart, and new desires. I’m not who I used to be. Righteousness repels sin the way oil repels water—or the way I repel sardines.
Speaking of which… let’s talk sardines.
If those little fish were the only thing left in my pantry, I can guarantee I’d drop ten pounds. Easily. The only scenario where I might consider eating one is during a zombie apocalypse, and even then, it’s a strong maybe. Death might be preferable. Too soon to say.
I don’t want to look at them. I don’t want to smell them. I don’t want to think about them. I definitely don’t want to eat them. And yet—my sweet, godly, otherwise flawless husband Mike… likes them. Actually enjoys them. Pays money for them. Voluntarily. This man is my polar opposite in almost every way, and somehow, our marriage still thrives. It’s a miracle. A sardine-scented miracle. Speaking of which, maybe when Jesus fed the five thousand with only two fish, that wasn't the impressive part of the miracle. If the fish were sardines and the five thousand were like me, then only two fish could easily serve that many people. The miraculous part was making the five loaves stretch that far.
Here comes the analogy (and it works beautifully for me): Sin is like sardines.
When I received the righteousness of Christ, He gave me a new heart and new desires. That old appetite for sin? Gone. Sardines don’t tempt me, and neither does sin—unless I’m spiritually starving. When I go days or weeks without feeding on God’s Word or dwelling in His presence, suddenly the nasty stuff starts looking edible. Tempting, even.
So here’s something to chew on (pun intended). If sin is appealing to you, only two explanations exist:
You’ve been spiritually starving yourself. You aren't feeding on the Word or filled with His presence.
Or… you never received a new nature to begin with.
My father, Adrian Rogers, used to say, “I sin all I want to—I just don’t want to.” I say, “I eat all the sardines I want—I just don’t want any.” He also said, “A lost man leaps into sin and loves it. A saved man lapses into sin and loathes it.” So I’ll ask you: Which one are you?
