To Remind Myself of Eternal Truths

One of the most difficult tensions in my Christian life is dealing with an uncomfortable truth: I do not always manage to love God as I know I should. And that is weird.

Scripture teaches me that I stand before a God who is just, merciful, loving, and patient. Not distant, but present. A God whose goodness appears in the most ordinary things in life: daily provision, family, work, the small details that often go unnoticed (James 1:17). Even so, despite recognizing all this, the heart often remains cold.

The Bible describes a different reality. The psalmist says there is delight in the law of the Lord (Psalm 1:2), and that one day in His presence is better than a thousand elsewhere (Psalm 84:10). There is a kind of joy in God that, in theory, should be enough. But in practice, it is not always so.

An uncomfortable question then arises: if God is sufficient, why does my heart keep seeking other things?

One of the clearest examples of this tension is my struggle against sin. Many times I turn to certain behaviors not out of ignorance, but as a form of escape, a way to numb emptiness, fatigue, or inner restlessness. The problem is that this relief is always temporary. Afterward comes the weight. And the cycle begins again.

The apostle Paul describes this conflict directly:

“For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing” (Romans 7:19).

There is a real internal division. Knowing what is right does not automatically mean being able to live up to it.

At the same time, something else becomes evident: God does not remain distant. Even amid attempts to ignore, flee, or simply give up, the conscience continues to be confronted. This is not only uncomfortable, it is also evidence of grace. Because God could simply give me over to my own desires (Romans 1:24). But when He corrects, disciplines, and calls me back, it reveals care:

“For the Lord disciplines the one he loves...” (Hebrews 12:6).

Even the discomfort, in this sense, is a sign that God is still at work.

In light of this, another temptation arises: to measure spiritual life only by my feelings. But the Christian faith is not built on what one feels at a given moment. Scripture itself points to another foundation:

“for we walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7).

This also includes not living guided by the absence of emotion, pleasure, or motivation. The foundation is not the intensity of feeling, but the consistency of God’s character.

This is where the Word of God becomes essential. In moments when everything seems distant, it functions as an external reference, something that does not change when perception changes.

Paul writes:

"All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness" (2 Timothy 3:16)

And the psalmist reinforces:

“I have stored up your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you” (Psalm 119:11).

The effect of this is rarely immediate. It is not about instant transformation, but continuous formation. Over time, the mind is reminded of what the heart tends to forget.

This struggle, however, is not a sign of isolated failure. Paul himself expresses the weight of this conflict:

“Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:24).

But he does not stop there. The answer comes right after:

“Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 7:25).

And elsewhere:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

The foundation of the Christian life is not the human ability to achieve perfection, but the grace of God sustaining someone imperfect.

This does not mean treating sin lightly. The call remains clear:

“You shall be holy, for I am holy.” (1 Peter 1:16).

But the support does not come from willpower alone. Forgiveness has already been secured: “It is finished” (John 19:30). The debt has been canceled: “by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross.” (Colossians 2:14). And even when there is failure, there is also intercession:

"My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous." (1 John 2:1)

In the end, my Christian walk happens within this space of tension: between what is known and what is felt, between what is desired and what is practiced, between fall and grace.

And perhaps part of maturity lies precisely here: continuing to walk, not relying on one’s own consistency, but on God’s faithfulness. Repeatedly remembering the same truths. The eternal truths.