The knowing

I used to think because of Your grace it was okay to sin— knowing I’m forgiven, so I’d just do it again. I’d say I want to stop, so I repent, but when the time comes I do it again, falling into a cycle of premeditated sin. Each time I say I won’t, but we both know that’s a lie. And every time, I feel more distant. Holy Spirit, my Helper, You live within me— given from God Himself. But last night You showed me something, and I had to ask: when will I understand? Premeditated sin will leave me dead again. Life without You is treacherous. To commit knowing sin is like this— I become the Roman, holding the lash, beating Jesus as I plot to sin again. Every strike scrapes His skin. Is that what I call love? You say, “I’m not here to condemn you, but to gently convict you.” You say you love Me— then keep My commandments.