Daisies, Temptations, and Other Non-Sins

They popped out of the snow! Like daisies!

Please go watch Eddie Murphy say that in Mulan (it’s much funnier when he says it), and I promise I didn’t just assault you with a random movie quote. I’d like to talk about what I call “bad pop-up thoughts”: uncharitable images or ideas that come into your mind without your permission, or at least without you wanting them. They appear out of nowhere, like daisies (or more like weeds) bursting out of the snow, and a lot of times, they seem to be sins.

But first, let’s talk about what’s not a sin, and to do this, let's get in the head of the Prodigal Son.

When the Prodigal Son asked his father for his half of the inheritance, he wasn’t just asking for a credit card and a chance to get out of the house. He was essentially saying, “I wish you were already dead because you’d be worth more to me then.”

Ouch. Definitely a sin.

But let’s backtrack. When exactly did it become a sin?

The first thing that’s not a sin is emotion. Before the events of the parable, something’s ill-at-ease inside the youngest son. He’s bored, maybe lonely, probably feeling stifled and resentful. We know this shouldn’t be the case since his father is immensely loving, but the young man feels it anyway.

That’s not a sin. Feelings, no matter how strong they are and which direction they’re headed, are never sins on their own; in fact, they’re God-given, meant to help us navigate and experience the world.

The second thing that isn’t a sin is thinking. God created our brains to calculate cause and effect so we could survive and thrive. Granted, that was warped after the Adam and Eve incident, but that doesn’t make those mental functions any less of a gift, and it certainly doesn’t make them a sin.

So, the Prodigal Son sees Lamborghinis, caviar, and an unbridled life, and his fallen-state-of-original-sin mind registers these five (misled) facts.

1. Lamborghinis, caviar, and freedom = thriving.
2. I can get those things with money.
3. If I had money, I could thrive.
4. If my father were dead, I would have money.
5. Therefore, if my father were dead, I would thrive.

Even as serious as it sounds, that’s still not a sin; that’s just the brain putting 2 and 2 together to make 4.

Now, let’s say the Prodigal Son gets an image in his head: he’s pressing that gas pedal, tasting that sturgeon, and rollicking in a life that doesn’t involve any of his dad's rules. Is that a sin?

Not yet. That’s imagination, which, again, is God’s beautiful gift, intended to give us a chance to begin to know Him in His infinity, and create some cool stuff of our own as a reflection of what Big Daddy can do. Is it serving its intended purpose right now? No, but that doesn’t make it inherently wrong.

Now let’s take it a step further. Not only does he have that image, but he likes it. That life sounds like it would be a whole lot easier and a whole lot more promising than where he’s at now. Seriously, this has to be a sin, yes?

No. This is a temptation, the desire for something destructive yet alluring, and it’s not a sin.

None of these—feelings, thoughts, imaginations, or temptations—are inherently sins. Key word: inherently.

Things only go sideways when you add consent.

If the Prodigal Son had told himself, Yes, I have this desire, this grand image, but I’m not going to choose it; I’m going to choose my father, then all would have been true, good, and beautiful, and Jesus would have had to come up with a new parable. (Just kidding.) However, he didn’t. Instead, the Prodigal Son says to himself, Yes, my father dying would make things better for me, I want it, I’ll like it, and I’m going to act on it. And that act could have been willingly continuing to appreciate, daydream, and desire that destructive thing—it didn’t have to be physically realized. It’s the act of the will that makes a sin.

But that’s the good news. Feelings, thoughts, images, and temptations may be uncharitable, unchaste, or unholy in theory, but they are not the same as consent. They are just "pop-up thoughts" that can't harm us on their own. So, as long as we reject them (No, I choose not to accept this thing that harms myself, others, and my relationship with God), we are left unscathed, no matter how many times they continue to attack us—no matter how many of them pop out of the snow. 

And, of course, never forget: even if we do wind up making the choice to accept the temptation, the Father is waiting for us, ready to run to us and gather us into His arms the minute we come back.