By Andrea Guachalla
I’m sitting in class daydreaming, as usual, this time my thoughts go effortlessly and pleasantly to a character I read about in a novel titled “The Mother” by Maximo Gorki. The novel is a dramatization of a Russian-political conflict that crossed all the imaginable limits of civil rights to the point that the main character was not allowed to have certain books at his home. I’m trying to imagine the dark corner of the rooftop where he had hastily hidden the forbidden books before the police came and arrested him when…
“Today we start a new lesson: Greek mythology.” says the teacher interrupting the vivid thought of the rusty house where the character had been holding meetings with other rebels.
I shrug… Greek mythology, world history, it could be geometry, I don’t really care. All I want is the recess to come faster, that way I see how the classroom empties slowly but surely until I’m left all alone and I can finally take my book out of my bag and find out if the main character was actually imprisoned. Was his mother sad? Did she fight?… I’ve been called out by the teacher at least a dozen times this year for reading while in class, so I’ve picked the habit of reading during the recess instead.
We are halfway through the class about Greek mythology when the teacher stops for a few seconds and takes a look at her notes. I’m no genius but I’m an introvert that has evolved to the point where I’m able to read people’s expressions and guess what they will do next. I study her face while she frowns and seems to be numbering something in a sheet of paper. Before she even finishes and faces the class again I know she is gonna say the word that I dread most: PRESENTATION.
“Well, students. We have a lot to cover this year and Greek mythology is too wide. Please form groups of 5 people, and I will randomly give you a topic so you can make a public presentation next week.”
My palms immediately start sweating, my eyes are wide open, and I’m looking at her, speechless. “Did she just say ‘public presentation’?” I’m almost tempted to object and ask her to use any other method except public presentations to go through the lesson, but that’s not gonna happen. When had I ever spoken out loud during a class without being asked, or without being forced to? Never. And this is gonna be one of those times when I accept my dreadful fate quietly.
She starts writing the topics in pieces of paper to hand one to each group, while the whole classroom gets louder and louder: everyone is moving around trying to form a good 5-people group. Me, sitting in the front row still shaking my head in disbelief, am already planning to get sick the exact day my presentation is scheduled so I don’t have to go through the discomfort. Being sick always sounds like a good excuse for the teachers, but failed experiences with this method taunt me: what if I don’t come and the teacher reschedules the presentation for the next class?
I’m still thinking about alternatives to escape the dreadful situation where I stand right in front of the class and forget all I have to say when I feel a soft tapping in my left shoulder. It’s one of my classmates who usually teams up with me because he knows I’ll do most of the work. I agree with joining his group: perhaps if I do all the research-work I can negotiate with the teacher that she excludes me from the “talking in front of the class and forgetting my lines.” I know that’s not gonna happen, but I comfort my poor heart with the thought.
Next thing I know: I’m standing right in front of the class on the day of the presentation. My legs are shaking, my palms are sweating, my voice barely gets to mumble the words. I was given three pages about Helen of Troy that I was supposed to study and then explain to the whole class. In despair, I was able to reduce the three pages into three sentences and memorize them just so it would be less of a risk to forget them. Of course, the three sentences are useless, they don’t summarize anything of what I read, and they are definitely not connected to what my other classmates will say. I know that. I know the group will get a bad score because of me, but I don’t care. The only thing I care about is that the day has come, and I’m left alone to survive or die.
I manage to mumble the three sentences, and then I move back to the corner where my team is standing, waiting for their turn. The teacher gives me a weird look. Actually, the whole class gives me a weird look. That I get anxious when I have to speak in front of the class is no secret. But… Really? Three sentences? Risking the group’s score for my own comfort? I had crossed the line.
But in my mind, the presentation was a success. I did as little as I could, excusing that action with how introverted I was. All I cared about was surviving the discomfort, no matter how poorly I did it. Furthermore, later on, I started doing that same thing – putting myself first even if that meant harming someone else – in all sorts of circumstances.
Now, one would think that those habits stay behind when you turn into an adult, that you grow up, and stop using your insecurities and past experiences as an excuse to perform poorly in whatever task you have to do. But… Surprise, surprise! You don’t.
After ten years of having been that introverted girl who would summarize a whole topic into three sentences not caring much about serving others, but rather desperately trying to survive my own insecurities (therefore doing as little as possible) I’m still the same but in a different level, and with the humongous difference that now, thanks to God, I am aware of when and how I play the game called “to do or not to do?”
My thoughts, my desires, my words, and deeds are all great at playing “to do or not to do?” And most often they go for the second option: “not to do.” Why? Because it gives you instant gratification, plus I think it doesn’t really harm anyone. Now, how does this game look like? See:
- When you could try hard to do a good presentation for the good of your team you don’t do it. Excuse? “I’m shy, THEY should understand that.”
- When you could lovingly and firmly confront that one friend that is constantly gossiping about other people you don’t do it. Why? It’s too uncomfortable, someone else will do it.
- Even when you’re reading your Bible and you are not able to focus because you’re thinking about how busy your day will be, you know you should keep your thoughts captive but you don’t. Excuse? I’m just too busy with stuff!
It seems so comfortable – almost compelling – to roll with the idea that: “I’m not hurting anyone,” “someone else can do that,” or “is not sin if I just think it.” But we must realize that this is madness! How often do we decide “not to do” just because it’s convenient for us, and we mask our selfishness by focusing on our needs? How often, when given a task, we summarize it into three useless sentences? How often do we refuse to take on the whole role of being a daughter, an aunt, a friend, a student, a church member, etc, and we do as little as possible or nothing at all? I ask myself, once I acknowledged how often I “don’t do” instead of doing, can I keep this habit?
The answer should be “no,” but actually… Of course, I can! But it feels SO bad, it feels like…, like… SIN. Sin of the worst kind, though it feels so subtle, it can be so destructive. I could only give this sinful pattern a name when I came across an article that was titled: “Sins of Omission,” where the author explains that man sin not only when he does things that are contrary to God’s commandments (sins of commission), but also when he refuses to do good when he has the opportunity.
The Word of God says:
“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”
James 4:17, ESV
When we see an opportunity to do good – whether this means that we can help someone in practical ways when they are in need, or that we can share wisdom in a conversation when it seems fitting and necessary, or that we can keep our thoughts captive and dwell in the things above instead of worldly things – and we refuse to do it, it is counted as sin. There is a reason why God helps us see other people’s needs, places us in the right place and time to start a conversation, and gives us the means to study His Word, and all of this is for us to take the opportunity and do good in the eyes of God, for the love of Christ. Not because we are seeking to feel good with ourselves, but always seeking to be obedient to God.
But we often sin in this regard. We waste those opportunities of doing good, we fail to follow God’s commandments more actively. Without excuses. Now, the question is “Why do we sin by omission?” And the answer is:
We are too self-centered. Just like the 15-year-old Andrea who was too focused on her own insecurities when she had to speak in front of a class, we are also too focused on our own comfort, desires, insecurities, and thoughts. We are too full of ourselves. Therefore our heart cannot dwell on Jesus’ humility, we are unable to imitate His character for the well-being of the people around us and our own well-being. That has a name: self-idolatry, which is absolutely opposite to the Lord’s commandment to love Him, your neighbor, and to regard everyone as better than ourselves (Phil 2:3).
By the grace of God, along with recognizing the root of my pattern of sinning by omission comes the solution: Christ. Focusing on the Son of God who being higher than everyone was made our servant and died for us (Phil 2:5-7). If He had decided “not to do” instead of doing good, we would all have been eternally lost. But He didn’t make any excuses, He didn’t act according to what was best for Him, but rather in sacrificial goodness and obedience to the Father. Knowing that the Lord did good to us who didn’t deserve it should urge us to act in goodness and kindness and sacrificial love, not only for our family, and the people who love us, but for our enemies too. Just like Christ did.
Sometimes sinning by omission can go unnoticed, your sinful mind can easily get trapped in the “to do, or not to do” game and justify your choosing the latter. But I urge you, dear brothers and sisters, to ask the Lord to convict you of your sins, even those sneaky subtle sins that you don’t see or you refuse to see. Ask our gracious Father to not let you be comfortable with those sins, ask Him that it will be your great joy to fulfill His commandments and be a servant just as Jesus Christ was made a servant for us.
It can be hard to get rid of sinful patterns, and I often have to force myself not to use excuses to avoid serving others and do good when I actually can and should. But I know that when you ask God to shape your mind, change your desires, guide your actions, and the way you speak, He does. If I’m gonna summarize anything to three sentences as the fifteen-year-old Andrea once did, I hope it’s only to ask the Lord:
Forgive me and give me the strength to do good when I have the opportunity to do so.
Teach me to love you and love others better each passing day.
In the name of Jesus, Amen.
References:
- Brian Cosby. 2019. Sins of Omission.Tabletalk, Vol. 40, No. 2. Ligonier Ministries.
