Beware of thinking lightly of sin!

When you first come to Christ, your conscience is so tender that the smallest sin makes you tremble. New believers have a holy fear, a godly dread of offending their Savior. But I must warn you—that beautiful sensitivity gets rubbed off by the rough hands of this world. The tender plant of early faith becomes like a willow tree, bending too easily, yielding without resistance.

Here is the tragic truth: even a genuine Christian can grow so hardened that the very sin that once horrified them doesn't even make them blink. We get used to sin by degrees. The soldier whose ears have been pounded by cannon fire won't notice a whisper. At first, a small sin startles us. But soon we shrug and say, "Well, it's just a little one." Then comes another, slightly bigger. Then another. Until gradually we start treating sin like a minor inconvenience.

Then comes the deadly self-deception: "At least I haven't fallen into scandalous sin. Sure, I stumbled a bit, but overall I'm doing fine. Maybe I said one harsh thing, but most of my words were good." And so we make excuses for sin. We throw a cloak over it. We give it prettier names.

Christian, beware how you think about sin. Watch out, or you will fall inch by inch.

Sin, a little thing? Tell me—is poison a little thing? Who can measure how deadly it is? Sin, a little thing? Don't little foxes destroy the vineyard? Doesn't the tiny coral build reefs that sink entire fleets? Don't small axe strokes bring down mighty oaks? Won't water, dripping steadily, wear through solid stone?

Sin, a little thing? Sin pressed thorns into your Redeemer's head and drove nails through His hands! Sin made Him cry out in anguish and taste the bitterness of hell itself.

If you could weigh the smallest sin on the scales of eternity, you would run from it like you'd run from a serpent. You would hate even the shadow of evil. Look at every sin as the thing that crucified your Savior, and you will see it for what it is—exceeding sinful.