Be Sure Your Sins Will Find You Out

Not long ago, an acquaintance went into some detail about how she had walked in on her husband unexpectedly, catching him off guard. His efforts to cover his tracks had almost worked ... but not well enough. Clamped in the jaws of justice, so to speak, he squirmed until he learned his lesson. His sins had surely found him out.

How do you feel when someone who ought to get caught actually does? Admittedly, there's a certain sense of comfort in knowing that there is a system of justice that will ultimately bring transgressors to account. Our sins invariably have a way of coming back on us, usually at the most inopportune times. For try as we might, we can't seem to keep them all hidden. Knowing that should be a strong motivation for right living.

Perhaps this incident isn't so important in the grand scheme of things, but it's a good illustration. Here's what happened, along with a little background to explain why justice was especially sweet.

This crafty fellow had been a little too preachy. Preachy in the sense that they -- and he liked to emphasize "they" -- were going to do better in their eating. Junk food for snacks would be the first to go. Fruits, nuts, seeds and sprouts were mighty tasty -- and healthy, too. "They" would all feel better and avoid trips to the doctor. It was a good plan.

But late one evening, an even better plan began to form ... one where he could literally have his cake and eat it, too. His family would be gone, and he would walk to the grocery store down the street. Nobody would even see him drive away in the car. Since they were out of milk, he actually had a good alibi in the unlikely event that he should be questioned. Plus, who could argue against a bit of overdue exercise? A pretty good smokescreen, he surmised, for his hidden agenda: bakery-fresh chocolate-chip cookies.

The plan almost worked. He made it to the store and back inside the house without having been spotted. With the cookies quickly wolfed down, he carefully disposed of every remaining crumb. A perfect crime he thought-- except for the "smoking gun." When the door unexpectedly opened, there he stood ... sack in hand. Wives and mothers seem to have sixth sense that can smell a rat when one's afoot. She did -- and sprang the trap.

Confessions and apologies were humbling and embarrassing, but he admits to having learned something. It may take years, but our sins invariably have a way of finding us out. Small, seemingly insignificant details can pop up out of nowhere -- and at the most inconvenient times -- casting light on facts we might rather remain hidden. Ask O.J. and Bill about the eventual importance of miscellaneous articles of clothing.

The moral of this story? I've forgotten how good the cookies were, but the painful lesson in honesty still makes me wince a bit.

Copyright 1999 James McAlister

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