The heartbreak of sin

I hate sin. I hate the mess it makes of me and the world I live in, and all the tragic stories of people from Georgia to Tibet whose lives are swallowed up in their own sin and the sin of the institutions that control our lives. I hate the way sin is towards God - in Jeremiah in my quiet time this morning: "What fault did your fathers find in me that they strayed so far from me?" It suggests, wheedles and convinces that God is unkind, and cannot be trusted and won't give us what is best for us. It's stupid, it is horrific and it is based in blasphemy about the amazing God. I hate sin.

And yet I love sin. Sitting here now I don't love it, but I evidently do love it sometimes, or else I wouldn't do it so much would I? Something in me loves those things that are wrong. Something in me can see the starkness of the evil that ditches the awesome God for the dead idol, but loves the quick burst of comfort the idol promises. I love sin.

Who will rescue me from this body of death?