that once we finally get our sin gotten rid of, we will become boring. Our writing will be uninteresting, our wit will not sparkle. We will stand alone at parties by the yogurt dip, and no one will invite us to dinner. This is of particular concern if we hope in our lives to make at least some of our living by our pens: a byproduct of sanctification will be unmarketability.
There is some truth in this. A mature Christian would not write a trashy romance novel, and trashy seems to be very popular. I see no reason, however, why one might not write a really good romance novel. And here’s the thing: once we get there, we will find that holiness is more interesting and compelling and fun and solemn and merry than anything we’d encountered before. What you used to think of as interesting– or rather, the feeling you used to call “being interested,” will look like a pale imitation of something that you’re now seeing in full color. Your mind and your curiosity, your imagination and your sense of humor, were built into you by God. Don’t you think they’re there for a reason? The devil’s first lie is that there’s a legitimate desire in us that God can’t or won’t satisfy: that to be fully human, fully engaged, to experience the full range of emotion, we’ve got to go it alone– we’ve got to grab life (or whatever) for ourselves, and not allow God to give us the good, or point us there. This is, or course, fully bogus. The adventure, the information, the joy, the fun He has for us are beyond what we could ask or hope.