Self-control and grace

I'm re-reading Tim Chester's book You Can Change, and I've been struck again by his insistence that only Jesus can ultimately change us.

It's been my experience, however, that I quite often end up forgetting this, like Tim Chester points out:

It seems that our first instinct when we want to change is to do something. We think activity will change us. We want a list of do's and dont's. (p.47)

Whenever I want to get something done, my first instinct is to do something RIGHTNOW. If I can't do something about it RIGHTNOW, I get antsy and start drawing up lists and plans, preparing for that moment of RIGHTNOW when I can do something. [Anal, much? Yes.]

Yet, if a recent study in TIME is anything to go by, it appears that there's evidence suggesting that self-control will never get us anywhere:

The prevailing theory is that because self-control is a finite resource, when you deplete it — say by consistently choosing carrots over cupcakes or by refraining from splurging at the shoe store — you're less likely to be able to control urges toward anger or aggression when they arise at inappropriate times.

Then why do we keep on persisting with our little rituals and rules? This, Tim Chester suggests is due to an error in cause and effect. Behaviour doesn't correct behaviour. Heart corrects behaviour:

Our rituals might change our behaviour for a while, but they can't change our hearts. (p.48)

So what now, hey, Tim Chester, what now??

The answer is simple: Stop relying on rules and legalism to change your heart, when you should be loving Jesus more and more so that your heart's desires change focus. He puts it far more eloquently than me, though:

In Greek mythology, the Sirens would sing enchanting songs, drawing sailors irresistibly towards the rocks and certain shipreck. Odysseus filled his crew's ears with wax and had him tie him to the mast. This is like the approach of legalism. We bind ourselves up with laws and disciplines in vain attempt to resist temptation. Orpheus, on the other hand, played such beautiful music on his harp that his sailors ignored the seductions of the Siren song. This is the way of faith. The grace of the gospel sings a far more glorious song than the enticements of sin, if only we have the faith to hear its music. (p.64/65)

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See previous posts from here onward.