Egg Toss

A 12 year-old buddy and I competed at the Lagrange Mini-Fair in late June. The contest is deceptively easy: opposing lines toss raw eggs back and forth. Every 15 seconds, the MC asks each side to step back three steps. When their egg breaks, a pair is disqualified. Myre and I practiced for this event with a small white ball, then our own raw eggs. The preparation paid off, for we came in third to win a Frisbee and rubber baseball.

At first Myre and I were cautious. Although merely three feet apart, each toss was gently targeted at our partner's hands. We were downright timid. However, each successful toss emboldened my little buddy and me. Finally, driven by the heady exhilaration of defying messy odds, we began to throw the egg faster and harder. Our goal: to impress a cheering crowd of dozens. Our egg fell to the grass and even b-o-u-n-c-e-d several times without breaking! We felt bullet proof.

At the final toss for the gold, 3 sets of finalists stood 30 feet apart. Myre grinned in joyful acknowledgment that we had entered the prize circle. She lofted our egg high into the air. It came down in a sweeping arc. I caught it successfully, high above my head. A roar of approval raised, until it shattered upon impact with the heels of my palms. The yolk was on... me!

As I pretreated my cotton shirt, camisole and shorts, I realized egg-tossing is a lot like sinning. When I first consciously did something against my parents' and God's will, I was both terrified and excited. As a Kindergartner, I stole a nickel from their dresser top to buy a Mars bar for the walk home from school. Munching that candy on the way home, I felt a little ashamed, yet happy about not having to share my sweet treat -- kind of the same feeling I had after the first little egg toss.

Although I distinctly remember my first conscious sin, most of the intervening infractions have been forgotten. But, each time I got away with something, I became bolder and more self-gratifying. My sins got bigger and easier to perform. There were times when I was almost caught, but got reprieved for what I had done, much like the incredible bounces our egg took. After the breathless moments of fear, my stomach quit churning. Eventually I returned to my previous behavior. Finally, the inevitable moment came when risk overcame blind luck. Just as in the egg toss, my mess was exposed and I needed to be cleaned up. There were always serious consequences to be paid.

This analogy is flawed because there are enormous differences between egg-toss fun and the consequences of sin:

Egg stains wash out without lasting harm. Sin-stains separate us from God. Even when I thought I was sinning in private -- God was watching. He wasn't thrilled, but brokenhearted that I deliberately disappointed Him.

The egg didn't grow larger and messier with every step apart, but the consequences and life-messes of ever expanding rebellion toward God did grow greater with every further risk I took.

The final similarity is that the egg couldn't clean itself up. Without powerful laundry additives, my clothing would have been ruined beyond repair. There is no human way possible to cleanse sin from our lives, in order to enter God's presence. Jesus' death and resurrection provided the only way to clean up my sins -- and yours, too, if you believe.