Saved. But Still Sinning: The Blog No One Warned Me I’d Have to Write

James 4:7

“Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”

Just because you are “saved” does not mean you are sinless.

It does not mean you suddenly become holy, polished, perfect, and glowing like the women you see on Instagram holding their Bibles with their perfect hair and perfect marriages and perfect smiles.

But boy, did I think I needed to be perfect right away.

I thought baptism was going to flip a switch inside me. I thought I’d walk out of that water brand new. Not just spiritually, but emotionally, mentally, behaviorally. I thought I’d never struggle again. I thought I’d never sin again. I thought I’d never feel tempted again.

And then I walked back into my house.

A house still broken. A bathroom still unfinished. A life still messy. A heart still confused. A mind still full of old habits. A soul still learning how to breathe.

Looking around that broken home made me feel like I was never going to be completely whole with Jesus like the ones who looked “sinless.” Because I still had a lot of learning to do. A lot of unlearning to do. A lot of healing to do.

I am four years into my “New Life,” and I still don’t have it all figured out. So don’t set yourself up for that expectation of wanting to be perfect because you think that is what the world expects of you.

You will break under that weight. I almost did.

The Days After Baptism Were Harder Than the Days Before

Nobody told me this part.

Nobody told me that the days after my baptism would feel like spiritual whiplash. Nobody told me that Jesus would start knocking on the doors I had nailed shut. Nobody told me that healing would feel like ripping out roots that had been growing in me for years.

Because now I had this Man. This Savior, knocking loud at my door.

“Let Me heal your heart.” “Let Me love you.” “Let Me soften you.” “Let Me change you.”

I knew I had some big decisions to make.

And like I said, just because I was saved did not mean I wasn’t a sinner.

Prior to my baptism. I was talking to another man.

Not sleeping with him. Not dating him. Just talking. Hanging out. Letting him fill the emotional holes I refused to acknowledge.

But I knew in my heart it was wrong.

You remember from my previous blog? I bounced from guy to guy. I always had someone lined up just in case. I didn’t know how to be alone. I didn’t know how to sit with myself. I didn’t know how to sit with God.

But something about this man was different. He was kind. He didn’t care about the things the guys I usually dated cared about. He listened. He gave good advice. He wanted to be my friend.

And that confused me. Because kindness wasn’t normal for me. Gentleness wasn’t normal for me. Being seen wasn’t normal for me.

Then I remember looking at my boyfriend, we were standing at the sink. I said, “I got baptized yesterday.”

He just stared at me. Confused. Maybe upset. Maybe disgusted. Maybe shocked.

We had never talked about God before. Never talked about faith. Never talked about anything deeper than our trauma.

All I knew was this, I needed a change. A shift. A new direction. And I was going to do it with or without him.

But first. I had to tell the other man I couldn’t talk to him anymore.

He let me go. Didn’t fight. Didn’t beg. Didn’t manipulate. He just let me go.

That almost made it harder.

The Lie I Was Still Living In

I was confused, lost, torn between two lives. The old one and the new one.

So I asked boyfriend to move out. I told him we needed space. I told him we needed to figure things out separately. I told him all the things he was doing that hurt me. The lies, the cheating, the drinking.

But here’s the truth:

I left out my sins. I left out my lies. I left out the emotional cheating. I left out the conversations I shouldn’t have been having. I left out the parts of me that were still filthy.

I was still a liar. I had been a liar since childhood. I learned it young. I learned it well. And it became second nature.

Lying, cheating, stealing. They all go hand in hand. And they are HARD habits to break.

Plus, I was saved now. I needed everyone to think I had my life together. I needed everyone to think I was holy. I needed everyone to think my boyfriend was the problem, not me.

It was easier to point the blame at him than to look at myself.

Desperation Will Push You Toward Healing or Destruction

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if I wanted to make it work with my boyfriend or cut ties completely. I loved him, remember? Our trauma matched. Our brokenness fit together like puzzle pieces.

I was terrified of what people would think if I left. I was obsessed with the world’s opinion of me.

But I knew I needed guidance.

The thought of seeing a counselor made me sick. I grew up in therapy. I hated it. I hated the fake empathy. I hated the “I know how you feel” lines.

But I picked up my phone anyway. Scrolled through counselors. And then I saw him.

Jake.

He looked like Bon Jovi. You know the great rock and roll hair and his earrings. There was something about him that had me saying, “This is the one.”

I called and he didn’t answer. I Left a desperate voicemail. He ended up calling me back that same day.

My boyfriend came with me a few times. But when he wasn’t there, I broke down.

I told Jake everything. Every filthy detail. Every sin. Every lie. Every betrayal.

What was shocking to me is that he didn’t flinch. He didn’t judge. He didn’t shame me.

He said, “You are loved. This is the first step of your spiritual growth.”

I hope he was right.

The Breaking Point

My boyfriend and I tried for a while. But I was trying to change, and he wasn’t.

We went to the lake with my mom and kids. He kept paddling out to the middle of the lake with beers and joints. My mom said, “I thought he was toning it down.”

And that’s when it hit me.

I wasn’t going to save this man. I couldn’t even save myself.

But I was still avoiding prayer. Avoiding God. Avoiding intimacy with the One who saved me.

I didn’t know how to pray. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to talk to God without feeling judged.

I was scared of praying wrong. Scared of sounding stupid. Scared of being seen.

Then I got home from the lake.

Two bouquets of roses. Wine. A picture of Adam and me. A love letter.

This man was in love with me? How on earth could he be in love with someone like me?

I was in deep waters.

Because I felt something for him too. But I wasn’t ready to let my boyfriend go.

So, I did what every sinner does, I ignored God. Ignored conviction. Ignored the Holy Spirit.

I did what the old me would do.

I started seeing BOTH of them behind their backs.

While going to church. While pretending to be holy. While acting like I had it all together.

I knew it was wrong. I knew it was sin. I knew I was living a double life.

But I did it anyway.

The Day Everything Exploded

I went on a motorcycle ride with Adam and his friends and my boyfriend kept calling. He knew. He felt it. He sensed the betrayal.

The next morning, I drove home.

My house was destroyed.

My boyfriend had snapped. He was hurt. He was angry. He was broken.

And at the time, I was furious. But now I see it clearly.

Hurting people hurt people.

I hurt him because I was hurt. He hurt me because he was hurt.

The Moment I Finally Broke Before God

I had to tell Adam everything. He already knew. People warned him. People told him who I was.

Boy, was I mad. Not because they were wrong, but because they were right.

Everyone knew the kind of person I was.

But Adam forgave me.

And that shook me.

Forgiveness wasn’t something I was used to.

In that moment, I knew I didn’t want to be the girl who lies, cheats, and steals anymore. I wanted to be someone who could be trusted. Someone who could be looked up to. Someone who could give Godly advice.

That night I sat with Jesus.

I opened my heart. I cried and I mean ugly cried. I told Him I hated myself. I begged Him to help me love myself. To soften my heart. To teach me how to be good.

I dug out my Bible. Opened it randomly. And landed on James 4:7:

“Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”

It hit me like new breath in my lungs.

I realized I could give Jesus my thoughts. My temptations. My weaknesses. My patterns.

But it took work. A lot of work. A lot of prayer. A lot of repentance. A lot of starting over.

Four Years Later, I’m Still Not Perfect

I still struggle. I still sin. I still hear the enemy whisper,

“Wasn’t life easier before Jesus? You could do whatever you wanted. You were in control. Come back to me.”

But here’s the truth,

A life with Jesus isn’t easy. It isn’t comfortable. It isn’t always joyful.

It’s refining. It’s stretching. It’s lonely and painful at times.

But it is so worth it.

Because Jesus’ love is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

When you finally understand that HE is the one who saves you. Not you, not your behavior, not your perfection. Him. That’s when everything changes.

If You’re Saved but Still Struggling. This Is for You

You are not alone. You are not failing. You are not disappointing God. You are not too messy. You are not too sinful. You are not too slow in your healing.

You are human. You are growing. You are learning. You are being sanctified.

Jesus is not ashamed of you.

He is not surprised by you. He is not tired of you. He is not giving up on you.

He is still knocking. Still loving. Still softening. Still healing. Still choosing you.

Every single day.

A Prayer for the Woman who is Saved but is Still Deep in sin.

Jesus, for the woman reading this who loves You but still feels dirty, still feels unworthy, still feels like she’s messing everything up. Hold her close tonight. Remind her that You didn’t save her because she was perfect. You saved her because she was Yours.

Quiet the shame. Silence the enemy. Soften the places she’s afraid to show You. Teach her to run to You instead of hiding from You.

Let her feel Your love in the exact places she feels the most broken. Let her know she is forgiven. Let her know she is wanted. Let her know she is still chosen, even on her worst days.

Thank You for never letting go of her. Thank You for loving her through the mess. Thank You for staying when everyone else left.

In Your Holy Name,

Amen