There’s a Snake Around My Neck

By Rev. Tim Pauls

There’s a snake around my neck. He’s been there all my life.

As I grow older, his coils get fatter, his eyes more evil and his dead weight a bigger burden to drag along.

He’s a son of the serpent of Eden, this snake called sin. His unblinking eyes mock me. His forked tongue flicks out the words, "You say you believe. You say you're a Christian. But if you are a Christian, why am I still here?"

If I am a Christian, why is that snake still around my neck?

I mean, I’m not like those who don’t believe, who adopt the snake as a pet god, who offer their bodies and minds and souls to whatever the serpent says.

I don’t like this snake. I wish he were gone.

Well-meaning friends tell me that it’s all a matter of faith. If I only believed hard enough, the coils would loosen and the snake would have to slither away. But no matter how hard I believe, he stays as if God said he’d be there. And when I try to will him away from me, he only tightens his coils a little bit more. And he smiles a hideous grin.

And strangely, as I study the Word and grow in faith, I become more and more aware of how fat his coils are, how tormenting his presence is. Is he getting bigger?

If I am truly a Christian, why is he still here?! Do I really believe enough? Flick-flick, darts the snake's tongue, "I'm with ya," an evil whisper. “Some Christian you’ve turned out to be.” He scrapes his scales across my neck and his darting fork whispers all sorts of evil ideas in my ear. And sometimes, I do them. A lot of times, I think them. Some Christian I turned out to be.

Wretched man that I am. Who will deliver me from this serpent of death?

There is One who will—the One who crushed the serpent’s head at the cross. He’s risen, you know, and He’s destroyed the power of that dragon.

And He speaks these words, “I forgive you all of your sins.” He says that to me. And He assures me that I can trust His Word far more than that thing around my neck.

The Serpent- Crusher gently reminds me that He washed me free of the snake’s venom and slime with some font water and His Word. He feeds me His Body and Blood as an ongoing cure. And He keeps on saying those words, “I forgive you.” He forgives me.

Oh, that snake around my neck hates those words. To distract me from them, to scare me into unbelief, he constricts and coils and bares his jaws to strike. And that is when I notice...he has no fangs. He’s full of poison, but he has no daggers to deliver death. They’ve been broken out with the rough wood of a cross. They've been dissolved by water, bread and wine, because Jesus adds these words, "I forgive you.”

There’s a snake around my neck. He’ll be there all my life. The more I grow in faith, the more I realize the danger of sin—and so the coils grow heavier. But that disgusting burden tells me two things he doesn’t want to. One. I can’t save myself—I can’t get rid of that serpent. So weak and sinful am I on my own that I actually sometimes follow the advice of a toothless, damned snake.

Two. The snake has no fangs. He can whisper all he wants, but he can’t kill. His teeth are broken and his power is gone. He coils around my throat, as he still does around every Christian in this world. But he lost at the cross.

And the Victor says, “I forgive you.” —Pastor Tim Pauls (Pssst: Rom. 7:14-25)

The Rev. Tim Pauls is Assistant Pastor at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church & School in Boise, Idaho.