Our sin, His holiness-they don't mix. People cringe at the thought that He'd ever leave us. Worse, that He'd destroy us. We don't see God that way. We don't want God that way. We want the understanding, caring, merciful God. The loving God.

I'm out.

The one who always stays. no matter what we do. Because sin just isn't that big to us. That serious. That costly. We want the one who'd never say, "I'm out." I will remember her always. I tell her story nearly everywhere I go.

I found her after church at the café, sitting by herself. Such a regal woman. Distinguished. In her mid- to late eighties. I was the visiting preacher that day. I caught her eye and decided to go and sit with her. "you know who I am, don't you" she asked me, her British accent like the queen of England. Her hand reaching out to touch my arm.

I told her I was sorry. I didn't know her name. She told me she was the widow of a prominent Anglican theologian by the name of Philip Edgecombe Hughes, whose commentaries on Hebrews and 2 Corinthians are still among the very best. "O dear lady," I said, a bit startled, "what are you doing at this church?" This wandering church. They are Christians. They believe Jesus is Lord and savior of their church. They believe the Bible is true. Their bishop did not. He laughed at the Bible. He publically called Jesus Christ a sinner like everyone else. He demanded that he be allowed to come to the church and preach his twisted gospel among them.

But they wouldn't let him. How could they?

So the bishop threatened to take their building- because he could. Their historic building. With a graveyard attached. He didn't have to threaten twice. They left. All the history. All the memories. All the Lord did among them for decades upon decades in that church building. They left it all. They became nomads. Eventually, they found a new church home. And Mrs. Hughes went with them. She left that beautiful historic church building. And the graveyard. And suddenly I understood. "What about your husband?" I asked, "Isn't he buried at the old church? Are you saying you left your husband behind?" Mrs. Hughes had the brightest smile. She looked me straight in the eyes and said with profound, unforgettable wisdom, "young man, I never promised to follow my husband's bones. I promised to follow his faith."

I nodded. He would have done the same thing. He never would have stayed in the midst of such profound heresy. But the picture stuck in my head. I could see her standing up in that old church. Walking down the aisle. out the door. And with that beautiful British accent saying,

"I'm out."

Mrs. Hughes died a few years later. She'd hoped her pastor would be allowed to go back to the old church and bury her next to her husband. But that request was denied and she had to be buried elsewhere. The story is told that, at the request of the family, the late Mr. Hughes's casket was exhumed and buried next to his wife's. Nomads. Both of them. Even in death.

Because it's what we do. It's what we have to do when sin is in the camp.

I'm out.

Moses didn't stay. He couldn't stay. The calf was gone. The altar remained. But it was defiled. Like the people. Filled with sin. Big, serious, costly, breaking, corrupting sin.

So he took the Tent of Meeting. He went outside the camp. outside is where the unclean live. The lepers. Those who committed indecent acts of sin (Lev. 13:45–46; num. 12:14–15). The destitute. The immoral. The condemned (Heb. 13:11–14).

He went out even beyond them. out farther-to meet with the Lord. Because that's where the Lord was. outside, not inside the camp. not at the center. not with the people. outside. Way outside.

Because He can't stay in. He won't stay in. not when we allow sin-by choice-to reign at the center of our lives. our church. Among our leaders.

The Lord said it and did it. Moses said it and did it. Mrs. Hughes said it and did it. Because there are times it has to be said. It has to be done.

I'm out.

Questions for reflection

It is worth our time-our prayers-to reflect on the Lord's words here: "I will not go up in your midst." Have you experienced it? Making decisions you know were not godly and finding that He wasn't with you? Do you do that now?

It's hard when people we love choose to walk contrary to God-and expect us to do the same. Is it possible to love them, even stay with them, but not go with them? How do we love yet not condone? When is it right to say, "I'm out" and when is it not?

This devotional was excerpted with permission from Barnum's new book REAL IDENTITY which you can purchase from www.wesleyan.org/wph

1. Thaddeus Barnum, Never Silent (Colorado springs: Eleison, 2008), 261, 359.