There is something haunting about watching old video of Caleb Flynn.
Years ago, before murder charges, before a courtroom, before his wife’s death became the center of a criminal trial, Flynn stood in front of American Idol cameras and talked about his life. He was a young husband, a musician, and a Christian who had discovered a gift for music and was using that gift in ministry.
Go back and watch that young man.
Look at his face when he talks about his beautiful wife. Listen to the excitement in his voice as he talks about his music and his Lord. There is a vitality there, the sort of joy and possibility that comes with believing you have your whole life ahead of you.
There’s no way that young Caleb Flynn ever imagined sitting in a courtroom, gaunt and haggard, accused of murdering his wife.
That’s part of what makes this story so disturbing.
Flynn has pleaded not guilty to charges including aggravated murder and murder in the death of his wife, Ashley, who was shot in the couple’s home in February. Prosecutors allege that he killed her and staged the scene to make it appear that an intruder was responsible. They have also presented evidence of his affair with a former church intern, including more than 100,000 messages exchanged between the two. The defense has acknowledged the affair but disputes the prosecution’s interpretation of the evidence and maintains that an affair is not evidence of murder.
Whatever the jury ultimately decides about the criminal charges, there is already something deeply sobering about the story.
This is what sin does.
Sin rarely introduces itself by showing us where it intends to take us. It doesn’t tell us that the thing we are considering will eventually cost us our marriage, our children, our reputation, our peace, or our freedom.
It shows us the pleasure.
It promises fulfillment. It guarantees excitement and satisfaction. It whispers that we have been denied something we deserve, that God’s boundaries are unnecessarily restrictive, and that one compromise won’t change anything.
The bait is attractive and it hides the hook so well.
James says we are “lured and enticed” by our own desires. That’s what makes temptation so effective. We want something, and sin convinces us that getting it will make our lives better. Then the desire becomes a choice, and the choice can become a pattern. Eventually, we can find ourselves somewhere we never imagined we would go.
And there is something else about the reaction to this story that makes me uneasy.
Read the comments surrounding the trial and you will find plenty of people rightly condemning the evil alleged in this case. Ashley Flynn was a wife and mother whose life was senselessly taken. What has happened is horrific in every sense of the word - her daughters have been left without their mother, and her family will live with the fallout of this monstrous act for the rest of their lives. Justice is necessary, and it should be harsh and swift.
But so many of the comments surrounding the case also carries a kind of self-assured confidence that says, I could never become someone capable of that.
I’m quite sure there was a time not that long ago when Caleb Flynn would have said the same thing.
Obviously I don’t mean to suggest that any person who toys with temptation is secretly capable of murder. But I do think we should be very careful about assuming that we are incapable of being corrupted by sin.
Scripture never gives us that confidence.
It tells us to “keep watch,” to “guard your heart,” to “flee from sexual immorality,” to “resist the devil,” and to take temptation seriously precisely because we are capable of falling.
In Genesis 4, God warns Cain before he murders his brother: “Sin is crouching at the door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it.”
It is a warning every one of us needs.
Sin is not sitting somewhere distant from us, stalking only exceptionally evil people. It sits just outside the door of your heart and mine, knowing just how to appeal to the desires already living inside us.
That’s why the Bible contains so many stories that make us uncomfortable.
David commits adultery with Bathsheba and then orchestrates the death of her husband. Samson repeatedly plays with the temptations destroying him. Solomon, despite extraordinary wisdom and blessing, allows his sexual desires to pull his heart toward other gods. Judas walks with Jesus before eventually betraying Him.
We sometimes wonder why God would preserve such sordid accounts in the Bible. Perhaps because our lives are full of stories just like them. Just turn on Court TV.
The details vary, but the human heart has not changed. We know what it is to want something we shouldn’t have, to rationalize a decision we already want to make, and to convince ourselves that a private compromise will remain private.
And that is why God’s commands are such a gift.
We so often hear them as restrictions: Don’t commit adultery. Don’t covet. Don’t lie. Don’t let anger rule you. Don’t give yourself over to your appetites.
It can feel as though God is standing between us and the life we want.
But God knows what adultery does to a marriage, what lust does to the imagination, what greed does to contentment, what bitterness does to the heart, and what happens when an appetite that was supposed to be governed becomes the thing governing us.
God isn’t trying to deprive us; He’s trying to save us.
The question is whether we will trust Him enough to believe that before we end up gaunt and haggard in a courtroom we could have never imagined.