Sin and Peter Rabbit

By Allison Wolff

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I’ve never thought as much about sin as I have while living with a three-year-old. “Oh yes,” you say. “Those older toddlers can be so mischievous.” You probably assume it’s his sin I’ve been thinking about. Don’t get me wrong, he is a little sinner—my adorable, precocious, sweet little sinful son. But he’s not the only one.

In this toddler stage of motherhood, I see Genesis 4:7 play out in the face of my son a dozen (hundred) times a day: “If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is for you, and you must rule over it.” My son is playing with a toy. His little brother grabs it away. The desire to shove little brother to the ground is crouching at the door. Will he rule over it and ask politely for the toy back, entreat my help as mediator, or graciously move on to play with another toy? I ask him to stop eating fingerfuls of cake batter out of the mixing bowl. He replies, “Mommy, I am all full of sugar. But the sugar says, ‘Quick! I want to be eaten by a little boy!’ That sugar says, ‘I want to be next!’” Apparently, the devil inhabits the sugar in our house (though maybe that’s true in every house), whispering to my son to reject his mother’s instruction. The desire to indulge his appetite is crouching at the door. Will he rule over it? 

Witnessing my young son’s struggle to rule over his sins has made me keenly aware of my own moments of temptation. When the kids are tucked in bed, will I collapse on the couch and scroll on my phone for an hour? The desire to turn off my brain and waste time on meaningless digital entertainment is crouching at the door. Will I rule over it and tidy the kitchen, read something edifying, or plan dinner for tomorrow? When my son wants to help mix up the bread dough, will I tell him to move out of my way, or will I sacrifice my idols of efficiency and clean counters to let him practice the art of pouring ingredients in a bowl without spilling? When my husband asks, again, about our weekend plans, will I sigh and fire off a snappy reply or remember he has a lot on his plate and just fill him in?

In our home, we frequently listen to The Tale of Peter Rabbit, narrated by Vivien Leigh, which has very catchy original songs. After Peter’s unruly escapade through Mr. McGregor’s garden, he sings: “Why do I do it? What can it be? There’s naughtiness in everyone but twice as much in me / I’d give the world if only I could, now and again be good / Why do I do it? What is the cure? My brothers and my sisters find it easy, I am sure / No one believes I’d like to be good; nevertheless, I would.” The first time I heard this I was struck by its similarity to Romans 7:21-24 which says ,“So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Apparently, there’s deep theology in Beatrix Potter!)

My son and I (and the anthropomorphic Peter Rabbit, in a sense) are sinners, wrestling against the passions that are at war within us (James 4:1). I have help in the fight that Peter Rabbit and my son lack: God’s gift of a regenerated heart, sanctified day by day through the Holy Spirit’s help. This is the Romans 7:25 answer to the question in verse 24: “Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” And my son has this hope, which poor Peter Rabbit does not: he is made in God’s image, and his little heart of stone, like mine, can be replaced with a heart of flesh (Ezekiel 36:26). 

My supreme prayer as a parent is that our gracious God would give growth to the seeds I have planted and watered in my sons, that He would give them hearts of flesh, and that He would empower them to rule over the sin that’s always crouching at the door.