I was driving to work this morning - I have about a 15-minute commute down the expressway - and I saw one lone guy in an orange vest working out of his Transportation Department truck, patching potholes with that gooey heated black tar they use.
Don't you hate running over that stuff? It's like you're driving on a gravel road for a few seconds, hearing each little pock and ricochet as it bounces off your car ... only you know it's not all bouncing. There's going to be some that sticks to the lower part of your vehicle and it's not going to come off easily, if at all.
I was struck by the thought that isn't that kind of how sin works? You try to avoid it, but in the end you have to run through just a little of it and a tiny bit jumps up and sticks to the undercarriage of your soul. If you're not careful, before long you have several ugly black patches of sin sticking to different parts of your life.
Let me encourage you to ask Jesus to start scraping those areas clean. I need to do that my own self. It'll hurt, but in the end you'll look and feel better.