than I loved the living God; Nan loved personal connecting more than she loved the living God. My outward sins in the situation included a grumbling attitude and critical words, but those works of the flesh erupted from the craving for my own utopian version of time off. Nan’s outward sins included a grumbling attitude and critical words, but those sins poured out of the craving for her own paradise of marital intimacy.7 For both of us—as for all of us—the horizontal sins register and express the