More than My Sin

So often in this day-to-day routine that we label as life at Millar, I can get lost. Lost in the reality of what seeking Him means when I go to classes all morning relating to Him and am involved in prayer meetings and mentoring and everything else.

But it seems like everyday, He comes with those little things that speak gently and quietly, those precious words:

"I love you, Christy."

And one of those came through our discussion about  David's sin with Bathsheba in Historical Book's class.

I've never noticed before, but all of David's really big, really disastrous sins all occur after ch. 7 of 2 Samuel. In this chapter, God speaks of His covenant with David, and there's just an amazing record of all that He has done to bring David to the place that he is today.

And it's just four chapters later, that we read about David's sin with Bathsheba. And I think that's on purpose...

The fact is, David's sin and emotions were never, could never, be bigger than God's covenant. My sin does not annul God's covenant with me.

It almost comes from a selfish perspective, I guess, to boast that my sin is so great that it overwhelms His grace and His promise. It never could.

I so often fall into the trap of thinking that somehow my deeds are what keep me in His love. But they weren't what got me there, and they aren't enough to take me out.

"The gospel tells us the determining factor in my relationship with God is Jesus' work for us, not our work for him; his performance for us, not our performance for him; his obedience for us, not our obedience. The Gospel is the good news that God doesn't relate to us based on our feats for Jesus but Jesus feats for us. The gospel tells us that God's acceptance of us is not gained by our success or forfeited by our failures - because it's not about us!"

(Tullian Tchividjian)

It's not about me. 

David did not get to the throne by his own power, and he did not keep the throne by his own power. It was God 100% of the way. It wasn't David with a bit of  God's help, or even David with a lot of God's help - it was GOD. 

As humans, we overestimate our ability to help God, when really, all we are is dust:

"A voice says, "Cry!" And I said, "What shall I cry?" All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades when teh breath of the Lord blows on it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever." (Isaiah 40:6-8, ESV)

My salvation? It's none of what I've done. In fact, the only thing I've ever contributed to my salvation is my sin. So there is no way, that either my success or my failures will influence whether God accepts me or not. 

What a lovely truth! 

Treated Shamefully

This hit me hard. I hope it hits you too. 

The Question that Changed My Life
-by David Ryser.

A number of years ago, I had the privilege of teaching at a school of ministry. My students were hungry for God, and I was constantly searching for ways to challenge them to fall more in love with Jesus and to become voices for revival in the Church. I came across a quote attributed most often to Rev. Sam Pascoe. It is a short version of the history of Christianity, and it goes like this:

Christianity started in Palestine as a fellowship; it moved to Greece and became a philosophy; it moved to Italy and became an institution; it moved to Europe and became a culture; it came to America and became an enterprise.

Some of the students were only 18 or 19 years old and I wanted them to understand and appreciate the import of the last line, so I clarified it by adding, "An enterprise. That's a business."

After a few moments Martha, the youngest student in the class, raised her hand. I could not imagine what her question might be. I thought the little vignette was self-explanatory, and that I had performed it brilliantly. Nevertheless, I acknowledged Martha's raised hand, "Yes, Martha."

She asked such a simple question, "A business? But isn't it supposed to be a body?"

I could not envision where this line of questioning was going, and the only response I could think of was, "Yes."

She continued, "But when a body becomes a business, isn't that a prostitute?"

The room went dead silent. For several seconds no one moved or spoke. We were stunned, afraid to make a sound because the presence of God had flooded into the room, and we knew we were on holy ground. God had taken over the class.

Martha's question changed my life. For six months, I thought about her question at least once every day. "When a body becomes a business, isn't that a prostitute?"

There is only one answer to her question. The answer is "Yes." The American Church, tragically, is heavily populated by people who do not love God. How can we love Him? We don't even know Him; and I mean really know Him....

I stand by my statement that most American Christians do not know God--much less love Him. The root of this condition originates in how we came to God. Most of us came to Him because of what we were told He would do for us. We were promised that He would bless us in life and take us to heaven after death. We married Him for His money, and we don't care if He lives or dies as long as we can get His stuff. We have made the Kingdom of God into a business, merchandising His anointing.

　

This should not be. We are commanded to love God, and are called to be the Bride of Christ--that's pretty intimate stuff. We are supposed to be His lovers. How can we love someone we don't even know? And even if we do know someone, is that a guarantee that we truly love them? Are we lovers or prostitutes?

I was pondering Martha's question again one day, and considered the question, "What's the difference between a lover and a prostitute?" I realized that both do many of the same things, but a lover does what she does because she loves. A prostitute pretends to love, but only as long as you pay. Then I asked the question, "What would happen if God stopped paying me?"

For the next several months, I allowed God to search me to uncover my motives for loving and serving Him. Was I really a true lover of God? What would happen if He stopped blessing me? What if He never did another thing for me? Would I still love Him?

Please understand, I believe in the promises and blessings of God. The issue here is not whether God blesses His children; the issue is the condition of my heart. Why do I serve Him? Are His blessings in my life the gifts of a loving Father, or are they a wage that I have earned or a bribe/payment to love Him? Do I love God without any conditions?

It took several months to work through these questions. Even now I wonder if my desire to love God is always matched by my attitude and behavior. I still catch myself being disappointed with God and angry that He has not met some perceived need in my life. I suspect this is something which is never fully resolved, but I want more than anything else to be a true lover of God.

So what is it going to be? Which are we, lover or prostitute?

Sweet

Sometimes I forget that I'm involved in a divine romance.

A romance that started at the beginning of time when He knew that I would exist, would know my personal quirks, the things I do that cause others to cock eyebrows, the things that bring me to tears, my passions.

And this same Lover who has seen me since I was born, a squalling baby, has pursued me ever since.

Isn't it crazy that Someone so big, so self-sufficient, so... everything... wants to know me? Wants to know you?

And I'm finding that the sweetness of being in His presence is something that demands the disintegration of legality.

When He calls, I want to go.

And this evening, He beckoned me with a sunset.

This guy, He knows that I have a thing for sunsets. For splashes of orange and bands of purple, for swirled colours dancing across a huge sky.

So I grabbed my prayer stuff and other things and went to sit with Him on the trampoline out back.

And we watched the sunset, me and Him. My thoughts came out, and there was just... sweetness. I don't know how to explain it and there's that part of me that tries to strangle it because it's so desperate for it not to disappear.

Everyday, He waits.... wanting to sweep me away.

The question is... will I let Him?

In the Little Things

{Originally written summer 2012} 

It was around 4 in the afternoon, and I was working with Monkey when a young lady held the door open for us to walk into the grocery store.

I had been babysitting since 9 that morning and went straight from babysitting to working with Monkey, and I still had two hours to go.

I had a headache, I wanted quiet, I wanted to be done.

And as we approached the grocery store, this young lady sped up in order to get to the door before us. But rather than going through ahead of us, she reached the door, took a step to the side, and held the door open for us to enter.

It doesn't take much to make me feel like royalty on a day like today, and that did it.

I had been talking to a friend earlier about this very fact. It's so easy to get caught up in the daily up and down of living life and surviving each moment. And inside of all of us, I believe, there is a longing to grasp something more grand and significant and... dare I say, radical?... than the seeming dullness of everyday. But we don't pursue anything because it seems unreachable, and to clash with the everyday and with the image of God that we've sometimes grown up with.

After all, dreams and aspirations are just that... dreams and aspirations. They don't turn into anything concrete until action is taken upon them. And it's that step that many people miss, and that I have so much trouble working on. Because it's so easy to let life slip by. It's so much more comfortable, safe, and known than that space where all is given to Him and we move in paths not of our own making.

It starts with the little things, and in that day when I was tired beyond belief and weariness was setting in, one action from a young lady made my day that much brighter. What little opportunities constantly surround us that remain undone?

That compliment that was never given {After all, you didn't know them!}, that good morning that was never said {It was just the cashier, it doesn't matter}, that extra attention never given to a little child {I only know them from church, it's not my kid!}, that door not held open {That would've been so weird!}, that extra act of service never completed {Okay, I'm sure that would've been awkward...}, that money never gifted to that person in need {I tithe... do I need to do anymore?}, that assistance never given (although you weren't doing anything else useful) to that person in need {I saw the request on Swap 'n Buy, how strange would that have been!}...

We have so many excuses. And I don't know where you're coming from or what your day looks like, but I know that I have been challenged by the things that others have done for me. I think sometimes, we're disillusioned by thinking that the world owes us something.

It doesn't.

Go out and give.

Do something.

Live your life.

Change someone else's.

Enough

It's not about me.

How many times do I have to keep on seeing that, learning it, expressing it, doing it?

All my life, I'm afraid.

Going into this school year, there's so much ahead that terrifies me and excites me all at once. I'm being placed in a leadership role that requires humility and time, some things that aren't exactly my forte at times. And as I wonder about how I'm going to deal with these things and how I'm going to come across, and how to plan, and, and, and, and...

He stops me with a song.

His grace is enough.

It's enough to cover my inadequacies. Enough, even, to highlight them for His glory.

It's enough to inspire me, to give me strength, to give me compassion, to give me flexibility. His grace is the only thing that can carry me.

The hard part is actually letting Him do that.

You see, I have a problem.

Not only am I prideful.... but I hate coming across as needy.

When people think of me, I want them to think of someone who has their life together, who is strong, who is confident, who knows that's going on and what to do.... psssshhhhh....

who am i kidding....

The crazy thing is that the people who have impacted me most have not been those who had their lives put together perfectly, who were able to deliver that crazy inspirational speech, or were in the limelight all the time.

Those people who have impacted me the most have been those who have lived openly before me, letting their cracks show and their brokenness out. Those who show that life is not about living it perfectly, but being broken and depending on One who is greater.

Whether that's my parents, my friends, my mentors, people from my church, or people here at Millar, I know that my desire to be perfect is even counter-productive to an extent.

Because how much can an all-sufficient God shine through someone who is perceived as all-sufficient?

Not very much.

And so I pray for brokenness. For the ability to live brokenly in front of others, and to not try to explain away my faults and my failures.

To live in the hope of One who is over-abundantly, overwhelmingly, more than... enough.