Funny how there's lessons to be learned everywhere, in everything.
It hit me yesterday, listening to the Life Action speaker ask a question at the end of his sermon. He pointed to the pile of chalk on the stage and asked if anyone really wanted to be changed, to let revival start in us. God had been working on me since he had started speaking, when I realized that part of his story, of building up a wall of pride against God, was also mine.
I felt it. Conviction. A command. I knew it was Him, without a doubt. I'd felt this before at Passion, this urging of God, and when I obeyed, God used it as part of the defining moment in someone else's story that weekend. (I'll definitely write about this in another post.) I knew God was faithful to use obedience, I'd been filling my head with sermons and studying, and I was really seeing God work in me.
And yet, when the command came, my feet stayed glued to the floor. I didn't go. I knew I was supposed to, and I didn't. The rest of the day I felt the weight of my disobedience.
I asked for forgiveness, but that isn't the focus of this story because, on top of that, God spoke to me about something I had never expected. They say that the most obvious sign of God working is that it can't be explained, so the sudden shift struck me.
"Child, you can't do this own your own. Stop trying so hard. You act like you're still trying to earn my love. Didn't I finish the law? Isn't my grace sufficient for you?"
I've been fighting so hard lately to do what's right and to feel God's presence that I didn't even see this fatal shift in my perspective.
I can have all the right answers and have memorized sermons and even the Bible, but in my own power I still can't do anything right. Not a thing. Yes, Christ finished sin when He died, but the only power I have over it is His power. All my good intentions combined weren't enough to overcome my pride and make me move. I stayed still because I relied solely on my willpower to make me do what's right. There is nothing good in me.
That begs the question, then, if I can't even control my own actions, what makes me think I can make God do anything? Yes, He is always with me, but He moves precisely when He intends to, and closing my eyes when singing or creating the right "spiritual environment" will not make Him reveal Himself if that is not when He intends to do a particular work in me. I've cultivated this attitude of entitlement towards God, as if I deserve to have him come at my call or answer me like a vending machine. I, on my own, have no right to come before God. The speaker said it best yesterday when he said, "Anything less than Hell is more than what we deserve."
Francis Chan explained what I was experiencing before I knew I was doing it. I've lost my sense of awe that I get to go up the mountain to meet with God. Our communion with God is a privilege, not a right, and to act as if we've earned it is exactly what builds up pride before God. James says that God opposes the proud. What a tragedy to come before our Lord with the very thing that He sets Himself against!
However, though burdened by my sin and blindness, I am relieved by God's answer to me. When I couldn't even see His grace, He still gave it. I didn't have a magical revelation. I didn't dig deep into the Word for this. I didn't will myself to see. How could I, if I was blind?
He opened my eyes. While I was unknowingly fighting and floundering, He set His grace before me. When I could not change myself, He changed me.
T. Austin Sparks says that grace is both a hard school and a loving teacher. Strength and beauty combined, like a mountain. Yes, seeing where I've grieved God hurts, but seeing His beauty and love surpasses.
He has come when I could not lay my burdens at His feet, and He has taken them.
I didn't ask for it; I didn't even know I needed it. Sometimes I don't realize that after God has made me born again, that doesn't mean He stops saving me. He has saved me from anxiety more times than I can count. He has saved me from persistent sins that I thought I would never be rid of. The common factor in all these, though, is that He never waits until I've build up enough willpower or enough brownie points. He doesn't wait until I finally say, "Alright God, You can fix this now if you want."
He comes when I stop trying. Most often, God is found at the end of your rope. When you get to the point when there is absolutely nothing you can do, He loves to swoop in and save the day. He delights to redeem His children, but He waits to do so until it is the right time, and often the right time is when we come to the point where we'll see that He is the only thing that can save us. He is a jealous God, and He wants all of us-including the part of us that we tend to reserve for ourselves.
The speaker used the same illustration yesterday that God gave me when I was studying 1 Peter last week. Every heart has a throne, and only One was meant to occupy it. I, however, was too busy fretting about the implications of "who to let into my heart" (the verse was on hospitality) to see that, as the speaker suggested, I was trying to hold onto that throne myself. The only way I get to pick who comes in is if I'm the one in charge. I've been aggressively trying to take control of my life while telling God that it is His.
I don't need to tell God what's His- it's all His.
I've been entertaining a high view God, but I've been putting myself slightly below Him when I belong entirely out of sight. How arrogant of me to think that God works within my ideas and my limitations. When I try to box God in by my abilities, then He won't use me to do things beyond me-and I can't really do anything.
But God.Rich in mercy.
Great in love.
Even when I am blind and lost.
Yes, by grace I have been saved.
Only He can make me let it go-
let go of control, of my pride, of my legalistic tendencies.
My heart is wandering but His grace is binding. He fights for me so I don't have to fight for Him. When I stop trying, He takes over, and only then can I live the life He died to give me.
Christians aren't paying off a debt- that's already done. We're enjoying a gift.
We are helpless even to enjoy Him, but if He can make Paul see His beauty surely He can open our eyes. As the cliched motivational internet quote says, "Let go and let God."
Breathe easy, friends. Our depravity is drowned out by infinite grace.
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