I had my first run-in with the law when I was just a young boy. At least it was the first run-in I can remember. You see, I was raised by a family of law-breakers. Every member of the clan was a criminal including my dear mother and my beloved grandfather. Ironically, we thought of ourselves as law-abiding members of the nation, but in truth, we broke some law at least once a day.
Specifics?
Well, the law says, “Don’t covet.” Despite our best efforts not to covet– we coveted. Before we would know it, a little voice would say something like, “Would you look at the Turners? That Sears and Roebuck truck sitting there unloading that new living room suit, and Bertha's grinning like a mule eatin' briars looking over here every few moments just to rub it in. I hate braggarts!"
OOPS! Another law broken.
But that’s just one example. There were the “bear false-witness” (gossip) violations and the “don’t dishonor your parents” violations, and the…, oh well, you get the picture. Law breaking was going on everywhere in my family - daily. But you wouldn’t know it from listening to us talk. Shoot, we didn’t even know we were lawbreakers. No sir, according to us, we were pretty good folks. Like the Pharisees, we knew the law. Oh yeah, we knew the loopholes too. In our culture of lawlessness where finding and using loopholes in the law is important, the greatest discussion always centered around the question, “How far?” You know, like in, How far can I go before I actually sin?
Now don’t confuse our particular brand of lawlessness with the run-of-the-mill kind of criminal. We were nothing like the prostitute or bar-hopping-drunk variety of criminal. We weren’t even like the Baptists down the street. To look at us, you would think we were the Lord’s finest. No alcohol was ever consumed by people like us…at least not in public. We were never openly promiscuous. In every public way, we lived good lives. But secretly, we were expert wrongdoers. It was like we had multiple personality disorders – in a spiritual sense.
I’ll have to admit, it was kind of fun while it lasted. But, living the life of the criminal comes at a price. For one thing, I don’t think I ever felt completely comfortable with the arrangement. There was that persistent, irritating feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
Like the time I was singing "It Is Well With My Soul" for the hundreth time, for example. Until then, I had trained myself to sing those "church songs" without ever really hearing the words (a good trick to know, by the way, if you ever want to live a life of respectable crime). But this once, I don’t know why, my mind honed in on that phrase – it is well with my soul. I got to thinking, right in the middle of the song, “Hey Gordo, nothing’s all that well with your soul. I know it, and surely God knows it, so stop pretending like it is!”
So for years I chose not to actually sing the words whenever the congregation sang that particular hymn, but I would move my mouth like I was so that the other members of the church wouldn’t think I had a problem.
My problem was, I was thinking all along that the song was about being legally right – sin and guilt free, if you will – in the presence of God, and being right in the eyes of others was just as important.
It was quite a few years later that the truth of that song finally hit me like a ton of bricks (and you know how that can hurt):
When peace like a river attendeth my way,
And sorrow like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well with my soul.
My sin, Oh the bliss of this glorious thought-
My sin, not in part, but the whole
Is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more
Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord, O my soul.
I felt both joy and shame at once. Shame because I had missed the point of faith altogether. My whole life had been wasted thinking that faith was about me. Honest enough to know that I could never fully measure up, I had invented, or inherited, the ability to put my life into little compartments, each unanswerable to the other. It was the only way a man like me could feel good about himself. I had to have something to insulate me from the gnawing feeling that I was condemned. So I had my social life compartment and my professional life compartment and my religious life compartment. One did not, in my mind, necessarily have anything to do with the other. And the religious side of me was obsessed with the function and organization of the law (religion). In other words, I was all about the correct doctrine and little about how my faith should affect my treatment of other people, for example.
Believing the right doctrines? You bet I could keep that kind of law. Admitting that I was a failure at keeping the weightier matters of the law? No way could I do that because I did not know anything about how to truly redeem myself from the guilt of being disobedient (lawless).
Then, BOOM! Like I said, right between the eyes that ton of bricks hit me.
My sin, not in part, is nailed to the cross. And I bear it no more?
I like that - I bear it NO more...
Redemption isn’t about what I give, but about what someone else gives? You mean I don’t owe a dime? Praise the Lord, indeed!
No, it never was about me. And I’m thankful for that - knowing my proclivity for criminal behavior. My sin, not in part but the whole? What a waste! Years, my entire conscious life, in fact, spent worrying about parting clouds and trumpet blasts because I thought it was about me. But that’s the best part of the story…about it not being about me, I mean.
And Lord haste the day, when the faith shall be sight.
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll.
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descent,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
Because it isn’t about me, I can pray, fervently pray, for the Lord's return. I am able to do that because I’ve put my faith in him now, not in myself. Clearly, I have an abysmal track record when it comes to keeping the law. He’s wiped my slate clean, though. Even then (when he comes back), as the song says, it will be well with my soul because it is about what he has done on my behalf.
When my eyes were opened and I could see this good news clearly, I was more than shocked – I was dumbfounded. Truthfully, I never did really like my life of crime, but it was all I knew. And, to tell the truth, it was a sort of comfortable thinking that I had a leg up on this forgiveness thing (if everything fell into place just right and I held to the right doctrines). But in my inner being, I knew the ugly truth about me and the law. And I shuddered in fear at the consequences.
It’s ironic, now that I look back on it, that a belief system that valued obedience to the law would actually lead to greater lawlessness. But that is precisely the path my life took. That’s because law can never do what an undeserved gift can. And that’s the story, as I see it, of the biblical record. Undeserving as I was and am of anything short of capital punishment, my sin, not in part, is nailed to the cross. And I bear it NO more.
Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord, O my soul!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
spiritual warfare
The Battle Rages on
I have never really appreciated struggle. Well, some struggles can get me fired up. I’ll have to admit that when my Florida Gators rout a rival like LSU (something that hasn’t happened in a couple of years) I can get pretty excited.
No, the struggles I try to avoid with every fiber of my soul are of a very different kind – they take place deep down in my heart at the center of who I am. It’s the fight between my flesh and the spirit of God, I suppose. It is a battle that keeps me awake at night.
I would like to think that it is I who is doing the battling, but it’s more like a conflict, or a series of battles, that is taking place inside of me, independent of me. I am not really a participant, but I am much more than a spectator. In fact, when this war is being fought, it seems that it is being fought over me.
Who will control me?
Who will reign in my heart?
Who, or what, will be allowed to attach its name to me?I’m going through one of those wars right now. I guess it doesn’t matter what it’s about – not that I mind you knowing – but the fact that it is being waged is important, and I hate it!
Some people, as it turns out, are expert at masking the inner struggles that take place in their lives, or maybe they aren’t really struggling at all. Maybe they have conquered their flesh and made it submissive to the will of God. If so, I envy them, for I find myself in the midst of constant conflict of the kind that reeks of blood and carnage.
Just when I think that I’m on the right track, another round of mortar attacks explodes in my proximity. Bits of hot, spiritual flack protrude from my tender flesh. As I nurse my wounds, I am shelled again from the opposite direction. And at night, when all is quiet, and there is nothing to distract me from the ravages of the war, I come face-to-face with who I am.
Maybe you have never experienced this kind of battle, but it is gruesome. Conflicting thoughts bounce off the inside of my skull. I can almost see the tracers as demons fire at the things of God.
So what am I to make of all this?
At one time, I thought it was a sure sign that God had deserted me. Why would, I thought, a loving Father allow a child of his to endure such misery? I wouldn’t do that to one of my kids. Oh, I might have spanked them when I thought that they were engaged in behavior that had the potential to destroy them. I might have chastised them if they made decisions that would later prevent them from becoming all that they could and should be, but I would never allow them to suffer extreme suffering. Okay, maybe spanking did seem like extreme suffering to them, at the time, but as a more omniscient being, I always saw the bigger picture.
Take, for example, the time my son Zachary was playing with matches. The punishment I imposed upon him was, according to him, severe. It was painful. But I had seen firsthand what resulted when human flesh came in contact with fire. So I was willing for him to suffer the lesser pain of my discipline in order for him to avoid the greater pain of burning.
I don’t know the mind of God about every circumstance that comes my way, but I can tell you what I’ve been thinking about during this latest round of warfare. Maybe there is a bigger picture here for me to see. Maybe someone else has that same paternal instinct on my behalf that I have for my own children, only greater. The question is, what is the bigger picture than I should see?
As I said, I don’t have any way of knowing the specific mind of God in this regard, but I can tell you what is being impressed upon me right now. And that is this – if I am struggling with obedience in little things like spending money wisely or losing a few pounds, what of those who struggle with the really big things? My problems are common to many. We live in a society riddled with debt. for example. Our culture is overweight to the point that some health experts have declared fat to be a national epidemic. But our culture has labeled these behaviors as mere character flaws at worst.
Even in the evangelical Christian community, these behaviors would not raise an eyebrow in most places. But they are struggles of mine, and around them is centered my own personal war. And no one can trivialize my war; it is very real and its effect on me is profoundly negative.
And so I’ve been doing some thinking: If I find myself caught in the crossfire of a spiritual battle that seems to never end, if I struggle mightily reigning in my flesh in small matters, what of those who struggle with behaviors held in less regard than my own? Take, for example, the homosexual or the drug addict. In my own church family, others will gladly allow me the freedom to continue in my sin and remain an integral part of the family. No one shuns me or withdraws from me because I’m a few pounds overweight. In fact, many will placate me with statements like, “Well, you’re tall. You’re big-boned.”
But the addict?
Unlike me, partly because she bears an inordinate amount of guilt and shame and partly because I have been benevolently aloof and condescending toward her, she doesn’t enjoy the same fellowship as I. She just isn’t as respectable in her choice of sinful behavior as I am. Lucky for me I picked the good sins, right?
And so my struggle has led me to re-evaluate my own position before God. More specifically, my war has compelled me to re-evaluate my position before God relative to the repulsive and degraded people that have come my way over the years.
You see, the revelation is plain – while I was in open rebellion to my creator, while I was openly defiant toward almighty God, and while I was deliberately shaking my fist at the one who revealed his holy and specific will for my life after breathing into me the breath of life, that same almighty, creative God did something no one would expect the object of hate and utter rejection to do – he offered his body as a peace offering to me.
Perhaps even more striking is the fact that he took on flesh like mine in the first place. And in order to be like me, he had to give up what I had secretly wanted all my life – perfect paradise and communion with Him. He did what he did as if to say, “The breach in our relationship can be repaired – look what I’m doing to prove it!”
So how do I stand, relative to the worst among us, before God? The truth is, I stand before him for one reason – he picked me up, dusted the dirt of my rebellion off of my worthless, ungrateful flesh, and placed me in his presence. You see, I am able to be in his presence only because I am the object of his affection. There was nothing inherently good in me that warranted him doing anything for me other than to kill me on the spot and condemn me to eternal nothingness. Nothing, that is, except that he formed me out of the dirt and made me in his image.
Ironically, as it turns out, that is the same position the homosexual and the drug addict are in. The flaming drag queen who parades before God in open rebellion is loved by him in the same way that I am. This truth, I understand now, flies in the face of everything I thought I was, but it is true nonetheless. It does not complement me in the least except to say that I am loved by the one who, by speaking only a word, brought into being everything that is. It does not speak well of me or place me above or below any other human being. It only puts me in the presence of God, and for that, I should be a grateful and humbled man.
So what is the practical application if I have learned my lesson well?
Well, for one thing, I most certainly have not leaned my lesson well, I am sure. My flesh being what it is always cries out for self-justification. I want to be somebody in the eyes of other men. I want to matter in this world. No matter how hard I try to internalize both my mortality and my utter failure as a good and decent human being, I still revert to self-promotion.
Knowing this, however, does create an awareness I never had before. It does force me to pause and reflect on those ugly moments when I look down my nose at those “sinners.”
And hopefully, it will compel me to fall face down before the throne of grace in complete confidence that God will forgive me of my arrogance.
Gordon
I have never really appreciated struggle. Well, some struggles can get me fired up. I’ll have to admit that when my Florida Gators rout a rival like LSU (something that hasn’t happened in a couple of years) I can get pretty excited.
No, the struggles I try to avoid with every fiber of my soul are of a very different kind – they take place deep down in my heart at the center of who I am. It’s the fight between my flesh and the spirit of God, I suppose. It is a battle that keeps me awake at night.
I would like to think that it is I who is doing the battling, but it’s more like a conflict, or a series of battles, that is taking place inside of me, independent of me. I am not really a participant, but I am much more than a spectator. In fact, when this war is being fought, it seems that it is being fought over me.
Who will control me?
Who will reign in my heart?
Who, or what, will be allowed to attach its name to me?I’m going through one of those wars right now. I guess it doesn’t matter what it’s about – not that I mind you knowing – but the fact that it is being waged is important, and I hate it!
Some people, as it turns out, are expert at masking the inner struggles that take place in their lives, or maybe they aren’t really struggling at all. Maybe they have conquered their flesh and made it submissive to the will of God. If so, I envy them, for I find myself in the midst of constant conflict of the kind that reeks of blood and carnage.
Just when I think that I’m on the right track, another round of mortar attacks explodes in my proximity. Bits of hot, spiritual flack protrude from my tender flesh. As I nurse my wounds, I am shelled again from the opposite direction. And at night, when all is quiet, and there is nothing to distract me from the ravages of the war, I come face-to-face with who I am.
Maybe you have never experienced this kind of battle, but it is gruesome. Conflicting thoughts bounce off the inside of my skull. I can almost see the tracers as demons fire at the things of God.
So what am I to make of all this?
At one time, I thought it was a sure sign that God had deserted me. Why would, I thought, a loving Father allow a child of his to endure such misery? I wouldn’t do that to one of my kids. Oh, I might have spanked them when I thought that they were engaged in behavior that had the potential to destroy them. I might have chastised them if they made decisions that would later prevent them from becoming all that they could and should be, but I would never allow them to suffer extreme suffering. Okay, maybe spanking did seem like extreme suffering to them, at the time, but as a more omniscient being, I always saw the bigger picture.
Take, for example, the time my son Zachary was playing with matches. The punishment I imposed upon him was, according to him, severe. It was painful. But I had seen firsthand what resulted when human flesh came in contact with fire. So I was willing for him to suffer the lesser pain of my discipline in order for him to avoid the greater pain of burning.
I don’t know the mind of God about every circumstance that comes my way, but I can tell you what I’ve been thinking about during this latest round of warfare. Maybe there is a bigger picture here for me to see. Maybe someone else has that same paternal instinct on my behalf that I have for my own children, only greater. The question is, what is the bigger picture than I should see?
As I said, I don’t have any way of knowing the specific mind of God in this regard, but I can tell you what is being impressed upon me right now. And that is this – if I am struggling with obedience in little things like spending money wisely or losing a few pounds, what of those who struggle with the really big things? My problems are common to many. We live in a society riddled with debt. for example. Our culture is overweight to the point that some health experts have declared fat to be a national epidemic. But our culture has labeled these behaviors as mere character flaws at worst.
Even in the evangelical Christian community, these behaviors would not raise an eyebrow in most places. But they are struggles of mine, and around them is centered my own personal war. And no one can trivialize my war; it is very real and its effect on me is profoundly negative.
And so I’ve been doing some thinking: If I find myself caught in the crossfire of a spiritual battle that seems to never end, if I struggle mightily reigning in my flesh in small matters, what of those who struggle with behaviors held in less regard than my own? Take, for example, the homosexual or the drug addict. In my own church family, others will gladly allow me the freedom to continue in my sin and remain an integral part of the family. No one shuns me or withdraws from me because I’m a few pounds overweight. In fact, many will placate me with statements like, “Well, you’re tall. You’re big-boned.”
But the addict?
Unlike me, partly because she bears an inordinate amount of guilt and shame and partly because I have been benevolently aloof and condescending toward her, she doesn’t enjoy the same fellowship as I. She just isn’t as respectable in her choice of sinful behavior as I am. Lucky for me I picked the good sins, right?
And so my struggle has led me to re-evaluate my own position before God. More specifically, my war has compelled me to re-evaluate my position before God relative to the repulsive and degraded people that have come my way over the years.
You see, the revelation is plain – while I was in open rebellion to my creator, while I was openly defiant toward almighty God, and while I was deliberately shaking my fist at the one who revealed his holy and specific will for my life after breathing into me the breath of life, that same almighty, creative God did something no one would expect the object of hate and utter rejection to do – he offered his body as a peace offering to me.
Perhaps even more striking is the fact that he took on flesh like mine in the first place. And in order to be like me, he had to give up what I had secretly wanted all my life – perfect paradise and communion with Him. He did what he did as if to say, “The breach in our relationship can be repaired – look what I’m doing to prove it!”
So how do I stand, relative to the worst among us, before God? The truth is, I stand before him for one reason – he picked me up, dusted the dirt of my rebellion off of my worthless, ungrateful flesh, and placed me in his presence. You see, I am able to be in his presence only because I am the object of his affection. There was nothing inherently good in me that warranted him doing anything for me other than to kill me on the spot and condemn me to eternal nothingness. Nothing, that is, except that he formed me out of the dirt and made me in his image.
Ironically, as it turns out, that is the same position the homosexual and the drug addict are in. The flaming drag queen who parades before God in open rebellion is loved by him in the same way that I am. This truth, I understand now, flies in the face of everything I thought I was, but it is true nonetheless. It does not complement me in the least except to say that I am loved by the one who, by speaking only a word, brought into being everything that is. It does not speak well of me or place me above or below any other human being. It only puts me in the presence of God, and for that, I should be a grateful and humbled man.
So what is the practical application if I have learned my lesson well?
Well, for one thing, I most certainly have not leaned my lesson well, I am sure. My flesh being what it is always cries out for self-justification. I want to be somebody in the eyes of other men. I want to matter in this world. No matter how hard I try to internalize both my mortality and my utter failure as a good and decent human being, I still revert to self-promotion.
Knowing this, however, does create an awareness I never had before. It does force me to pause and reflect on those ugly moments when I look down my nose at those “sinners.”
And hopefully, it will compel me to fall face down before the throne of grace in complete confidence that God will forgive me of my arrogance.
Gordon
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