You know that sermon I wrote about this week? That sermon that is at once a testimony, an introduction, and an invitation? That sermon that humbly says you are as broken as me and I am as broken as you and we.need. Him.. "I have found Him. Come and see."
Well, here is the truth behind that sermon.
I didn't find Him because I was looking for Him. I didn't find Him because I could stand on some sort of moral high ground and say, "Jesus, look! See how good I'm doing..I deserve a visit, don't I?" I didn't just find Jesus like I find my keys; He found ME.
I found Him like a baby finds his mother when he enters the world covered in amniotic fluid. I opened my eyes to see who gave me life and I saw Him...He brought me into being, He created me, and now He was giving me a vibrant life that I didn't merit.
He found ME. His grace changed ME. He was the one behind all of the verbs.
And the truth of that can be hard to accept on days when I want to merit His notice, when I want to earn His love, when I feel the overwhelming burden of being unable to do either one. To know that He is the One doing the pursuing, the rescuing, and the saving means that I must be the one doing the running, the falling, and the sinking. And boy, do I run, and fall, and sink.
If we were all really honest with ourselves and each other, it would be impossible to deny that we have all run from Him. We have all found ourselves falling into roadside ditches we can't get out of. We have all started sinking in a pit of despair, discouragement, addiction, or bitterness. At some point in our lives, we have all been handed the verdict--GUILTY--and felt it plastered on our foreheads for the weeks, months, and years following the trial.
Perhaps we are guilty of being flawed parents, of neglecting or mistreating our children in a way that has left them unable to handle some of the challenges they now face in life. Perhaps we are guilty of being flawed spouses, of using our words and our actions to build walls in our marriages instead of bridges. Maybe we are guilty of being flawed siblings, handing out condemnation and coldness to anyone who has inadvertently hurt or aggravated us; or flawed children, denying respect and honor to the parents who raised us and sacrificed for us.
Or maybe we are guilty of being flawed friends, of failing to recognize the true value of our friends until they have found others--of failing to walk beside them as they face life without anyone to hold onto. Perhaps we are guilty of being flawed employees, more focused on remuneration or recreation than we are on our responsibilities.
Whatever our failures, we have all been guilty. And we know how hard it can be to deal with grace in those moments.
The moment when your husband says, "I know you didn't mean to say that in such an angry way. I forgive you because God has forgiven me for those things too." Doesn't it physically hurt to accept the hug that follows?
"Is he just forgiving me and coming close to me because he has to? I said something really awful and I just can't take it back."
The moment when your mom said, "I told you that to protect you, but it's over now. I forgive you for disobeying me and I know you will learn to make better choices." Didn't it put a knot in your throat when she cooked a delicious dinner after that conversation and ironed your shirt the next morning before school?
"I disappointed her, but she isn't avoiding me. Why? I wouldn't want to help me if I were her."
There are a million other scenarios in which grace sounds like nails on a chalkboard. It makes us wince, it makes us uncomfortable, and it makes us feel vulnerable. It even makes us angry that those we love are not responding in anger or frustration so that we can fight back.
But the beauty of grace is that it is there for precisely the moments we want to reject it. Grace arrives at the split-second when shame wants to defeat us. When we kneel in tears over a sin so familiar it haunts our days, when we ask for a second chance for the ninety-second time. That is when grace comes and says, "You are loved lavishly and forgiven eternally and it isn't up to you. In all your mudswimming and mistakes, I saw you and waited for this chance to say I'm still here."
When grace talks, we should listen. Because God's grace isn't there to coddle us or cajole us to do a good deed. It is there to reveal our true identities--to wipe away the grit and grime hiding the image of God in us, to polish the new creation that still can get lost behind the decaying mask of the old.
John Stott's descriptions of the need for and definition of grace are so helpful:
“Jesus Christ is indeed a crutch for the lame, to help us walk upright, just as he is also medicine for the spiritually sick, bread for the hungry and water for the thirsty. We do not deny this; it is perfectly true. But then all human beings are lame, sick, hungry and thirsty. The only difference between us is not that some are needy, while others are not. It is rather that some know and acknowledge their need, while others either don't through ignorance or won't through pride.”
“The noun eleos (mercy)… always deals with what we see of pain, misery and distress, these results of sin; and charis (grace) always deals with the sin and guilt itself. The one extends relief, the other pardon; the one cures, heals, helps, the other cleanses and reinstates.”
For those of us who have felt the GUILTY verdict hanging over us for weeks, months, even years..it is time to listen to grace. To realize that while we are sick, lame, hungry, and thirsty, God is Healer and fully able to satisfy.
When we bow down in recognition of our turning away from Him, we can embrace the cross of Christ as fully enough to forgive our sin and restore us to an intimate relationship with our Creator and Redeemer.
Colossians 2:13-14~
"When you were dead in your transgressions and the uncircumcision of your flesh, He made you alive together with Him, having forgiven us all our transgressions, having canceled out the certificate of debt consisting of decrees against us, which was hostile to us; and He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross."
