“Why should Christ ever have loved us… when at His table, we often have wandering thoughts. Even in our faith, we often find a mixture of unbelief. Even when we love Him, we grieve that we do not love Him more. Even when we are closest to Him in communion, we have to smite our breast and mourn that we do not enjoy the nearness we might have, and ought to have for, after being so greatly loved by Christ, we ought to be sinless! Under such obligations to Christ as we have, we ought to be wholly sanctified – spirit, soul, and body – and never have a wandering thought or an unholy desire. But that we are not what we ought to be is clear. And the wonder is that Jesus Christ should ever have laid down His life for such miserable ‘friends’ as we have proven ourselves to be!
…I do not know what you, beloved, say concerning this theme upon which I have been speaking, but I think you will agree with me when I say that, to me, the superlative point of the love of Christ is that He laid down His life for me, unworthy as I have been since I have been His friend.”
Spurgeon’s words so resonate in me today. I have surely proven myself to be a “miserable friend” of Jesus. I have been offended by my own internal state as of late. When I lay my paper-doll self next to the prototype of all I long to be in Him – frankly I want to tear her apart. Why? Because what I know is way more than I practice and what I don’t know is way more that I long to know. Before I get a bunch of emails and Facebook messages about how I’m too hard on myself or how I need to live under grace and that the Christian life isn’t a “list of do’s”… let me make this point. It is the grace of God that has so brilliantly exposed my sin and my lack and has reminded me what a miserable friend I am. It’s the loving thing for Jesus to show me. I’ve had more examples than I have the space to name here (just this week) of what I’m not and yet what Christ has paid for me to be.
I’ve been studying John 3… “You must be born again.” In one of Paul’s letters, he urges us to examine ourselves to make certain that we are in the faith. I’ve been pushed into self-examination by Jesus’ words to Nicodemus. (Maybe he wouldn’t mind if I call him Nic.) I don’t think a believer can read those words without becoming her own fruit inspector. There are a few living, breathing on-fire-for-the-gospel believers around me who don’t put limits on God. In fact, I don’t think they even see any limits. They seem to live habitually outside of their own imperfections. They have learned that it’s not about them, but about Christ. And they have learned that in Him all things are possible. It frees them up to walk courageously, to share boldly, to pray graciously and powerfully, to stand fearlessly.
Nic at Night. He’s got some questions. The first question is one that Jesus’ reads in his heart – he doesn’t even voice it. It is “how can I get into the Kingdom of God?” Nic has limits. And I’m not sure he knew it. I’ve been a Pharisee of Pharisees. I remember what it’s like to take my piddly righteousness to God and expect the Holy Spirit seal of approval – the stamp in my spiritual passport. Nic probably came with a mental list detailing his goodness, his hard work – and hoped for an answer like “great job, Nic – keep doing what you’re doing – you’re on the right track. Work hard, pray hard, minister hard and you’ll make it in.” Deep down my hard-working pharisaical self knew it was never enough – but truthfully, my pride wanted it to be. I think that’s why Nic was struggling with the question. What the heck?! Why do we continue to think – even once we have entered the kingdom of God – that our piddly righteousness will get us by… that God is pleased with whatever He gets from us? Our presumptions upon His grace are scandalous at best and blasphemous at worst. But let’s flip the coin – go from Pharisee to Pauper – where our weaknesses and “I can’ts” become our limits. Talk about prideful presumption! To go from “hey, God, look at all I can do for You!” to “sorry, God, I’m incapable of being used by You…” - both presume the same thing. Both start from the foundation that I have something to do with it at all. The gospel starts with the truth that I have nothing to contribute in the first place – that I am in desperate need.
The truth of the matter is… I’m still in desperate need. I can’t and I shouldn’t bring anything to the table but my yieldedness and the spiritual blessings in Christ that He has installed in this new creation of His. In Him and Him alone we have everything we need for life and godliness in the true knowledge of Him who called us by His OWN glory and excellence. In Him we are more than conquerors. In Him we have overcome the world. In Him we are slaves of righteousness and not to sin. Oh to trust the fullness of the gospel every moment for my own sanctification and for His empowerment in the spreading of His gospel and glory in the world around me! Oh to trust the fullness of the gospel of His grace in destroying all fear and every self-imposed limit for the furtherance of His will! Even as my fingers are typing, there is a fountain welling up in me that says “YES! Now! Go! Be who I say you are – do what I tell you to do – trust in My Presence and Power – I will not fail you.”
God spoke a word to me a couple years ago through someone at a writer’s conference. The man said, “If you don’t do you, Denise, “you” doesn’t get done and God’s creation is incomplete. What are you waiting for?” I wonder if I have been systematically attempting to tear down barriers that aren’t really there. Spiritually tilting at windmills and fabricating excuses. In trying to tear them down, I’ve built them. It’s a bit like wading through rubble only to find that the rubble you moved has walled you in. The last trumpet blew, the wall fell and instead of charging in and taking the territory, I used the rubble to wall myself in proclaiming “what a mess – I can’t move through that… I’ve just got a measly little sword… I have no credentials… I’m the spiritual runt.” Wow. Oughta be thoroughly ashamed of myself for even entertaining the idea that God wouldn’t put the resources in me to fully meet whatever He’s called me to. Watchman Nee said, “The greatest of His demands upon us only shows how confident He is that the resources He has put within us are fully enough to meet them. God does not command what He will not perform; but we must throw ourselves back on Him for the performance.”
On my trip to OK I had dinner with a friend I’ve not seen in many years. We used to minister together. He recalled some of the things I did during that time. When I left, I found myself wondering “What happened to her? Where did the bold, dare-for-Christ, thump-a-prisoner for Jesus (that’s another story), love-the-lost, stop-drop-pray-n-preach girl go?” I taught and ministered myself right into complacency. I forgot that it’s God’s reputation, not our own, that makes us outrageously brave. I guess I got caught up in fruit polishing rather than fruit bearing.
This past weekend, I was working at an event our church sponsored. I chose registration so I would purposefully have contact with people. I prayed that God would allow me to taste a little of the freedom in ministry that I buried back there; that I would have a little daring if given the opportunity. I saw a spark. A lady came through my line with her little nephew. She had that “I’m about to burst into tears look” on her face. I registered her son, but something just really bothered me. I asked her if there was something she needed. She said, “Would you pray for me? My brother died last night and I just didn’t know what to do except to take his son to this today… he was looking forward to it.” Seemed such a small thing for such a big need, but I stopped – got out from behind my table, put my arms around her neck, and prayed for her right there. And when she headed off with her nephew, I think I heard God say “there she is!” There was the part of myself that’s been dormant. Not dead and gone. Just hidden in fear somewhere. It was nice to see her again. I hope she’ll show up more often.
