Getting Back to "Real Life"

The great thing is, if one can, to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions in one's "own" or "real" life. The truth is, of course, that what one regards as interruptions are precisely one's life (C.S. Lewis).

It has now been almost a year since I was hospitalized. These months of doctors, testing, and sustained physical pain have done little to provide answers. I am grateful to God for the prayers of those who have pleaded on my behalf that my faith would not fail in the face of this pain and uncertainty. By the grace of God and only by the grace of God, it has not. But as I await a new battery of test results and the corresponding array of potential diagnoses, I want to take stock of the past year. I testify to God's steadfast love and good purposes in this way in order that my own faith—and the faith of all who read—might be strengthened for what lies ahead.

Tragedy of any type has a clarifying effect on the mind. Instead of the many, there is the one. Instead of the functional beliefs and assumed priorities are the real ones. I learned so much about myself throughout the last year. Here are a few examples:

I learned that I believe in the Gospel, I cherish it, and I desire to see my life increasingly conformed to it. I was almost shocked to discover this, since I had not been faithfully living in accordance with it—not unless it was convenient (and when is the Gospel really convenient?). My faith felt like a veneer at times, hiding the real me from even my own eyes. Oh, thanks be to God! It is not. It is "by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain" (I Cor. 15:10).

In the face of the consuming uncertainty of the past year, I have tasted what it means to "walk by faith." And though I quickly revert to living by sight—every chance I get—the Lord has mercifully sustained me through the protracted trial. Would I have understood the Psalmist's cry—"Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you" (Psalm 73:25)—had the trial abated six months ago? God knows. But I believe with all of my heart that as long as this trial endures, it is serving a necessary purpose in my sanctification.

Living daily with circumstances that provoke this natural man to despair, I am learning to challenge him. I've learned to ask him what's he thinking, and why he's thinking something so absurd! I've learned to—on occasion—laugh at him and to more regularly counter his arguments with Scripture. With greater frequency, I am aware when my thoughts are in opposition to the gospel. And while I don't always turn from those lies immediately, the Spirit is helping me to repent of my unbelief.

The laborious process of leaning into and living through physical pain has revealed to me my own beliefs about comfort. I believed that the world—that God—owed me comfort and health in this life. Being forced to live beyond that assumption in the physical realm, though, I began to see applications in the spiritual. Repenting of my own spiritual laziness, I am learning how to practice spiritual disciplines even without seeing fruit. Recognizing that even my powers of self-assessment are tainted by sin, I'm clinging to the truth that whatever God has commanded is for my good. "You are good and do good; teach me your statutes" (Psalm 119:68).

I don't document these things to say in any sense that I have "arrived" in these areas. But I, instead, offer them as evidence of God's faithfulness. Each area of growth corresponds with an increased awareness of sin and a fresh infusion of grace to turn from it. As Kris Lundgaard wrote in The Enemy Within, "The grace of God in Christ and the law of sin are the two fountains of all your holiness and sin, joy and trouble, refreshment and sorrow. If you are to walk with God and glorify him in this world, you need to master both."

No, my circumstances haven't changed much in the past year, but I have. His grace to me was not in vain, but is instead producing the peaceful fruit of righteousness in me! So when I'm tempted to think of my illness as an interruption in my "real life" I remember these words of comfort and exhortation from Colossians, which radically redefine the idea of "real life":

If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory (3:1-4).

Forgiveness, Not Understanding (Part 2)

When "I forgive you" waits for “I understand you.”

If you look at the parable of the unforgiving servant in Matthew 18, you'll notice something interesting about the plea offered by the servant in one case and rejected by him in another.

Be patient with me and I will pay back everything.

The words are exactly the same; in one case, forgiveness is granted; in the other it is refused. We aren’t given details about the circumstances of the two debtors or about their efforts to repay those debts. All we know are the words used with which to cry out for mercy and the responses that those words received. What might this reveal to us about the nature of forgiveness?

I would suggest that, at a minimum, we can see here that forgiveness between men is not extended or withheld simply on the basis of the words exchanged. I say that in spite of the fact that I have suggested very specific ways in which apologies should be proferred! We offer our apologies humbly and thoroughly in order that we might put no stumbling block in another man's path, not in order that we might merit forgiveness.

No, the particular nature of the words spoken was not the determining factor here. What was different in the two cases was the heart of the one of whom forgiveness was asked. Forgiveness, for the Christian, is not so much about understanding the wherefore and why of another person's heart; it's not about assessing his or her motivation or standing before the Lord or even the rectitude of his case. Forgiveness offered is about the work and the words of Christ.

Forgiveness is about the work of Christ in that it is a response of gratitude for the forgiveness received at the cross. And it is about His words, for it takes seriously his statement in Matthew 6, "For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses."

It's honestly not that hard to understand the motivation of the wicked servant; which of us hasn't reacted to the "offense of the cross"? Which of us hasn't thrown up his hands in disgust and said, "I want to do this myself." Who hasn't sought an independent righteousness in spite of the free gift of grace? Like the wicked servant, we despise the cross when we withhold the grace of forgiveness.

Oh, but I want to glory in the cross. I want to boast in the forgiveness that it bought me, and I want to allow that forgiveness to overflow into the lives of those around me. I do not have to wait to understand another man's heart; I know that mine was changed once and for all by forgiveness, so I freely give.

"Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony" (Col 3:12-14).

"Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man against whom the Lord counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit" (Psalm 32:1-2).

Forgiveness, Not Understanding (Part 1)

We normally think of "understanding" as a cornerstone of human communication. After all, if we do not understand one another, it may reasonably be asserted that we have not actually communicated. So I’ll grant that understanding is a goal worth pursuing in most interactions. Yet there are circumstances in which understanding—or the pursuit thereof—can interfere with our duties to God and to each other. I’ll suggest two cases in which this is true, subordinating "understanding" to "forgiveness" in each. Here's the first:

When "Please forgive me" means, "Please understand me."

We've all made these types of apologies.

I knew better than to yell at you, I really did. But it was such a long day at work, and by the time I got home I felt like I was going to explode. When you said what you did, it was all over.

Now, this may pass as an apology simply because it recognizes the offense as an offense. But it is, in fact, no sort of apology. An apology starts with naming the sin, but it quickly moves into accepting responsibility and asking forgiveness. The following passage from John Ensor’s The Great Work of the Gospel radically changed the way that I think about forgiveness and apologies. Since reading this, I’ve seen similar formulations in other places, but I always go back to this one. Ensor is speaking here about the way that we ask God for forgiveness, but I think that many of the same principles apply in our horizontal relationships:

Even when we own up to our actual guilt, we usually attempt to shift attention to our woundedness and away from our waywardness…This is a clever way of admitting to guilt while justifying it at the same time. Another way we put the best spin on guilt is to say, “God, forgive me. I didn’t really mean it.” In other words, we meant well. Our hearts were good. This prayer for forgiveness is based on our really not needing it. It’s really a cry to be understood, not forgiven.

Our fundamental need as humans is not to be understood. The Psalmist cries out, “Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts!” But his cry is not a cry for an understanding that forestalls forgiveness or renders it obsolete. His cry for understanding is for the understanding that leads to repentance. He continues, “See if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” (Psalm 139:23-24).

For those of us who have sinned and fallen short of the image of God—namely, all of us—forgiveness is our fundamental need. Every one of us could cry out with the Psalmist, "For your name's sake, O LORD, pardon my guilt, for it is great"(25:11). So when we are tempted to regard ourselves or our behavior in a self-righteous way, we should remember these words from I John 1:

If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.

Rather than offering to one another our extravagant explanations and excuses, let us offer up simple confession and repentance. Such honest work betrays a heart in which is "no deceit"--and such a heart is "blessed" (Psalm 32:2).

I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief!

I rehearse reality in my morning prayers,
And live in unreality through out the day.
With my mouth I confess,
But with my heart I retreat.

I see my wounds and not my healing.
I forget His blood and feel my bleeding.
I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief!

There is no patience in my well-doing,
And I submit myself again to that terrible yoke.
It is for freedom that I was set free,
But I content myself with slavery.

I see my wounds and not my healing.
I forget His blood and feel my bleeding.
I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief!

But God’s righteousness has come
Not as a law but as a Son—
Though I don’t yet see him on his throne,
I trust his power alone.
I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief!

Let me see your wounds my Savior, for in them lies my healing.
Cover me in your blood, to stay my feeble bleeding.
By your grace alone I believe; complete this work in me.

“Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received, in which you stand, and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word I preached to you—unless you believed in vain” (I Cor 15:1-2).

OPEN

Most of the time, people ask very little of me. They want a few minutes for a phone call or a lunch; they want some advice or maybe a small favor; they just want me to listen. Very reasonable requests, really.

Often, my internal responses to these encounters reveal that I consider myself to be the owner of my time. This is a sole proprietorship--this carefully managed Tuesday of mine. And the sign in the window really says closed, although I painted over it with the word OPEN.

As the Lord reveals to me more and more of my selfishness, I cry aloud to Him and ask that he would unfurl me. I return often to these words in Isaiah 58:

Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh? Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, ‘Here I am.’ If you take away the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness, if you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday. And the Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail. And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to dwell in.

In this passage, so much of what I have sought furiously and independently--guidance, healing, righteousness, satisfaction--is offered to me through a self-forgetful service.

I think also of the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr on this, the 40th anniversary of his assassination. In spite of his moral frailty (he, too, struggled with indwelling sin), he refused to live among the privileged and educated African-Americans, choosing rather to be mistreated with his people than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of what was--according to his conscience--sinful. I echo the language of Hebrews 11 intentionally, for his vision was motivated and sustained by faith. His example of self-forgetful service also challenges me to see the panoramic view--a view of a kingdom bigger than myself.

But we don't conquer the flesh in the flesh. I can't just download "I Have a Dream", put it on repeat, and stir myself up to seek justice and serve others. I must, all the while, be fighting the war that wages against any service that I can offer--the sin within me. A pursuit of justice starts with capturing those small moments--those little opportunities to mortify the flesh, to hold the tongue or to loose it, to dispense mercy and not judgment, to choose kindness and act in faith. In these ways and more, we pour ourselves out on behalf of others--in humility, considering them better than ourselves.

I have repented in my heart, though my honest desires are not yet changed. The Lord is at work; I'd stake my hope on it (Col 1:27). I changed the sign in the window a few days ago. The OPEN is no longer just a whitewashed CLOSED. I pray that the Lord would grant to me a legacy of servanthood for the sake of His Name.

No Excuse.

“Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things. We know that the judgment of God rightly falls on those who do such things. Do you suppose, O man—you who judge those who do such things and yet do them yourself—that you will escape the judgment of God? Or do you presume on the riches of his kindness and forbearance, not knowing that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance? But because of your hard and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath when God’s righteous judgment will be revealed” (Romans 2:1-5).

I read through this passage a few weeks ago and was taken aback by these words: “Do you suppose, O man—you who judge those who do such things and yet do them yourself—that you will escape the judgment of God?” The audience here has already been identified—anyone who judges. Sadly, I march beneath that banner of self-righteousness regularly. So I dug in my heels with this text, determined to let it show me the truth about myself.

I know myself to be judgmental in two discrete areas; I tend to judge others who struggle with weight or with laziness. Gluttony or sloth, to use the biblical terminology. While my eating-disordered past makes me peculiarly aware of my own weaknesses in this area, I caught myself thinking--almost consciously--that this text really doesn't apply with the laziness issue. Because I'm a hard worker, right? But in passing judgment on lazy people, I condemn myself, because I too am lazy, or at least that’s what a rough application of Romans 2 would seem to say.

This all fluttered across my mind several weeks ago, and I prayed about it a few times—not even with great diligence. Can I just tell you how the Lord has completely undone my understanding of myself and my own sin patterns through this verse? Suddenly, I see how my life is just fraught with thinly-veiled laziness. And I am shocked.

The revelation might seem burdensome or depressing, as you read it here. But I am deeply comforted and encouraged by it, for it shows me several things:

1. The Word is living an active, sharper than any two-edged sword. It still discerns the thoughts and intentions of my heart.

2. The Lord is at work in me in revealing my sin. He is sanctifying me and preparing me to bear the peaceful fruit of righteousness.

3. There is now hope for change, which starts with repentence.

Paul writes to the Corinthians:

"As it is, I rejoice, not because you were grieved, but because you were grieved into repenting. For you felt a godly grief, so that you suffered no loss through us. For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death. For see what earnestness this godly grief has produced in you, but also what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what fear, what longing, what zeal, what punishment! At every point you have proved yourselves innocent in the matter. So although I wrote to you, it was not for the sake of the one who did the wrong, nor for the sake of the one who suffered the wrong, but in order that your earnestness for us might be revealed to you in the sight of God."

I know that this is godly grief, because it has produced in me repentance and an earnest desire to change. I don't want to indulge my flesh and judge others for doing so. But what is the alternative? In part, it is service. For, as I mentioned in my recent post on Galatians 5, if we are not serving others, then we are actively indulging our flesh. I really want to get to the other side of that equation! I am praying now that the Lord would show me where and how to serve those around me.

This is what my life would look like if I made no excuses for my sin:

"For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing" (II Tim 4:6-8).

Oh Lord, continue your good work in me that I might not hide behind my judgment of others and the sin that it both masks and reveals. Expose my excuses, and let me hide myself only in Thee.