A response to today's teaching at Highland.
Legalism vs. a life of pleasure-seeking with Jesus as an accoutrement. I hardly know a Christian that doesn't have a history steeped in legalism (do this, don't do that; behave the "Christian" way; deny everything and die to your every desire; serve, serve, serve; earn, earn, earn God's approval and blessing). It's a sad twisting of the disciplines that help to make the soul of a Christ-follower, and a real indictment of our need to be in control all the time. Grace is inherently risky. Oh, the gloriousness of God. A call to freedom and healing by such a powerful and simple thing as trust. I really resonated with the call to live the life that is rooted in the Living Christ, as opposed to running so far away from the weight of the legalistic paradigm that you end up being your own lord and master and adding in Jesus for guilt.
Living an open life. "Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven." (The Message, Matthew 5) If we are friends, you'll know that I'm all about talking about the real stuff. I stink at small talk. I want to connect with you about stuff that's authentic to your life and your heart. I may find it easier to "go there" than other people, but it would be a lie to say that it's not hard to put myself out there. I struggle with fear-- fear of what too much authenticity (if there is such a thing) might do to the friendship; fear that I will open up and be disappointed at a lack of reciprocity. It wasn't until today's sermon that I realized that when those fears are present, they reveal that my living an open life is all about... me. About what I will get out of a relationship by being open (a meaningful connection?), about what may happen if it doesn't go the way I hope (loneliness? disappointment? embarrassment? pain?).
There's nothing wrong with desiring meaningful connections with others, but I was challenged today to be open with others with my heart centered on reflecting the nature of my generous Father. "Seek first His Kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added." God knows what I need relationally in my life. I can drop the fears and insecurities and trust that by being open I may prompt someone to open their own heart to Jesus, and trust that God is going to bring the people into my life that will connect with me in the way my heart needs. Living from a place of fear, anxiety, or insecurity makes my life closed in and small. It's not the "open house" Jesus was talking about.
Trusting could bring pain. That choice to live rooted and abiding in Christ-- you know it may bring pain, right? Oh, if I could banish that thought forever. I'm truly growing tired of my brain bringing it up over and over and over again. If I am most tempted to be my own lord and master, it's not to seek wealth and things and empty pleasures. It's to avoid pain. Today during worship after the message, I was pondering the lyrics of surrender in Lead Me to the Cross and I just got frustrated by that incessant nagging pop-up thought that inserts itself into my spiritual journey at every turn. And I think in response to my frustration, the Holy Spirit brought to my mind a time in my life that was immensely painful to help me overcome this question.
You see, right before Joshua and I got married, I was really seeking the Lord. I desired closer communion with Him, and I wanted Him to reach deeper into my life and make me more like Himself, reveal Himself to me. I remember having a conversation with a friend and I told her, "I just want the Lord to fillet my heart." I meant I wanted him to slice it clean in two, get to the parts hidden within, deal with me in that place. I prayed that prayer; God answered it. The very word "fillet" is used to describe cutting meat with a knife. Did I somehow think I was going to escape without feeling any sort of pain?
In retrospect, I can see the Lord did the filleting in the most swift and gentle way possible, but it was painful and it was painful on purpose. The deep and wrenching pain I felt led to an education in love, generosity of spirit, openness instead of relational retreat. It was my first course in realizing how selfish I was (the second course started when I had kids). It was the beginning of choosing to put away childish responses to old wounds and instead bear the fruit of the Spirit. Today I looked back and saw all the Lord had built from that one small thorn pierced into my heart, and I realized how I would not give back the ground I have gained just to avoid hurting the way I did. I'm not going to fear the pain anymore. It will come again as life unfolds-- it will visit all of us. But I won't shy away from the life abundant that Christ has for me by refusing to abide in Him and His Lordship because I know something painful might happen today.
I thought about the crucifixion-- God chose that on purpose, Jesus walking straight into a painful death. Jesus endured the pain for something worth infinitely more to Him-- the redemption of mankind and our communion with Him. He could've chosen to avoid the path of pain. But He would not give away the ground to be gained just to avoid hurting. Shooo-eee! That one got me in the feels, ya'll.
Anyway, those are my thoughts from today. That and not wanting to raise my kids legalistically but needing to learn the balance of grace and authority in training up these little ones in the way they should go. So much to learn! Glad to be with my fellow Highlanders as we journey down the road.
Peace and love tonight. Penny for your thoughts!
