Genuine?

I had a conversation a couple of weeks ago that I had been dreading and fearing for some time regarding sin my life that I have been working through. It was a hard conversation to have for a lot of reasons, but probably chief among them was the wounding of my own pride when it was pointed out to me that the motive behind my attempts to "get right" with God wasn't really getting right with him at all.

For some time now I have felt like a prodigal that can't get home - like no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't reconnect with God. I couldn't get back that sense of being right in his sight. I felt condemned and doomed.

It was pointed out to me that I was not, in fact, the younger prodigal son in the parable. I was the older son. The son who stayed home and worked silently but resentfully and pridefully, expecting to earn his father's estate. Not only that, but he was enraged when he saw grace poured out by his father toward his brother.

The father's response to his older son in the parable is eye-opening:

"Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours."

I was pondering this idea - that I was the older brother and not the younger - on my drive to work the next morning. To be honest, I was more than a little discouraged at hearing that; I was angry. I felt like I was being kicked when I was down. Why couldn't people just understand that I was cautious about moving forward with applying the Gospel to this area of my life because I wanted to be sure that my heart and motives were genuine? Surely it wouldn't be right to just rush blindly to a quick writing-off of my sins and ignore the seriousness of my transgressions.

I drove northbound in the darkness, sipping coffee and thinking over these things in great detail, asking myself questions to try and clarify where I was at with everything. One simple question stopped me cold: Why is it so important to me that I feel genuine about this? That seems to be holding me up not just now, but all the time in situations like this - what is so important about being "genuine" - and what does that even mean?

And as I passed the exit for Northgate Mall, it hit me.

It's important to me because I feel that if I'm genuine, God owes me a response. If I'm genuine, he can't just ignore me like I feel he does so often. It puts me in control.

It was one of the defining eureka moments of my life - a precious revelation from the Holy Spirit. It was one of those moments in which suddenly so much of your life - and so much of what you need to do in the future - becomes obvious and brilliantly clear. The logical consequences of this realization - that my desire for genuineness was essentially rooted in pride and in my desire to control God's redemption of me - spilled over me with all the refreshing relief of a waterfall. It was one of those moments when you know that the realization you've just had is going to affect the rest of your entire life. My thought process rushed.

As though your genuineness matters here, Matt? Do you think Paul was genuinely interested in finding God while traveling on the road to Damascus? No - quite the opposite. Isn't God able and willing to work with your heart where you're at right now, even if you're confused about where exactly that is? Doesn't God save sinners in his great providence and mercy, despite their filth? Didn't Christ die for us while we were yet sinners? Do you REALLY think you have to have it all figured out - to completely change and transform yourself - before you can come home? How can you even be transformed if you don't GO home?

And I instantly knew what I had to do. I instantly understood why repentance in this case meant taking a hold of my identity in Jesus. I was so struck that I said it out loud to an empty car.

"I don't have to do this anymore," I said softly. "I don't have to do this anymore!"

The excitement built as the full weight of a suddenly clear understanding of the Gospel spilled over. "You know what? I'm done! I'm done wallowing in pride-soaked despair about my state. I am adopted! I am accepted! And I am already home! I'm paid for! It's done!" - shouting now - "MY SIN DIED WITH JESUS CHRIST 2,000 YEARS AGO ON A CROSS. It's DONE and that person is DEAD and there is therefore now no condemnation for me in Christ Jesus!"

We see God's attitude toward the prideful, self-righteous sinner in the father's response to the older son: "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours." In other words, as we fret about not being "fixed" enough to come back into God's presence, not being "good" enough to stand before him, he lovingly reminds us: "Son, you're already mine. You never really left home, and everything I have is already yours."

What an amazing truth to think about.

When I got home from work that evening I took a dry-erase marker and scrawled in block letters across the top of my bathroom mirror:

THE OLD MATT IS DEAD.

And I went to bed in peace. I slept - to borrow a phrase my pastor uses - like a Calvinist.

I look at those big block letters each morning now as I brush my teeth. I later copied a passage from Ephesians 2 on the mirror next to it and am working on memorizing it:

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience -- among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ--by grace you have been saved -- and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.

I am so, so thankful that my standing before God has absolutely nothing to do with the person that I am or the things I have done or will do. That is the Gospel. That is what Jesus is about. My behavior, my so-called "good deeds" have absolutely nothing to do with how God sees me. I am a wicked man who is clothed only in the righteousness that Jesus has given me. He traded my rags for his robes.

And that knowledge brings a kind of security and peace that I cannot describe. I have not only not felt fearful or condemned since that day, but the particular temptation that once ensnared me like a vice is now completely gone. Gone.

I was walking through the distribution center at work today and was thinking about that. I couldn't help but smile. I thought to myself, I'm free. I'm free, and it's all because of You.

That's the God I know.

Coming Soon:

"Court of Law" - an allegorical short story I've been working on for about 6 months. Hope to have it finished and posted here in the next week.

Changes

Made a few changes to the layout to make things easier on the eyes. Obviously colors are a bit different and the text is bigger. What say you? Yea? Nea?

More changes to come soon, hopefully. This thing needs some refreshing!

Fear and Trembling

This is a season of working out my salvation with fear and trembling.

Fear and trembling because I have sinned greatly, am totally helpless to fix my own heart and am completely naked before the throne of a holy, righteous, and just God.

I understand what the fear of God means now more than I ever have in my life. I have felt almost nothing but terror for a month now. The fear of God is borne out of taking a deep look into your own heart, into your desires, into your motivations, and facing the depravity that you find inside yourself. You look inside and realize that you are despicable and filthy to your core, that there is not one shred of good intention inside that rebellious heart of yours. You see darkness, filth. You realize that, if left to your own devices, you are going to continue along the same path you have always been on. You realize that if you continue, you will die. You will die.

We go through life with this false sense of immortality. We say we know that someday we'll die, but we do not really believe it. We believe that our sin doesn't affect anyone but us, but we deceive ourselves. We live each day as though they will just keep coming, over and over - the sun will keep rising, our lungs will keep filling with air, our car will complete the commute to and from work without accident each day. These are all illusions. There is no safety. There are no guarantees. The only thing keeping you alive this very moment - and every moment thereafter - is the sheer grace and patience of God. Jonathan Edwards likened this to a spider being dangled over the flames of hell by but a slender thread of silken web, capable of being severed at any moment.

I am the spider.

True fear of God arises when this fact settles upon your soul and you realize that God does not owe you another breath. He does not owe you another day to figure things out. There is no guarantee you will be alive at this time next week.

Are you in a position to meet your maker within one week? If you knew that your life would end in 7 days, if you knew that in 7 days you would be standing before God to give an account for your life - how would you live differently? The truth is that this possibility is very, very real.

And as I stood on the deck of a cruise ship sailing across endless blue oceans and stared out at the setting sun, I realized - truly realized - that I was going to die. Soon. I would not continue living forever. I would face Him someday, and that someday might come much sooner than I anticipated. Would I presume upon the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience - unrepentant?

I have never, ever known the kind of terror that comes with that realization. It is worse than any fear I have ever felt because you cannot run from it. You can avoid places, things, people, movies, books that scare you - you can't escape your own soul or His justice. The weight of the Law weighs on you and haunts you.

I helped serve communion at church two weeks ago when they had an unexpected need for a couple people. Standing there at the front of the sanctuary, holding two goblets of wine and listening to the band play softly, the fear gave way to despair and brokenness.

"Jesus paid it all . . . all to Him I owe . . ."

The goblets shook, wine threatening to spill over their edges, as I trembled and fought back sobs. I knew I shouldn't be there. I looked down at the wine, blurry through tear-filled eyes, and almost dropped the glass goblets.

My hands are holding the blood I've spilled. His blood is all over my hands.

On a surface level, I know that it is all these things that make grace and the Gospel as powerful as they are. Our depravity highlights the riches of His grace and mercy. But I have known these things the way I know that two plus two is four. I have the sense that I have not yet fully known them on the level we are meant to, or that I have forgotten them. And so my hunger grows. My desperate need for Him grows. My sense of urgency grows. My need to get close to and stay close to Him, my need to throw myself at the foot of His cross, to feel the rough hewn timber and the splinters digging into my fingers, to see the blood run down from pierced hands and feet and to know that my sin is atoned for by the sacrifice before me grows.

And perhaps that is why God is allowing this season to go as long as it is. He is not only the author but also the perfecter of our faith. He disciplines those He loves - a truth I cling to now like a man adrift at sea praying for rescue clings to a life ring.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Hope of redemption and transformation drive us to continual, daily repentance of our sin. Lose hope of that transformation, lose hope in the goodness of Christ, and you lose everything. Trying to live in and with Christ without a continually renewed sense of real hope in what He has promised is like trying to breathe in a room without oxygen. It will not work, and you can only hold your breath so long before you collapse.

Yet His goodness is so great that He is actually there to catch us as we collapse from our rebellion. We come crawling home like a prodigal sullied in mud, broken, filthy, desecrated. Screaming in wretched agony, we cry out, "I delight in your Law, oh God, for it exposes my sin - have mercy on me, a sinner!"

And He, in His unbelievable mercy and goodness, makes all things new. Makes us new.

Our sin may leave scars. There are consequences. There is music to face. But there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. His plan is not to harm us. His discipline is not to harm us. Jesus. In His nail-pierced hands and feet I find freedom. Surrender of sin so that it may be nailed to the cross instead of me. Freedom from shame, from guilt, from fear and terror, from my past, present, and future. Forgiveness. Instead of the spikes that should be driven through them, my hands are filled with the wealth of His grace.

This is my collapse.

Praise God.

Make me new.

Prodigal

Just give me what's mine and then leave me alone
I don't need you anyway

I don't want you or your charity
I just want the spoils
Wealth
Success
Reputation
Sex
Family

Just give it to me and leave me alone
Don't ask anything from me
I don't owe you anything
Leave me alone

==========

God, this is great
What a waste of time you were
Now I have (almost) all l I ever wanted and
Didn't have to give anything for it

Just a few more things
Just a few more and
then I'll be satisfied

You'll see

==========

It's harder than I thought
But I'll make this work
I know I can

Just a little more self-control and
discipline and
reading and
listening and
learning and
note-taking and
then I'll have it down

You'll see

==========

What happened
Everything was going so well

This is all your fault

You didn't give me enough
You rigged the stakes against me
You won't take temptations away
I bet it's a fun game for you
Watching this

But I'll come out on top
Just a little longer
Just a little more

You'll see

==========

Oh God, what have I done
Look at me

I'm broke
washed up
cast down
filthy
alone

What have I done
Oh God
Look at what I've done
Look at
what
I've done

Look at these
Unclean lips
Bloody rags of
counterfeit righteousness

Damned

Can't talk to you
be with you
look at you

You'll see

======

Last-ditch shot
I can't fix it
Any of it

But maybe
Maybe I can wash your feet
Clean your house
Tend your crops
Feed your pigs
Care for your cattle

Just make me a
slave
lowly
marginalized

Just give me a
place to rest
scraps from your table
shelter

And I'll do whatever you want

It's too late for me
to be a son again

But maybe I
can find my
way back

======

Dust from the road caked
on my
bloody
bare feet

Wheezing
Half-blind

I can see you already
Your house
Your crops
Blurry

What

You're

Moving
Running

To me

Oh my God

What are you doing
Throwing your
arms around me
Kissing me
Your tears of
joy
flowing

What's this
ring
coat
shoes
calf

What's this
white robe for this your
whore
bastard son

adopted back
as
heir

It can't be
This is too much to
understand
take in
appreciate
pay back

I can't do it

But you
promise
you can

and now

I'll see

Yawn.

Battling apathy is a common theme for the last six months and something I'm really struggling with lately. Have I always been this lazy?

No Peace

There is so much that I am thinking about right now in regards to the future....there is not a lot of peace in thinking about these things, which causes me fear. The thing is, I don't know whether that lack of peace is just a result of fear of the unknown that I am afraid to jump into, or whether it's an indication that I should stay the present course and not do the things I'm thinking about doing.

Is that ambiguous enough? Haha!

Prayer would be appreciated.