A Bitter Weed

From tonight's email:

Hello, dear girls! Ninety days by the grace of God; many times I've fought to keep my eyes open as I wrote to you, but you know what--if I didn't write, I didn't read, so you all have held me accountable to be into God's precious word for this many days. Thank you, thank you. :) I love you each!

Today's reading is from Mark 9 and 10. In these chapters, there is a section that says this:

". . . And Jesus called them [the disciples] to him and said to them, 'You know that those who are considered rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. But it shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.' " --Mark 10:42-45

This isn't a new idea to us, but it is oh, so hard to live. You must understand how deeply, deeply selfish we are. Our thoughts and interests naturally default to satisfying ourselves, promoting ourselves, and focusing on ourselves, to the exclusion and belittlement of other people. Selfishness isn't something that has a characteristic feature to it--it comes in as many variations as there are people. We all think of the obnoxious, greedy types as "obviously" selfish--but the truth is, the quiet, shy ones among us are equally self absorbed.

Think about this: Pride can manifest in NOT wanting the limelight as much as it shows up in those who want to steal the show all the time. If you are so self-absorbed that you can't acknowledge or honor other people's desire to care about you and recognize you, then you are just as selfish as the girl who walks into church bragging about something she wants to be praised for.

Selflessness is about OTHER people, not about our own "comfort zone." Am I too nervous and shy to greet a visitor? Bingo, selfishness--I'm too concerned with my own interests to step out of my shell and reach out to another person who may be having a much worse day than I am, might be in the middle of a crisis, could be on the verge of tears, or have just suffered some hidden tragedy and desperately needs a friendly smile and a hello. If I withhold that warmth and affection because I'm too selfish to stop putting myself first and start caring about other people, I am no better off than the worst, most blatant selfishness we can think of, and I am certainly not exhibiting the heart attitude of a humble servant of Jesus Christ.

I hope you take the time to examine your heart, and do it soon. We've all got that horrible weed trying to put down roots in us, that ugly, invasive pride of life that is the taproot of all kinds of sin. But before you despair, and more importantly, before you try to change yourself and fail and then feel miserable, let me remind you of this: you cannot change your heart. God changes hearts. It is he who purges all sin, including the sin of selfishness, from us, if we humbly repent and ask for forgiveness for the hours wasted in self-love. He will change you. You cannot win this one without him; it is futile and you'll be discouraged quickly. But with the power of the Holy Spirit conforming you into the image of Jesus, you will WIN and you will see your old self being crucified and you'll understand what it's like to glory in the joy of the Lord. It's amazing how freeing it is to stop being in love with yourself!

Don't let yourself off the hook with excuses (i.e., "I'm just an introvert, she wouldn't understand me," "I have tried to reach out and nobody appreciates it," "I'm not nearly as selfish as so-and-so," "I think I'm doing pretty well," etc). That's the easy way out, and believe me, it is comfy now, but it stings like a hornet later. I know of a girl who allowed subtle selfishness to reside in a quiet corner of her heart--it only displayed itself once in awhile, but it was there. And all of a sudden, when a time came when something (or someone) arrived in her life that was worth being totally unselfish for, she was too late, and missed it. Her true character showed itself, and she lost a precious opportunity. And it was a bitter loss--he found another girl with a gentle, healing spirit of humility who (he rightly saw) would be a far more desirable lifelong friend and wife. Oh, sweet girls, don't let that be your story! Ask the Lord to show you where selfishness resides, and then beg him to burn it out of you and make you a holy, loving servant to all.

It is a far better way.

This, This is Why

More thoughts for my girls, from my Bible reading this evening.

Tonight, I'm reading from Matthew 26 through Mark 2.

The end of Matthew chronicles the unjust trial, condemnation, persecution, crucifixion, death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. It's a powerful story, even more so this time of year, with Easter only a couple of weeks away. There is so much I could say; I don't know where to focus for just one thoughts for this email.

I suppose I want to draw your attention to the night Jesus prayed in the garden of Gethsemane, and his disciples (who were supposed to be praying and watching at the gate) repeatedly fell asleep and left him alone, unsupported, in his darkest hour. (See Matthew 26:36-46)

I have to confess; for a long time (and maybe even still), I really didn't understand Jesus' grief and despair at this time. I guess I thought, "Yes, definitely it would be somber to await one's executioners, even more so when you hadn't done anything wrong. How scary to be unjustly condemned, and how awful to await the dawn, knowing it would bring nothing but terror and, ultimately, a murderer's death by agonizing crucifixion." I didn't really get it. Jesus didn't sweat drops of blood and weep because he was afraid to die an agonizing death. (Which would be reason enough for me to sweat blood and cry, by the way. I'm terribly afraid of pain). He spent the night in total anguish because he knew that his death meant not merely excruciating physical pain, and total humiliation, but . . . he, the Holy, the Sovereign, the Son of the Father who knew God, loved God, and who was God, would become the recipient of the righteous, terrible wrath of a just and holy God. We cannot even begin to comprehend what kind of terror and anguish this is. The only Man who had ever lived in perfect obedience, total innocence, without one single sin against him, would become a blood-saturated substitute for all who were truly guilty. His holiness, cleanness, and perfect purity would bear the punishment deserved by all who were filthy, rotten, foul, debased, and evil to the core of their very beings. The punishment you and I deserve.

That is why he wept. Not for physical pain, but for spiritual anguish. The wrath of God is a crippling, terrible, frightening, killing kind of fear that cuts to the quick of all who understand its measure. It is this gasping, paralyzing, anguishing fear that drives foul sinners to repentance, that drives them to their knees, begging forgiveness from a Holy God before whom they have no reason to stand except for His grace. But, He cannot simply be gracious to wicked people and still be just; all sins have a just recompense, a wage that has been earned and must be paid. That wage is death. An agonizing, spiritual, separated-from-God death. A death you and I, by all rights, have earned for ourselves by our foul hearts.

And Jesus Christ, that loving, gentle, holy, perfect, beautiful Son of Man and Son of God, saw down the corridors of time and saw your face, your tear-filled eyes, your guilty sentence, your hopeless plight, your foul record of sins, and he stepped up to executioner's block, not only for a physical death, but for the full onslaught of the out-poured wrath of God. For you. For me. And it cost him, oh so dearly. Such anguish. Such grief. How he prayed in that garden that there might be some other way! "Nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will, Father."

Oh, how great is our God. How merciful. How slow to anger, abounding in mercy. What is man, that You are mindful of him? We are so small, so weak, so flawed, yet he loves us still. I cannot understand such love. And in its wake, as a recipient of such immeasurable graciousness, how can I possibly settle for a religion that is shallow, weak, apathetic, fleshly in its lusts, and requires me to give less than absolutely everything? Look at what He did for me! Would I insult him so, and disregard such love? What hypocrisy is such a pseudo-faith! Far be it from me, oh Lord. I am weak, but You are strong. Help me, Father, to live with urgency and a right perspective of my place: from whence I've come, by Your amazing grace.

"Who saved us and called us to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began." (2 Tim 1:9)

All my love, sweet girls,
~Brenna

. . . Coram Deo . . .
"Living before the face of God"