As long as I’ve been a Christian I’ve struggled with the concept of grace. Do I really need it? Are the normal everyday slip-ups of pride and selfishness and the occasional white lie so bad that I truly need a life-altering, sacrificial Savior? Growing up in a Christian home grounded me in a Jesus-based right and wrong. I didn’t want to lie or be selfish or fail to have discipline – but sometimes I did – and then I promised I’d be better. I’d do better.
Behavior modification is a slippery slope. Faith suffers when we zone out in church and miss quiet time, so we’re told to pay attention and make time in the day. So often our problems confessed are answered with a list of actions to follow the next day. But what happens when the desire to do these behaviors is missing? Shouldn’t there be a transforming power that comes with being saved that makes church and quiet time and the presence of Jesus something we can’t live without? For me, this constant influx of instructions has dumbed an awe-inspiring concept of grace down to a guilt-inducing moral code. A code of do’s and don’ts and expectations that sometimes weighs me down so heavily I can’t even think to miss the hope that should be found somewhere in this whole Jesus-following thing.
The weight and burden of my actions became so great that I put my faith on hold. I didn’t love Jesus or seek his face. How could I when my actions had so repeatedly failed? I couldn’t do better – I’d tried. “The things I do not want to do – these I keep on doing”, to use Paul’s words. Christianity without an understanding of grace is a stagnant place of constantly failing to meet expectations, and that’s the point I reached: a depressed faith where I knew what I should do but had no desire to act. After all, what was the point? Failure was inevitable.
And then someone challenged me to consider the difference between seeking Jesus and grace and simply modifying behavior. I was taking the Holy Spirit’s convictions, thanking him for his trouble, and then shutting the door in his face for me to deal with it on my own. A night spent crying on a friend’s couch revealed the flaw – I sought answers from her about the frustration and confusion and weight I felt, and she simply turned me to Jesus. And I resented her for it. “Obviously I need to Jesus, but come on” was my attitude. But her nudging lingered and pressed on my mind until it burned its way to clarity. In living my Christian life. I’d left Jesus behind. I followed the good Christian moral code like any good girl who grew up in the church, but I had no passion for Christ. When I read Paul speaking of his awe for Jesus so mighty he couldn’t contain himself, I felt envy – not agreement or contentment.
So I’m learning. Slowly God’s opening my eyes to all His Words that have been pointing me to this realization – all the lessons from so many places about abiding in the presence of the Lord, about praying continually, and seeking His face. I don’t expect perfection. I know I won’t read my Bible every day next week or pray about everything I should or be as kind to everyone as I need to be. I know sometimes I’ll seek counsel and be told to work on my quiet times and prayer life. But I pray that I will take that instruction and turn away from the culture of Jesus I’ve settled for for so long and pursue the person of Jesus. I pray that I will know my times of sadness or stress mean I’ve fallen away from his presence and need to be still and accept his grace. I pray that I don’t just experience a great time in the Word or a long session of prayer, but that I experience Him. And instead of feeling guilt and weight when I fail, I’ll seek hope in the knowledge that all He asks is to seek His face. To love Jesus.
My pastor said today, speaking about not knowing how to discipline his kids, “I don’t need God to change my behavior, I need to understand who God is better. If I think of how he is patient with me, I know how I should be patient with my kids.”
God doesn’t call us to “do’s” or “don’ts” or a life of checking things off a checklist. He doesn’t want to modify our behavior but transform our hearts. And while that by no means trivializes the importance of prayer or quiet time, it does change our approach. I want to know the person of my Lord, so I seek his face in prayer and His voice in the Bible. I share what He’s teaching me with others and listen to their stories in turn so we can fall more in love with the Creator together. What a beautiful life of hope He has prepared for us – if only I will take off the burden of these self-imposed expectations and surrender to His inspiring grace.
Rambles 