Confession

convicted.
cut to the core.
shaking my head at my stupidity.
feeling the wickedness of my own heart.

It has been a week of gradual revelation after, I confess, a rather dry spiritual spell in my life. Recent lessons and scripture and teaching have been bouncing off my soul like so many air soft pellets off an armored tank. My life has been pretty much peachy keen and my heart unreceptive to the gentle but persistent knocks of my savior.

I have been praying for God to rip this shell away from me...asking that I would once again feel the weight of conviction and even guilt...asking that something like fear would finally persuade me to listen and seek and obey. ...But in the same breath I was praying for blessings...for a smooth ride, for an easy life, for a reason to be grateful. As if I needed one.

Last Thursday night IV exec studied Mark 6:6-12 and 30-39. Jesus sends out his disciples, commanding them to go into the towns and giving them great authority to cast out demons and to heal the sick. He give specific instructions, however, of what they are not to take. Extra clothing. Money. Food. All forbidden. Despite the fact that as humans they will need these "comforts" very quickly, he forbids them to take even the essentials. 20 verses later, the disciples are tired, and though Jesus tries to get them somewhere to rest, the crowds keep following. And Jesus has compassion on the masses. But his followers are selfish. "Send the people away so they can get something to eat," secretly screams, "I'm hungry...make these guys go away so I can eat my fish in peace." Yet Jesus says, "You feed them." I know you're tired and hungry. I know you feel like you have been deprived ever since I sent you out. But it's time to have compassion. Give a little more. Give until you are beyond the end of your rope. Give because you see that they are lost and in need of Me. Give because I am here to give through you.

The feeding of the 5,000 is miraculous not just because the food is multiplied. It is miraculous because even though Jesus pushes his disciples to the limit, in the end he provides their most base and human need: food. He does not scoff at them and pour out many spiritual lessons for them to wrestle through. He gives them rest...just as soon as they are willing to obey. While he asks them to learn to live without comfort his great miracle involves providing comfort in abundance...in excess.

Next stop: easter week events for Intervarsity. Palm Sunday worship, reminding us all of the triumphant feeling that the disciples must have felt as they entered the city with the hero of the day. "This is all worth it! I'm so glad that we worked so hard and obeyed our master! NOW we can see why He did what he did." Blind. And looking for profit and gain in a purely worldly way. Sure that when good things happen that's proof of God's faithfulness to our plight. Why does this sound strangely familiar?

Amazing how God uses physical fatigue to get my attention. Equally amazing though not surprising how the Devil uses it too. As sleep got scarce in the past 4 days or so my mind began to wander...searching for something to get me through the day. The words came to mind soon enough.

"Come unto me, all ye that labor, and I will give thee rest..."

unfortunately I forgot to remember the whole verse. I began to take comfort in the idea of coming to Jesus for the sake of rest alone. Rest translated: peace, no trouble, lack of responsibility and pain alike. WRONG again.

These thoughts, these expectations made me realize how much I have cheapened God's place in my life. I have come to demand blessings, to crave peace, to rebel against struggle. I have turned Him into a mental vending machine, which I worship in the hopes that my 50 cents will by some "miracle" warrant two packs of M&M's and not just one. I praise in expectation of joy. I serve with intentions of reward. I give expecting to feel better. No wonder I feel dead. I'm worshiping an idol: my own life, and the betterment of it.

The Lord requires something so much more..."take my YOKE...LEARN from me...I am MEEK and LOWLY in heart." Why does it take me so long to understand what that means?? Obedience. Humility. A soft heart that is ready to listen, not to talk. A back that is willing to carry a load. A heart that is peaceful not because it isn't struggling but because it is certain of the purpose of the pain.

Tonight: Stations of the Cross. A service that the IV kids did referencing the highlights of Christ's walk to Golgatha...a solemn service to be sure. One phrase in one of the prayers stuck out. "Lord, we see that Jesus was beaten beyond recognition and endured ultimate suffering. Let us learn to see His perfect image in the faces of those who suffer around us." Could it be that Christ's redemption is seen best in suffering? That power is made perfect in weakness? Something tells me I've heard this before.

The pain in my heart is nearly tangible as I survey the past few weeks...considering all that I have said and done to lessen pain and to embrace the safe and sound, the prosperous, the exciting, and even the good. All that I have ignored around me...pain, injustice, and, yes, truth. The cross is an instrument of punishment pain and suffering. But it is also an avenue to the greatest closeness and co-identity we can experience with God. Why do I continue to reject it??

My mind is a blur of quotes and scriptures and hymns:

"In the cross, in the cross, be my glory ever..."

"Father, forgive them...they don't know what they are doing"

"He was bruised for our iniquities, he was pierced for our transgressions"

"Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus..."

"What wondrous love is this, that caused the Lord of bliss to bear the dreadful curse for my soul??"

"Why should I gain from His reward?"

"If any man will be my disciple, he must take up his cross daily and follow me."

"IT IS ACCOMPLISHED!! Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit."


I know all of this...I've heard it a thousand times. But I confess before God and anyone reading this that I have not been obedient. I have, "refused the cup and the baptism"...I have run from the cross with a sense of repulsion...understanding only things which give glory and victory and peace. I've become a Eustace (CS Lewis, Voyage of the Dawn Treader), who in pursuit of happiness and greed has become his own worst enemy, with no way to escape save the painful removal of his scales and tough skin. Rip them off, Aslan!! Sink your claws in deep and tear them away. Forgive me for my greed and selfishness and pride. Reduce me to my core, for only there can your spirit mold me into something that resembles you.

Tomorrow night, my team of Intervarsity kids will perform a drama presentation for the campus detailing the lives of the people surrounding Jesus' death. It contrasts the rough soldiers with quiet mother Mary and stoic John and emotional Mary Magdaline. It begs the question, "how will YOU respond to the cross?" Tonight in practice I was almost in tears as I heard Mary Magdaline cry at the foot of the cross, "Kneel down with me! Wail and Mourn...Throw dust upon your heads, for the light of the world has gone out!!"

For the rest of this week, I will, I MUST grasp the depth of the suffering and the horrendous load which Christ carried for me. For only then will my redemption cause the appropriate response...not the guilt and the kick in the pants that I was waiting and praying for earlier this week, but overwhelming Love and Joy. Irresistable grace, the Calvanists call it. Inescapable conviction which leads to lifelong and willful participation in the suffering. May it always be so.

"See, my servant will act wisely; he will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted. Just as there were many who were appalled at him—his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any man and his form marred beyond human likeness--so will he sprinkle many nations, and kings will shut their mouths because of him. For what they were not told, they will see, and what they have not heard, they will understand."

Isaiah 52: 13-15