Devotional Archives--Celebrating Grace

December 13, 2004 —

Incarnation and the New Way

The stirring in my heart this morning was a pleasant surprise. It’s been a while since I’ve felt it truly lift at the thought of Jesus coming to earth, his birth announced by a glistening sky full of singing angels.

I think the magnitude of the incarnation is especially poignant due to a conversation I had with a friend of mine. She’s an amazing woman who’s gone through more life changes in the last few years than I care to even think about. As we visited she talked of hardships and made the comment, “I wish I could just get the lessons God is teaching me!”

“You don’t have to strive so hard to learn,” I said. “You can rest in the Lord. Lean against Him and let Him comfort you through this. He’ll be faithful to teach you all He wants you to know.” The words blessed me as I spoke them, confident they’d come the Holy Spirit’s prompting.

Tonight, I’m in awe of the changes that Christ’s birth, death, and resurrection brought into our relationship with God.

Before Christ came, following God was a law-centered activity. Old testament believers struggled under a burden of effort, striving to be good enough. They had hearts the Bible calls deceitful and desperately wicked (Jeremiah 17:9). They fought to obey God based on fear and sheer willpower.

A few glimpsed God’s mercy and love, like the psalmist, but on the whole, the religion was built upon rituals and rules. They lived under constant condemnation, pushing their sins forward each year and never being set free from them as they offered annual sacrifices.

After the incarnation everything changed. Jesus told his disciples his yoke was easy and His burden was light. When Christ died He took our every sin upon Himself and cancelled it. Gone. Forever. Then, wonder of wonders, the God who became human and walked among us, cleaned us up and entered into us.

God gave His followers a new heart, replacing the heart of stone, the one that had been desperately wicked, with a heart that desires the things of God. (Ezekiel 11:19; Jeremiah 31:33; Hebrews 10:16)

Instead of a religion of striving to be good, but never living up, God offers a new way, the way of the indwelling Spirit. This new way is based upon words like forgiveness, love, trust, guidance, and empowerment.

Now, his followers are never condemned (Romans 8:1). They are offered love and mercy, set free from the law of sin and death (Romans 8:2), and invited to enter into His rest. As we keep our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, the Holy Spirit transforms us into the image of Christ (Hebrews 12:2; 2 Corinthians 3:18).

It’s such a comfort to realize, as my friend and I did the other night, that we can trust God to make us what He wants us to become. We can lean into our Savior’s loving arms and trust that in God’s own way and time He will complete the good work He started in us (Philippians 1:6).

The birth the angels declared to the shepherds ushered in a whole new way of living.

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December 20, 2004 —

The Way of Light

For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him. John 3:17 (NIV) 

Twinkling lights bob in the evergreens at an intersection near my home. When a gentle breeze stirs the branches, they seem to dance in the rhythm of my heartbeat, singing that my Light has come. Joy to the world! No more let sin and sorrow grow! He came to make His blessings flow!* 

My heart hasn’t always sung at the thought of Jesus’ birth. Though I accepted Christ at a young age, my understanding of the magnitude of this event was severely limited.

I knew Jesus, God’s son, came to earth to save me from my sins and make sure that I could spend eternity with the Father. But until more recent years I didn’t grasp His transforming grace.

Christianity meant a ticket to heaven and a long, hard struggle to walk the straight and narrow until I got there. It meant trying very hard and failing often, living under the bondage of failure.

I felt I couldn’t live up to what I thought were God’s expectations of me. I didn’t pray enough, read my Bible enough, or witness enough. Motherhood was especially debilitating. I KNEW I failed there.

I should discipline better, be more patient, play with them more, spend more time on their academics, pray for them, teach them, be a more organized housekeeper . . . the list was never ending. Often I approached God with my head hung in shame, condemnation rolling over me.

Somewhere I missed the verse that told me that God didn’t send Jesus to the world to condemn it, but to save it (John 3:17). Furthermore, the next verse, John 3:18 begins by saying that whoever believes in Jesus is not condemned!

I used to think these scriptures simply meant I wouldn’t go to hell. While that is a very good thing, it is a limited understanding of why Christ came. It’s not just the condemnation of the final judgment that Christ did away with, but also the condemnation in my daily life.

Everything I’ve done in the past, am doing now, or will do in the future is cleansed by Jesus’ blood. When God looks at me, He sees Jesus. And Jesus is perfect. 

I’m learning to trust Jesus’ transforming grace to make me what God wants me to be. I still mess up, and it hurts. It is especially painful when my failings hurt someone else. But I’ve discovered that God doesn’t want me to dwell in the condemnation.

When I confess my sins He is faithful to forgive them and cleanse me from all unrighteousness (I John 1:9). Then I have to let it go. Even if my heart condemns me, God is greater than my heart (I John 3:20).

Today, for the first time, I noticed verse three of the beautiful hymn, O Holy Night. The phrase that struck me said this: “Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother, and in His name all oppression shall cease” (Text by John S. Dwight). My Spirit rose in adoration of the One who broke the bondage of my soul.

Jesus came to cancel the curse of condemnation and sin. When I focus on my failures I return to the old way of living in darkness, where despair, sin, and sorrow grow. When I look to Jesus’ forgiveness, I walk in the way of Light—where He spreads His blessings as far as the curse was found.

When you see the twinkling lights of this season, won’t you join with me in praising the Light of the world? Let’s stop beating ourselves up for all of those “not good enoughs” in our life and simply rest in the deep, penetrating grace of Jesus. We can trust our God to bring our hearts into His spiritual rhythm.

Joy to the world! Our Lord is come!

Sin and despair, like the sea waves cold, Threaten the soul with infinite loss; Grace that is greater—yes, grace untold—points to the refuge the mighty cross. Grace, grace, God’s grace, Grace that will pardon and cleanse within, Grace, grace, God’s grace, Grace that is greater than all our sin!  (Grace Greater Than Our Sin, text by Julia H. Johnston)

December 27, 2004 —

Marvelous Grace

This New Year I resolve again to move forward in the truth of God’s grace. Before I understood grace, life was black and white, based upon my perception of right and wrong, the culture I was raised in, and my life experiences. It was about working hard to be good enough for God and others.

I know some people who take it a step further. They believe being a good person, doing acts of kindness, can guarantee salvation, or at least put enough points on the good list to balance the bad of their lives.

In my case, working hard to please God make me easy prey. People could tell me I wasn’t good enough, point out my mistakes, and I’d bend over backwards to live up. I often chose my activities based on a bogus list of expectations. It kept me in a state of conditional acceptance. I thought God and others embraced or pushed me away based upon my performance.

People who try to be good and leave God out of the equation do a similar thing. They take up causes, work hard, and try to justify the bad in them by the way they serve mankind. They, too, are easy victims.

As they perform, a calculated word can trick them into a tailspin. They respond similarly to the way I did, seeking to be accepted by God and others based upon their lists of accomplishments or good deeds.

It’s a no win situation for, deep down, we know we can never measure up. We’ll eventually blow it—sometime, somewhere.

God’s grace offers us a better way. When we accept Him, He washes us clean and we are justified. We no longer perform for approval. I love the old church camp explanation for the word justification: “just as if I’d never sinned.”

Christ’s justification allows us to live from a position of victory. We already have the complete, unconditional acceptance of the Father. We have nothing to earn.

In the devotional last week the beautiful verse, found in John 3:17,  tells us God sent Jesus to save us, not condemn us. John 3:18 says this: “Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son.” (NIV)

God’s mercy extends to all people, offering an escape from guilt. His mercy welcomes each to draw near to His heart and discover how it feels to be set completely free from all our faults. He simply says, “Come. Hand me the keys to your life. Accept my grace.”

God’s multifaceted grace frees us from condemnation and welcomes us into His family. It brings us into relationship with God, and then transforms us from the inside out. We discover a great desire to be all He wants us to be.

Slowly, we stop beating ourselves up and trust Him to change us. Once we invite Him into our lives, we seek to follow Him, one step at a time, making choices based on His will and not the approval of others.

As we enter a new year I encourage you to examine yourself. Do others easily manipulate you? Do you make choices trying to earn God acceptance or people’s approval? Are you a control freak, trying to make your world perfect enough?

If you are quickly angered, easily led into guilt, or feel you never measure up, perhaps you haven’t fully grasped God’s grace. In His mercy He stands before you now, arms of love stretched toward you, longing to welcome you into His place of emotional rest.

Father, Please help me accept Your forgiveness which frees me from the bondage of sin and guilt. Open my heart to understand Your gift of grace and help me to respond to it in this New Year.

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January 3, 2005—

Dragon Scales

Dark is the stain that we cannot hide—What can avail to wash it away? Look! There is flowing a crimson tide—Whiter than snow you may be today.
                                                                       Grace Greater Than Our Sin
                                                                           Text by Julia H. Johnston

God in His grace doesn’t leave us like we are. While His grace covers our sins, it is also His grace that changes us, transforming us into the image of Christ. And, sometimes, God’s transforming grace work through pain.

A while back, I went through a difficult season. I’d prayed for intimacy with Christ and, though coming to know Him better, I also experienced hard times. Assault after assault left me frightened and shielded and I began to shut down from God.

I knew intimacy with Him meant begin open before Him, but afraid it would hurt more to face my pain, I didn’t invite the Lord into it. A numb deadness covered me while depression threatened.

Finally, I asked a friend to pray with me. She confronted the lie—that I could ignore all that had happened and the resulting deeply felt anger.

“You’re hurting already,” she pointed out. “Why not be real before God?

I did. I cried and poured my heart out to Him in the midst of a small circle of praying women.

Later, alone in the car, I tried to process the pain I’d admitted. ”You know, God,” I said. “Sometimes getting to know you hurts like crazy. Intimacy with You can be very painful.”

Instantly, a scene from a book in C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia played my mind. 

A boy, I believe his name was Eustace, was held in bondage by a dragon's body. Eustace had sneaked into the dragon’s liar to steal the jewels the beast guarded.

But, instead of grasping the treasure, his greed had caused an enchantment to turn him into the dragon. Horrified, Eustace pounded around the cave, trying to shed the horrible body he now lived in.

In desperation, Eustace finally called to Alsan, the Christ figure in the book. The majestic lion bounded into the cave and ever so lovingly came to the boy’s rescue.

But the process was painful. 

Layer after layer of dragon skin had to be ripped away by Aslan’s sharp claws before the boy could be free of the shell that held him captive.

At that moment the Lord whispered to my heart, “It’s not intimacy with me that hurts, Paula. It’s getting rid of the old skin that enslaves you.”

Like Eustace, tough, thick scales, caused by my own sins and lies from the enemy of my soul, covered the real me. My loving Lord had come to the rescue, allowing pain in my life that ultimately resulted in His purposes—the shedding of another layer of outward scum.

And the revealing of the person He is making me to be.

So I chose in that season to go to that raw, angry, tired place I was afraid of. I spat out my accusations against the Lord and cried for mercy, begging Him to take me to a place of faith and truth once more.

I had to be honest before Him and see where that took me.

I had to give Him permission to extend a strong, sharp claw and rip away the stain of sin in my life.

For a while I thought I’d gone backwards in my walk of faith—frustrated by my doubts, anger, and fears. But, having emerged from the other side I realized I’d only gone deeper with the Lord.

A phrase from a song sung by Sara Groves ministered to my heart and whispered His purposes. “And in His hands, the pain and hurt feels less like scars and more like character.”

I’m glad God ripped away that yucky old layer of scales. And I have no doubt but that in His perfect time, He’ll tackle yet another rough place.

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January 17, 2005 —

Polishing Grace

Marvelous grace of our loving Lord, Grace that exceeds our sin and our guilt! Yonder on Calvary’s mount outpoured—There where the blood of the Lamb was spilt.      Grace Greater Than Our Sin
             Text by Julia H. Johnston

And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself perfect, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.     I Peter 5:10 NASB

Sometimes people get nervous when talking about grace. They’re concerned that to fully rely on God’s forgiving grace gives us a license to remain sinners and ignore our mistakes. But living in a rule driven state doesn’t make us holy, either. Focusing on rules almost always results in guilt from failure or pride from success, neither of which is conducive to experiencing consistency in our relationship with God. Sometimes, trying really hard to be good actually puts so much focus on sin that we grow worse instead of better!

As Christians, we want to be holy. Some people think we’re left with two options—to accept Christ’s forgiving grace and believe He covers our sin (and give up on change) or to work really hard to live a holy life by following all the rules and make ourselves change (which often is a set-up for failure or outward performance without inner transformation).

There is another way.

My dear friend since childhood, Caryl Kirtley, told me a story that illustrates this. She wrote: “A few months ago, I inherited some silver.  For hours, I painstakingly worked to get all the years of tarnish off. While I scrubbed, God gave me an aha. We're just like that silver.  We have areas that aren’t too tarnished, areas that are so tarnished, deep in the crevices, that it seems we will never be beautiful again, and in-between areas. Overall, not a pretty sight! BUT, when we give ourselves over to Him, He works on those places—removing the tarnish and leaving a beautiful patina. It doesn't look brand new, but it looks BETTER—more beautiful than we imagined possible.

“And no matter how immaculate we try to remain, we live in a dirty world that inevitably gets on us. Just like silver, not kept pure and clean, we find ourselves in His hands many times over as He removes new tarnish.”

Silver is always silver. Its worth is unchanged before or after the tarnish is wiped away. But as silver is polished, there is ever increasing beauty. My friend says that the more frequently she places herself in the Father’s hands, the less severe is the polishing job required.

Her thoughts remind me that the real answer to my failure is continuous surrender. And even in that, there is grace.

On my own, I often struggle to submit to Him. Sometimes the best I can do is to pray that He’ll give me the ability to be placed beneath His polishing cloth. In these times, I am encouraged by the words in Philippians 2:13, “For God is working in you, giving you the desire to obey him and the power to do what pleases him.” (NLT).

As I surrender to His cleaning, I am reminded that it is not my innate worth at stake—that was already purchased at the cross. He’s simply making me shine. And I try to be patient with myself. The Father will rub the tarnish off one area quickly, but another area may take more time. In His mercy, He doesn’t scrub some places until He knows I’m up to the polishing. Malachi 3:3 (NIV) is a reminder that God will sit “as a refiner and purifier of silver.” I can trust Him as the Master Designer of my life.

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