Waiting for Grace

...and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.--Romans 5:5

One of my best friends got married this week. As I danced my heart out at the wedding (unofficial bridesmaid's duty), I looked around me at the rich collection of friends I have, and I thought with joy about how much God has blessed me over the years. He has always provided people for me, people to help me in practical and spiritual ways. He has never failed to provide for me financially or otherwise. What a glorious testimony I have of His goodness!

The day after the wedding, I was thinking about...surprise!...marriage. Marriage between two believing people is a precious gift from God. (I know, I sound like an old grandma...but it's the truth!) It's a gift I've always known is coming to me, and which I've always longed to receive--not because I want to be a fairy tale princess or a bridezilla, but because I want to be united with a man just as Christ is united with the church, able to more fully use my gifts for Him as I work alongside another person.

But I am not married yet. And sometimes, I tend to slip into a wrong perspective about this.

I look back and see all the growth I've made over the years and am grateful that I had the opportunity to grow as a single person. I have learned things that will make me a better wife, and I am glad that I am not married yet.

But then that leads me to think: well, I suppose I wasn't good enough to be married before now. I guess I had to grow a lot to reach this point...and what's more, I'm still not married, so I must still not be good enough.

You can believe this about any gift from God that you are waiting for, be it ministry, a family, a vision for your life: that you are not responsible enough, not righteous enough, not stable enough, to handle it, and that's why God (whom we often see as a chiding parent) hasn't given it to you yet.

That's a lie.

Granted, you shouldn't rush into marriage knowing you have a ton of issues that will make it more difficult. That's not wise. However, you don't have to reach some magical point of perfection before God sees fit to reward you with it.

That's how I've seen it: as a reward. I see it as something He doesn't want to give me, something He's withholding, like a carrot before a horse, to make me keep going. Most of the time, I don't see marriage as something that God actually wants for me. In reality, it's a promise to be fulfilled, a gift that He is delighted to give me.

That's because, like any human, I think this whole life thing is about me--my journey, my worthiness, my achievements. If I haven't gotten something I want, surely it is my fault.

Is there anything that you're seeing this way in your life? Is there any dream yet unfulfilled that you consider yourself unworthy to receive?

Because, if you had to be worthy to receive things from God, Jesus would never have come down here to die for you.

"Well, I guess they're just not worthy enough to receive my grace. Guess I'd better keep it up here."

Nope: But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."--2 Corinthians 12:9

The very definition of grace is "unmerited favor"--God loving you and blessing you regardless of whether or not you're "good enough." You don't have to "grow" to a certain predetermined (and ambiguous) measurement in order to receive it. It just is. It's not a reward. It's a gift.

God isn't denying me the gift of marriage; He's just delaying it until His time is right. It's not about whether I'm "ready" for it; in fact, it's not about me at all, but about His plan.

Shocker: it's not about me.

Sometimes, when I go to a wedding, in spite of my excitement for the bride and groom, I tend to feel like a kid who's been told I have to repeat first grade because the first time wasn't good enough. But that's not the case. I don't think He sees us all on some path to perfection, and those of us who don't make the cut have to sit at the kids' table a bit longer. He's not hiding me away in some incubator.

Like I said, it's actually not about me.

Yes, He does pinch and mold us, like a potter with clay. But He isn't looking at us with scrutiny. He's looking at us with love. And the dreams He's given us (marriage, ministry, relationships and works that honor Him) matter to Him--He gave them to us!

You don't have to confess every sin and "get your heart right" before you take communion (in spite of what some legalistic churches have taught you), because communion is a sign of what Jesus has already done rather than a reminder of how sinful you are and how you don't deserve it. It's not about you, but about Him. Salvation isn't about whether or not you are "good enough," but about how sufficient His goodness is.

In the same way, marriage (or any other gift from God) is not about how "good enough" or "ready enough" you are. It's bigger than that. It's about how good He is.

If it's not about me, I know who it IS about: Jesus Christ. As always.

And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.--Colossians 1:17

Enough said.

So my identity isn't "Girl-who-doesn't-deserve-to-be-married-yet," but rather, "Daughter-of-a-king-who-rejoices-in-her." My identity is defined in relation to who God is, not who I am according to my earthly status--married, single, or otherwise.

Grace is our new identity. Sometimes we feel we are waiting to receive tangible gifts from Him, but it doesn't necessarily follow that we are unworthy to receive His gifts. He's just doing His thing. He's just blessing us beyond measure, in ways that will glorify Him beyond what we can imagine. And the best thing is, we never have to wait to receive grace. He never stops giving it. It's kind of His favorite thing.

And it's not like He's going to run out.

Speaking of identity....

Yet a little while and the world will see me no more, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. (John 14:19)

The world is not going to see you. The world is not going to recognize who you are. But just as you recognize the spirit of Jesus, now that He's left the world physically, He will recognize your spirit.

Which is pretty cool.

One of my favorite names for God is El Roi: the God who sees me. It doesn't matter how the world perceives you, because the one who knitted you together in your mother's womb knows when you sit down and when you rise up, and knows every thought in your mind and every word before it passes your lips (Psalm 139). Like most humans, I have such a powerful desire to be seen, recognized, and appreciated. I love that the world's rejection actually confirms my identity in Jesus, because the world rejected him, too.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. (John 14:27)

The world wants to criticize me and give me an identity of failure. Sometimes, even I want to give me an identity of failure.

It's a good thing Jesus doesn't give like the world gives. Or even like I give.

Recently, I've been trying to attach the identity of FAILURE to myself. I finished my contractual term yesterday, and I don't have another job lined up. I am moving back to Mississippi, and the stress of changing addresses and dealing with adult things makes me feel lazy, and I want to act like a baby. I feel whiny on the inside. Maybe I don't seem like a mess outwardly, but inwardly, I'm not the easiest person to get along with. (Good thing I'm the only one who has to live with me.) I am getting a little focused on my sin and failure.

But: We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. (Romans 6:4)

Christians often get stuck on "being good," on working out our faith, on sin. But sin is dead in Christ--and what we are dealing with is so much bigger than sin. It's not a matter of sin anymore; it's a matter of walking out your new identity in Christ.

We are dead, and so are our failures.

For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. (Romans 8:3-6)

I used to think, when I read that, that it was a call to set your mind on the Spirit--that we had to wage war daily against our flesh. And we do have to take every thought captive and submit our bodies to God daily. But I didn't understand that this isn't a commandment to make you feel guilty about not controlling your every thought. It's not about thoughts. It's about identity.

You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you. Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you. (Romans 8:9-11)

I know I'm quoting scripture all over the place, but you need to see this truth about your identity. Paul is not saying, "Don't set your mind on the flesh." He is saying, "Don't worry that you are one of those people that sets your mind on the flesh. If you have the Spirit of God in you, you aren't."

If you are a follower of Christ, alive by His Spirit, you are already setting your mind on the Spirit. God has already given you new life.

Any time you fail and sin, it's not really a matter of sin but a misunderstanding of your identity.

You are alive by the Spirit of God. All you have to do is start acting like it. Walk out the righteousness that you already are in Christ. When you have to make a choice to sin or not, remember who you are.

You are dead, and have been raised to a new life through Jesus. Because He lives, you also live.

But now that you have come to know God, or rather to be known by God, how can you turn back again to the weak and worthless elementary principles of the world, whose slaves you want to be once more? (Galatians 4:9)

He knows you. He sees you. And He doesn't see you like the world sees you. Start seeing with His eyes.

Identity: The New Has Come

A lot has gone down since I last posted. Granted, I posted a month and a half ago, so it's not like things haven't had a long time to brew! (My apologies for the inconsistency.)

I have been thinking a lot over the past couple weeks about this school year as it draws to a close...mostly because, when you teach kids, the end of the year kind of slams you in the face whether you wanted it to or not.

I've been testing my kids out of the program, and my data is, by normal human standards, great. But I don't operate by normal human standards. I'm a closet perfectionist. I kind of feel like I got a B when I should've gotten an A. I feel like if I had worked a little harder, invested a little more in my relationships with my tutors and students, these kids would have learned a lot more.

Forget that many of them who didn't make progress at midyear blew it out of the water on their final assessment; forget the constant love, appreciation, and affirmation I receive from my students and tutors (who are also my students, since I teach them to teach). I have built so many relationships that were difficult to build. But I have been agreeing with the lie that saturates the mentality of the world: that I am not good enough. That I have disappointed the people I care about.

Last week, I was taking a break at work because I was exhausted. When you work with kids, the only way to escape from human company is to lock yourself in the bathroom. I am not ashamed to admit that I locked the door and stood there staring at myself in the mirror for a long time. I was trying to overcome the near-crying experiences of the week and thinking over my regrets from the entire year. I was feeling like I'd failed at every relationship, not just at work, but outside of work, too. The enemy loves to take the one thing I really care about--loving people--and tell me I'm a failure at it.

God can speak to you anytime, even when you have locked yourself in the bathroom and are examining your hair in the mirror. While I was standing there, I heard a whisper: Your identity is hidden in Me.

I was like, "Yeah!...wait...that's not the verse..."

For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. (Colossians 3:3)

The verse (from one of my favorite books of the New Testament) says it's our life that is hidden in Christ. In that moment, I realized with a new shade of light that my identity is my new life in Jesus.

From now on, therefore, we regard no one according to the flesh. Even though we once regarded Christ according to the flesh, we regard him thus no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. (2 Corinthians 5:16-17)

Why have I been regarding myself according to the flesh? The new has come.

My identity doesn't rest in my relationships with others. It doesn't rest in what they think of me, or whether or not I have disappointed them. I can't mess up, because I have died, and in my place, a new woman has been born again--a woman who looks a lot like Jesus, because her identity is hidden with Him.

This week, I read Philippians. In chapter 3, Paul is warning his readers to be aware of people who "place confidence in" (that is, rest their whole faith identity on) rituals of the flesh, like circumcision, thinking that such things are what saves them. You might be familiar with the verses that follow:

If anyone else thinks he has confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumsized on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness, under the law blameless.

He is listing the things he placed faith in as the source of his identity before he knew Christ.

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith--that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.

He didn't have to rely on his own righteousness, his own achievements--his "perfect" score. That man was dead, and he was attaining the resurrection from the dead: new life in Christ.

Then comes one of my favorite verses:

But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you.

I don't think it was very mature for me to lock myself in the bathroom and think back on my past regrets. It's not very mature for me to feel bad about myself, a woman whom God has named perfect and whole in His son.

I didn't really fail. But who cares if I did? My identity is not in my work. It's in something that will never pass away.

It can be hard sometimes to remember to forget what lies behind and keep going toward our call. Jesus called us all to love people, and He has placed an even more specific call on my life to love people in exactly the ways I have been doing it this year, at home, at church, and at work. This is what I have to chase after, forgetting my regrets, because they don't matter.

When someone calls you, they use your name. They are telling you who you are and what you're going to do. Don't let the devil name you. He's a pathological liar (John 8:44). If you are a believer in Christ, you are born again, and that new identity is forever preserved and protected by the one who called you out of death into life--the one who spoke you into being by the word of His power. Let Him call you by name.