Grace and humility

Years ago, someone wrote a book entitled, “Grace is not a Blue-eyed Blonde” with intention to clear up the meaning of biblical grace. This word does have several definitions. It is said to be ‘God’s undeserved kindness’ or ‘God’s Riches at Christ’s Expense.’ My favorite is: ‘a revelation of Jesus Christ that produces a changed life.’

This definition fits my experience of salvation; God opened my heart to realize who Jesus is and what He has done in such a way that I was born anew. It also fits the daily experience of living by grace, growing more like Jesus as He reveals Himself to me through His Word and through my relationship with Him.

The book of job illustrates this definition too. Job had many troubles. He did not know that he was a battleground. Satan challenged the Lord saying if Job was not blessed by God, the faith that God gave him would crumble. God gave this evil being access to do whatever he wanted, only he was not allowed to take Job’s life.

Throughout his trial, Job had no idea what was going on in the spiritual realm. He only knew that he lost everything except his wife and his life. At first, he accepted that God’s hand was on him, but when his three friends began accusing him, things changed. They said he must have done something to deserve this treatment and was being punished. Job knew that was not true and defended himself. However, he became frustrated with their arguments and dangerously close to accusing God of wrong-doing.

In the end, God spoke to him. Here is part of the conversation:

And the Lord said to Job: “Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty? He who argues with God, let him answer it.” Then Job answered the Lord and said: “Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth. I have spoken once, and I will not answer; twice, but I will proceed no further.” (Job 40:1–5)

Then Job answered the Lord and said: “I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. ‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’ Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. ‘Hear, and I will speak; I will question you, and you make it known to me.’ I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you; therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” (Job 42:1–6)

Job’s attitude of humility came when his eyes saw God, a sovereign act of grace. This ‘seeing’ was not necessarily literal, but the presence of God was so real to him that he used those words. This revelation of God changed Job and moved him to humility.

David experienced the same thing after his sin was uncovered and forgiven. He described the change of heart and said: “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” (Psalm 51:17)

For us, the ultimate revelation of God comes through Jesus Christ. The New Testament says things like:

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1:14)

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit. (2 Corinthians 3:17–18)

Being transformed into the image of Jesus Christ is the destiny of those who believe in Him. As we gaze upon His glory and worship His holy name, we are both humbled and exalted, humbled because we realize who He is and that we are unworthy of His love. Yet we are exalted because we are brought close to Him in that humble state: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)

God’s prophets foretell this grace will happen when Jesus comes the second time —in seeing Him, people will be broken and transformed:

“And I will pour out on the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of grace and pleas for mercy, so that, when they look on me, on him whom they have pierced, they shall mourn for him, as one mourns for an only child, and weep bitterly over him, as one weeps over a firstborn.” (Zechariah 12:10)

Brokenness isn’t the best feeling in the world. Having a contrite heart runs contrary to pride and that ‘self-confidence’ that is supposed to characterize ‘successful’ people. However, it is in this condition that God changes lives. The wisest man said, “Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of face the heart is made glad.” (Ecclesiastes 7:3)

^^^^^^^^

Jesus, I’ve not been fond of feeling broken or contrite, but I realize why these attitudes are necessary to faith. When I think I am important, or self-sufficient, or have merit in myself, I immediately stop trusting You and stop the process of being transformed into Your likeness. Being humble and sorry for my sin keeps me in the right attitude before You.

Let sorrow do its work . . .

When Jesus knelt in the garden prior to the awful sorrow of death, He prayed first a short question — should He ask to be delivered — yet quickly offered up His heart on the matter. Glorifying God was more important than anything else . . .

“Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But for this purpose I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven: “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” (John 12:27–28)

Chambers says that his own attitude toward sorrow and difficulty is not to ask they may be prevented, but to ask that the person God created him to be would survive the horror of sorrows. He says that Jesus was not saved from the hour, but out of the hour. That is, He went into the worst that could happen, willing that God be glorified in it, and through that horror He survived. He rose from the dead and lives forevermore!

Most of us don’t want any suffering in this world, but today’s news headlines are filled with it. As I read a portion of the psalms before this, my heart felt like it would break over the descriptions of the sorrow in the life of the psalmist and how they match my own grief for the godlessness in my world.

The suffering is not only real but seems to increase day by day. I want to hide in my studio and not read or listen to the news, but that is not how Jesus would respond. Sorrow is a fact of life and it must be met with the same thoughts expressed by the Savior in Gethsemane.

For Jesus, it led to triumph over death. For us, sorrow can give us triumph over self-centered sin. Along with Chambers, I say it can do that, if met with the attitude of Jesus Christ. Otherwise, it will turn us into whining, bitter people who have little compassion for others and a great deal of resentment toward God.

The wisest man, Solomon, said, “Sorrow is better than laughter, for by a sad countenance the heart is made better.” (Ecclesiastes 7:3) He knew the changes that happened in his own life because of sorrow.

Suffering can whack away the parts of me that do not look like Jesus, but it can also inflate the ugliness in me and make my sinful self the only thing other people see or experience. Success does not make me more holy, nor does mediocrity. As Chambers says, those who avoid sorrow become heady and proud, or continually complaining about something. I can be more like Jesus when sorrow routs out my sinful and selfish attitudes and makes of me a person who not only empathizes with the pain of others, but is available to listen and give aid.

Maybe that is one undercurrent reason that I resist the positives that come with the experience of trouble. I know in my heart that it will change me into a compassionate, caring person who has more time for others, and what I selfishly want is more time for me. 

No pain ever again

For most people, the joy of something new does not last very long. For most, the honeymoon is over in six to eighteen months. A new car loses its shine even faster, as do new shoes, clothes and other material things. The delight of a new baby might stick with us, but all parents know how that joy also has its ups and downs.

Pain is another thing. It can stay with us for years, which means that our capacity for pain is greater than we would like it to be. Jesus was fully God was also fully human. He sweat blood in the garden and endured pain on the cross that we cannot fathom, demonstrating the human capacity for pain. Joy does not last that long, at least here and now. Yet one day both capacities will change when…

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. (Revelation 21:4)

I’d like to avoid pain right now. The pain of childbirth is one thing, and for most is quickly forgotten, but other suffering is not so quick to disappear. However, today’s devotional reading reminds me that that pain is at the root of life and growth, so much so that through pain we are carried to higher levels.

In suffering I was born. Pain informs me when something is wrong and teaches me lessons I do not forget. By the pain endured by Christ, I was redeemed and set free from the power and penalty of sin. Yes, pain is a curse, but it also has power. The devotional writer points out that we owe our laws to it, and all our art, our immortal books and especially our salvation.

Also, in every country and in every age people have looked on suffering and pain as something that was acceptable to God. What is so mysterious about pain that folks instinctively sense that in bearing it, God will be pleased? While such thoughts can have their twisted side and motivate bizarre methods of “pleasing the gods” such as walking on fire or sacrificing children, this universal instinct points to a reality; God says that sorrow is better than laughter (Ecclesiastes 7:3). The New Testament adds that…

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. (2 Corinthians 4:8–11)

Pain and affliction bring death to the old nature that God might bring forth the life of Christ that is in me. Sin is such that I cling to what is easy, familiar, and especially what gives me comfort and even glory. God’s way is self-denial, not to earn His favor but to get out of His way. Jesus lives in me but I can block Him by wanting joy all the time. Yet in this body and life, I do not have the capacity to be joyful all the time. In fact, supreme and extended joy can actually give me a supreme and extended headache.

The good news is that God’s Word also says the pain I dread now will be wiped away. God will give me a new capacity for joy, one that can handle an eternity full of it. Until then, these words encourage me…

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16–18)

The goal is God, not joy

After prayer yesterday, joy filled my heart. Then, later in the day and for no reason, I was sad. I examined my heart and actions, but was unable to pinpoint any reason for that Holy Spirit joy abandoning me. This morning I thought of a verse in Ecclesiastes that says, “Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of face the heart is made glad” (Ecclesiastes 7:3).

Some versions say that in sorrow the heart is made “better.” Could it be that in joy, I don’t think much about my spiritual state? It is only when that joy is gone that I wonder if my life is pleasing God, and in that wonder, seek to make sure it is? Is it also possible to enjoy the joy more than the One who gives it? Would it be better for my spiritual life if He withdrew it so I might realize that my priorities have slipped?

Lest I think this is too much navel gazing, this morning’s devotional reading is again about the permanent value of suffering. Mild as unexplained sadness might be, it is a form of suffering and it does have value.

And I saw what appeared to be a sea of glass mingled with fire—and also those who had conquered the beast and its image and the number of its name, standing beside the sea of glass with harps of God in their hands. (Revelation 15:2)

The devotionals says that “in almost every Christian’s experience come times of despondency and gloom, when there seems to be a depletion of the spiritual life, when the fountains that used to burst with water are grown dry; when love is loveless, hope hopeless, and enthusiasm so dead that it is hard to believe that it ever lived.”

My mood yesterday was not that low, but there have been days when all I could do was grab hold of the basics of my faith: God is with me, even if I cannot perceive Him, my sins are confessed and forgiven even if I feel like the lowest of the low, and Jesus loves me with an everlasting love. Nothing can change the unchanging God, including my failure to joyfully appreciate His grace and goodness.

The devotional also offers another thought. After a day (or a week or much longer) of feeling God has abandoned me, when that dark spell is over and joy returns, that joy has “a new color, a new warmth.” Instead of merely feeling fed and satisfied, the sense of being rescued is richer and deeper. I had been a sheep made to lie down in green pastures (saying ‘ahhhh’) but a spell of sadness gives a renewed sense of the voice of Jesus who “left the ninety-nine in the wilderness” and came to rescue me, even though I’m not sure what made me wander astray.

There is more. I complain that things seem hard when nothing has changed to make them so, but when I do not complain but seek God, then He grants grace to press on to that goal of being close to Him again. Today’s reading likens this to climbing a mountain. It says, “To climb the mountain on its hardest side, where its granite ribs press out most ruggedly to make your climbing difficult, where you must skirt chasms and clamber down and up ravines, all this has its compensation. You know the mountain better when you reach its top.”

His goal is never despondency and defeat, but to test and prove faith and perseverance, and to bring me into a place of victory where I joyfully stand in a high and holy place — making music that He gives me the ability to make. I just need to focus less on the music and the joy, and more on the One who hands me the harp.

(Artwork by the amazing Nathan Green)