lead me to the cross

that is what my heart keeps crying out to jesus. i'm trying to let him take every thought captive, and any time a thought creeps in that i do not need to meditate on, i immediately ask him to lead me to the cross. at the cross everything is made right: hurts, fears, lonliness, rejection, guilt, shame, confusion, pride. it's all rectified. romans 12:2 tells us to be "renewed by the transforming of your mind." that's what i need (and i need it often): renewal through the transformation of my mind. only christ can do that.

i read a quote this morning that struck my heart:

the lord never came to deliver men from the consequences of their sin while yet those sins still remained. yet men, loving their sins and feeling nothing of the dread of their hatefulness have, consistent with their condition, constantly taken this word concerning the lord to mean that jesus came to deliver them from the punishment of their sins. (george macdonald)

wow. that's pretty much dead on. the bible tells us that he came to deliver us from our sins. from our sins. he came to deliver us from the bondage of our human nature - the very thing we were born in to - the evil that penetrates our hearts. when you think about it that way it changes everything - the way it's intended to. when we are delivered from our sin, it doesn't mean we don't sin ever again - but it means we are free from it's control over us. we can not sin. we're no longer slaves to the sin that once controlled us. it's not about the consequences. it's about the heart; it's about reconciliation; it's about holiness; it's about being made right with the one who knitted our souls and hearts and bodies together long before we'd say our first curse word, think our first lustful thought, tell our first white lie, utter our first unkind word. i found this quote this morning, too:

that is why he warned people to "count the cost" before becoming christians. "make no mistake," he says, "if you let me, i'll make you perfect. the moment you put yourself in my hands, that's what you're in for. nothing less or other than that." (cs lewis)

i think it's really interesting that lewis used the word "let." if you let me. mostly i'm pretty sure i don't let jesus do much of anything in my heart. i say that i want him to, but then as soon as he starts to, and it gets a little (or a lot) uncomfortable, i want out. i suddenly no longer desire to learn or change or grow or become more like him; i'm satisfied to slip back in to my comfortable but slimey, smelly, rotting sin.

i'm seeing that in my life right now. i made a decision to be obedient. i was obedient. it's painful. i mean it's really uncomfortable. i don't want to be obedient anymore. i want to go back to doing what i was doing. instead of clinging to jesus, finding relief in him, and allowing him to stretch me and change me, and crying out for him to help me glean all he wants to teach me right now, i've been crying out for him to just give me back the thing i obediently gave up. it reminds me of another quote from cs lewis:

safe? of course he isn't safe, but he's good.

there is nothing "safe" in my life when i place my life in jesus' hands. there is nothing safe from his destruction, because he will tear down, dismantle, break, and ultimately destroy anything in me that is not of himself. the beauty of that truth is that through all the wreckage is the promise that everything he does is for my good. the weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning. he is the god who only does wonderful things. then of course, there's the other side of this seemingly scary fact: there is no safer place to be than in jesus' hands. it's kind of like being in the eye of a hurricane. anywhere else in the storm or on the fringes of the storm, and you're vulnerable - you're unsafe. but right there in the center of it, you're safe - everything is calm. danger and destruction and chaos may surround you on all sides, and it might be a lot bigger than your little piece of calm - but right there in the eye of the storm you're safe. somehow that helps me to grasp what jesus is trying to teach me. it's like peter walking on water. he stepped out of the boat on the waves. he was "unsafe," in theory. but he wasn't truely helpless until he took his eyes off of jesus - til he lost focus. that's when he began to be overcome by the violent ocean and drown.

i think part of it comes down to do i really believe this? do i really believe that the cross is what it is? do i really believe the message of jesus? when i think about the moments that i resist him and want my way, i know that i'm wrestling my will versus his: i don't trust that his will is greater than my own. not necessarily that, but i'm afraid of just how hard, painful, scary, and uncomfortable his will is going to be. my own sinfulness speaks so loudly sometimes and tells me that my will is definitely the better way to go. i some how always manage to fail to learn the lesson that my way never gets me where i want to go. ever. so even though i fight his will, i absolutely believe that the cross is what it is. i trust jesus and his message with everything in me. it's kind of weird. even if i tried not to believe it, i couldn't. jesus has already changed my heart so much that i know he is who is says he is; i know the work of the cross is real and relevant.

so. all that to say: i am approaching this season in my life with a new attitude. instead of being so easily satisfied by my sin, i'm going to press in to jesus as he refines my heart. i'm going to push through the painfulness and uncomfortableness, and trust that joy will come in the morning (whenever morning may be). i'm going to praise him for the work he is doing in my life, for loving me so much that he cannot leave me in my sinfulness, for taking me apart and making me more like himself, for the cross (another example of pain that was necessary for righteousness, healing, and completion*), and for deliverance from my sin. i'm not going to pray for him to leave me alone or for him to give back what was taken away. i'm not going to ask out. i'm going to allow him to continue to make me vulnerable and expose my sin and rip it from my life, all the while trusting that he alone is god, and he alone is good.

*a side note: the cross was necessary for jesus to complete the atoning work of god to complete the work of salvation in our hearts. it was painful and there was suffering involved and most definitely uncomfortable - jesus didn't want to do it (remember how he begged god for another way in gesthemane?), but it was necessary for completion. jesus promises that his work in our lives is so that we are lacking nothing. hmm. i'll take the uncomfortable seasons of stretching and molding and breaking to be complete.