The Words I Wish I Had

Sometimes I need words. These are the words I wish I had to write down because it is exactly how Adrienne and I feel right now. His past tense is our present tense. This is a lot, but it is worth reading...because I know we aren't the only ones who need these words:

From Hudson Taylor's Spiritual Secret:

     "Well...my mind has been greatly exercised for six to eight months past, feeling the need personally and for our Mission of more holiness, life and power in our souls. But personal need stood first and was the greatest. I felt the ingratitude, the danger, the sin of not living nearer to God. I prayed, agonized, fasted, strove, made resolutions, read the Word more diligently, sought more time for meditation- but all without avail. Everyday, almost every hour, the consciousness of sin oppressed me.
     I knew that if only I could abide in Christ all would be well, but I could not. I would be gin the day with prayer, determined not to take my eye off him for a moment, but the pressure of duties, sometimes often very trying, and constant interruptions apt to be so wearying, caused me to forget him...
     Then came the question, is there no rescue? Must it be thus  to the end- constant conflict, and too often defeat? How could I preach with sincerity that, to those who receive Jesus, 'to them he gave the power to become the sons of God' (i.e. Godlike) when it was not so in my experience?...I felt i was a child of God. His Spirit in my heart would cry, in spite of all, 'Abba, Father.' But to rise to my privileges as a child, I was utterly powerless.
     ...There was nothing I so much desired as holiness, nothing I so much needed; but far from in any measure attaining it, the more I strove after it, the more it alluded my grasp, until hope itself almost died out, and I began to think that- perhaps to make heaven the sweeter- God would not give it down here...
     I would not give you the impression that this was the only experience of those long, weary months. It was a too frequent state of soul, and that towards which I was tending, which almost ended in despair. And yet, never did Christ seem more precious; a Saviour who could and would save such a sinner!...And sometimes there were seasons not only of peace but of joy in the Lord; but they were transitory, and at best there was a sad lack of power...
     All the time I felt assured that there was in Christ all I needed, but the practical questions was- how to get it out. He was rich truly, but I was poor; He was strong, but I weak. I knew full well that there was in the root, the stem, abundant fatness, but how to get it into my puny branch was the question. As gradually light dawned, I saw that faith was the only requisite-was the hand to lay hold on His fullness and make it mine. But I had not this faith." [Bolding is my emphasis]

The truth I cling to now:
I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. (Galatians 2:20 ESV)

Unafraidness

Jesus wasn’t ever afraid to express the way he was affected by people and his circumstances. He wasn’t ever afraid.

Thursday of this week was our last day traveling to Seattle and our first day arriving. My emotions were at times boiling over with fear and frustration and other times bottled up behind fear of who I know I can be when those emotions take over.

So, after 2200 miles plus driving, a week of being in different beds while longing for our own, missing heart friends and seeing only unfamiliar faces, and looking forward to an unknown (and often scary) future, I almost broke down completely at Palouse Falls State Park in Washington.

I am with my favorite people in the world in some of the most beautiful places in the world and I am emotionally stunted, frustrated and not present. The reflected Beauty of the falls can’t move my immovable heart. My wife and daughter pick up on how I am feeling and decide just to let me be so I don’t overreact towards them.

The hardest thing of all: I am completely aware of all of this. I am completely aware of my sinful self-absorption and how my faith-drained thoughts are fueling my emotional disconnectedness.

These are not my finest moments.

On my mind the entire time is Galatians 2:20: “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

If I am “crucified with Christ” and “Christ lives in me” then why am I still a man who can get to this place?  Where is his power not to live this way? Where is his power not to be afraid and, even better, to live in Jesus’ unafraidness?

I guess you call that “faith.” Unafriadness is called faith.

Somehwere between Palouse Falls and the Columbia River on I-90, considering these precious words from Paul’s letter, the Spirit took me to the heart of it: I know how much we need the Father to come through in so many ways, but I do not always believe he will come through. Desperation with out the feeling of hope.

I turned to my sweet wife and shared these things with her and, for the first time in too long, I started to cry. Not the kind that makes our faces look different the rest of the day, but the kind that helps me express the deepest part of what I am feeling: I want to live trusting Jesus.

The kind of trust that sees the deep need in front of us and rests in knowing that, if the Father didn’t spare his Son, how will he hold back anything else that is good? (see Rom 8:31-32)

What if I could stop striving (especially on the inside) and willfully let go and hold on to the One who made promises to us because of who we are in Christ?

What if the crucified life is not even a life of trying to stir up preciously small amounts of faith, but living out Jesus’ very own faith?

As missionary to inland China, Hudson Taylor once wrote to his sister:

“All the time I felt assured that there was in Christ all I needed, but the practical question was-how do I get it out…I knew full well that there was in the root, the stem, abundant fatness, but how to get it in my puny branch was the question…I have striven in vain to rest in Him. I’ll strive no more. For has not He promised to abide with me- never to leave me, never to fail me?”

Jesus was never afraid to express himself because he knew, not that he had it altogether (which he did, but that’s another story), but because he knew the Father was with him. He trusted the Father by the Spirit to shape his responses to people and to circumstances.

He knew he wasn’t alone in engaging the world and loving people. 

So my heart question is “what would our lives look like if we lived Jesus’ faith and didn’t rely on our own?” How would we feel waking up and what would we see in people as we passed them on the street? How would my words be more gentle…or more confrontative?

I want the kind of life where I no longer live, but I know Christ lives in me…and can rest in that. Where all of life is rest, and that is where my Savior shows his glory in ways that make us all marvel.