Those who know me know that I rarely read one book at a time. Right now I'm in the middle of several and lately I kept reading the same sort of message, no matter who I was reading: Larry Crabb to Johnathan Edwards to Nancy Lee DeMoss to Thomas Merton (and I could go on)-- they were all saying the same thing. I'll quote the one I was reading when everything seemed to come to ahead:
"The person who has never acknowledged Christ's right to rule over his life has no basis for assurance of salvation. he may claim to be a Christian; he may have walked an aisle or prayed the sinner's prayer, he way know how to speak "Christianese"; he may be heavily involved in Christian activities; but if he thinks he can have a relationship with God by retaining control over his life and somehow trying to fit Jesus in with everything else, he is deceived and is still at war with God."
-Nancy Leigh DeMoss, Surrender, from the trilogy Brokenness, Surrender, Holiness
This is what I was reading God seized my heart and put my face between his hands and turned it up towards his countenance. I have been frustrated lately in my efforts to change some things in my life--some of them on the level of "bad habits" and some easily fell in the category of outright breaking of God's commandments. But I know that truly they are all issues of the heart, because we do what we want to do. That's what we eventually do, anyway. And no lasting change would come in my behavior or my feelings until my heart changed. I knew in my heart that I loved the world. I know that I love the opinions of men and become a slave to such fear daily. (Most specifically, lately, the opinion of my husband. And though I'm supposed to revere and obey him and should want to please him, there is no fear in love, so if I'm walking in fear, something is seriously wrong) And my heart did not hate sin. I was not facing, honestly, the wall I was building brick by brick between my and my family and me and my God. (And all the people who were already out of sight because the walls were complete.)
But what hit me at this moment, is that I had not called Jesus "Lord". I called him "Lord" in the morning, before the kids get up and the demands of the day come, but I have held onto the right to rule my own life and was making decisions all day long that I knew He would not approve of, and that Nick would not approve of, and when it comes right down to it, I did not approve of. In fact, there was a little girl, a long time ago, who looked just like me, but shorter and with less gray hair, that would be shocked at the things I do, the sneaking, the lying, the distrust of almost everyone. So no, he was not Lord, absolute authority, in my life. I could not be described as a slave to him in any sense of the word, but rather a slave to my fear, my passions, to anger, to unbelief.
No, if I looked at what my life had seemed to become, my lips worshiped, but my heart was far from him. Now what's confusing is, I could still come to experience his presence in my life. I've heard his voice. But is this the evidence that is the proof that I'm looking for? To be free to obey God is what Romans says is the fruit of new life, of a new heart, of being buried with Christ (rejecting the world) and being raised with him to new life (a life which values Kingdom things, not things that feed the flesh).
So I was left with this dilemma: I needed to let Jesus rule my life, but I knew it seemed impossible because my heart was still bent towards the unholy trinity of "I want, I feel, I need". It would just be another empty promise made in the morning, broken later in the day. (Though this was actually close to midnight when this all happened, so even worse, I had a whole night to sleep off the effects of my resolve. But I know it would take more than resolve. So something else needed to happen, something I'd be completely out of control of whether it happened or not. Something I could not do for myself.
Now I have told God that I surrendered everything before. And I have asked for a new heart before. But there a few things different this time. I think this is the first time it clicked together at the same time, the conviction that I needed to surrender combined with the realization of my need for a new heart with new desires. This is the first time I've come before him with such absolute honesty of how much I had hated him and spurned him every time I chose to be deaf to his voice and... oh, I don't know. It's so hard to describe other than being in the light. He gave me the grace, at that moment, to come so completely into the light, where everything became so clear. And as I brought one thing after another before him in confession, his holiness surrounded me and healing was in the air.
The biggest difference this has made in my life is not that it's enabling me to "get my act together". That would be old way, linear thinking--striving to live up to a code, the law, a standard. The biggest difference is that it's brought peace. I have been at war with God and not been admitting to it. My heart was constantly straining in the other direction, so obedience took so much work. Just existing, took so much work, because my head was full of so much knowledge of how things ought to be. So guilt just weighed me down, the guilt of knowing that I didn't want what I ought to want. Now I have lifted that work up to the Lord and my hope is completely in him to make it happen.
By the way, here are a list of some of the things that I laid down including many that I didn't expect to be on the list:
- the right to spend money how I want to (I am the one who takes care of the bills and who knows where all the balances are at on all the credit cards, and though I know it eventually comes out
- the right to my time, to have any leisure even
- the right to sleep
- the right to a good marriage
- the right to have good kids
- the right to stay home with my kids and home school them
- the right to fellowship with other believers (Really, this a a privilege, not a right. And the kind of fellowship that first century believers enjoyed is such a rare commodity today, how could it possibly be considered a right?)
- the right to a devotional time in the morning, or any other part of the day.
- the right to read
- the right to feel good or be comfortable
- the right to be useful in God's kingdom. I am only called to readiness.
I'll close with these words by Thomas Merton, which contain a surprising definition of lukewarm, but rings true...at least it did in my life:
"There is no neutrality between gratitude and ingratitude. Those who are not grateful soon begin to complain of everything. Those who do not love, hate. In the spiritual life there is no such thing as an indifference to love or hate. That is why tepidity (which seems to be indifferent) is so detestable. It is hate disguised as love.
Tepidity, in which the soul is neither "hot or cold"--neither frankly loves nor frankly hates--is a state in which one rejects God and rejects the will of God while maintaining an exterior pretense of loving Him in order to keep out of trouble and save one's supposed self-respect. "
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