“Lord, to whom shall we go?"

I've come to realize more and more that there is no-one apart from Jesus Christ.

In my despair, in my fear, in my hopelessness it is to Jesus I cling, desperately reminding myself and the emotion that tries to sinfully wrest me away from Him that there is no-one else who can compare.

Sometimes I do not follow Him willing. Quite often, my sinful self wants to rebel. More often than not, I do. But I cannot turn away completely - because I am helpless without Him.

I cannot turn away - because He is all I have.

I cannot turn away - because without Him, I am nothing.

Why?

Simon Peter says it best.

From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.

“You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve.

Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

- John 6:66-69

life.death

Tonight, the preacher started by asking us to turn to a friend to discuss what we'd be living for if we didn't have faith.

The friend I was sitting next to is reasonably pedantic at times - so am I - so we spent the first few seconds being confused by the question: surely everyone lived by faith in something, even if it wasn't God? Then, somehow, we ended up re-interpreting his question as "what we'd be doing right now if we weren't at church".

My friend's response: "Well, I'd be dead."
Me: "Really?"
My friend: "Yes. I know myself. I'd have killed myself a long time ago."

It was a humbling moment of honesty - one I could identify with.

I'd had suicidal thoughts throughout my teenage years - anger, frustration, despair drove me at times to wonder what it'd be like to leave this world and its hurts, anguish and pain behind. I have one especially clear memory of a tumultuous evening in grade 11, when death seemed particularly enticing. I thought about it more seriously than I ever had, going through various options and trying to figure out which method was easiest (and cheapest!).

But for some reason, something said inside me: "NO. There's something more to life. Don't." A switch seemed to turn on inside me, and suddenly thoughts of death no longer seemed an option. I'd never before felt such a strong conviction that this would be a terrible mistake.

A few months later, I gave my life to Jesus. I wasn't expecting Him to be the answer - I already thought I was a Christian.

But since then, death has no longer been an option - whether I bring it upon myself physically, or, as an inevitable consequence of my spiritual rebellion and sin.

My friend's answer reminded me how some people, like myself, have been given life by Jesus multiple times: at birth as a baby, at birth as a Christian, and in saving myself from myself.

So if I stand, let me stand on the promise that you will pull me through
And if I can't, let me fall on the grace that first brought me to You

- Jars of Clay "If I stand"

[thanks to Marcus for the song lyrics]

24 April 2011: The night I decided not to be a Christian anymore - Part 2

I'd never seriously contemplated giving up - I'm no quitter. Especially if someone tells me I can't do something. But something was saying in me, Walk away, you are not good enough, you can't ever please God, you're going to carry on hurting Him, and carry on failing. You're an adultress, an idolater. Against that, another voice was whispering, quieter, stiller, weaker, Just hold on, don't believe the lies, God's grace is sufficient for you. Don't listen to the lies. Hold on.

The song ended, and I left the hall with everyone else. I wanted to tell someone, anyone, and ask them to pray with me, but at the same time, I suddenly realized that this was a battle I had to fight for myself. I felt like Jacob, wrestling with the Lord in the middle of the night. No-one else could be Jacob in my place.

It was a long night in many ways, but a good one. As I sat by the window, looking out at the lights sparkling in the city, I realized two very big things:

1). One of the biggest problems illuminated by this situation was that I make everything about myself. I felt unable to trust my own faithfulness, unable to trust in my own my own power in keeping focused on God. Meanwhile, it's only through God's power that I have come to know Him, and only through His power I will remain in Him. He is the one who provides the power with which I live daily for His glory. No matter how much I mess up, it's not up to me to call the shots - the only one who can ever tell me to quit is God. And He never will.

2). I had cheapened grace. My eyes had turned inwards, towards my sinfulness, away from Jesus and His sacrifice in making me white like bleach before Him. Yes, there are very few human partners who are able to deal with unfaithfulness, but our God is a loving and compassionate God, slow to anger. He is bigger than anything I can thow at Him, and His love for me through Jesus surpasses any of my iniquities, future, past and present.

The decision to walk away from God, as short as it had lasted in 5 minutes, was the best thing that could've happened to me. It's not something that would've worked so well for everyone as a shock into thinking and assessing their lifestyles, but it really opened my eyes to my tiredness of living a half-and-half life. I have realized that as much as I felt that I wanted to live a life without God, I cannot. He is all I have, and all I am. I also was rudely awakened into how at my utmost core, my foundational understandings were shaky, and how I had lost the plot a little.

So, where to now? What have I taken from my experience of seeing a future without God?

If anything, I have a renewed conviction that I must carry on as a Christian, but with a much realistic assessment of my struggles and the temptations I face. I am not completely re-energized - in fact, my sinful desires still have a firm grasp on me, and I am far more drained emotionally after this camp than encouraged. But I feel like I have finally looked at myself in the mirror - it's ugly, but at least now I know what I am dealing with. There are many things I need to work through. And no, I will not be sinfree and faithful the whole time, but God will do immeasurably more than I ask, and He is bigger than I've ever dreamt Him to be. And that is more than sufficient for me.

So, I carry on. Trusting, one step at a time, one minute at a time, one hour at a time, one day at a time. Back to reading His Word and praying. Back to trying. I'm tired of having a non-relationship relationship with the God of the Universe. It's time for the real thing.

24 April 2011: The night I decided not to be a Christian anymore - Part 1

As you can see from a few of my preceding posts, Equip was a really profound time. So how was it that I found myself on the last night, seriously contemplating giving up my walk with Jesus Christ? This is the story. [please read post 1 and 2.]

--

As Andrew's talks on Exodus continued, I started re-realizing the awesomeness, the intenseness, the power, the majesty of the Lord God Almighty. I had forgotten this in the last few months (if I'm honest, it's probably more like last year, or last two years). I'd fallen into the trap of making my God tiny, small enough to do my bidding when I wanted to, small enough to do my plans. But as Andrew worked clearly and faithfully through God's relationship with Exodus, my eyes were re-opened. I came to see that there was so much I'd been failing in, and little by little, I became more and more shaken at how I'd drifted away in pursuing a relationship with God.

Two particular points of his talks stand out:

The first, when we reached the Ten Commandments.
Andrew recontextualized these commandments within the framework of a typical human relationship. It's a given that when you enter into relationship with someone, you both spend time figuring out what you both do and do not like (if you don't tell each other directly from the start). For God, it's simple: You don't cheat on me with others, and you don't mess around with my name. Further, with commandments like 'do not murder', God's also saying, Don't mess around with those I have created. With these ten black and white commandments placed in such an everyday, familiar relational context, no longer did they seem unreasonable, illogical, or perplexing, but rather, obvious, a natural consequence, a perfectly reasonable expectation stemming from the objectives of a relationship.

The second, when we reached the part about the golden calf.
Andrew used the example of human relationships again to articulate how ridiculous it is when WE tell God what He is like, instead of letting Him tell us what He is like. Imagine a friend tells you that he only likes milk stout, not beer, not wine, not coffee. Just milk stout. How would he feel if you kept on buying him everything else except for milk stout? And you kept on telling him it was because he liked it? He'd be mad, right? Then why on earth did the Israelites think that God would be happy with their way of worshipping him (the golden calf), when He'd told them how, when, what, how He preferred??? Moreover, as I sat there listening to Andrew, I suddenly realized I'd made a golden calf out of God. I'd told Him to be satisfied with whatever scraps I had left of my heart and time.

As someone who regards her friendships and relationships highly, these two illustrations made a huge impact on me. And so, as I stood up with the others, ready to sing in response to Andrew's talk on the golden calf, I didn't start singing when everyone else did. Instead, I took a long hard internal look at my progress over the last few years. And, I realized that I wasn't going to make it. If I'm honest, I'm already living less convictedly, less passionately, than I was when I first became a Christian. I thought I could see the future, and my future revealed that I am going to be one of those people who twenty years from now will no longer be a Christian - someone who quietly, ever so quietly, just managed to drift off and slip away. Being a Christian was hard, was becoming harder the older I became, and perhaps, was too hard.

Moreover, it wasn't only myself I was worried about for once. Suddenly, considering things from God's side, I came to understand the ugliness of my disobedient sinfulness, of my half-hearted service and love, as well as my adultery in running after things of this world, and my increasing hesitation about letting others know that I am a Christian. What a pathetic life I've been offering to a most amazing King. I felt sickened to the core, as I imagined how it must feel if I loved someone so much to send my son to die for them, only to have them spit in my face. Shame. Guilt. Sorrow. My fault. All, my fault. And I 'm tired of hurting God with my idolatry.

In a spate of seeming logic, two thoughts came together: 1. I hate adultery. I have seen the effects it has on individuals and families, and I made a promise to myself I would never be unfaithful. 2. I am an all-or-nothing person. Therefore, the solution appeared so simple: if I can't guarantee myself that I won't hurt God with my adultery (and I will, for I am sinful and weak every single day), then I must leave God now before I hurt Him anymore. So this is it - it was time for the goodbye. Rather than wasting my time and His, I decided it was time to walk away.

It sounds like foolishness, like madness, like a rash of insanity. But as I stood there, I convinced myself that this was the only honourable thing to do. And as the song ended and the session ended, I walked out of the hall, almost in tears. This was it - my last night ever as a Christian.

a sense of hypocrisy

I was telling N on the phone last night about the Rob Bell video, how I was left in a turmoil of fury and intense sadness that this proclaimed representative of Christianity didn't seem to hold to the most essential beliefs.

But as I carried on talking, I realized that underlying the intensity of my emotions was a sense of deep hypocrisy, a sense of fury at myself.

I told N: At least he's open and honest. What am I doing? I know the Jesus of the Bible, and I claim to be following Him, but I'm not even reading His Word, or making any attempts at building and deepening our relationship. At least Rob Bell, misguided as some of his teachings appear, is doing something.

What is knowledge, after all, when it translates to nothing?

a thought on suffering...

What I don't understand about suffering is why non-Christians have to go through it. This might appear random, but it's one of those thoughts that have appeared increasingly more in my mind as I'm hugging a friend who is crying, or holding someone else's hand. How often have I not had words that comfort when asked, WHY?

We, as Christians, have hope and God and community and eternity to get us through suffering. We understand that suffering is a natural consequence of a fallen world, and we have the love of Jesus Christ to sustain us and comfort us. But where do non-Christians turn to? Yes, suffering presents moments where God calls to non-Christians that I AM LORD, but... umm... aah. I just hit the real point of my post: I think what I'm really tired of is seeing people suffer without this drawing them closer to God but further away.

it's a true word, a hopeful word

A best friend, a good friend, a sibling, a loved one is allowed to say things that other people may not, dare not. J tells me the other day that I've been moaning a lot lately. This is unusual for J - she rarely says anything that touches on the emotional. And I realize she's right. I have, because I'm struggling (with everything, it would seem). My world has shrunk to (my world), and I'm struggling to see God for the brackets around my eyes. I say, 'Sorry'. She says 'It's okay. You don't always have to be the strong, positive one.'

A best friend, a good friend, a sibling, a loved one, is allowed to hold out hope in ways that other people shy away from, are slow to. She sends me this song after:

There's a girl in the corner
With tear stains on her eyes
From the places she's wandered
And the shame she can't hide

She says, "How did I get here?
I'm not who I once was.
And I'm crippled by the fear
That I've fallen too far to love"

But don't you know who you are,
What's been done for you?
Yeah don't you know who you are?

You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.

Well she tries to believe it
That she's been given new life
But she can't shake the feeling
That it's not true tonight

She knows all the answers
And she's rehearsed all the lines
And so she'll try to do better
But then she's too weak to try

But don't you know who you are?

You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.

'Cause this is not about what you've done,
But what's been done for you.
This is not about where you've been,
But where your brokenness brings you to

This is not about what you feel,
But what He felt to forgive you,
And what He felt to make you loved.

You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.

You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.

- Tenth Avenue North 'You are more'

Despaireth not, oh little AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH-er

I wanted to start on a new set of posts for September, but suddenly realized it might seem a bit raggedy-jaggedy-out-of-place considering that the last post seemed to have been a cliffhanger of sorts.. And like a cliffhanger, there was nary a word from her for 3 weeks: What had happened? Was Grace still holding onto the cliff edges by the tips of her little fingers, or had she wearily let go, down into the abyss of self-pity?

 

So let's take it from here. No, I'm quite alright, but I have been thinking a lot. Sometimes it's very easy to fall into despair as Christians, for we see how sinfully and dirtyly and blemishedly we still behave, even though we know we are new creations. But, it's important to keep this in mind:

 

As we grow more in godliness, we will become more and more awear of our sinfulness. As we grow more and more Christlike, we will grow in hatred of our sinful natures. And in this way, the despair we feel at being wretched sinners is sometimes an indicator of how far we've come along. So we don't need to be kicking ourselves in the kidneys when we're down, for the standards by which we're comparing our acts to are getting higher the more and more we are changed by the Holy Spirit (we hope and pray :) ).

 

So remember.. We're not the men/women we want to be. But we're not the boys/girls we used to be.

 

Amen to that.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I don't get angered easily. I'm one of those genuinely happy-go-lucky Dopey kids (as in one of the Seven Dwarves, not as in one of the Rehab Kids), who finds a genuine smile on her face pretty much all the time. But when I get angry or frustrated, I can be oh-so-very-nasty. 'Cause, underneath all my 'sugar and spice, and all things nice', I know how to hurt people, and I have the vocabulary to make it sting. And so it was last night, that in a destructive mood of complete frustration, I said some intentionally hurtful and spiteful things to someone I cared for deeply.

And this, after I'd blogged for the first time in ages, sounding all hardcore and mature with all my thoughts about how to be godly in speech and thinking and stuff. Oh, how quickly we can break, how quickly we fall, how easy it is to shatter something good with just a few words.

What a reminder of my wretchedness, a reminder that I am far from perfect.. And even when I have the best intentions, oh how my sinful self shudders to do be truly Christ-like.

God, how truly hard it is to be Your child.

Sometimes there is nothing left but despair

As I grow older, I've been struggling more and more with frustration that God seems to be ignoring my prayers. It's especially frustrating when my prayers seem to be in line with God's: I mean, I understand if I don't get the all-expenses-paid-trip-to-Costa-Rica, but surely God could open the eyes and hearts of my family members and friends that don't know Jesus yet. Please?

And yet, days turn into weeks turn into months, which are slowly turning into years, and nothing. The same people still politely nod their heads at me when I try share the gospel, the same people still go searching for meaning in meaningless things, and slowly but slowly, I start to despair a little.

And that is all I want this post to be about. I despair. I get sad, mad, cross, despondent, furious at God for not doing something. There are many 'answers' to respond to my emotions, but you know what? For tonight, I would just like to acknowledge that it can be tough and exacting to trust and obey a God is bigger than we are. And that's okay. That's okay. We can be real before Him.