Saturday, February 18, 2006

Real Life

Romans 8:15-16-"For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by Him we cry, 'Abba, Father.' The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in His sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory."

I had to completely rest in this today as I filled out my application for Germany. I am His, forgiven and redeemed. But in this, I must remember my many sins. Notice how I say "remember" and not "dwell". I had a moment of remembrance today. One of the questions hit my heart. I had to confess to a multitude of sins. At first, I didn't react. I mean, I wrote the answer in truth and moved on. I payed the application fee and submitted the application and went about my day. It wasn't until banged my leg against my bed post that I started feeling it. This really really hurt my leg. I had to take a moment and breathe and cry. Once I started to cry, everything came out. I am so filled with agony over the actions committed in the past 12 months. But the thing is, I needed to feel this pain. For so long, I have been walking around "dealing with myself", being practical and staying close to Him. But today, I felt like the prostitute saved by Christ. "You who have sinned, cast the first stone."

Whenever I hear this story, I picture the woman on her knees in shame. She doesn't look up, but looks to the ground. Perhaps she's playing with a small pebble, but she's crying. I imagine that they were rough with her, throwing her to the ground, which causes a scratch, a bruise. She's just sitting there, listening to the men hurl insults at her...and hearing this man speak on her behalf. He is calm, but firm. He saves her. I have carried this burden of mistakes. It has weighed heavily on my heart recently as I have become closer to my Lord. He is working with me and molding me in light of all of these disgusting decisions. Someone told me once, "When people look at you, they do not see your past. They see what I see...a woman of God who cares deeply about others." That is who I desire to be and who God is forming me to be.

It says in Isaiah...forget the former things, do not dwell on the past. It is hard not to dwell, but it is crucial to remain focused on the truth. I am forgiven and free of the sin nature. I am humbled and made new. But I would urge you...if there is something burning inside of you that you have not addressed...bang your leg or head or something. What I mean, pray that God would let you feel the pain of this. For it is only through the cleansing of the wound that it heals. This is real life. This is how I'm choosing to live. Not under the legalism of "should nots" and "can nots" but under the freedom of the Lord Jesus Christ who proclaims, "Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest."


Anomalous said...

Your blog reminds me how much more important it is to resolve sin than to simply ignore it, hide from it until it takes over your very being. Hiding from sin is impossible, and invariably hiding becomes dwelling. Great entry. Thanks for reminding me.

Anonymous said...

So, we finally got back home last night and I've caught on on the last few entries in your blog. Thanks for sharing your insights and being so honest and open about them. And it's true... even someone who knows you pretty well doesn't see your past when they look at you... they see a caring woman of God. And who of us is perfect that we should expect others to be perfect as well? No one except the one perfect one who can forgive anything and everything in our past. But, like you said in an earlier entry, it would seem pretty silly if we didn't learn to figure out where the tree root was on the path we take all the time. Good analogy. Cool that you quoted that Casting Crowns song... I think part of it's been in my profile for quite a while now... it reminds me of who I am... in Him. Love you. Tom