A New Revelation and Resolution

• All of God's children, I am convinced, feel instinctively in their moments of divine illumination that a life of inward rest and outward victory is their inalienable birthright.

• To state it in brief, I would say that man's part is to trust, and God's part is to work.

• I have tried to settle the question as to the scripturalness of the experience sometimes called the Higher Christian Life but which is the only true Christian life, and which to my own mind is best described in the words, the "life hid with Christ in God."

• We received Him by faith, and by faith alone. Therefore we are to walk in Him by faith, and by faith alone. And the faith by which we enter into this hidden life is just the same as the faith by which we were translated out of the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of God's dear Son -- only it lays hold of a different thing. Then we believed that Jesus was our Saviour from the guilt of sin, and according to our faith it was unto us. Now we must believe that He is our Saviour from the power of sin, and according to our faith it shall be unto us. Then we trusted Him for forgiveness, and it became ours. Now we must trust Him for righteousness, and it shall become ours also. Then we took Him as a Saviour in the future from the penalties of our sins. Now we must take Him as a Saviour in the present from the bondage of our sins. Then He was our Redeemer. Now He is to be our Life. Then He lifted us out of the pit. Now He is to seat us in heavenly places with Himself.(Hannah Whithall Smith, The Christian Secret to a Happy Life)

So if you’re serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ. . . . Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that’s where the action is. See things from his perspective.

Your old life is dead. Your new life, which is your real life—even though invisible to spectators—is with Christ in God. He is your life. When Christ (your real life, remember) shows up again on this earth, you’ll show up, too—the real you, the glorious you. Meanwhile, be content with obscurity, like Christ.

And that means killing off everything connected with that way of death.

(Colossians 3:1-9a, The Message)

Then the star appeared again, the same star they had seen in the eastern skies. It led them on until it hovered over the place of the child. They could hardly contain themselves: They were in the right place! They had arrived at the right time!

(Matthew 2:9-10, The Message)

 

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Beginning Well

The New Year gives us an opportunity to make a new sort of resolution: a life abandoned to God.

But real surrender—real abandonment to Christ—begins with a clear understanding of what such a life actually entails. One of the first things we must understand is that there are not two or more classes of Christians, as though some are merely Christians and others are disciples. There is only one way to be with Jesus: as his disciple. That is his calling. That is the choice placed before us.

We may be very inexperienced disciples, needing much instruction, patience, and reassurance. Or we may become seasoned disciples, living our Christ-life with greater ease and regularity. But we are still disciples. We trust our Lord, and we grow in that trust. We grow as well in his strength and grace. Along the way, we discover that we need him more than we first imagined—more for the journey, not less.

This kind of life is indeed hidden, though it is not completely undetectable.

Eyes that are fixed on sorting—on who is right and who is wrong, on who benefits me more or less—will likely miss the Christ-life at work in another person. They are simply looking in the wrong places. But eyes that seek the goodness and mercy of God may begin to notice something else.

These eyes may notice a loosening of sin’s grip. They may see a growing wholeness, a quiet virtue emerging over time. They may hear words or observe ways of being that remind them, gently but unmistakably, of Jesus. They may even sense a healthy indifference to the panic and frustration that so often govern life—an unexplainable peace and joy taking their place.

Such hints of glory are encouraging. They give hope.

Yes, we can trust. And God will work. Surrender is made of this hidden life with Christ in God.

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Experience for Epiphany

Take time to notice what a life abandoned to Jesus might look like in your own place—in the ordinary settings and relationships of your days.

You may find it helpful to write a few things down. Choose three or four characteristics that seem to describe such a life as it could be lived by you. Hold these before God over the coming week. Speak with him about them. Listen as well.

Resist the urge to form a quick or heroic resolution. Instead, allow space for a resolution that Christ himself can shape and sustain in you over the coming year—and perhaps longer.

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Prayer

Lord, this feels like a good time to begin again.
It is also a good time to continue—more thoughtfully—on the journey I am already on.

Guide my thoughts and lift my heart as I seek to abandon my life to you.
I trust that you are gentle and humble at your core.
I trust that you know what is best for me,
and what is best for my place in this world.

I place myself in your care.
Amen.

Compassion Embraces Weakness

Devotional Classics, Hannah Whitall Smith, Excerpts from The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life

The soul finds itself saying, instead of the "May I?" of love, the "Must I?" of duty.  The yoke, which was at first easy, begins to gall, and the burden feels heavy instead of light.

You do love your work in the abstract, but in the doing of it your find so many cares and responsibilities connected with it, and feel so many misgivings and doubts as to your own capacity or fitness, that it becomes a very heavy burden, and you go to it bowed down and weary before the labor has even begun.

Now from all these forms of bondage the soul that enters fully into the blessed life of faith is entirely delivered.  In the first place, service of any sort becomes delightful to it, because having surrendered its will into the keeping of the Lord, He works in it to will and do His good pleasure, and the soul finds itself really wanting to do the things God wants it to.
It is always very pleasant to do the things we want to do, even if they are difficult to accomplish, or make our bodies tired.  If our will is really set on a thing we view the obstacles that lie in the way of reaching it with a sublime indifference, and we laugh at the idea of any opposition or difficulties which might hinder us.

I am ashamed to think that any Christian should ever put on a long face and shed tears over doing a thing for Christ which a worldly person would be only too glad to do for money.  What we need in the Christian life is to get believers to want to do God's will as much as other people want to do their own will.  And this is the idea of the Gospel.  It is what God intended  for us; and it is what He promised.  In describing the new covenant in Hebrews 8:6-13, He says it shall no more be the old covenant made on Sinai, - that is, a law given from the outside, controlling a man by force, - but it shall be a law written within, constraining us by love.

What you need to do, then, dear Christian, if you are in bondage in the matter of service, is to put your will over completely into the hands of your Lord, surrendering to Him the entire control of it.  Say, "Yes, Lord, YES!" to everything , and trust Him to work in you to will as to bring your whole wishes and affections into conformity with His own sweet, and lovable, and most lovely will.

In truth, if we only knew it, our chief fitness is in our utter helplessness.  His strength is made perfect, not in our strength, but in our weakness.  Our strength in only a hindrance. (pp. 237-241)

Jesus has now obtained a more excellent ministry, and to that degree he is the mediator of a better covenant, which has been enacted through better promises.  For if that first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no need to look for a second one.  (Hebrews 8:6-7)

 It is at least comforting to know that I am not alone in my resistance to service.  When no one seems to care what I am doing for some youth as long as they are entertained in a youth group or when it does not seem to matter whether I do something well at work or just get it done or when "someone" needs to clean up some mess at home that no one really wants to clean up, the "Must I?" of duty kicks in.  Although it gets done, there is no real gratitude or joy or growth, just grinding through it all.

Mere duty and compassion are found together so often that I forget that they can be separated.  I am so used to pushing through my work or service that I set up my own reward system.  "When I'm done with this I'll . . . " is what I say to myself.  Such rewards indicate that the service or work is not at all what I want to do, but what I must do.  It almost seems a "given" in my life.

Smith points out that this is not only regrettable, but actually not at all what God wants.  God is not pleased with mere duty, but wants me to want to serve.  At first, this can seem to be burden added to burden, almost a demand that says, "Now, do it with a smile."  This is not the spirit of the gospel at all.  The gospel does not merely say, "Whistle while you work. . . ."

The good news is that my "wanter" can be converted and changed.  I can find myself wanting to serve and work for others with enthusiasm and anticipation.  Smith has some hints about how such a transformation takes place.

First, there is the realization that there is something wrong with compassion out of mere duty.  When someone is paid for their service to me, I say it is just their job to be nice and render service.  When someone is not paid and they perform their actions out of mere duty, as a burden to be accomplished, anticipating what they will get to do when they are done, I find myself not really wanting them to serve me at all.  I find that the reason for their service is at least as important as the service itself.  Because of this, most of us "paint on a face" of pleasure at doing what we don't really want to.  We call this hypocrisy.

Realizing there is something wrong with how I have been going about serving is repentance.  Interestingly, the realization is not merely a for personal growth, but more of a vision of what is right and true and how I fall short of that ideal.  Repentance is not only "I'm sorry" but also the understanding that I have been missing something important and good in what I am doing.

Next, I find that I cannot merely put a smile on or just think positively about service in order to bring compassion.  Compassion comes from surrender to God, not from trying to have compassion.  Smith observes that God's will - what he wants - must become what is desirable and pleasing before I can put aside my own desires and have genuine compassion.  Compassionate service is born out of a heart surrendered to God and his purposes.  It is "Yes" to God and "No" to my desires.

Finally, this surrender is not accomplished by putting my best foot forward.  Instead, it is accomplished when I can acknowledge my own weakness and inability to be compassionate.  My strengths do not help me to surrender to God.  My weaknesses do.  In weakness I find humility and neediness. In weakness I look for help.  In weakness I find myself sitting with those who need service most and understanding how little I have to offer except the truth of a God who helps the weak, even me.

Like my kids, I often feel frustrated by my weakness.  In order to avoid it, I either try to convince myself that nothing is really wrong with me and my lack of compassion.  I also try to bring compassion through force of effort to just think or feel compassionate.  With my kids, forcing surrender in them is cruel and usually becomes mere guilt trips.  I do the same thing to my own heart.  Somehow I must help myself and them to embrace and even rejoice in their weakness because of God's mercy and grace.

Weakness is not "blessed" in itself, but only blessed because of the universe I live in.  In the creation, I am loved and watched over by God, so I can  be weak.  I can even enjoy the thought and feeling of being weak since I find in such weakness, I find the experience of God lifting me up.  Without that as my true joy, weakness will always be something I fear and avoid and compassion will always be a sham.

Lord, how I struggle with embracing my weakness, even in the light of your strength and love.  Part of me does not like needing you, depending on you.  Please show me the joy of your salvation and the  depth of your compassion.  Let my heart melt before your love.  Amen.


I have been using Psalm 51 as a time of reflection on my sins and weakness.  Instead of making such a time one in which I merely regret my sins, I have been asking God the "restore to me the joy of your salvation."  That joy is in being the recipient of compassion and grace.  As I learn to receive such joy, I may be able to be a messenger of such joy to others I serve.