I Can't Get No Satisfaction

I Can't Get No Satisfaction

       The Bible is a funny book. The words don't say safely on the page where I can objectively critique them. They keep trying to get inside and change me.

       I was reading the part in Matthew when Jesus says that if we lose our lives, we get them, and if we try to keep our lives we lose them (Mt 16:24-28). Reading this passage really scared me today, so I was praying about why that was. I don't want to give up my life because, although it's not great, I think it's all right. Jesus says that what he offers is better than the whole world, but believing that means admitting that the whole world isn't where it's at. And if that's true, consistent logic demands acknowledging that nothing is this world is good enough to bring me lasting happiness. Which means that I can never be satisfied with life in this world.

       So then, I was wondering. If it's not this world that satisfies, what does and how can I get it? So, I did a short word study on satisfy, and this verse was the first one I found: "Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied..." (Is 53:11) He is Jesus. He didn't have anguish, but he chose to for me. And in that midst of that anguish, he "saw," and he was satisfied. What did he see? He saw me. He had satisfaction in the midst of anguish because it meant he got to be with me. 

      That threw my whole satisfaction paradigm out the window. It's not about me being satisfied. It's all about the fact that Jesus was. I can't even conceive all of the ramifications of that. I gave Jesus a reason to live. I gave him hope and joy in the midst of trial.  It's not just about me finding satisfaction, purpose, and joy in God. It's also about Him having found all that in me. 

Jesus?

A few months ago I started feeling convicted that I wasn’t find joy in my relationship with Jesus. I prayed about why that was, and I realized that I didn’t feel like I knew Him. To remedy that, I decided to read a gospel. I chose Matthew.

Honestly, my expectation in starting this study was to see Jesus as so wonderful and captivating that I wouldn’t be able to help but fall completely in love with Him. My anticipation was to see him as the compassionate healer and the risen king. And that’s all true, but I’m also seeing Him in a completely different way.

Currently, I am in the Sermon on the Mount. I don’t know about you, but when I hear “Sermon on the Mount,” I think about The Beatitudes, and I get warm fuzzies. The Beatitudes, though, are only 10 verses out of the 110 in the sermon. After that, the tone changes. It’s no longer “Blessed are you.” It changes to “Woe.” He reminds the people of what true righteousness really is. Jesus tells us just how fall short we’ve fallen of perfection. He calls me out on lowering the standard. “You think you’re not sinner because you haven’t killed anyone? Perfection means you always love people and seek their best. You think you’re not a sinner because you never cheated on anyone? Sinlessness means making a covenant with your eyes never to look on a person besides your spouse. You think you’re not a sinner because you’ve never broken an oath? True righteousness means you’ve never spoken anything but God’s honest truth.”

I’ve felt like I just keeping slammed with “You’re not good enough. You can’t do it.” This Jesus is a strict pedant with high expectations that I can never meet. What do you do with that? If you’re me, you argue for a while. I’ve never found that I could win any argument with the Almighty, though, so then you repent of that and try harder to be what God says you have to be to be righteous. Then you fail. And then you get pissed off and argue some more. Eventually you get sick of the merry-go-round. Then you jump off and admit defeat. I can’t do it. I’m not perfect.

The weird thing is, it doesn’t feel too bad. I fight against admitting I’m not perfect because I expect that the admission will come with despair and depression. If I’m depressed and despairing, though, I haven’t really surrendered. The depression and despair are there because deep down, I still feel like I have to measure up. Truly admitting how wicked I am cancels that out. I, Emily Hunt, am a wicked sinner. I am hateful, deceitful, and cruel. How can that possibly be a joyful admission?

To be honest, I’m not at the joy yet. I’m still angry because I want to be self-righteous. But I can see the joy. The joy is Jesus. I’m not perfect, but He was and is. My righteousness is bankrupt, but He says he’ll cover my debt. The only way I can stand before God is by claiming my big brother.

Jesus met every single one of his impossibly high standards. He loved selflessly, recklessly, without hope of return. His love comes from His own goodness, not the goodness of those He loves.

Jesus’ perfection is so complete I find it off-putting. His righteousness exposes my own as false. And I hate him for that. He shows me that I am horrid and will not allow the possibility of pretending otherwise. I do not want to come to his light because I know that truly seen, I must be recognized as bad. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t want it. But here He is. Jesus came into my life, disrupted my sense of self, and I can never go back. Pretending I’m good is no longer an option for me.

All this “You suck” business has turned out to be the thing that makes Jesus captivating. I must fall in love with Him because He is the only way. Outside of Him is Nothing.

God is good?

                God is good. It’s one those things that I hear a lot. I even say it a lot. But I’m learning that I don’t really believe it. My unbelief crops up a million ways, each one more insidious and deep-rooted than the last.

                I’m not going to go into detail, but recently I was very specifically convicted about some things. I knew exactly what I needed to do. I didn’t want to do them, but I did anyway. Yay me! I thought it was very holy of me to follow the prompting of the Spirit, even though I was, honestly, pissed about it. Jesus, you’re welcome. Where’s the problem?

                The problem is that I was totally missing the whole point. God is good. If I believed that, I would have gone to Him. I would have asked Him why I needed to do those things. I would have trusted that He had a reason other than “because I say so.”  My God knows me. My God loves me. Anything He asks me to do, He asks because it’s the best thing for me. Obedience to Him is my highest pleasure, not because I’m holy for obeying Him, but because the things He calls me to are glorious.

                Obeying with an attitude prompted the question: Why? If it’s not to bring me joy, what is my motivation? My response to that exposed an ugliness in my heart that I did not expect. I obeyed because if I didn’t, I knew I could no longer make any claim to being righteous. I obeyed to maintain an image of myself as “good.”

                Ultimately, my attitude revealed a false view of God. I was seeing him as a judge. He was looking at me, evaluating my deeds, deciding if I was worthy to be his kid or not. This is so wrong! How could I think that? This is my God. My God, who humbled himself to live life as a human being. My God, who endured being mocked, taken advantage of, murdered. My God, who never had a selfish thought in His life. He did it all for love of me.

                For 25 years I lived my life trying to be my own righteousness. My view of myself swung as widely as my moods. I looked to my emotions, my deeds, and others’ opinions to determine if I was “good enough.” And all the time, there was Jesus standing right there offering me Himself. Whispering so sweetly that I didn’t have to try so hard any more.

                 This time, Lord, when you convicted me, I blew it. Thank you that Jesus’ sacrifice is enough to cover that, too. When I get to heaven, if I am asked why they should let me in, I will never be able to say, “Well, you know, I was just so perfect and obedient.” The only answer I will ever be able to give is, “Ummm, Jesus said I could be here.”

Confession

Well, people, I am going to come clean. I’ve been harboring bitterness lately. I’ve been an angry, judgmental, confused mess. And no matter who or what I confessed to, how often I’ve prayed forgiveness, or tried to just move on, my angry, judgmental heart has stuck with me. So, after exhausting all my efforts, I decided to dig in to scripture to see what I was really dealing with (I know, I know. I should have started there). The word “bitter” is mentioned 46 times in the Bible. Four of those times are in the book of Job.

If you’ve never read the book of Job, the basic summary is this: Job is an upstanding servant of Jehovah. He’s a wealthy civic leader with a whole passel of kids (he sounds a lot Michelle Bachman, now that I think about it). Satan comes to God,  and God brags about him to Satan. Satan counters with “He only serves you for the stuff.” God says, “Fine, then. Take away his stuff and see what happens.” So Satan takes away all Job’s stuff: his kids, his wealth, his health. He loses his reputation when friends come over and tell him he must be in sin, or God wouldn’t be punishing him.

Job is often held up as a model for a patient sufferer because he never curses God or anything. I don’t want to minimize that in any way, but there is a telling verse in Job’s last speech. Job has reached the end of his tether with his friends, and he says:

“As God lives, who has taken away my right,
and the Almighty, who has made my soul bitter,
as long as there is breath in me,
and the spirit of God is in my nostrils,
my lips will not speak falsehood,
and my tongue will not utter deceit.”

                The part that stuck out to me was: God has taken away my right. What?! His right? He has no “right.” God gave him everything he had as a blessing (Job says that himself Job 1:21). This whole passage is dripping with disappointment and anger at God. And he blames God for his bitterness. This statement reveals Job’s heart attitude toward the Lord. Job thought that God had blessed him because Job was good, not because God is. He claims that his anger at God is the result of God’s sin. Not his. He thinks God is unjust, capricious, and mean.

                Sounds a lot like me.

                Then God shows up and says: “Just who do you think you are, Job? I am God, and I can do what I want. Tell me to my face, just where do you think I have screwed up?” And Job can’t answer him. Neither can I.

                Now, it’s not like Job went from being completely humble before his God and developed pride through his trials. All that he went through just revealed that deep down, Job had never really believed that God was good. Job thought he had earned his blessings, and he loved the God that recognized his goodness and rewarded it by giving him stuff. Satan was right.

                Job’s sinful beliefs were not a surprise to God. God allowed Satan to do all this, so Job would see what he really believed at the core. At the end of the book Job repents. When God again blesses him with children, wealth, and prestige, I think he was better able to enjoy them freely.  He knew them now for what they were: presents from a good Daddy who loved him. There were not wages that could be docked. Oswald Chambers used to refer to himself as “the Lord’s spoilt bairn.” I like that. We are God’s spoiled children.

                What I learned from all of this is that ultimately, my bitterness reveals nothing about my situation. But it reveals a lot about my heart. Getting mad at God is stupid. Jesus, I want to repent. You loved me so much that you came to earth to die for me. You have promised that You will always be with me. I am sorry that I demanded more from You than Your all. And thank You, that in spite of my sin I still know that we are okay because my acceptance isn't based on my goodness but yours. While my affection for you may wax and wane, your affection for me is a constant. I am forgiven. I am loved. I am chosen. I am Your own little princess.

One King to Rule Them All

                I started reading the book of Revelation recently. Revelation is the Apostle John’s recount of a vision he had of heaven. He talks a lot about the end of the world. And I can’t even pretend to understand half of it. The thing about Revelations is that no one gets it. There’s Something on a throne who looks like jasper and carnelian with a green rainbow. Around the throne there are 4 creatures made of eyes who sing praise to God and 24 crowned, white-robed elders (I picture the Black Riders from Lord of the Rings in white) who bow down and worship while the creatures sing. I just can’t relate to that.

                In the past understanding Revelations has meant getting a clear image of what is going on. To do that, I’ve heard time-lines (this phenomenon will take 3 ½ years, and it must happen after this country invades that one) and a cast of characters (the 24 elders represent such and such). Somehow, that just doesn’t do it for me. One of my pastors says “The Bible isn’t just about what happened, it’s about what always happens.” I like that. So what does it look like to apply that to Revelations? Is it logical to extend that thinking and say that Revelation isn’t just about what will happen, but what always happens? I think so.

                If I chuck out every idea of trying to forecast the return of Christ, if I’m not searching for clues about who the anti-christ is/will be, what am I left with? I’m left with a picture of God. And that picture is unsettling to say the least. The Father is described as something unutterably other. Jesus is a slain lamb with seven horns and seven eyes. It sounds more like a sci-fi horror film than my picture of heaven. My picture of heaven is safe and comfortable. Revelations’ picture of heaven is slightly disturbing. The LORD is depicted as someone you don’t mess around with.

What has this high, holy God to do with me? This is where Revelations gets really intense. There is one part where the bloody super-lamb comes on scene, and all the alien hybrid creatures sing to it.  “Worthy are you… for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth.” Did you get that? This God, who I can’t even picture in my head, who has his own theme song and a band that follows him around singing it all the time, this God was slain so that I could be a person for Him. This God has made me part of a kingdom and found me worthy to be a priest.

I still have no idea who the 24 elders are. I cannot fathom what is meant by “the seven spirits of God.” Strangely, though, I don’t mind. Because what I notice is that the 24 elders, the 4 creatures, the emerald rainbow, all of these things are not what Revelations is about. Everything in Revelations is about Jesus. When I follow the line of thought in Revelation, I arrive at a picture of a formidable Christ who is oddly compelling. I want Jesus to say the safe, suffering servant, not the courageous, conquering king. But this Jesus, who could kick some serious ass, is on my side. This Jesus set aside his authority, his ability to crush his enemies with his little finger, to become the suffering servant. And he did that so I could have relationship with the bad-ass Jesus and the mysterious Father. This is a Jesus who is worthy of being praised for eternity. Amen.

I am important :)

Hello all!
    So, I've decided to join the blogosphere. The title of my blog comes from Psalm 40:3 "He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. May will see and fear, and put their trust in the Lord." That pretty much sums up my hopes for my writing.
    When I was doing my Bible study the other day, God showed me something pretty awesome. I was reading 2 Samuel 1:1-16. It's the part where David learns about Saul's death. What struck me about it was how Saul, Johnathan, and that Amalekite who said he killed Saul were all just part of God's plan to make David king and restore Israel to peace and wholeness. Then I was thinking about how I'm just a part of God's plan to make Jesus king and restore the whole world to peace and wholeness. And then (this is the good part), I started thinking about how, although I am just part of the plan, I'm a REALLY important part. I have never existed before, and I never will again. My personality and circumstances are unique to me. That means that I can reflect truths about who God is in a way that no one else did, can, or ever will be able to. And that is pretty amazing. I may be just a small part in God's story, but it's a significant part. I mean, I actually help advance the plot!
     The same is true about each one of us that call Jesus Lord. In getting to know you, I'm also getting to know Jesus better. And in getting to know me, you're getting to know Jesus better, too.
     And so, I decided to write a blog. If my life is showing who God is in a way that no one else's can, I'm really excited to share that with you all!