March 2016

What Jesus Did for You at Calvary That You May Never Have Realized

CrossI’m 45 years old. Easter 2016 has been my 46th Easter. I’ve heard the Easter story hundreds of times. I’ve known for many years that “Jesus died on the cross to save me from my sins.”

But there’s something about what Jesus did on Calvary that I never realized until this year.

And it’s something I’ve wanted all my life. I just never knew I had it. Until this morning during the sermon.

Before I tell you what I realized, I need to tell you something else: My childhood and growing-up years were very difficult in some ways. By no means was every moment horrible, but suffice it to say that those years were tough. I only mention it here for two reasons: First, it’s necessary to do so in order to explain why what Christ purchased for me with His blood means so very much to me; and second, perhaps some of you have endured similar suffering and long to have what I only recently realized that I had all along (it’s what you had all along, too).

I grew up believing that I was never right unless I conformed to certain standards. That I was never acceptable or accepted unless I acted a certain way. That I must constantly try to please people who would never fully love me unless I could do and be and say exactly what they wanted.

I grew up believing that I was somehow never fully “right.” That any temporary reprieve from the anxiety of having to live up to impossible standards (because I just couldn’t be the “right” person) was just that—temporary.

I’m sure you can see why what I have wanted more than anything else my entire life was to know that I’m “right” enough. That I’m “good” enough. Not that I’m sinless, but just that I’m not constantly wrong.

Today, I got what I’ve always wanted. And in case you’ve always wanted it too, I want to share with you what I learned about Easter that I never realized before, because it’s all connected.

You and I both know that when Jesus died on the cross, He took the punishment that we deserved because of our sinfulness. We also both know that God the Father considers Jesus’ righteousness now to be ours as well. We can be counted legally sinless before God because Jesus’ perfect record stands in for us. Even though we continue to sin, we are not guilty.

Jesus was judged guilty. Jesus was sentenced. Jesus paid the full penalty.

Do you realize what that means?

It means that you and I are not always wrong. It means—get this—that in terms of our standing before God, we’re always right.

Because Jesus lived a sinless life and then died on Calvary, you and I get to have what we always wanted. We get to be fully acceptable to someone no matter what we do or fail to do. We get to be fully loved completely apart from the level of our performance.

In fact—and this is where it gets truly mind-blowing—our efforts to “get it right” add nothing to our being right. Nothing, nothing, NOTHING! Because we’re already right!

We are right because of Jesus, not because of ourselves (remember how His perfect record stands in for us?). And because Jesus is incapable of anything less than perfection, we are always right.

Again, “right” does not means we’re not factually sinless. We do sin, and God knows it. Being “right” means that we’re always in right standing with God because of Jesus. Despite the fact that we continue to sin, we will never be out of right standing with God. True, He will not like our sinful actions. He will not be pleased with them. But—and this is an incredible thought for anyone who didn’t grow up this way—He won’t count them against us. He won’t distance Himself from us because we’ve suddenly become unacceptable (because He doesn’t consider us unacceptable, no matter what). He won’t stop loving us because we didn’t do or be or say the right thing.

Let me say it as plainly as I can: Jesus not only lifted our punishment from us, He also lifted from us the burden of always being wrong. Of always not measuring up.

And He made us always right, and accepted, and loved.

He did for me what I always wanted, and I never “got it” until today. But today, I got what I’ve always had.

I hope you did, too.

1 Peter 2:24—“He himself bore our sins” in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; “by his wounds you have been healed.” (NIV)

Why We Should Embrace Unpleasant Consequences

Jesus with cross“Mommy! Timmy’s being a pest again! He’s lying down on our game board so we can’t play!”

I don’t always get up and do something about it when my kids tattle. Sometimes, I merely explain to the offended party that it’s normal for boys to make noises like that and not something she can tattle about; or that that’s the response the child should expect when he or she starts something and therefore can’t complain; or that sometimes in life, you just have to let things go (which, depending on how I phrase it, might cause one or more children to burst into song).

This time, however, 4-year-old Timmy had been pestering his sisters for quite awhile. He’d been warned  that he’d better be good or else. Now, it was time to make good on my promise.

I got up and headed for the living room. Timmy saw me coming, and he quickly scrambled to his feet. “I’m just going to my room,” he said, edging past me.

Obviously, Timmy wanted to avoid the consequences he feared were coming.

I can’t really blame him for that. Nobody likes unpleasant consequences. We do everything we can to avoid them, even when we know we deserve them.

But today, and especially this week, I’d like us to consider Someone Who didn’t try to avoid some horrific consequences, despite the fact that He was totally innocent.

I’m talking, of course, about Jesus. But I may be making a different point than you’ve ever heard before (I hadn’t heard it before, either, until this Sunday’s sermon), so stick with me.

We all know that through most of His sham of a trial, Jesus said nothing to defend Himself. Perhaps, like me, you’ve always assumed that Jesus said nothing because He knew it wouldn’t do any good, or because He had decided to demonstrate amazing self-control, or because He was “better than that.” All of those things are true, of course. But there was another reason Jesus remained silent that we would do well to consider.

One of the (I believe) primary reasons Jesus remained silent and refused to defend Himself was that He wanted the consequences to happen.

Though He was sinless and deserved no punishment, He was well aware of two things: first, that one consequence of His trial would be crucifixion; and second, that the crucifixion had to happen. So He kept silent precisely to bring about the consequences He never deserved, but which God the Father had decreed must take place.

He embraced what had already begun to happen to Him because He wanted it to happen. It’s not that He thought it would be fun. Quite the opposite, in fact—He knew it would be agonizing. But He wanted the results of His crucifixion more than He wanted to avoid the pain of it.

He wanted to gain His Father’s approval and the salvation of the world more than He wanted to maintain His physical comfort.

How does this pertain to you and me? Simply this: We sometimes need to desire the consequences of what is happening more than we desire to avoid the pain of it.

It all comes down to what we want most. Would we rather have a pain-free life, or would we rather experience the intimacy with Jesus that comes from walking through pain?

I’m not suggesting that we should desire pain. That’s just…no. What I’m saying is, that when we do experience unavoidable pain, instead of running from it or trying to eliminate it as soon as possible, we’d do far better to embrace it and let it guide us to spiritual depth, growth, and intimacy that wouldn’t have been possible without it.

But to do that, we have to feel pain. We have to be willing to face it, not turn our backs on it. And that’s scary. Nobody likes to be hurt. Nobody wants to feel pain one second longer than she has to. So we try to make it go away, because we think we have the option of either feeling the pain and being miserable, or feeling no pain and being happier.

In reality, the choice is not allowing pain to make us miserable vs. being happy. The choice is between letting God guide us through the pain so that we heal in some deeper way than we ever knew possible, and gain a closeness to God that we never would have had otherwise; or stuffing the pain down deep and never being truly happy again.

Again, I’m neither saying that we should seek or desire pain, nor that we shouldn’t seek comfort and counsel when we suffer. I’m saying that when pain comes, as it surely will in every single person’s life, we should let it do its work in us, let it bring us to a deeper and more joy-filled place than we would have been by trying to avoid it.

Trying to avoid pain doesn’t really work, anyway. So let’s not deny ourselves the good things God can bring out of it. Let’s follow the example of our Lord, who embraced the pain of what was happening, knowing that glory and joy awaited Him on the other side.

Romans 8:18—I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. (NIV)

Hebrews 12:2b—For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (NIV)

Nah…Nothing Could Go Wrong

Timmy and skateboardRecently, I bought my son, Timmy, a child-sized skateboard.

If you’ve read my blog for very long, or followed me on Facebook, you’ve “met” him, and you know why buying him a skateboard means making sure he only uses it outside, where nobody and nothing else is around, and making sure our health insurance is up-to-date.

But after seeing one of his friends get a skateboard, and having the friend’s uncle teach the friend and my kids to use it, Timmy desperately wanted one of his own. So, because I am the kind of mom who figures that bumps, bruises, and even broken bones are part of childhood, I bought him one.

As with any milestone in my children’s lives (or even, for that matter, anything of even minor significance), I took a picture of Timmy holding his new skateboard, and I posted it on Facebook. The caption read, “Today, I bought Timmy a skateboard. What could possibly go wrong?”

Comments from my friends who know Timmy included, “Do you have a bed reserved at the hospital?” “Time to test the insurance,” and, “Hey, Mom, watch me jump off the porch! Are you watching, Mom? Look, Mom!”

We all know that childhood carries with it a certain amount of…well, injuries. Those are par for the course. Most of the time, they don’t stop us from allowing our children to do the activity in question. We might require them to take precautions (such as, in this case, a helmet and pads), but we give permission anyway, because the risk is overshadowed by the reward.

Following this strategy in terms of childhood activities is one thing. Being guided by it in terms of decisions about spiritual things is another matter, entirely.

If I let Timmy learn to skateboard, and he breaks an arm in the process, it’s no big deal. We’ll take him to the hospital and get the necessary treatment, and we’ll do whatever is necessary to help him accomplish his daily activities while he still has the cast on. But ultimately, arms heal, and he’ll be fine. Good as new.

If I make an unwise spiritual decision, however—if I’m single and I decide to marry someone I have doubts about; if I’m married and allow myself to become attracted to another man; if I decide that I don’t need to go to church anymore; if I choose a group of friends who supports my drinking to excess, or my using drugs—then I may very well wind up with permanent consequences.

That’s because spiritual scars are a lot more painful and take a lot longer to heal than physical scars.

Discounting the potential consequences of buying your child a skateboard—saying, “Even if he gets hurt, more than likely, he’ll heal completely and be just fine”—is one thing. But discounting the potential consequences of a spiritual decision? Saying, “That will never happen to me,” or “I’m a strong Christian; I can get away with that,” or “Who cares? I’ll take my chances”? Dangerous ground, indeed.

Satan loves it when he can get us to minimize or discount what might happen to us as the result of a risky spiritual decision. Look at Adam and Eve in the garden! What was the serpent’s (Satan’s) strategy? He convinced Eve, then Adam, to think that the consequences God had promised wouldn’t really happen to them.

Yes! Consequences can really happen to you (and to me). Yes! Even strong Christians fall when they never expected to. Yes! Playing Russian Roulette with sin’s consequences could very well result in disaster.

So don’t do it! Consider your spiritual health of far more importance even than your physical health. Trust the God Who’s already weighed the consequences of everything and told you to abstain from certain activities, rather than your own desire for excitement or your own ability to bead the odds.

Just as I expect Timmy to obey me because I know far more than he does about what is safe for him, so God expects us to obey Him because He sees the end from the beginning, whereas we don’t.

Let Him be the One to decide what’s safe for you.

Don’t just get out there with no helmet and no padding and hope you’re okay.

Genesis 3:4-5—And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die: For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil. (KJV)

1 Corinthians 10:12—Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.

How Not to Worry

worried womanThis past Friday night, Lindsey and I were lounging on the couch together, just hanging out. She, of course, wanted to stay up late. But much as I wanted to continue our time together, I knew it would be better for her to get plenty of sleep.

“You’re going to have to get up early tomorrow,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s why I’m tired.”

“You’re tired in advance?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said again. “It happens.”

Indeed, it does. I, too, have had times where I thought ahead to something that was coming up and got tired just thinking about it. You’ve probably had those times, too.

It’s understandable. The only thing is, we have to be careful about letting tomorrow affect today too much.

Apparently you and I aren’t the first ones ever to do this, because two thousand years ago, Jesus cautioned listeners now to let tomorrow mess up today. “Do not worry about tomorrow,” He said, “for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matt. 6:34, NIV).

Why would Jesus tell us not to do something that comes so naturally for us? First, worrying won’t change anything. In the verses just before the one cited above, Jesus illustrates this fact in several ways: We can’t add to our height. We can’t add a day to our lives. We just. Can’t. Do. It.

Not only does worry accomplish nothing, Jesus says, but second, we know that everything we need will be provided. All we need to do, He says, is focus on God and His priorities, and God will take care of the rest. It doesn’t make sense to worry when we know that we’re going to be taken care of.

Third, worrying destroys our peace. It churns us up inside. It’s useless (that was the first reason), it’s pointless (that was the second), and, third, it’s destructive. God doesn’t want us to harm ourselves like that.

So how do we stop worrying (which is often much easier said than done)?

First, let’s realize that Jesus wasn’t saying to stop thinking about tomorrow; He was saying we should stop worrying about it (huge difference).  Thinking about tomorrow is okay; worrying isn’t.

Second, we have to admit that worrying is a choice. It’s not required. Even when we’re facing something potentially difficult, we have a choice as to the perspective we choose to take. We can choose not to let thoughts of what might happen tomorrow ruin what is happening today.

When we find ourselves tempted to worry about the possibilities, let’s choose instead to focus on the fact that today, it isn’t happening. Today, there are things to rejoice in and enjoy. There is life to be lived.

Yes, what happens tomorrow might be awful. But it might not. If it is, then God will meet us there, with His incredible love, comfort, and wisdom. We will be cared for. We will survive.

If it’s not…well, then there was no point in ever worrying about it in the first place.

Matthew 6:34—Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (NIV)