Freedom from my sin did not begin with my love for Him, but it is, without argument, the opposite that calls me into liberty. It is Christ who proved His love for me on a cross two thousand years ago. Despite all power and authority, He submitted Himself to death and carried the sin of all generations--past, present, and future--to Golgotha. He epitomized the servant-leader, displaying His tenacity to demand the best for my existence. Christ elected to demonstrate that He is worthy to be entrusted with my well-being.
The freedom from sin comes in my decision to trust. It does not take root within my desire to please Him, my love for Him, or white-knuckled self-control. These attributes are secondary, arising from the trust I place in Christ. If I rely on these motives, I have moved from Christ being the centrality of my freedom. I have made myself into a god, becoming my own object of trust.
The upside-down paradigm that Christ has created in our path to freedom has been twisted by the evil one. Self-control equates to failure, toil, anxiety, and guilt. The weight of our reflection of holiness falls upon our own shoulders. The yoke of our pursuit of Christ becomes heavy. It was never meant to be heavy.
The well-spring of liberty flows from trust. Trust allows me to slip gently into a welcome submission to the One who loves me. Trust empowers me to release from my grasp the temporary pleasures of sin because it cannot compare to the riches of a life within the safety of Christ. Trust embraces the already demonstrated truth that the best for me flows from a sovereign Father. I need only to choose to believe this truth.
Trust is quiet, gentle to the spirit, restful,... without burden. Trust carries a light yoke, allowing me to work and play within the watchful eye of my Father.
This Father calls out for us to trust. He pursues our trust. It is the power behind broken chains. Trust is the ticket to our freedom.
Theemommy
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Saturday, November 1, 2014
An Orphan's Gratitude
I've never known a good parent whose motivation for loving and serving their children came from the expectation that their child/children would appreciate all of the hard work, passion, and commitment that it takes to raise a happy, healthy family. We parents know that children are greedy by nature, especially in the early years. They don't care that you've worked for eight hours, cooked dinner, cleaned up their mess, and now need a good night's sleep. They will keep us awake all night...well, just because. After only a few brief hours of parenthood, most are smart enough to have figured out that " thank you" will be a long time coming.
Adoptees have the same experience. No child ever appreciates being taken from all they've ever known, flown to a far away land, and then, spending the next six months not understanding a word of anything that anyone says. A family is the best thing, but the disturbances at hand take precedence over the long term goals of giving a child security and a future with choices. Whatever grandiose ideas adoptive parents hold of their children having a heart of gratitude ends on a plane ride somewhere between throw up in their laps over the northern polar cap and a nearly, screaming fit-induced, flight delay in Atlanta. This is just speaking from personal experience, of course.
But then, one day it happens-- the gratitude. This year was Jack's third time celebrating Halloween and the first year that he didn't become so overwhelmed that the whole thing ended in tears. He loves the orange Halloween lights that are hung on porches for the night's festivities. As we were approaching the first trick-or-treating house of the night (with the orange lights), he yells out, "Wow! Look at that!" He puts his little arms around my waist, squeezes, and says, "I love you, Mom." He was thankful! He got that it was a big deal that he was there, in that moment, with us. As his parents, we've always understood the importance of the idea that he was chosen to be ours, that we chose him out of all the children in the world. Now, he is starting to comprehend the very same thing. It reveals a maturity and an understanding that is growing within our boy.
It made me wonder. Do we have a heart of gratitude toward our Heavenly Father? Just like Jack, we all have a past. As life often goes, that past can be filled with tremendous heartache, sin, abandonment, and all out pain. Life can hurt! Do we continue to hold on to the pain, with closed fists, because holding on means we reduce the risk of more disappointment? Because holding on means we are in control of something even if that something is destructive? Do we become so consumed with our heartache that we forget that we were ransomed with the price of The Lamb's blood?
Or, do we recognize that we were orphans? We were rescued never to be abandoned, again. By growing in the knowledge of the gospel, our hearts can overflow with a song of gratitude. Jack's past has left his body broken, but even within the fatigue and overwhelming emotions, he could enjoy the moment. He could enjoy the lights because he knows what it is to be without the lights. We, too, have known the darkness. Now, bought with a price and adopted into His family, we know The Light! Let go, and with great thanksgiving, rejoice!
Adoptees have the same experience. No child ever appreciates being taken from all they've ever known, flown to a far away land, and then, spending the next six months not understanding a word of anything that anyone says. A family is the best thing, but the disturbances at hand take precedence over the long term goals of giving a child security and a future with choices. Whatever grandiose ideas adoptive parents hold of their children having a heart of gratitude ends on a plane ride somewhere between throw up in their laps over the northern polar cap and a nearly, screaming fit-induced, flight delay in Atlanta. This is just speaking from personal experience, of course.
But then, one day it happens-- the gratitude. This year was Jack's third time celebrating Halloween and the first year that he didn't become so overwhelmed that the whole thing ended in tears. He loves the orange Halloween lights that are hung on porches for the night's festivities. As we were approaching the first trick-or-treating house of the night (with the orange lights), he yells out, "Wow! Look at that!" He puts his little arms around my waist, squeezes, and says, "I love you, Mom." He was thankful! He got that it was a big deal that he was there, in that moment, with us. As his parents, we've always understood the importance of the idea that he was chosen to be ours, that we chose him out of all the children in the world. Now, he is starting to comprehend the very same thing. It reveals a maturity and an understanding that is growing within our boy.
It made me wonder. Do we have a heart of gratitude toward our Heavenly Father? Just like Jack, we all have a past. As life often goes, that past can be filled with tremendous heartache, sin, abandonment, and all out pain. Life can hurt! Do we continue to hold on to the pain, with closed fists, because holding on means we reduce the risk of more disappointment? Because holding on means we are in control of something even if that something is destructive? Do we become so consumed with our heartache that we forget that we were ransomed with the price of The Lamb's blood?
Or, do we recognize that we were orphans? We were rescued never to be abandoned, again. By growing in the knowledge of the gospel, our hearts can overflow with a song of gratitude. Jack's past has left his body broken, but even within the fatigue and overwhelming emotions, he could enjoy the moment. He could enjoy the lights because he knows what it is to be without the lights. We, too, have known the darkness. Now, bought with a price and adopted into His family, we know The Light! Let go, and with great thanksgiving, rejoice!
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