This is the third part to the It’s not about me series.  Monday was about focus and response, and yesterday was how my focus affects daily and family life.

My focus also affects my spiritual life.

I want to first point out that unlike other religions or philosophies, Christianity truly embodies the It’s not about me concept.  The core of Christianity isn’t about bettering oneself or obtaining favor.  It’s about the glory of God.

The work is finished in Christ’s atonement, and if our life has any purpose at all it’s as a sacrifice poured out, living for God and for others.

Much of my spiritual health is based on that understanding.

How do I read my Bible?  Is it only with “me” in mind; ie getting a morsel of daily encouragement for myself, or is it learning more about God?  Do I perform mental gymnastics or take verses out of context in attempts to always apply them to me and my situation (or even skip over the impersonal ones altogether) or do I seek to come to a greater understanding of who God is?  Do I view the Bible as an instruction manual or God’s written revelation of himself and his glory?

When bad things happen in my life, does it cause my faith to doubt or waiver?

How do I view the church?  Am I grateful for God’s people and seek to meet with some regularly?  Is my attendance based on whether or not I feel like it and don’t have too much other stuff going on?  Am I looking for what I get out of it, or seeing to serve and bless others?  I would say that my opinion on those who forsake the gathering of His people altogether is that they have forgotten it’s not about them.

How do I handle spiritual dry spells, inward struggles or sin?  Do I murmur and complain with no change, or is my hope and trust in Jesus’ victory?  Am I constantly asking for prayer and help, or am I looking for ways to also bless others?

Are the majority of my prayers mainly lists of requests or are they also outpourings of thankfulness and praise?

Yesterday when I wrote about response to circumstances, I concluded that:

My response will be a result of where my focus is.

When my focus is ultimately on my self - my needs, my wants, my goals, my preferences, my hurts, my, my, my - I can be almost certain that I will respond negatively.

But when my focus is on something greater, when I live under the realization that there is a much larger picture, my response is able to be something beautiful.

I don’t have to wait for a tragedy to see what my response will be and know where my focus ultimately is.

What my focus is will manifest itself through my daily living.

How do I manage my time?  Am I using it wisely or am I prone to laziness?  Do I make time for needed things or am I inclined towards busyness?  Am I focused primarily on selfish pursuits?

How do I view children? Do I embrace them?  Am I resentful of how much of my time they take?  Do I enjoy spending time with them or am I eager to be away from them?  How do I parent?

What is my marriage like?  When my spouse makes a mistake, is in a bad mood or demonstrates a poor attitude, how do I respond?  How often do I consider their needs and put them before my own?

How do I view things like hobbies or entertaining activities?  Are they considered periodic enjoyments or do they make up the majority of my life?   Do I have to have them in order to be happy?

Some of my answers to these types of questions cause me to cringe a little.  Constant assessment and adjustment is needful, as my focus so easily gets off.

What I tend to emphasize, be it the blessings or hardships of life, is just an outworking of where my heart is.

Time, children, marriage, hobbies.. How I operate within them can either be an outpouring of my complete satisfaction in something greater than my self, or they can be endless grapplings of futility as I strive to fill up a gaping hole that knows no completion.

A heart preoccupied with “me” will rarely be filled with the kind of love that it really longs for, because it can’t see past “me”.  Because it’s really not about me.

Human response fascinates me.

How is it that some can respond in a beautiful, even self-sacrificial way amidst horrid circumstances while some constantly struggle or practice bitterness even in decent circumstance?

We’ve all heard stories of admirable people who continued to express thankfulness and give to others if they could, even while they themselves suffered in a concentration camp or languished in a prison cell.

There have been times that I have risen above arduous circumstances, and other occasions when even the daily grind seemed too heavy to bear.  What was it that made the difference?

When battles, hardships, sickness or pain come, how can I have any confidence my response will be praiseworthy?

And what of my response to others’ affairs?  Am I able to rejoice in another’s good news, victories and talents?  Or am I prone to jealousy, questioning why I didn’t experience that, or irritated by the admiring attention and comments they receive?

I think the answer is fairly simple.

My response will be a result of where my focus is.

When my focus is ultimately on my self - my needs, my wants, my goals, my preferences, my hurts, my, my, my - I can be almost certain that I will respond negatively.

But when my focus is on something greater, when I live under the realization that there is a much larger picture, my response is able to be something beautiful.

There are so many people who “used” to believe in God.

Who used to go to church and pray and read the Bible.  But then some bad stuff happened in their lives, and stuff didn’t really end up the way they should have, and now they have no use for that Jesus garbage.

It’s crazy how much we view God as a casino slot machine. We slip the coins in and after spending a bit of time, we expect some payback.

Or maybe another analogy would be our car.  We gas it, clean it, and change the oil.  And we expect that it will take us from point A to point B.  When it doesn’t, we look for a problem.  Is it out of gas?  Does it need a new belt or transmission?   Can I invest more money in it so that it continues to do what it should?

God doesn’t work that way.

It doesn’t matter how good you are.  It doesn’t matter if you keep all your rules, give lots of money away, or read a verse every day.  There is no guarantee that you will not experience suffering, in some form or another.

In fact, Jesus said to expect suffering.

Yes, the laws of the harvest apply (if you sow, then you will reap) and there are principles of blessing that are true.

But here’s the stickler.

God is more concerned with the health of our heart, spirit and soul than he is the health of our body and bank account.

If going through pain, loss, hardship, or persecution will end up making us closer to Him, then He’ll allow it, and use it for His glory and our good.

It’s funny.  We read about Jesus’ life and all that he struggled through.  We read of the Apostle’s beatings and even deaths.  We know of the martyrs and the history of persecution in the church.

And yet..

When we feel the slightest pinch of discomfort, how often do we pull up our mental checklist to see if we’ve been reading our Bible, praying, and giving like we should?  Or at least attending church now and then.  Then we either pat ourselves on the back or resolve to fix things before stuff really goes bad so that we have our butts covered.

But if things continue to go downhill?  Oh, we’re angry. After all, didn’t we uphold our end of the agreement?  Is this what we deserve after doing the “right” things and being so “good”?  We rage against the unfairness of the situation.

And then we question if God is good.

Because, in our minds, a good God would save not only our soul, but our marriage, health, finances, relationships, mortgage and anything else we deem important.

We make up this meaning of who God should be.  We make an idol, and we worship it, then hate it when it fails us.

God is not a genie in a bottle.  He’s not a grandfather in the sky with pockets full of peppermint candy.  He’s not an angry, yelling father doling out punishments.

We can’t really understand suffering and trials and all the horrid stuff that happens in this life until we understand who God is.

And, who He isn’t.

When people who don’t know me happen to catch a glimpse of the inside of my van, part of me wants to just sink quietly into the parking lot until I disappear.  The other part of me wants to immediately cry out, Ya gotta understand… I have six children!

Because it could use a little, um… vacuuming?

More like, it could use a large claw that would pick it up, turn it sideways, then shake it out.

A heavy-duty power-washer would be nice, too.

Or when I’m making a quick trip alone to the store and realize I have a dried snot loogy on the front of my shirt.  It’s too late to run to the restrooms and frantically try to scrub it out.  I’m at the checkout, and not only has everyone in the store seen it, but the lady ringing up my order has already noticed it and is avoiding eye contact so as not to invite the weird hippie (me) to start talking about her 30 cats and egg carton collection.

I want to explain, I didn’t use the front of my shirt as a snot receptacle, honest!  I always use a tissue.  Just like normal people!  I just happened to console my crying young boy who had fallen minutes before I walked out of the door to come here.  I take regular showers, too.

Yeah.  So, there’s lots of things I want to explain to people.  At times I can almost hear the assumptions being made, because I do that too.  And so do you.

Yes, you do.

It’s like that with our house, too.

I love our house. Absolutely, love it.  I love the craftsmanship, the history, the attention to detail, and the huge number of closets.  But when someone comes for the first time who hasn’t known us for long, I want to explain it away.  I want to clarify that I don’t believe I’m something because of having something.

I want to describe how, years ago, we had a new house and lots of toys and new furniture and sporty cars and everything we wanted and then sold it all and then simplified and sold more stuff and grew two big gardens then simplified more and lived in a small cabin and milked goats and raised chickens and *ack* didn’t even have lights or a flush toilet and then I want to tell them the story of how we got the house and the thought behind it and our intention for it and then add all the God stuff like prayer and and how many people we have over and how we try to practice words like hospitality and stewardship…

Now, some labels don’t bother me, even if they’re wrong.

(Like the recent accusation that I’m a brainless wife who just parrots my husband and does whatever he tells me.  It was better to just play it up and act as if they were right, and so much more fun!)

(The same person labeled me a Neo-Christian.  I have to admit I didn’t even know what that was.)

(Actually, the exact term was a “f*cking Neo-Christian”.  But it was meant in the kindest way, I’m sure.)

Stuff like that makes me smile.  But, other labels…?  Not so much.

Because I don’t want people to think I’m materialistic.  I’m afraid of being labeled shallow and greedy. I don’t want to be thought of as someone who thinks they’re better.

All that explaining I want to do sometimes?  It would be to make me look better in the way I want to look better.

Which really is just another form of pride.

I guess the important thing is to just consistently check my attitude, intentions, and motivation, then leave the rest to God.  If I have to always clarify and explain, then maybe my heart isn’t right.  Actions reveal what is in the heart.

There’s something funny that happens when one’s heart is changed.

(Not funny as in haha.  Funny as in interesting or weird.)

God is constantly molding me.  He’s given me different interests and desires than what I once knew.  He’s stretched me in some areas while allowing me to flourish in others.

And lately, I’ve been especially aware of how there has been a change in the way I see people.

I want to start out by admitting that when I first meet someone, I tend to make a really quick assessment.  I just get a vibe one way or another.  It’s not intentional, and it’s not even a conscious act most of the time.  It just is.

But.  I also attempt to take that first assessment and just file it away in the back storage areas of my mind.  It’s basically used to make practical decisions like how far I should trust that person, or how much info I should divulge about myself, or how many grains of salt I should add to whatever they say.  Stuff like that.

Regardless of the file that was stored, there is a genuine effort to treat the person lovingly and respectfully.  One can maintain common-sense boundaries and still be caring.

And yet, there is something that has changed in my filing process.

I don’t just make note of the nice manicure and new clothes.   I see the yearning for acceptance.  I don’t just hear small talk about the weather.  I also hear the unspoken but unmistakable plea for love.

Yeah, the world is full of beautiful, involved, and busy people.  But when you look closer, you notice that they are also limping, diseased and in pain.  So much pain.

He can’t stand his wife.  She longs for a husband.  He doesn’t want to be around his children.  She loves her son.  He is sick of pretending.  She wants a divorce.  He’s going to lose his job.  She is tired of waiting.  He just wants to drown the sorrow.  She just wants to dance the sorrow away.  He wants to forget for just a little while.  She only knows significance by turning his head.  He resorts to foul language to hide his insecurities.  She talks dirty to make believe her heart isn’t breaking.

It goes on and on and on.

It’s easy to despise people who look so good on the outside.  They seem to have it all together.  They smile a lot.  They also talk about themselves a lot.

It’s easy to overlook their real condition.  Now I just want them to know the Great Physician.  The one who heals the scars on our hearts with the scars on His hands.

But there’s something else I have to admit.

When He opens the eyes of my heart to see their sores and soul-cancer, I cringe and want to look away.  I don’t want to help.  I know that change and healing involves tears and time.  So much time.  I want to remain in my safe, comfortable place where I am overwhelmed enough with my own crap.  How can He expect me to reach out when my hands feel tied with everything that I need healing from?

And then, He reminds me.  Yes, it is He who heals.  But it is His body, His people, who are to be His hands.

It’s not my effort.

I just need to be willing to be used.

Earlier I introduced the idea that I often act as if I am an opponent to God’s grace.  I continued by writing about a common response to the concept of grace - Rejection.

I had mentioned that there were two common reactions to grace.  Another frequent response to grace is disbelief.  You may ask how rejection differs from disbelief.  They may sound similar, but they are completely opposite responses.  Let’s go back to rejection for a minute.

We reject grace when we want to believe there’s something good in ourselves.

There is something inside each of us that constantly demands recognition and accolade.  We like the thought that God was attracted to something in us.  Our hearts warm to the idea that it was due to our act of softening or heeding that causes us to be His.

I already discussed how this leads to a very warped and unbiblical idea of salvation.  It focuses on my works, standards, and acceptability; therefore making Jesus’ sacrifice of no value.  If Jesus’ death and resurrection are of no value, then why did he die?  Was it simply for himself, to show us an example or a way?  If that was the reason, and I only have to strive to be like Him, then what does it mean to take on his righteousness?  Why does the Bible say he died for our trespasses (sin) and raised for our justification? (Romans 4:25) If I am justified by my obedience (Romans 5:19) why do I need Christ’s justification through obedience?

If it’s a matter of my obedience to Jesus’ example, then I am an opponent of God’s grace.

So that’s rejection of grace.  Now for disbelief.

We disbelieve grace when we doubt God’s love for us.

Here is an excerpt from Part 1:  “As I understand that there was nothing, nothing, in me that God needed or was attracted to, I am filled with an inexpressible thankfulness to Him.  God the Father loves me as He loves Christ, since his righteousness is now mine. (John 17:23)  I can scarcely take it in!”

Do you get that?  God the Father loves you as He loves Christ!  And, Jesus loves me as he loves the Father! (John 15:9) Jesus himself said so.

When we get a glimpse of the depth of our sin, when we really see how ugly our hearts are, when we truly understand how dead we were… The fact of God’s love seems unbelievable.  Add to that the fact that God’s love is not just love as we know it here on earth.  It is unsurpassed, unconditional and unchanging.  The Bible mentions God’s unfailing love 32 times.  Psalm 136 is a whole chapter dedicated to God’s enduring love.

How could a perfect and just God find anything lovable in me?  How is it possible that the Almighty Creator of the Universe, the one who knows no beginning and no end, loves me?

Ephesians 2:4 answers this by saying God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ - by grace you have been saved - and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus.

And 1 John 4:10 In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. v19 We love because he first loved us.

He loved even while I was completely dead, full of sin!  Ephesians 1:4 says God chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Christ Jesus, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved.

The fact is, there isn‘t anything in me that God could love.  It is through Christ that he loves me.  Jesus took my sin and the deserving wrath of God upon himself, and gave me his righteousness.  When God looks at me, he sees Jesus.

Can you take that in??

What this means is that his love isn’t based on my accomplishments or even obedience.  That seems really scandalous, but his love extends even to those of his who are rebellious. Psalm 107 describes how he chastises his children to draw them to repentance and freedom, all because of his steadfast love for them.

(I’m not talking about unbelievers (those who are not his children) or giving license to sin.  1 John and Romans 6 go more into that.)

If you are one of his, he loved you before the world was here.  He loved you before you were born.  He demonstrates his love for you constantly, through blessing, correction, guidance and so on.

The most evident proof of God’s love is the fact he sent his Son, Jesus Christ, to be the atonement for your sins.  Can you imagine that?  I think I would die so that my child could live, but…

Can you imagine allowing your child to die so that a totally undeserving, terrible person could live?

Now, that is beyond comprehension. Yet, that’s exactly what God’s love spurred him to do.

So let’s step back and take a look.  God tells us in his Word that he loves us.  He demonstrated his love through the cross.  He continues to make it evident every day.

Can you see now how the sin of unbelief is so harmful?  It basically takes the entire story of creation, redemption and salvation and attempts to wipe it out, simply because we’re focusing selfishly on our shortcomings.

Whether we reject grace by erroneously trusting in our own righteousness or disbelieve grace by obsessing over our unrighteousness, both are in error because they assume the key somehow lies in our own merit.

Grace is scandalous.

I previously shared how the concept of grace causes such mixed reactions.  As you think on it, what is your reaction?

There are several responses, but I want to concentrate on what I believe to be two of the most common.  The first reaction when confronted with grace is rejection.  After all, doesn’t embracing grace give license to sin?  Isn’t it silly and even wrong to think one could have a ‘free pass’ to heaven?

For most of my life, the concept of grace was foreign to me.  I read of it often in the Bible, but rarely spoke of it.  In my mind, it just didn’t seem to match with my understanding of God and how I related with him.  When I pictured God, he was a loving Creator who yearned to be my Father if only I would let him.  I imagined him looking down, holding out his hand, hoping that I would respond.  Choosing to follow him was a result of my own doing - softening my heart and heeding his call.  I pictured heaven and angels rejoicing over my decision to choose him over the temptations of the world and the desires of my flesh.

In my continuing walk with God, I focused mainly on my ability to walk worthy and be a better person.  There was a great fear of the uncertainty of life and the timing of Jesus’ return because I believed all had to be in perfect order for me to be accepted into heaven - sins acknowledged and repented for, an acceptable level of performance, a certain standard of behavior, and so on.

There are several things wrong with this view.  In the first place, it assumes that it is I who initiated the relationship.  It presupposes that there was something good and desirable in me that enabled me to overcome natural tendencies that others would not.

Further, through the great importance placed on my own strivings and personal abilities, I was basically making void the finished work of the cross.  In placing my trust in my sacrifices -  what I did or didn’t do, or how I did it - I was missing the true gospel story; that is, Jesus made the perfect, all-atoning sacrifice for me.  By thinking there must be further sacrifices made in relation to my level of worthiness, I was declaring his sacrifice to be insufficient.

The struggle to live a worthy life and to be a good example was a heavy burden in which I agonized over daily defeat.   The weight of insufficiency sometimes threatened to drown me, and I continually sought refuge in the misguided thought that at least I was doing some things right.  As I placed my confidence in how I did certain things or didn’t do other things, I managed to set up a false sense of security.  That, perhaps, was far more dangerous than the fear of never attaining perfection.

It says in Hebrews 10 By the which will we are sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once [for all].  And every priest stands daily at his service, offering repeatedly the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins:  But when Christ had offered for all time one sacrifice for sins, sat down on the right hand of God;  For by a single offering he has perfected for all time them those who are being sanctified.

Paul answered the erroneous claim of those who scoff at grace in Romans 6. What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it? Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.

Romans 5:8 is just one of the many verses that lays to rest any claim I have to boast about when it comes to the part I had in my salvation.  But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.  For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. And I cannot forget Romans 3:11. None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God.

As for the satisfaction I took in what I thought served to make me better in God’s view - Isaiah 64:6 But we are all like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like filthy rags; and we all fade like a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away.  Filthy rags can be translated as a polluted garment.  As a cloth diapering mom, I know full well the stench of a dirty diaper. That is how my good deeds and righteous works appear to a just, all-powerful God.

Yes, I still strive to have a closer walk with Jesus.  Yes, I recognize that I must daily sacrifice my will, and take up the cross.  Yes, I know that I need to continue to mature in my faith, produce fruit, and become more like Christ.

The difference is that by accepting grace as a reality and embracing it as fully as I can comprehend it, I walk with joy.  My confidence is placed in Christ’s finished work on the cross and the fulfillment of his resurrection.  The realization of the depth of grace repels me even more from the desire to sin.  I know that I can never walk worthy, not even close, but I am filled with an assurance that I am God’s through Christ, and that nothing can separate me from Him.  (Rom 8:39)  As I understand that there was nothing, nothing, in me that God needed or was attracted to, I am filled with an inexpressible thankfulness to Him.  God loves me as He loves Christ, since his righteousness is now mine. (John 17:23)  I can scarcely take it in!

Romans 5:17  If, because of one man’s (Adam’s) trespass, death reigned through that one man, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man Jesus Christ.

Grace.  I don’t understand it.  I can’t fully explain it.  But I am utterly and completely grateful for it.

Part Two is here.

I’ve been thinking on this quite a bit lately.

There are many ways in which I could be an opponent of God’s grace.

1. Anytime I feel like I am doing something good or right that will therefore cause me to feel more worthy.
2. When I compare myself to those that are doing “worse” than me, and feel better about myself, my righteousness, and a little more deserving of God’s love for me.
3. When I compare myself to those that are doing “better” than me, and feel awful and undeserving of God’s love.
4. When I wallow in self-pity and depression, which is really a form of pride.
5. When I revel in my accomplishments to the point of taking full credit.
6. When I trust in perceived merit by focusing on works - being good, worthy, spiritual, obedient, etc.
7. Not truly believing in God’s steadfast love for me, even during times that I am rebellious or disobedient.
8. When, during times of trial, I’m wanting to know “why” or question God’s love and care for me.

There are plenty more, and I ‘m sure you could think of some of your own.  Feel free to do so in the comments!

So many times, I do the above things and then think “Ooops, I shouldn’t be heading this way”.

But it really takes on a whole new meaning when I understand that in doing so I am not only thinking erroneously, but I am, in fact, an opponent of God’s grace.

Mull on that for a minute.

I think often it’s easy to say, ‘Yes, I am forgiven and cleansed through the blood of Christ, and I fully trust in the atoning, finished work of Christ. I am saved by grace.”

And yet, every time I do any one of the above things I listed, my actions and thoughts are in contradiction to that statement.

Grace.

It is at once a beautiful, awesome word and a horrible, unbelievable word.

Beautiful and awesome - because I can know that grace is a gift, totally undeserved and freely given to me.  Hallelujah!  What unspeakable joy to think that God the Father sent the Son to die for me, when my sin and the justice of God dictated that I should indeed die and face eternal hell.  Jesus took my sins upon himself and paid the penalty.  Fully.

Horrible and unbelievable - because it goes against the inner, sinful desire to somehow believe that I am a good person.  Part of me likes to think that God saw something in me, a soft heart maybe, and yearned for me to call out to him.  It’s easy to want to believe this great lie!

I cannot wrap my mind around grace, because I tend to think of love in human terms and capabilities.  But God’s love and mercy cannot be compared to ours, and doing so is a grave disservice to who He is.

Part One is here.  Part Two is here.