Forget Sin, Forget God

For I know my transgressions,

and my sin is always before me.

-Psalm 51:3

Before sin can be behind you, it must come before you. You must see the eyes of those you have hurt. You must come to know that the faces you see full of hurt and anger are really reflections of your own. Sin must come before you so that you know your transgressions. Such intimate knowledge is not something you forget.

Forgetting your sin is forgetting God, because at the heart of all sin is a God who has been hurt. He is not hurt by self-pity, but by deep concern for us and those we have hurt. Forgetting our sin means accepting it. It remains too close for us to see and fear. Without fear of sin, there can be no fear of God.

The cross of the suffering Christ is a deep, still pool in which we see our sin. We swear friendship, loyalty, and love to Jesus, but cannot stay awake with him. We curse ourselves and swear we do not know him with our actions if not our very words. We strike out with swords and anger instead of standing firm beside him. We run off naked into the night, exposed as foolish, frightened children.

The One who would not save himself hangs before us. He is the mirror of each of us, caught in sin, nailed to that which kills us, unable to save ourselves. Empty religion builds the cross and leaves us there to die. It points out the futility of our lives and cries out to God, "Why have you forsaken me?" but waits for no reply and anticipates no rescue. Empty religion is the cross with no crown, Adam in futility working the soil for thorns, Eve in pain bearing only a still-born child. It puts us on the cross and makes us self-pitying martyrs instead of the New Creation.

The One who is innocent and yet condemned stands before us. Mocked and beaten with a crown of thorns he is hated for no reason, for being with the wrong people, being guilty of telling the truth about himself and our sin. Brutal government finds it necessary that the innocent should die rather than a whole nation perish. Unsubstantiated claims drown out true confession. The howling crowds dictate justice, wanting to see punishment rather than seek vindication and reconciliation. Whether we are unwilling to help or a party to his condemnation, our brutality is shown in the flogged, spat-upon Savior who stands before us.

We remember our sin so we can remember God. Nothing else. Our personal sins will make us run and hide. Our empty religion will crucify us. Our brutal politics will bring us to hate and blame. 

"I know my transgressions" so that I might know you, Jesus. You bore the cross, but you did not stay there, but you did not stay there, and neither must I. Amen.

The Deliverance of the Cross

These are the shadows of things that were to come; the reality, however, is found in Christ.  (Colossians 2:17)

Holy Week may be the greatest "reality check" that we all have.  In the midst of dreams and disappointments, Jesus's road to and beyond the cross stands as a stark contrast.  It shows us that we typically greatly overestimate our own ability and goodness and greatly underestimate God's ability and goodness.  So we find reality.

The cross is not a requirement of mere suffering or sacrifice for followers of Jesus.  We serve a God who says, "I desire to show you mercy, not demand your sacrifice."  The part of us that suffers is the part that needs to die: our merely self-gratifying desires.  The cross stands as the ultimate sign of the frustration of such desires.

We need someone to deliver us from the black hole of self-gratification.  It takes more than putting such desires to death.  It takes a new way of life and a completely new foundation:

In just the same way as you took the Christ, even Jesus, the Lord, to your side at one point, 

  keep walking with Him, 

  since you have been planted in Him 

    and are rooted in Him, 

    and are building your lives upon Him,

  and are developing inner strength by your trust.

Do all this just as you were taught, 

  while being excessive in your gratefulness to God. (2:6-7)

Just as the cross points to the resurrection, so the putting to death of our earthly desires points to something greater for our desires to focus on.  As we plot the destruction of such things that enslave us, we can begin to see something new sprouting from our soul: new thoughts, new feelings, a new sense of purpose, new relationships.  Take note of these things or you may find yourself slipping into a grudging and grinding spirituality rather than the freedom that Christ gives.

Paul gives a few warnings about going in the wrong direction (2:23).  Do not "worship" the will or rely too heavily upon it.  If you do you will find yourself exhausted before the day is done and falling back into the habits you are trying to fight.  

Do not humiliate yourself.  Talking down to yourself will actually lead you back to your "coping mechanisms."  Speak to your heart like you would a little child, kindly and carefully.  

Do not focus on practices that are hard on the body.  Habits are not destroyed in a day.  Just like working yeast through dough kneed good practices into your live and bad practices out.  A little bit can go a long way.  This is more of a marathon than a sprint.

I want to encourage you.  Use what is helpful.  Share how God is dealing with you so that other people can benefit.

May you find the joy of increasing freedom from sin and of service to Christ and his kingdom this week!

(A letter to my fellow pilgrims I meet with)

The Cross Comes From Love

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son. . . (John 3:16).

The Cross of Christ does not make God love us; it is the outcome and measure of His love for us. (Andrew Murray, With Christ in the School of Prayer, 6th Lesson)

Perhaps for a lot of people it goes without saying, but for myself I was moved by this thought: God loved me before Jesus died on the cross. He does not need the cross in order to love me, long for me, and be a Father to me.

Somehow the idea of the cross bringing peace between God and myself gave me the idea that he was angry with me and wanted to do me harm. This, of course, does not line up even with the most elementary of Bible verses, John 3:16. Fortunately it does not read, "For God was so fed up with the world that he gave his one and only Son. . . ." The cross is not the antidote for God's scorn and hatred of me, but the outcome of his love for me.

The peace he bought with the cross was not to relieve his anger by punishing Jesus, but the peace of bringing a rebellious and empty soul like mine into his good grace. I needed peacemaking, not God. He always loved me, but now his love has been made known completely through the finished work of Jesus, who suffered becoming a man, living with men, and dying at the hands of men. As Dallas Willard puts it, "The very best people put to death the very best man."

The cross is indeed necessary for my coming to God, but not because of a problem with God. He loved me and the world, so he sent his Son. Certainly God gets angry. Certainly there is wrath. Like me, God hates the things that come between himself and his children and threaten to destroy them. The cross is powerful medicine to cure the illness I have. The cross is triumph over the evil in and around me. The cross is what I need to live in its example as well as in its reality. The message of the cross is not this: "Someone needs a beating."

So I am even more grateful for this sacrifice of Jesus and his Father. Jesus did not take a beating from his Father; he took one from us. I could not come to him by any other means.

Lord, because you loved me so much, you had to humble yourself before me and my kind, even to the point of being shamefully put to death. This is the story of your love and the most poignant picture of it. You have laid yourself down so low so that even I could find you. There is no other way. Without understanding and living out of the knowledge and trust in this love, I am hopelessly ignorant of the kind of God that you are. Open my eyes more. Guide me further in this love. Amen.