(Thoughts from November 2008)
There was a beautiful moment today when I remembered that the pressure is off and life is not about performance. It’s funny how easy it is to forget something so simple. One of the most basic truths of the Christian faith is the fact that when Jesus died, he covered all of our failures, all of our brokenness, and all of our downright rebellion, and that it’s not our job to perform.
But I stood today in a church sanctuary and realized that for some reason, I was scared to approach God. For some reason, I felt like I had somehow failed him, and that I was never going to be good enough to be given anything more than a job to redeem myself. And I realized that this kind of thinking is so twisted and wrong.
Because I cannot redeem myself. Ever.
Last night I spent probably an hour in tears, wrestling with myself, and wrestling with God. I came to the conclusion that I would sacrifice anything necessary to do what I thought God was asking me to do. But I had to think about it long and hard before I came to that conclusion. And having made that decision once again, I begged God to give me peace, whatever happens.
But I was scared to ask for anything more. Because I felt like to do so would be so selfish, in light of all the other things that are so much more important than myself.
You have to understand something about the relationship that God and I have. It’s always been more like a father and child thing than anything else. He’s my Daddy. Probably because that is what I have most needed him to be in my life. But that doesn’t make it any less real.
But lately there has been a voice in the back of my head telling me that I’m more of a servant than a child. And there is some truth to the metaphor; he is so much greater than I am, his work and desires are my command. But for some reason I believed the part about not being a child.
And suddenly I realize I know someone else who had believed that lie before. I have met him many times in my Sunday School classes. And his name is the Prodigal Son.
“Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned before you; I don’t deserve to be called your son. Take me on as a hired hand.” (Luke 15:19-20 The Message)
So I thought, for some reason, though I knew it to be false, that the only thing I was worthy of was his work, which in and of itself is indeed an awesome privilege and honour. And I love doing what he has called me to do. I love every part of it. I love the place he has given me right now to do his work and the people he has placed in my path.
I love his work. But love of his work is not enough when the work tires and drains you, and the calendar starts to catch up with you, and the stress begins to settle around your neck.
So I begged God for peace last night. I begged him to help me to be resigned to my fate. I stuck the knife in many dreams and slashed them to pieces at his feet, presenting sacrificial lambs and sacrificial Isaacs. And I cried as I killed dream after dream and hope after hope. And I did not sleep well.
But this morning was communion Sunday, which at the church where I am interning, means that the children’s workers get to be in the first part of the worship service. And maybe this is a part of the problem; that I don’t often have the opportunity these days to sit in a corporate worship service and just be part of God’s people, worshiping him together.
And as we broke the bread that represents the broken body of Jesus, I remembered that it wasn’t my sacrifices that mattered. It wasn’t my broken, slashed dreams and hopes that were going to bring me to the place that God wants me to be. The sacrifice has already been made.
“They arrived at the place to which God had directed him. Abraham built an altar. He laid out the wood. Then he tied up Isaac and laid him on the wood. Abraham reached out and took the knife to kill his son.
Just then an angel of God called to him out of Heaven, ‘Abraham! Abraham!’
‘Yes, I’m listening’
‘Don’t lay a hand on that boy! Don’t touch him! Now I know how fearlessly you fear God; you didn’t hesitate to place your son, your dear son, on the altar for me.’
Abraham looked up. He saw a ram caught by its horns in the thicket. Abraham took the ram and sacrificed it as a burnt offering instead of his son.” (Genesis 22:9-13 The Message)
And as we drank the juice that represents the blood of Jesus, I remembered that I cannot redeem myself by working, no matter how great and important the work is. And I remembered not only that I have been bought by this blood, but that blood is thicker than water, and that my father doesn't want me as only a servant... he wants me as a child.
“When he was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him. The son started his speech: ‘Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned before you; I don’t deserve to be called your son ever again.’
But the father wasn’t listening. He was calling to the servants, ‘Quick. Bring me a clean set of clothes and dress him. Put the family ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Then get a grain-fed heifer and roast it. We’re going to feast! We’re going to have a wonderful time! My son is here…” (Luke 15:22-24 The Message)
And God challenged me this morning, to remember that the life he has called me to is more than a life of servitude. It is a life that is part of a family.
Last night I didn’t dare ask God for anything more than peace, than resignation to my fate. And I think I needed to come to that point where I was willing to sacrifice my Isaacs, if only to confirm to myself that this was indeed the most important thing in my life.
But this morning God dared me to ask him for the things that I’m not quite so sure about. He dared me to test him as a father who gives good gifts. He dared me to take a good look at my sacrifices, and determine that though some of them were lambs, rightfully slain at the feet of God, even so, some were Isaacs, that had been promised to me long ago. And for the Isaacs, God would provide so that they would not have to die as sacrifices on the altar.
So I allowed my father to embrace me, and stood in awe as he placed a ring on my finger, sandals on my feet, and began to give back to me the things that I had resigned myself to accept as lost forever.
-Pastor Natalie
Children