Something that I try to keep hidden (or at least that I try to make less blaringly obvious than other parts of my personality) is that deep down, I'm a very bitter person. I regret many, many things that I've done; ways I've behaved in times that I've been through; in a certain sense, I even regret being the person I am now. It is exceptionally hard for me to look back on my life and be thankful for any of it, because I had a lot of hurt growing up, and I have a lot of pain now, looking back on all of it. Going beyond that, too, I feel like every day I err in some manner that ought to be looked upon with remorse and anger. My mistakes yesterday and the day before seem as real and as ominously dangerous to me as any real-world disaster - my errors don't just come off to me as, "Oh, well, I could have done that better"; often times, I am legitimately deeply grieved that I acted a certain way or did a particular thing. I don't know who reads this blog, and I don't know how many of you can see this part of me; but I am a deeply, intensely regretful person. I am burdened constantly with the feeling that I will never escape my past. I am burdened constantly because I feel that I myself am a burden.
But one thing that I've come to learn over the last semester, and that - hopefully - I am slowly internalizing and learning to be changed by, is the truth that God is bigger than my failures. Two closely related things come out of this: (1) a realization that my bitter self-loathing is actually driven by pride; and (2) a fresh look at God's love through his sovereign omnipotence. We'll do each one in succession; since the two are progressive.
Someone once told me that in order to think that everything is your fault, on some level, you have to think that you're all-powerful. This has been a recurrent theme in my battle with bitterness over the last 2-3 years, and it once more serves a fascinating insight into the labyrinth of my own psyche. It's true, isn't it? I regret so many things because I think that if I had done something, anything differently, the outcome of the situation might have been vastly different. I regret so many things because I believe that, at the time, it was within my grasp to prevent whatever disastrous consequences might have befallen myself and others. I regret so many things because I believe that if I had just seen it earlier, I could have prevented everything that ever went wrong. I regret so many things because, deep down, I believe that I can fix everything; I believe that I can control everything.
But because I believe that every bad thing is my fault, I also push God out of the picture. This works on two levels: firstly, I end up putting God's love and power in a box, saying, "No, no, every bad thing is always my fault; God never gives us discipline or rebuke, God never sends us through hardship! It's all my fault." But the second, and more important aspect, that I've since come to learn, is that I believe the depth and gravity of my errors outweigh God's ability to work through them. I believe that nobody - not even God - could right my wrong, nobody could undo what I've done, and nobody could make something straight out of the crooked timber I felled.
But listen, you. Listen. God is bigger than your mistakes. God is bigger than your errors. Who am I to tell God, with my feeble mind and frail human hands, that he is no longer able to work because of my failure? Do I actually believe that God is unable to do good, because of the unbearable weight of my badness? Ridiculous! This is, perhaps, the most important lesson that I've learned this semester. I have learned to give thanks: and I have learned to see God's greatness (I hope). If bitterness is the end of hope, then thanksgiving is the death of bitterness. My failures seem so big to me, but I need to realize that God is so much bigger. I mistakenly believe that God will have been rendered powerless, unable to bless myself and others because of the gravity of my transgressions. But God can bless us even in the midst of my failure, and even despite the outcomes of my inadequacy. Nothing can separate us from God's blessings, and his unending, immeasurable, all-powerful love. Oh, happiness! There's grace enough for us and the whole human race!
So, I am thankful. I am thankful that his grace is sufficient for my weakness! I am thankful that his grace is all the more perfect in a wretch like me.
I am thankful that God's faithfulness is brand, spanking new; every second of every minute of every hour of every day of all eternity! I remember my bitterness, my wandering and my affliction, but I am thankful that the steadfast love of the LORD never ceases!
I am thankful that God makes all things beautiful in their own time. I am thankful that God will make everything wondrously new, and that all the former order of things will pass away!
I am thankful that God does not remember my failures, and that he instead writes with the immeasurably precious blood of his own Son a new covenant: "I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts." I am thankful that my soul cries out within me with the Word of the living God!
I am thankful that these light and momentary troubles are preparing an eternal weight of glory that far exceeds all comprehension! I am thankful that no matter how much I might hurt, no matter how much sorrow fills my heart, that Christ's radiance is the end of it! I am thankful.
But most of all - most of all, I am thankful for Jesus. I am thankful today that nothing that has ever captured the attention of my eye or wooed the rapture of my spirit is as eternal, is as precious, is as everlasting and beautiful as Christ. And I am thankful that nothing will ever be as beautiful as him. I am thankful that he is the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen; and that he is still more beautiful tomorrow than today, still more beautiful today than yesterday, and will only ever increase and beauty and glory until, at last, we see him face-to-face. I am thankful.
No comments:
Post a Comment