Chapter 8
Chapter 8 Approval and God's Voice by Sandra McCracken went on a Colorado ski trip with a friend's youth group in high school. I had been downhill skiing once a year or so with my family. I especially loved skiing with my dad and older brothers. They always took me out on the steeper passages, leaving me frozen and thrilled by the adventure.
On this weekend ski retreat, we attended Bible studies and meals offset by ample free time to ski. I met some new girls my age and we went out on the slopes, taking it easy on intermediate and green (beginner) runs. After lunch, as the sun was dipping down toward the horizon, we stopped for lunch and hot chocolate in one of the lodges on the top of the mountain.
While at the lodge, we met up with some older boys from the youth group. Feeling overly confident and chasing some attention from the boys, I parted ways with the girls I had met that morning, to ski with the guys on the harder slopes. I don't remember if anybody actually asked me to join, or if I just volunteered to tag along.
I wanted to prove I could keep up on the black (expert) slopes as I had occasionally done with my brothers. I wanted the affirmation that I was a good skier, that I could hang with the best of them. Growing up, I was always smaller than friends my
Approval and God's Voice
age and I was often driven to prove that I could be as resilient, strong, and athletic as anyone. But it took effort to keep up this tough-girl charade. Inside, I was pretty tender. I spent energy trying to downplay my sensitive, artistic nature.
I traded out anything pink in my closet for black, oversized sweaters. I threw out bows and Barbies; I put off anything that would give away the little girl inside me that I was eager to leave behind. I wore soccer shoes and a camo jacket every day to school. I tried to build a shell of athleticism and bravery. But while trying hard not to appear weak or over-sensitive, I missed a chance to really be myself.
So, heading up the mountain on the first chair lift with this group of boys, I was determined to keep up. I hung in there for a while, but by the end of a long day my muscles were tired. We were finishing up by taking the route back to the base on some of the hardest slopes.
The last run down, everybody took off ahead of me.
I couldn't manage the steep incline, icy patches, and deeply cut moguls. As the rest of the crew descended further and further out of sight, I lost my courage and was stuck on the mountain.
The fear or fatigue took over, and I was scared to go on.
I carved wide, slow switchbacks, working perpendicular with the hill. But it ended up that the only way I could go somewhat down without going straight down was to go right into the woods. And once I was in the woods, I couldn't keep control. I veered off from the trail and got stuck in deep, powdery snow.
I couldn't turn around and before too long, I couldn't see the way back.
The light started to fade in the sky and I began to worry that I might be stuck out there overnight. There were really only two directions I could go (other than straight down, which I couldn't do between the trees). I could either go through the woods across from where I started, hoping for an easier way down, or I could cut back to the difficult slope (which was a ways behind me now). I needed to pick one and stick with it.
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This small lesson is one I've had to face many times when I've gotten myself into foolish situations like this one, when I couldn't go backward, but I didn't know the way forward: you just have to keep taking small steps in the same direction. Right or wrong, if you keep changing your mind, you'll end right where you started. Just. Keep. Walking.
I was lost in the woods. I stopped, started. Took off my skis.
That didn't work. Put my skis back on. That didn't work either.
I struggled for nearly an hour before realizing that the lifts had just closed. I cried and yelled with frustration.
But no one was around to hear me.
I was in over my ability, but in taking small strides in the same direction, I made my way slowly across the mountain cold, embarrassed, and scared. Through trees and over powder,
I finally saw an opening through the other side of the trees.
In the clearing, I buckled my boots back into the skis' braces, wiggled my frozen toes, and skied the rest of the way down the mountain with tears of relief on my cheeks. The chair lifts were now closed, and the forest spit me out onto the far side of the mountain at a different base. So I threw my skis over my shoulder and. walked to the bus stop where I waited for the next bus back to the lodge.
Back at the room, I pulled on dry clothes and socks and then I snuck in late for dinner.
I had been leading with my ego. I was chasing some attention or some thrill. I wanted to prove I was a good skier. But I ended up alone on the mountain, in the woods, in waist-deep snow ona steep incline. I was proud, trying to be cool, and it got me stuck.
THE Jesus | Wish | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL In this episode of over-reaching and grasping for something I didn't need to prove, I missed out on real community, maybe even real friendships with the girls I had met that morning.
Approval and God's Voice "7
I still do these same kinds of foolish things sometimes. Thrill seeking, limit pushing. I think God has made us for adventure.
And I think sometimes I need to realize that ringing a bell is not going to actually make me tougher or more impressive. When I lead with ego and ambition, I usually end up more alone. That's the irony. When I went seeking attention for prideful gain, I ended up on that mountain alone.
But what if we started with an understanding that God has already given us his full attention? "But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us"
(Romans 5:8). Before we went looking for him, before we had done a single thing to impress him, he came after us, literally coming down to earth to live with us. Not only that, but before he came to pursue us, we had run the other direction, followed our own trail, and rebelled against him in our selfishness. Even then, he set his love upon us and came to make us his own.
If this is our heartbeat, then it's a lot more fun when we are free to go have adventures. We've got nothing to prove, and nothing to lose.
Sara Groves has a song lyric that says this beautifully, "You will lose your confidence. In times of trial, your common sense.
You may lose your innocence, but you cannot lose my love."!
The Jesus I wish I knew back then is the One who is both tender and strong. But, he's not strong because he has to prove his worth. He doesn't need to secure validation from anyone.
Yet listen to the words of his Father: "You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased" (Luke 3:22b).
When I seek approval from others, I always come up short.
But when I experience the approval that comes from Jesus, I am free to be myself and love others.
Have you ever considered that faith in Jesus means that the delight the Father has for Jesus is the very same delight he has in you? As you give your life to Jesus, through him, you also
1. Sara Groves, "You Cannot Lose My Love," All Right Here (Brentwood:
Ino/Epic, 2005), saragroves.com.
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can have the full acceptance, the full riches of life as a son or daughter of God.
You don't have to earn, or clamor, or get yourself lost in the woods trying to find God's acceptance.
Look at Jesus in the Scriptures. He doesn't use his power to try to make friends. He knows how much his Dad loves him, so he moves with ease in between tenderness and assertiveness.
He cries with his friends, like Mary and Martha. He gets angry with his friends sometimes, too. He always tells us the truth. He means what he says. He's focused on one thing: the approval of his Father, which he already has forever. The good life flows from there.
I now see when I look back that God made me in love—not for me to chase attention or hide my sensitivities. He has made me just the way that I am. "You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways" (Psalm 139:3).
In God's kindness to me over the years, I'm learning to hear that secure love from the Father. When I run off chasing some adventure, I miss out on God's love and get stuck in the woods.
But God in his kindness is with us when we're lost. He brings us back to safety, guiding us to take slow, small steps in one direction.
THE Jesus | WANT You To KNow The Jesus I want you to know is the One who takes your face in his hands when you're lost in the woods, the One who sees you there and brings you back home. It's not about what you do or don't do that causes him to love you. He already loves you for who you are. He has a plan for you, a hope and a future (see
Jeremiah 29:11).
And in this moment as you read these words, God's Spirit is working in all the pieces of your life, even the ones that feel like they're fragmented and broken. He's not just putting the pieces back together, but he is reconciling 'all these things back to himself. "In him all things hold together" (Colossians 1:17b).
Approval and God's Voice
Whether you're racing down the mountain, or lost in the woods, listen for the approval of Jesus, listen for his voice over all the other voices. He is the one who holds you secure. He'll come and find you and bring you home to himself.
DEVOTIONAL QUESTIONS
Read Luke 3:22.
What does it mean that God is well-pleased with Jesus? What had Jesus done, at this point, to earn God's affection?
In chapter 8, the author describes trying to prove herself, and failing. Can you relate?
3. How would your life and ambitions transform if you listened to the voice of God above all others? With you
I am well-pleased.
APPROVAL (noun): The belief that someone or something is good or acceptable.
What this means for you: You no longer have to tire | yourself out seeking God's acceptance. Because of Christ's finished work on the cross, you already have the full approval of God himself—forever. He loves you. He delights in you. You are enough.
Tha Ti My wf "ua Pride and Grace by Watson Jones M y story begins on the South Side of Chicago during my high school years.
On January 5, 1999, I placed my faith in Christ. Up until then, I performed poorly in school and was an aspiring thug. I wasn't unique in this sentiment, because at that time my high school was well-known for gang activity. But everything changed upon my conversion. I was sold out to the Lord and vowed to give him my best forever.
This period of my life was one of great zeal. I was excited about Jesus and wanted everyone at school to be changed by the power of the gospel. I shared Christ every day. I started serving in my church's high school ministry and later that same year, I sensed a call to preach.
It was then that something dark surfaced within me—an arrogance and pride. I had no room for grace. This mindset played out in two ways: first in my relationship with God. I assumed any goodness he sent my way was because of my own spiritual fervor and performance. It also played out in how I engaged with my peers. Because I didn't use profane language anymore, I judged anyone else who did. When I felt strong in my faith, I judged those who appeared weak. Anyone who wasn't on my level of spirituality, perfection, or intellect were immediately deemed inferior. yee phy,
Pride and Grace
As long as I could perform, I was all good. But my arrogance could only conceal my personal deficiencies for so long.
As a young, judgmental, and arrogant preacher, I didn't have many friends and often felt lonely. In time, my passion began to wane, and I questioned my salvation. I wondered if God was even pleased with me. Furthermore, I was consumed with lust.
Sex was always on my mind. My personal doubts, loneliness, and desire for sex made me wonder: "Does God even love me?"
All of these things converged during my senior year of high school. On September 11, 2001, I watched on television as the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center crumbled to the ground. And in that moment, I realized my faith was crumbling, too. I believed I was no longer good enough for God, so I decided to quit ministry.
My heart grew cold toward the Lord. I wanted to enjoy my senior year doing whatever I wanted, living life with no consequences. Suddenly I became all the things I used to judge in others. Profanity flowed from my mouth like water from an open faucet. My chief aim, aside from securing a place in college, was to have sex. Deep down I felt lost, ashamed, and discouraged.
When I entered my freshman year of college, my faith was on life-support. But God used a professor to bring me back. As one who has always been intrigued by history, I decided to schedule a meeting with Dr. Bradley Gundlach. What began as a single conversation around Roman history and culture moved to a weekly meeting that lasted the duration of the school year. He was a godsend for me. Together we did a Bible study through the book of Romans. It was then that I learned how to walk by grace.
THE Jesus | WisH | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL While James 1:13 is clear that God does not tempt anyone toward evil, in retrospect, the Lord used my failings to utterly humble me and to teach me a lesson about grace.
The crux of my issue was my tendency toward performance. But who could blame me? As a child, I was ranked by
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how well I performed in class, not on the inherent value of my personhood. We live in a merit-based society where we are all measured by how well we perform. The world is just that cruel because there are no handouts. You are measured by what you produce. The more you produce, the "better" or more valuable you are deemed. This breeds a sense of arrogance in high performers, and I was no exception.
The problem exists when we carry this performance-based mindset into our relationship with God. It is very easy to believe
God's love for us is rooted in what we bring to the table. When we feel we are serving God enough or being the best Christian, we become arrogant. But when we fall, we experience shame, guilt, and despair.
The gospel is the cure for our performance-based arrogance, and it is the balm to our brokenness. This is what I wish
I knew as a teenager.
In the city of Dubai in the United Arab Emirates stands the Burj Khalifa, the tallest skyscraper in the world, at 2,722 feet tall. Consider this: our sins mount higher than Burj Khalifa, and God sees each and every one of them. But here's the good news: he offers us full forgiveness when we trust in his Son.
In Romans chapters 3—5, the apostle Paul discusses the idea of justification by faith. To be justified means to be acquitted, or to have your transgressions (sins) cleared. It is a legal idea where
God, who is the Judge, declares us innocent of crimes that we have committed. Along with the acquittal of guilt, we begin a new relationship with God.
Jesus "was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification" (Romans 4:25). This reality only happens by faith in Jesus's finished work on the cross. This justifies us, declares us innocent, and connects us with God forever. It is not the result of our performance, but rather of Jesus's performance for us.
Hear the beauty of Paul's words in Romans 5:1-2:
"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have
Prideand Grace
also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God." That, friends, is grace.
We don't have to prove to God or ourselves that we are good enough. Paul says in Ephesians that salvation is a gift, "not your own doing; it is the gift of God" (Ephesians 2:8b). The free gift of God's acceptance eliminates our need to perform. We can now live in freedom, with grace for ourselves and others. We are free to serve the Lord knowing that his love lasts forever.
The day I realized this in the Bible study with Dr. Gundlach, I was changed. While I am grateful for the lesson, I wish I'd known this in high school. It would have saved me much heartache and despair.
THE Jesus | WANT You To KNow What does all of this have to do with you? Id be right to tell you that God opposes the proud, or that the haughty are always brought down. You'd be right to hear it and obey the Lord on the matter. I could tell you that you matter to God and you'd be right to believe that too.
But I want to speak to the deeper motives of the heart. A lot of times we are proud and arrogant because we feel the need to prove ourselves to God and to ourselves.
Grace takes that off of the table.
It doesn't matter what you've done. It doesn't matter how broken you feel. You do not have to bear the burden of your own performance. God's love for you is immense and he demonstrates it through the death of his only Son Jesus. Therefore, you can never be good enough to gain more love and acceptance; you can never be bad enough to lose it.
Walk in the freedom that grace affords.
DEVOTIONAL QUESTIONS
Read Romans 5:1-2.
1. How does being justified by faith free you from the need to prove yourself and your worth?
THE JESUS | WISH | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL
2. How can you identify with trying to prove yourself by performance, either in your spiritual life or in things like school, sports, music, etc.?
3. How do you think it would feel to trust that Christ has truly made you worthy? What words would you use to describe it?
JERS SS ASAT OR Ae ee ERT GS Se OE Oe Ge! eee Pee RO GRACE (noun): God's underserved love and favor for sinners through Christ.
What this means for you: If salvation was determined or based on your good deeds or moral behavior, you'd be out of luck. The truth is, you are a sinner like everyone else. But God in his incredible grace does not tire of forgiving or rescuing his children.
" *, y "artnet iim osha pba niet ahamommeaieanioeematscaistears
Sin and Rest by Dawson Cooper remember telling my parents I could handle it. While sitting alone in my freshman dorm room, I told them Id pull myself up by my bootstraps. I'd get the train back on its tracks. I'd be strong and navigate my unplanned pregnancy at eighteen years old.
What I found over the next nine months was that I could not handle it, nor could I fix it.
My entire high school career had been relatively smooth sailing. I had wonderful friends, was involved in various leadership positions, and had dated the same boy since the ninth grade. I was a Christian, involved in church and youth group. I didn't give my parents trouble and made good grades. I was accepted early to my dream college. All had gone as planned.
Yet I was the girl staring at a positive pregnancy test at eighteen years old, a few weeks into my freshman year of college.
The coming days were not easy. My boyfriend and I had to make life-changing, life-affirming, and life-demanding choices that would affect not only us but our unborn baby. Telling families and friends that I was pregnant, and would soon be married, feels surreal to me even now.
Can you imagine systematically calling a list of people to tell them how you made a mistake, a very personal one at that?
Think of a struggle in your own life—one you'd rather keep wn gum
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private. Now imagine telling your parents and friends that you succumbed to it.
I found myself in that very position—exposed, ashamed, and guilty.
At the same time, I was intent on being strong. I would do what I needed to: tell people, plan a wedding, and go to the doctor. I assumed that if I did all the right things, people wouldn't see my brokenness, weakness, and sin. They'd see me holding it all together.
My husband and I married and completed the final exams of our first semester in college. Then we packed up my dorm room and moved to an apartment near his college, all before Christmas break.
Despite the support from family and friends, our situation was isolating. Transferring from my dream college was hard for me; watching friends hang out in a dorm while I went to doctor's appointments was disorienting; learning how to be married while everyone else was going to sorority swaps was lonely.
But acknowledging the pain in my heart would only expose my weakness, and that was best kept unseen. I could let go of my old life. I could move on. I was strong. I was back on track—a different track, but a track.
Yet that summer, as I sat at the lake holding our six-weekold son, I remained broken.
We had a precious, healthy baby boy, and our marriage was stable and happy. However, guilt and shame were two sidekicks
I could not escape. No measure of strength, maturity, or just moving on could ever erase my shame and guilt.
THE Jesus | Wish | KNEW IN HiGH SCHOOL On that day at the lake, I was reading my Bible and came across
Matthew 11:28—30, which says, "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."
SinandRest
It sunk in as I read that verse how tired I was of carrying the guilt of my own sin, of disappointing others, of not being able to live up to the expectations of myself and others. I couldn't be strong. I couldn't fix what was done. I was not a perfect teenager, college student, daughter, or mom. And I couldn't try to chase the illusion of perfection anymore. I was flat-out exhausted from trying.
This verse from Matthew felt like water in a desert to me. It felt like a weight being lifted off my back. When I confessed my striving and self-sufficiency—and turned over the burden of my sin—lI experienced unfathomable rest. I felt like I had finally found an answer to my shame and guilt, and it was in Jesus.
I realized that there was another side to the God I thought I knew.
I never realized how deeply I needed Jesus.
Jesus tells the Pharisees, who looked like they had it all together, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners"
(Mark 2:17).
In high school, I did not know the depth of my sin until my sin was exposed. I did not know my need for Christ's healing until I came to the end of myself.
Jesus, the Son of God, came to rescue his beloved people.
And if someone is getting rescued, it is because they actually need rescuing. You don't sort-of-need-help when you are drowning.
You need rescue! Because we are all naturally drowning in sin, we need Someone to get the lifeboat and pull us out of the water.
No matter how good I appeared on the outside, I was desperate for rescue.
Through Jesus's death on the cross, God does just that.
Jesus, our Savior, took on the punishment for our sins—past, present, and future. John 3:16—17 says, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.
For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him."
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Our sin is expunged from our record because Jesus lived the perfect life for us, and died the death of a sinner for us. Even more so, Jesus defeated sin and death when he rose from the grave.
God now looks on us as he looks on Jesus. Our relationship with God is restored to the point that "there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" (Romans 8:1).
The more I saw my sin, the more precious and dear the cross became to me. I needed Jesus to save me. I needed God's forgiveness because I was imperfect. But more than that, I saw the person of Jesus as tender and patient, offering undeserved favor to a sinner like me. He came to save me, not to condemn me to a life of guilt and shame.
Drowning in my sin was horrible. It was tiresome and exhausting. Yet, had I not become pregnant at eighteen, I might not have received a greater understanding of who Jesus is, of what the gospel is, and why I need it.
Despite how hard that season was, I look back on it gratefully. I didn't have to wait until I was twenty-five or fifty to understand my inability to save myself. Not only did I gain a precious child (and husband), but I gained Jesus in a most necessary and transformative way. When I look back on those months of my pregnancy and early motherhood, I see Jesus's fingerprints throughout. He never left me, even when I didn't know
I needed him. And when I saw my need for him, he opened his arms without condemnation. He didn't ask what took me so long, or why I couldn't have done everything right.
Jesus not only saved me, but he gave me freedom and life in a way that I could not have imagined as an incoming college freshman.
THE Jesus | WANT You To KNow God already knows your sin, but you need his light to see it. Ask
God for help to see your sin and need. Trust that what Satan uses for evil, God uses for good. God will find a way to use your sin to reveal your desperate need of him.
Sin and Rest Friend, Jesus calls the sick, and that includes you. When you feel weak, tired, and broken, come to Jesus. He doesn't tell you to buck up and be stronger. He doesn't condemn you to a life of shame and guilt. Instead, he takes the burden and pain of sin and heals you. In that forgiveness and healing comes rest.
Rest from your striving to be perfect. Rest from the pressure to keep it all together. Rest for the weary and broken. Come to Jesus and be healed—his yoke is easy, his burden light.
DEVOTIONAL QUESTIONS
Read Matthew 11:28—30.
1. How does Jesus describe himself? How does that description compare with your burdens? Which seems like the lighter load?
The author of chapter 10 describes wrestling with sin and shame. When have you felt "weary and heavy laden" with your sin?
The author allows her shame to lead her to Jesus.
Because of her circumstances, she finally understood her need of him. Are you aware of your need for Christ?
How might it feel to hand your burdens over to him?
NOOR ly "W "ny, My = SIN (noun):
1) Disobeying God's commands (behavioral) 2) Desiring to be the god of your own life (theological) 3) Separation from God (relational) What this means for you: If you carefully and honestly look at your life, the magnitude of your sin should be clear. But because of Jesus, your sin is no longer counted against you. The more aware you are of your failures and shortcomings, the more
Sq — ee you can rely on Christ's salvation.
Sie x | jt MAEM OS AEE OO NLL OE EO teen oe eedecerreceenimienntioninnnnnl
rer 11 Failure and a Sure Promise by Sam Bush started going to a new school in fifth grade. As exciting as it was to be in a new place—new classmates, new teachers—I didn't have anything or anyone to cling to. Every person in the world is hardwired for a sense of belonging and connection. So how was I going to fit in? How could I get people to like me?
I convinced myself that in order to belong, I had to be special. I wasn't the funniest, most athletic, or most talented; that was obvious. So I turned to schoolwork. That was going to be my key to success.
My first semester, I worked hard. Really hard. I wanted to prove myself. I wanted to make a good first impression. I wanted people to think I was smart. At first, it worked. At the end of the semester, awards were given out according to your grades and I got the highest award: First Honors with Distinction. Truth be told, I didn't even know what the word distinction meant, but I knew that it meant I was special.
At the end of the second semester, the same award ceremony took place and I was given First Honors (but without Distinction).
The following year, I was given Second Honors, and so the downward trajectory continued. Despite my best efforts, First
Failure anda Sure Promise
Honors with Distinction was a one-time achievement. I never tasted the sweet victory of being distinguished again.
A favorite jazz trumpet player (and former professor of mine), John D'earth, once said, "You're only as good as your last solo." The trouble with my life is that my "solo"—which was my academic success—kept getting worse and worse. Rather than climbing the ladder of success, I felt like I was on the descent.
As I got older, school became more difficult. It would take me twice as long to read a book as some of my other classmates.
No matter how hard I worked, a lot of the material just didn't come as naturally to me as it did for my classmates.
To cover my lack of intelligence, I posed as the quiet genius in the corner, the kid who rarely spoke, but, whenever he did say something, would offer some prophetic mic drop. Something like, "It's pretty obvious that The Old Man and the Sea is really about humanity's collective struggle with how we're all going to die." (Boom! Right?) And yet, too much of my reputation was riding on these one-line performances. What if my words weren't wise enough to deem me special? What if I was actually completely wrong about The Old Man and the Sea? | was trying to project the persona of a wise sage, but, as time wore on, I would rarely ever speak. Better to be silent than wrong.
I eventually became too self-conscious to say anything at all. Ironically, schoolwork, that which was going to distinguish me from everyone else, led to me becoming completely indistinguishable.
By the time I graduated high school, it was clear that I was not distinguished.
During my first semester of college, I nearly failed Economics. No matter how hard I tried—and I hate to admit that I actually tried really hard—the material was not connecting. I was mortified. Years ago, I was a straight-A superstar, and now I was barely passing entry level classes. What happened?
How did I lose my scholarly mojo so completely? Was I on a downward spiral of failure? Who was I if I wasn't smart? Was life only going to keep getting worse?
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THE Jesus | WisH | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL The world measures us by what we do. Our accomplishments, our failures, these are what define us. The gospel, on the other hand, tells a different story.
I wish I had known as a teenager that the gospel highlights what God has done, rather than what you have done. Because of Jesus's work on the cross, God sees you as his beloved child.
The day before my final exam in Economics, while having lunch with my college minister, I began to grasp the truth of the gospel. I confessed, "I'm trying so hard in this class, but I just know I'm going to fail, and there's nothing I can do about it." I was spent. I had tried my best and I had failed (or was about to).
He calmly looked at me and said, "I know you probably can't believe this right now, but it's okay. I'm not just saying that.
It's actually okay."
His message was direct and sincere. He wasn't puffing me up with pity or false assurance. He didn't try to boost my confidence by saying that I was actually very smart and would ace the test. He took my anxiety seriously. He faced it straight on without flinching. Rather than trying to quell my emotions, he listened to me
(for quite a long time, actually), and he responded with truth and grace. Did I believe his words—that everything would be okay?
Absolutely not. But I can see now that he was right.
In the end, I did fail (although the grading curve raised my test score to a 60%, so I did, technically, pass the course). My worst nightmare, in a sense, had come true. But by the grace of God, it really was okay. I might not have felt that completely at the time, but twenty years later I can say with confidence, it was okay. Despite our failures, despite our sins, despite our fear,
God has made all things right. This is what the apostle Paul was talking about when he wrote, "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28).
When all else has failed (or when we literally fail in life) one thing remains: God's promise. Much to my dismay, I am more prone to hear God's faithful promise after I have failed.
Failure anda Sure Promise % It is only 72 my failure when I begin to recognize my need for a Savior. Strangely enough, Jesus's death on the cross—which accomplished our salvation—looked like a total failure. As he hung in shame, mocked and rejected, Jesus was lovingly righting every wrong. What appeared to be weakness was strength.
What appeared to be the end was the beginning. He was victorious over all sin and death—all fear and failure.
Do I actually believe this? Most of the time, I do not. To be honest, I still worry a lot about the future. I still think if I fail, I will be doomed. Thanks be to God, the gospel is true no matter what I feel. Through Jesus's work on the cross, I am forever made right in him.
Jesus takes your sins and fears seriously. So seriously, in fact, that he died to repair the damage you have caused. He took all your sin and failure with him to the grave and rose again victorious, so that you might now live in truth and grace.
Imagine it this way: one day you're approaching the throne of God and he opens a very large book and it says [Your Name] and,
"A Biography, Complete with Thoughts, Words and Deeds."
The margins are filled with all the things that you didn't do. And God reads it. There's good stuff in there: all of your accomplishments and good deeds; there's that time you helped a homeless person; when you went out of your way to help a stranger. There's also that time when you gossiped about your friend. When God gets to the end of the book, no matter who you are or what you've done, the final verdict will end with one word: unrighteous. No matter how hard you worked in life, that is your final grade.
But imagine a different scene. God pulls out a book that is, in comparison to the first one, very small. It begins with, "He was born among the animals in a town called Bethlehem .
." and ends with, "You are my beloved Son."
In other words, your biography is not the basis of your righteousness. Jesus's birth, life, and death have taken the place of your birth, life, and death. If you want to learn more about this great exchange, check out the Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Through Christ, your identity begins and ends with
THE JESUS! WISH | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL
Jesus. It began in a manger. It was established on a cross, and it was fulfilled in his resurrection.
THE Jesus | WANT You To KNow I'm not going to expect you to believe what I couldn't believe when I was younger. I still have a hard time believing that everything will be okay! But, by God's grace, I aim to trust the cross of Christ where God made everything right.
No matter what you are going through right now, dear reader, I firmly believe that God will make it right. He is with you this very moment and takes your worries seriously. If you are striving and failing, you can trust that God has won the battle on your behalf. His righteousness is your covering. As the great hymn "In Christ Alone" proclaims: "My Comforter, my
Allin All, Here in the love of Christ I stand."
DEVOTIONAL QUESTIONS
Read Romans 8:28.
How might this verse encourage you?
The author of chapter 11 shares hope for anxiety and doubt. Where do you need hope?
3. Where have you failed in life? How might dwelling on the gospel shape your response to failure?
1. Stuart Townend and Keith Getty, "In Christ Alone," Lord of Every Heart (Brentwood: Thankyou Music, 2001), Gettymusic.com.
Failure and a Sure Promise HUMAN BEING VS. HUMAN DOING (nouns):
Many people believe that their worth is found in doing (actions and achievements). But, worth Is actually found in being created in God's image, formed by his love.
What this means for you: Because of Jesus, you no longer have to earn your place in this world. You can take a deep breath, and give thanks to God.
Everything that needs "doing" has already been done on the cross.