Chapter 19
Chapter 19 Disability and Suffering by Rachel Kang felt broken, like everything around me was broken. My body was broken. My family was broken. My future was broken.
Every dream I ever had for my life—broken.
There I was, sitting in a silent room with the echoing sound of a diagnosis still fresh on my doctor's lips. "Rheumatic fever," he'd said. "It's an autoimmune disease caused by untreated strep throat. It's when your body attacks your own body. It causes arthritis in the joints. And, sometimes, it can cause failure of the heart," he explained.
I heard the doctor's voice and knew that he was talking to me. But all I could think in that moment was how my body felt heavy and light, cold and hot, frozen and flushed—all at the same time. I was nervous. And, suddenly, the thoughts came rushing in. What did this mean for my life? What was happening?
Would I be okay?
I was only in ninth grade—I was young and life wasn't supposed to go this way. I wasn't supposed to have swelling in my joints or the possibility of sickness in my heart. I should have been dreaming about the possibilities of my future, not dreading the reality that my body was broken and in need of healing.
Disability and Suffering
He told me the treatments would be mailed to my house in Styrofoam containers. He told me I'd have to schedule appointments to see him every time a container came to my house.
And so I did just that—I made my appointments and carried my Styrofoam containers with me to each visit. I'd walk to the silent room and lay on the table with the crinkling paper until I felt the cold needle shoot deep into my bottom. I would stare at the wall, stare into the silence of that room, and hope for the medicine to work like magic. Hope for my heart to be saved and for my dreams to be spared.
With a weakened voice, broken and beat down from my bout with strep throat and rheumatic fever, I spent the final months of my freshman year unable to sing in the choir and unable to scream chants with my cheer squad. I spent those months mouthing the words at every chorus practice and sitting out of every game.
So I decided that, in the meantime, I would write my own songs—songs that allowed my voice to sing with the little strength it had. In my room, I'd gaze at the magazine covers of Pink, Avril Lavigne, Britney Spears, and Christina Aguilera plastered across the wall over my keyboard. It was here where
I began to write the song I later called "Poison." On the piano, my finger pads moved across keys of white and black, while the words came from deep inside of me:
I can feel it, I know whenever it's there On my lips, on my tongue, I can feel it tear
At the voice, that sings so strongly So weak, so fatigued, I can't go on.
I wrote the song with minor chords, with riffs of emotion.
Anger welled up in my body, deeper than my physical pain. I realized—I wasn't so much angry at being disabled, as I was of being deprived of the deepest dream I'd ever had.
To sing.
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How could God take away the one dream I ever had? How could God, whom I had come to know and trust with my heart, strike me with sickness and steal away the one thing that meant the most to me? Up until this point, I had easily believed everything I ever learned about God. I had believed that he was good and that he could heal the sick.
But hearing the news of my diagnosis changed everything.
I began believing that if brokenness touched my life and body, then brokenness must be the way of God—his design, desire, and dream for my life.
This wasn't my first encounter with brokenness. I experienced it while watching my older brother live with brain damage. It came in the fractures that I saw pull at my parents'
~ marriage, and when death robbed me of my loving aunt and beloved grandmother.
I surged with pain and confusion. I felt lost in a fog and I feared for the future. If God was good, why was life so bad? If God was good, why did he allow more hurt than healing? Why did he cripple my brother? Why did he bring more suffering than he did solace?
THE Jesus | WisH | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL When I return to this—my story—to the brokenness of my past,
I can't help but wish I had known a different Jesus in high school.
I can't help but think about how maybe it wasn't healing that I needed, but for someone to tell me that I wasn't beyond wholeness or hope.
When I look back, I see sorrow and sadness in the eyes of a girl who was physically and spiritually sick. I was blinded and debilitated, utterly unable to see or believe the truth about God, and particularly the truth about Jesus.
Maybe, if I had lived with eyes and heart wide open, I would have believed Jesus to be more than just some good guy from the Bible. I would have seen him for the broken body that he himself bore as he died the cruelest death on that old rugged cross—for me.
Disability and Suffering
This Jesus who I thought I had figured out, who I thought had fit neatly and nicely in the lines of all those coloring pages I scribbled across as a kid, is more than what meets the eye. More than some superficial superhero, Jesus is a man of sorrows—a blameless man who entered into a broken world that, in turn, broke and bruised him. Isaiah 53:2—3a (n1v) says,
He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground.
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Jesus, a man willing to be beaten and left to bleed, even to the point of death—who died to bring all things together—not only suffered for me, but suffered like me? Suffered with me?
If I had known this, if I had known that Jesus's purpose wasn't to merely promise healing but to portray his presence, his closeness, I would have seen him shouldering my pain more than my soul-sick eyes had strained to see.
I would have spent less time wandering and more time in wonder. Less time reaching for healing, and more time simply reaching for him. For his hereness, for his presence. If I had seen the person of Jesus, I would have seen God's good purpose for my life and for this world—God's Son who not only sympathizes with our brokenness, but empathizes with it.
It is not wrong to reach for healing. Healing is a gift. But, that's just it—it's a gift and not a guarantee.
Our world is broken and filled with broken things. Bodies will break; families will break; marriages will break; souls, minds, and hearts will break. And healing on this side of heaven—whether it be physically, mentally, or emotionally—is a gift. It is only one of the many ways he chooses to show us that he cares for us.
But grace? That's a guarantee. God's forgiveness bestowed upon us—by and through Christ's death and resurrection—is a
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guarantee. And, more than giving us things and goods and gifts, God's greatest desire—his greatest dream—is that we might come to the place of receiving him. That, in the midst of living in this weary world, we remember the Christ who came—fully in flesh—to bring spiritual healing to our souls.
| To receive the truth of Jesus's broken body—that he suffered with us, like us, and for us—is the greatest gift.
I know this, because I've lived it. Even now, I have flashbacks of the moments I spoke up and out about the grace and gift of God despite the existence of sickness in my body. I let my pain pale in comparison to the power of knowing and believing in God's greatest gift—Jesus. In him, I have all that I need; my heart is secure and my soul is satisfied.
THE Jesus | WANT You To KNow Beloved of God, here is what I want you to know deep in your bones, a truth to hold that feels closer than your skin. That Jesus hears every prayer and heals in more ways than one. Look for him in that space within your heart that was once numb but is now filled with love. Look for him in the ways you've learned to wait. Look for him in the sunset, in the way the trees dance and sway.
And know, your body—imperfect and finite—is not your final resting place. Someday, you will rise—wholly raised with holy strength—and enjoy eternity with a body perfected and redeemed, just like God promised (see Romans 8:18—25). On this side of that promise, know that no darkness, no death, and no amount of damage can ever separate you from the dream—the burning desire—that God has for you, which is to be with you.
He wants you just as you are, and can use you just as you are. He wants to fill you just as you are, and can satisfy you just as you are.
He'll spark and inspire new dreams within you—of which the greatest is to draw closer to himself—even after your own dreams have been destroyed.
Disability and Suffering
So, see this grace. And chase it down more than any other thing. He loves you just as you are—broken, beloved, and beautiful. You are worthy and worth it. In Christ, you are bound for eternity and everlasting belonging.
DEVOTIONAL QUESTIONS
Read Romans 8:18—25.
1, Can you picture "the glory that will be revealed in us" in eternity? What broken parts of your own body or life will be healed in heaven? What about the groaning world around you? Take a minute to imagine the new heavens and new earth, where all sad things will come untrue.
The author of chapter 19 describes her anger at God over suffering. Have you ever felt angry at God? How does Christ's own suffering shape your perspective?
How might the promise of Jesus to make all things new transform your anger into hope? a ee ee
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MAN OF SORROWS
(proper noun):
Isaiah 93:3a predicts that many years before the birth of Christ, the Messiah would be "despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief."
What this means for you: You can take comfort that this Jesus, the Lover and Creator of your soul, knows intimately what it is to suffer, to be rejected by his peers, and to feel despair. God is not distant or unfamiliar with your problems. He is nearer than you know.
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HI iff Faith and God's Seal by Emily Heide W hen I was in the eighth grade, five high school sophomores were in a terrible car accident after youth group one Sunday. Four of them walked out with minor cuts and bruises, but Courtney did not survive. To say this tragedy shook up our church would be an understatement. Anytime someone young dies unexpectedly, the mourning, anguish, and grief is deep and sudden.
Two weeks later, our youth group went on a retreat called Breakaway. The weekend was vulnerable, raw, and emotional for us all. I struggled with how God could allow something so terrible to happen. At the same time, I wanted to know that if I met the same fate, I was loved by the Lord and would have a place in his heavenly kingdom.
On the last night of the retreat at the conclusion of our worship time, the retreat leader asked anyone who was willing to put their faith in Jesus to approach the altar and pray with him.
Along with many of my friends, I made my way up to the front, knelt under the hands of adult leaders, and was prayed over.
In that moment, I believed that Christ had taken my sin upon himself on the cross. I believed that because of his perfect life, death, and resurrection, I was now fully forgiven; I became part
Faith and God's Seal
of God's family. It was a transcendent moment, and tears rolled down my face. At that point in time, I loved the Lord and desperately longed for him to change my heart, heal the pain, and make me new.
After the retreat, I continued on my path of the straightand-narrow, attending church, hand bells, choir, and youth group, as well as any and all mission trips and retreats. I was hopeful that my new heart would instantly replace my sinful tendencies—primarily self-righteousness and gossip—with the fruits of the Spirit.
But it wasn't as quick and easy as I had anticipated. Why was I still tempted to sin if the Holy Spirit resided in my heart?
Why wasn't I seeing the changes I was promised? Instead of love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, kindness, faithfulness, and self-control, temptations became harder to resist. I had been taught that Jesus died for my sins, but I was confused by the quickly accruing sin in my life. I had no framework for talking to God about my sins, or for receiving his grace. So I did the only thing that seemed natural—I hid.
I began to doubt my salvation and faith altogether. I stopped reading the Bible, praying, and attending church. If I was truly a Christian, wouldn't my sinful nature have vanished the day I put my trust in Christ?
In college, one of my wildest and party-girl friends asked me about Jesus. She had known about my faith years earlier and was curious. Over the course of the next six weeks, I watched her accept the love of Jesus and dramatically change everything in her life. She stopped drinking, going to parties, and staying out all hours of the night. She started studying the Bible, attending church, praying, and telling anyone who would listen about her new heart and love for Jesus.
Watching her transformation, I felt frustrated and betrayed.
I had trusted in Jesus too; why did he not cause that kind of immediate change in my own heart? Did God even renew my heart in the first place? Why didn't my story look as dramatic
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and exciting as hers? Did God love me the same way he loved her? Did I ever even really believe?
I finally revealed my struggles to a small group of Christian friends. They explained to me that the gospel was about God's unmerited love for all sinners. In this fallen world, we all sin.
That will not change this side of heaven, but over time God will work in our hearts, drawing us closer to him, and making us more like him. They taught me about living for the glory of God alone—not for myself and my own righteousness.
After a long period of struggle, I finally turned to God and prayed, "Help my unbelief" (see Mark 9:23—24). I also began spending more time with him in prayer, Scripture, and worship. And, very slowly, the Lord began to work in my heart.
He showed me that he was the one I needed to approach with my insecurities and doubts. I learned to differentiate between the desires of my flesh and the desires of God. I learned how to repent of my sin and receive the grace of God. All of this has drawn me into a deeper and closer relationship with the Lord. I have come to more clearly see the truths of his character.
My ongoing sanctification, or being set apart for God, has been a long journey (with many seasons and moments of fear and doubt along the way). But I continue to lean on our Lord, and he continues to bless and work in me through challenges, grief, suffering, and the everyday mundane moments too. He is, in his time, making my heart more like his.
THE Jesus | WisH | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL | In high school, I wish I had known that the very moment I gave my life to the Lord, no one and nothing—not my sin, not my doubts—could change the reality that I was his.
The apostle Paul says in his letter to the Ephesians, "When you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, [you] were sealed with the promised Holy
Spirit" (1:13).
Faith and God's Seal
In the days of Jesus, a seal was something deemed important by the sender and receiver of a letter. It qualified the communication as authentic, as well as the letter itself intact. For believers, that seal is the Holy Spirit: the undeniable work of God in and for us, bearing witness to our identity as adopted sons and daughters of the Most High King, and coheirs with Christ (Romans 8:17), set apart as holy (1 Peter 2:9).
Whether our conversion happens in a dramatic altar call or in the quiet confines of our own bedrooms, it makes no difference. We are his.
The apostle Paul's conversion story begins on the road to Damascus, where Jesus meets him and blinds him. After three days, the Lord sends Ananias to lay his hands on Paul, restoring his sight. "And immediately he proclaimed Jesus in the synagogues ..
. increased all the more in strength, and confounded the Jews who lived in Damascus by proving that Jesus was the Christ" (Acts 9:20a, 22). Paul's conversion is dramatic, and the change in his heart seemingly instantaneous.
This is a story I remember repeatedly hearing in Sunday school and always being awestruck, almost ashamed at how shaky and un-abrupt my own conversion appeared to be in comparison. I wish I had known that not everyone experienced
Jesus in this way.
Thomas, one of the disciples who walked alongside Jesus for months, experienced moments of doubt now infamous in the community of faith. In John 14, Jesus tells the disciples he 1s going to prepare a way for them and will come again. Thomas is the only one bold enough to ask the question, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" (v.
5). Jesus responds, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me" (v. 6).
Jesus uses Thomas and his doubts to clearly communicate his purpose and place, not only to the rest of his disciples, but eventually to the whole world. Yet after Jesus's death, Thomas is not with Mary Magdalene and the other disciples when Jesus appears to them, and he doubts their witness. "Unless I see in
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his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe" (John 20:25).
Oh how I relate to this doubting Thomas.
One week later, the Lord appears to Thomas. He shows him the wounds upon his hands and side and simply says, "Stop doubting and believe" (John 20:27b nv). Thomas replies, "My
Lord and my God!" (v. 28 nrv). After Pentecost, Thomas travels outside the Roman Empire to preach the Word of God and establish a church in India. He was likely the first person to bring the gospel to the Far East.
Like Paul and Thomas, the Lord made you and knows you intimately. His call on your heart has a unique purpose. For some, your call might come as a clap of thunder or a fast wind.
For me, the Lord knew I needed, like Elijah (1 Kings 19) and like Samuel (1 Samuel 3), a still small voice.
THE Jesus | WANT You To KNow We don't all have lightning bolt stories like Paul. But that doesn't make your conversion any less real or certain. Your hope was sealed by the Holy Spirit the moment you put your trust in Jesus as your Lord and Savior.
Maybe you accepted Jesus into your life and immediately turned from sin. Maybe he's working in and through your struggles ata much slower pace. No matter the outward appearance of your Christian identity, inner renewal is a life-long journey through the deepening knowledge of the character and Word of God (see Ephesians 4:22—24). It will undoubtedly include seasons of fear, struggle, and doubt, but as you seek him, he will continue to reveal himself to you.
Whether your conversion looks like Paul's (dramatic and sudden), or Thomas's (slow to develop and full of questions), or maybe somewhere in between—rest assured that the Lord has the same merciful love for you and will use your story for his glory.
Faith and God's Seal
DEVOTIONAL QUESTIONS
Read Ephesians 1:13.
Describe what it means to have your faith sealed with the Holy Spirit.
The author of chapter 20 describes feeling like her conversion story wasn't dramatic or exciting enough to be real. Can you relate?
If you feel unsure of the Spirit's seal over your heart, pray these words from Mark 9:24, "I believe; help my unbelief!"
NEW LIFE (noun): When Christ saves us, he transfers us from death and darkness into life and light. The joy and peace we experience as Christians is evidence of this transfer to new life.
What this means for you: You are no longer a slave to death—to your sin, shame, or the things of this world that pull you into a state of darkness. While you will always struggle with sin, you have the cer- | tainty of forgiveness and the hope of enjoying new life in Christ both now and forever. ft Occasional oeslor iss Arctica ic ec etaincen oasis esha nape ares ersiaanihadirarnhananemanesloieimnnsiisoaianntiataninisnaaabiameiieersal
Idolatry and God's Pleasure by Rebecca Lankford O nasunny October day during my senior year, I sat anxiously in the crowded stands of the Mountain Brook High
School gymnasium with one thing on my mind: Homecoming court election results. This was the Homecoming pep rally, an event I had been dreaming of for months on end; the time when I would learn if I would be named Homecoming Queen.
The whole pep rally was a painful exercise in maintaining my composure, as each cheerleading routine and club presentation seemingly got slower by the minute. When the time finally came for the SGA president to announce the Homecoming court, my stomach churned in anticipation. This, I remember thinking, had the potential to be one of the happiest memories of my life—the kind Id share with my grandchildren someday.
You probably know where this is going: the painful moment of truth arrived as I heard my name announced for Senior
Homecoming court, indicating that I had not been elected Queen. While I should have been delighted to have the honor of being on the court at all, my heart sank in dissatisfaction. I faked a smile, accepted a bouquet of flowers, and watched as someone else was crowned Queen.
Idolatry and God's Pleasure
Why was my heart so set on being Homecoming Queen?
Why was I so ungrateful and disappointed to be "second place" on the court? While the crown and the front cover of the school newspaper would have been a nice perk, I longed for the title because I craved affirmation; there was no greater feeling than knowing I was liked. Whether it was a "cool" kid laughing at a joke I told, or a teacher writing "nice work" on my paper, I rel- 'ished every opportunity for affirmation. To be crowned Queen, in my mind, would have been the wltimate vindication that I was liked, admired, and adored. If admiration and delight were my ultimate destination, winning Homecoming Queen was my one-way ticket there.
When I found out I had been nominated for the Homecoming Court, I knew I was treading on dangerous ground. By the time I was a senior, I had enough self-awareness to realize I cared about how others perceived me. A /ot. What I didn't realize, however, was how deeply this approval idol had lodged itself in my heart. I became enslaved to every source of earthly love, affirmation, and favor.
While I was already a Christian and cognitively knew that being Homecoming Queen wouldn't change my identity in Christ, my head and my heart had a hard time reconciling that truth. So, as Homecoming drew near, I tried my best to "act natural." I told myself and others I didn't care about the outcome, that I was just honored to be nominated at all.
This was a total lie. My craving to be Queen took over my life. I found myself being extra friendly in the hallways; I daydreamt in class about my reaction upon hearing my name announced at the pep rally; I spent hours looking for the perfect homecoming outfit (needs to go well with a crown!). Most embarrassingly, I would sit in class silently guessing who each of my classmates would vote for, tallying up my shot at success.
While I tried to fight and pray against these impulses, my desire for a school-wide stamp of approval was too great. I was willing to give this idol just about anything it demanded of me.
Vie
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I wish I could say that despite not being elected Queen, I still had a great Senior Homecoming. Unfortunately, our idols often rob us of the joy the Lord graciously offers in their place.
I put on a happy face, but inside I was full of envy and disappointment. I had built a massive altar to the human approval idol, only to have it burned to ashes in a single afternoon. I had lost the thing I held most dear: the affirmation that I was liked, valued, and admired. Without the crown, I felt as if I had failed at my quiet but persistent mission of making sure everyone noticed me, approved of me, and delighted in me.
In hindsight, 'm now thankful to say that the disappointment of not being crowned Homecoming Queen was nothing but a gracious gift from the Lord. Had he given me the thing I most desired, it would have only intensified my approval addiction. I can only imagine how long I would have relished in my pride, never admitting that I was still massively insecure.
Perhaps standing in front of the school in a crown sounds like a nightmare to you. Maybe you were Homecoming Queen
(or King!). No matter the case, deep within us all lies a hunger for approval and affirmation, an assurance that we are enough.
This might look like a desperate longing for your dad to tell you "good job" after a game, for that cute guy to finally look your way in Chemistry class or, perhaps, just a friend telling you that they enjoy spending time with you.
The trouble with human approval, as with all idols, is its short expiration date. Where, then, do we find the lasting, secure, and satisfying approval which we so desperately crave? Only in Jesus, the One who came to show us what it really means to be loved.
The gift of losing Homecoming Queen was my first step in finding Jesus—my truest source of affirmation, approval, and love.
THE Jesus | WisH | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL When we are united to Christ by faith, we are sealed with an eternal stamp of approval and deep, steadfast love. The truth is, as a child of God, the Creator of heaven and earth is well-pleased
' with you.
Idolatry and God's Pleasure
God's pleasure with us isn't just a mushy platitude given to make us feel okay about ourselves. It is a biblical reality.
After John the Baptist baptized Jesus, we read that "the Spirit [descended] on [Jesus] like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased"
(Mark 1:10b—11). This passage makes it pretty clear how God feels about Jesus: he calls him beloved; God is well-pleased with him. In this moment, we see God bestowing his pleasure on Jesus simply because he is his Son.
Ephesians 1:5 tells us that God "predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ," meaning that before we took our first breath, God wanted us in his family. As adopted children, God loves us the same way he loves his own Son Jesus.
Colossians 3:3b says that our lives are "hidden with Christ."
This means that when God looks at you, he not only sees you as the unique creation he made you to be, he also sees you covered—+idden—by the perfect life of his Son.
In the great exchange that happened on the cross, Jesus takes your sin, and you receive his righteousness and his Sonship. The way God feels about Jesus is the exact same way God feels about you: beloved and well-pleased. If you are in Christ, the Spirit of God's love and pleasure is resting on you just as it did with Jesus at his baptism. And it isn't going anywhere.
Romans 8:14—15 expands on this idea: "For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, 'Abba! Father!'"
Our adoption declares us free from the "spirit of slavery" that leads to fear.
People pleasers often live with the fear of losing someone's approval or affirmation, believing the lie that if we are not valued by others, we are worthless. This line of thinking can make us
"slaves" to the human approval idol, the same way I was a slave to becoming Homecoming Queen. But now, we have been given the very Spirit of God within us to continually reassure us of his boundless, steadfast, and eternal love.
THE JESUS! WISH! KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL
The God who made heaven and earth looks upon you and me and he is pleased. He doesn't just put up with us, he delights in us. He loves spending time with us. He thinks we are a work of art. As funny as it sounds, Jesus is so happy that you and I belong to him that he sings over us (see Psalm 149:4 and Zephaniah 3:17).
There is great freedom in allowing this truth to change our hearts. Resting in God's favor means we can face criticism, nasty comments, bullies, even lost elections because we know that the God of the universe is well-pleased with us. Not only does he love you, he also really likes you. The favor of God is an eternal, heavenly favor that is far sweeter and more durable than any form of approval found on earth.
_ I wish I could go back and visit seventeen-year-old Rebecca on that sunny October day. I wish I could give her a big hug and tell her how much God delights in her, his beloved daughter. I wish I could help her believe that she did not need the bouquet, the crown, or the newspaper cover to be adored; she already had all the adoration she could ever need from her heavenly Father.
I wish I could encourage her to live as a daughter, not a slave.
THE Jesus | WANT You To KNow Reader, I want you to know that in Christ, you have the freedom to rest from your endless quest for approval. You can love others out of the kindness of Jesus, because in him, you already have the affirmation you so desperately crave. The next time you feel worthless, run to him and remember that he, the God who laid down his life for you, is well-pleased with you. Not because of what you've done, but because of what he has done to make you his child.
In Christ, you are an adopted child of God. You don't wear a flimsy plastic crown; you are crowned with 4zs righteousness.
You are not held captive by fear and approval; you are free to live and delight in his love.
Idolatry and God's Pleasure
DEVOTIONAL QUESTIONS
Read Ephesians 1:5—6.
1. How does God desire to relate to his people? Does he want to be far off from us or near? How near?
The author of chapter 21 describes her desire to be admired and accepted. Does the quest for human approval ever truly satisfy?
3. How might trusting in God's abounding love and approval change your life?
HIDDEN IN CHRIST (adjective): On the cross, Jesus was "clothed in our shame, crowned with our thorns, and exposed to the judgment of God that we deserve." On the cross, there was no place for Jesus to hide; he became our hiding place.
What this means for you: God passed all of his anger and judgment onto Jesus instead of you. In Christ, you have perfect peace and safety.
Wounds aad Pesta ration by Peter Ong arrived in the United States at the age of five. My first few months in America, I spoke a few words: yes, no, and I don't know. We came to this country with literally forty-five dollars (my sister and I accidentally spent five of those dollars on the plane to watch a movie). Since we were so poor, I had to wear my sister's hand-me-downs. Yes, I wore pink overalls and blouses to school.
In my first few weeks of school, I only had my Chinese name. So, when it came time for bathroom break, the class lined up in two lines, the boys and the girls. The teacher lined me up with the girls;
I kept wanting to stand by the boys, but couldn't communicate to anyone that I was a boy. The teacher kept me on the girls' side.
As my teacher later recalled to me, when that first bathroom break was over, one of the girls told her, "He is a boy..."
Teacher asked, "Why would you say that?" She responded, "He stands when he pees."
I was a child of Chinese immigrants and we had moved to a predominantly Italian, Irish, and German neighborhood in New York City's borough of Queens.
I was one of three Asian kids in our school, and looking back you would have thought we would have some sense of solidarity toward each other; but no, we were ashamed of each other.
Wounds and Restoration a7 We never spoke each other's names or looked each other in the eye. We saw the other as mirrors to our humiliation. We avoided each other with this fear that if we associated with one another, it would warrant an accumulated disdain. So we remained isolated in our individual injuries to our adolescent crime of being a foreigner.
I learned quickly that I was not welcome. The barbs were concise, short, and sharp:
Ching Chong Chinese / Japanese / Dirty knees / Look at these / Chinese / Japanese / Dirty knees Do you smell that? What? Smell...
It's Soy Sauce! Roast Pork. No. Roast Dog.
Slant-eyes.
These words felt more like pricks than trauma. They were things that passed through me like an emotional bruise. But what haunted me throughout the years of my childhood was their gaze. The glare of their eyes gave me a window into their internal scowl. Their offense and grimace when I spoke in class.
My accent that I worked so hard to rid myself of.
Chinese / Japanese / Dirty knees / Look at these / Chinese / Japanese / Dirty knees I could feel eyes all around me and while the words bruised, their looks felt like wounds that scarred. The glares from my classmates would proceed with cackles from mouths that synced with their eyes of passive contempt. Despite their effort to pretend that I didn't exist, my classmates made it clear that I had breached their spaces. In their whispers to each other, these refrains of exasperation escaped and I could measure their tone of disgust toward me through their pointed laughter.
I felt such deep shame and rage toward my own irreversible identity.
I remember one particularly painful experience when I was twelve. I was pummeled in a sandbox by several kids, including girls who threw sand at me while they taunted me. I ran home where my parents were mere shadows that appeared in and out
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of my life as shells of humans that were exhausted by tedious work commutes and long days. I rarely engaged my parents, but one of our family traditions was to go to Chinatown on Sundays.
On that Sunday I was still reeling from the experience in the sandbox, and as we walked the littered streets to pick up groceries and eat, through tears I said to my father, "I hate Chinese people, they are disgusting and dirty."
He looked at me with a sense of gravity. "I am Chinese, do you hate me? Your mother is Chinese, do you hate her? You are
Chinese, do you hate yourself?" I sat there in silence with tears unrelentingly covering my face.
That last question remained with me and it still haunts me.
"Do you hate yourself?"
Recently, I went to counseling, and one of the biggest discoveries and surprises that came out of it was learning that I was an introvert at heart—meaning too much time around other people is tiring. Those who know me might see me as anything but an introvert. | am usually gregarious and seen as energized by a crowd. But through that counseling session, I learned that since childhood, I had to be an extrovert to survive. I had to have a coping mechanism, to be extroverted and outgoing in order to buffer some of that pain of being a minority. It made so much sense to me.
THE Jesus | WisH | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL "Do you hate yourself?"
This question from my father stays with me. It never completely goes away. Sometimes our internal voice is louder than the external ones. We digest the shame and rejection and it malnourishes our soul. It deforms and distorts our spiritual eyes with the ability to see ourselves. That is why Scripture exhorts us with Christ as the Light of the World. He is light in the darkness.
Looking to him as the light allows us to hold the tension that on this side of heaven there will always be darkness as well as light.
Jesus knew firsthand of the brokenness of this world where the weary and wandering are often afflicted with such a deep sense of hatred and betrayal.
Wounds and Restoration 72% Christ reminds us in his life and death, I occupied that space with you, in all that pain you went through. Every taunt, every marring of your dignity, every disregard you endured. If you hold on, behind it you will see 1s the presence of One who is working in ways you cannot see.
My Asian identity is precisely how he made me, as Psalm 139 says, fearfully and wonderfully.
God used these very experiences in my life to give me the compassion to enter into the lives of those who are the most forgotten. God used my childhood hate for Chinatown to eventually love it and the Chinese church as an adult. God called me into ministry to immigrant kids in that very neighborhood, to teach them and also learn from their faith. God used my experience to give me a unique empathy to immigrant parents, because they were just like my parents. I wept with them because I saw my parents in them, as they struggled to provide for their kids in such a strange and unforgiving new country. Each day of my ministry as an adult, I am reminded of how God redeemed every broken moment in my teenage years to show me the other side of what seemed broken.
I remember one time in ministry in Chinatown, one of the elementary school kids yelled out, "God is Chinese!" I thought a joke was about to follow, so I waited. A pause. But this child nodded with affirmation. "It says that we are created in God's image and I am Chinese and he must look Chinese!" I was about to go into a theological explanation about God as Chinese, but I paused and thought, that is the beauty of the gospel. He has imprinted into our hearts that we are uniquely created in the image of God. God's love comes to us in a one-way, downward direction, and he did that by becoming one of us. He dwells in. all the diversity of this humanity. And when he returns, I will declare in my Chinese tongue with my Spanish-speaking brethren, "Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord God Almighty," because he created us in his image. In all its beauty and redeemed brokenness.
God was using that time not as a way of giving me pain, but to prepare my heart, that I would know he was with me the whole
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time. He didn't just see the fractures I faced but empathized as he entered into this broken world as Isaiah prophesied, "In all their affliction he was afflicted" (Isaiah 63:9a). And, "the Lorp
... anointed [Christ] to bring good news to the poor . . . to bind up the brokenhearted .
. to comfort all who mourn" (61:12).
God was so close, and I could go to Christ because as a part of his rescue mission, he took on flesh and was also, like me, afflicted.
Christ traveled downward in pursuit of rescuing us, not only to deal with our sin but also to be Emmanuel—which means "God with Us"—in the midst of our pain and weariness.
He knew the implications of our shame and troubled hearts.
He came into the world as the agonizing Shepherd facing the cross. As he went to cross, he experienced the full measure of our despair and yet responded with the full measure of his love to comfort us. He gathered us as the rejected, for we have a Sovereign who was rejected by the very people he sought to rescue. And on the cross, he experienced the cosmic rejection of his very own Father (see Mark 15:34).
When we cry out to God and lament, "You don't understand and you don't care," we are met by a God who does understand, and who cared for us so much that he went to be abandoned. He did all of this so that we would never be abandoned by the One who went to the depths for us.
THE Jesus | WANT You To KNow My friend, the overarching declaration of God for all the loss you experience is resurrection. For every death set before you, there is a declaration that Christ is the Resurrection and the Life. There is beauty for ashes. There is life after death. For everything that has been lost there is still another chapter that God is telling through it—and that chapter is one of unfolding renewal. That renewal will be precisely unique to you and your pain and your story. He is not far, rather he is so intimately close. Listen to the Holy Spirit testify in your heart that you are a child of his.
Whenever you struggle with this idea of why God made you the way you are—and those creeping thoughts invade your
Wounds and Restoration heart, you can trust that my God stays. He desires to be the lifter of your head (see Psalm 3:3). He wants you to meet his gaze with the fullness and assurance that you are his and he is yours. He is saying, "I am your Abba. I see you and love you. And in all these broken pieces of yours, I will make a mosaic of such beauty. Just hold on and I will show you."
DEVOTIONAL QUESTIONS
Read Psalm 139. ky Have you ever felt like an outsider? What was the setting? How did others treat you, and how did you feel in response? Can you identify with the author's question, "Do you hate yourself?"
How does Psalm 139 describe God's view of you?
How might God already be using some of your most painful experiences for his glory—as a part of your developing story—a story he knew and planned from the beginning?
> ete ie Wane REDEMPTION (noun): In the Bible, redemption refers to crossing over from one thing to another.
When Jesus redeems a person, he alters them from darkness to light, from death to life, from an enemy of God to a child of God, from judgment to eternal life.
What this means for you: In Christ, you are walking this earth as a redeemed person—one who was once dead, but now has the promise of new life in Christ. Once you were lost, but now you are found.
At this moment you are fully redeemed, and yet still being redeemed. Christ is right now in the process of making all things new.
5 Peas Lae deme one
Weariness and the Kingdom by Liz Edrington T he electric red numbers on my alarm clock blinked, "1:15 atts Seriously? | thought to myself.
We'd returned late from an away soccer game and J still hadn't showered, wanting to get through my AP French homework and start studying for my AP World History test as quickly as possible.
Sitting cross-legged in the middle of my bed, which was more like a nest of notes and timelines, I rubbed my face and took stock of the grass stains splashed across my soccer jersey.
My body ached, and my brain felt full-to-the-brim with information I was sure I'd never remember. I needed at least another half-hour of studying.
I had it in my head that if I just worked hard enough to get into a good college and hopefully pick up a scholarship or two along the way, then I could rest. I could get away from my parents' endless fighting about not having enough money. I could figure out who I was apart from constantly trying to help their failing marriage and encourage my struggling older brother.
My future was up to me. My rest was up to me. Creating peace in my family was up to me. Without realizing it, I had made myself the king of my own world.
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I looked up. The quote on my ceiling, sometimes attributed to Mother Teresa, reminded me of this weight: "I know God won't give me anything | can't handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much."
The part of me that liked being the king of my own universe felt a sense of accomplishment in considering all that I was getting done—the homework, the babysitting, the refereeing, the Young
Life leading, the student athletic training, and sports during all seasons. But the flip side of that was the fear that my kingdom would fall apart if I took my eye off the ball. If I let something slip, if I failed, a deep part of me believed that my world would unravel. It was up to me to hold everything together.
On the outside, I was the positive encourager who sought to be the good teammate, friend, student, and daughter. I was a fair and hardworking king when it came to my kingdom.
But on the inside, I was never content with anything I'd done. I rarely paused to check in with myself; if I would have,
I'd have discovered that I was exhausted. And I wasn't actually sure I liked that God trusted me as much as he did. It was a lot of pressure. I was weary. The Lord always had something else he needed me to do.
I remember wondering, Will this ever end? | especially felt this way when I hadn't studied enough, hadn't managed to stop my parents' fighting, or hadn't done a good enough job sharing
Jesus with my peers.
I couldn't imagine life being different, and the responsibility I felt to make it different was beyond overwhelming. A part of me wanted to step down from this throne, but I felt pressure to continue.
It was up to me.
THE Jesus | WisH | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL "You do you" seems like an encouraging, non-judgmental statement, doesn't it? "Live your truth" sounds like a freeing banner under which we can all live peacefully as individuals.
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But what about when your truth doesn't actually set you free? What about when "doing you" turns out to be enslaving, because "doing you" means striving for a moving target that is always out of reach?
These mantras sound good, but they don't deliver the freedom and security they proclaim.
Had they been around when I was in high school, they would have fed into the over-responsibility I felt for my family, my future, and my friendships. They would have affirmed the various types of perfection-striving tendencies that were at work in my life (such as academics, athletics, and beauty). They would have supported the sense that my identity, purpose, and happiness were up to me.
In my life, "living my truth" created an enormous amount of stress and pressure. It created an endless cycle of trying to earn my rest and prove my worth. There was always more to do, and my doing was never enough. I was living as the king of my own world.
At this point in my life, I knew Jesus as a good friend who was helping me to survive. He was kind, he was loyal, and he loved me in-spite of my flaws. But he also trusted me with way more than I felt like I could handle. In actuality, I longed for direction and protection from someone other than myself.
Colossians 1:16—18 says:
For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he 1s before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent.
This doesn't sound like the little Jesus I had on call when needed. This sounds like a King who is powerful enough to
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both create and destroy, who is holding the whole universe together. This sounds like a Ruler who is much less interested in how much he can entrust in me, and far more interested that I trust Aim.
Knowing Jesus as King would have changed how I related to the world. It would have helped me realize that the weight of God's kingdom did not fall on my shoulders. I would have been
'more honest about what was hard and broken in my life, instead of constantly trying to convince myself of what I could handle. I would have found hope in God's promise to use all things for his glory (Romans 8:28)—meaning not just my successes and gifts, but my sorrow, weaknesses, disappointments, and failures as well.
For those of us who don't live under a monarchy, it can be hard to envision what life under the protection and blessing of our true King is like. All comparison fails, because it cannot accurately represent our perfectly loving and good God. But I think it might be similar to playing for the best coach you could ever imagine.
When I was in high school, my field hockey coach was a big part of my life. Coach Lee was a no-nonsense woman who had a voice that could cut through a crowd. Chatter would stop when she walked into the locker room, because we respected her and wanted to hear what she had to say. We feared and revered her, but we also knew she was so utterly for us. We trusted her leadership, knowing she would take us further than we imagined we could go. She knew what we could become, and she invited us to follow her in the journey of getting there.
To understand what it would be like with Jesus "ruling" as King or coach, we have to use our imaginations. We would delight in playing for him simply because of how amazing he was, and we would thrive under his guidance. He would know the rules far better than we did (he invented the game after all), so he'd continually be teaching us about the art of playing. We'd hang on his every word. We would have so much fun discovering new techniques and tactics of the game!
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Unlike a human coach/ruler, though, Jesus never lets us down. He is no mere influencer or role model: He is Lord.
And his ultimate priority is always love. He is honest about our strengths and weaknesses and reminds us that we are valuable members of the team (his family)—not because of our skill or achievements, but because we are his. He doesn't need for us to win, for he has already secured the win (defeating sin and the enemy of darkness) through his death and resurrection.
So what's left when you've already got the win?
The best part is left.
We get to live and learn and love as King Jesus's beloved children. We get to spend our lives discovering how to play and enjoy the game (life in his kingdom) to his glory and not our own. We get to trust the only One who has ever been perfectly trustworthy instead of trusting our own shifting emotions.
One of the most life-changing things I've learned since high school is that Christ is not only my friend: he is my King. And he is currently reigning on his throne. Life under King Jesus isn't a constant proving: it's the unfathomable one-way grace of Jesus. And being a member of his team—citizen of his kingdom—means that I am utterly secure.
Instead of living "my truth," I am living God's truth—a story much larger than myself. Here, I am invited to rest in the knowledge that Christ delights in using every little thing—my failures and successes, my faith and my doubts—for his glory's sake. Here, I can breathe. I am learning to trust him with more of my life as I discover the many, beautiful, mysterious ways his kingdom is at work.
THE Jesus | WANT You To KNow Friend, here is what I want you to know: there is rest for you in King Jesus. Your place in his kingdom isn't dependent on you or on anything you've done (or not done); it is dependent on his finished work on the cross. Your contributions are welcome
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and they make an impact, but they aren't needed to sustain the kingdom.
There is such freedom in being a part of his kingdom: it isn't one that has to be created, maintained, or advertised by you.
Your belonging is an objective truth, secured through Christ.
You get to come as you are and behold the way the Lord loves to reveal himself in and through all parts of your story. You get to study for your tests, honor your teammates, and serve your friends, not to earn or prove your worth but to worship the One who delights in revealing himself through you.
When you realize you have become king over a part of your life—be that your academics, your sexuality, your athletics, or something else—I invite you to step off your throne and put that piece of your life back under the authority of the King. This is repentance. What relief it brings to trust Jesus with these things instead of trying to control them ourselves. Before you get out of bed each morning, know that King Jesus delights in the most basic and fundamental truth that you are his. You belong to him.
DEVOTIONAL QUESTIONS
Read Colossians 1:16—18.
1. What does this passage teach you about Jesus?
The author of chapter 23 describes her tendency to be the king of her own kingdom, and to control all aspects of her life. How can you relate? How does ruling your own life leave you feeling at the end of the day?
What would it be like to hand over the small and large details of your life to mighty King Jesus, and to trust him as your good and loving Shepherd?
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| THE LAW (noun): The law often refers to God's commandments in the Bible. We can understand it as God's blueprints for human flourishing. Instead of trusting Jesus with our identity and worth, we often look to law-following to justify ourselves. But the law cannot give us life; the Holy Spirit is the One who gives us life.
What this means for you: Because of Jesus, you no longer live under the law; you live in the Spirit.
While the law is good, your fallen nature makes it impossible to follow every command perfectly. If it were possible, Jesus would not have needed to live a perfect life and die a criminal's death on your behalf.
Because of Jesus, your inability to live perfectly is not counted against you, and your good behavior does not gain extra favor. There is nothing you can do to make God love you more, and there is nothing you can do to make God love you less. He loves you
| perfectly and completely.
\ Soa allan ee eee ae
Chapter Secrets and Mercy by Davis Lacey worked hard to project a certain image during my high school days. As a prototypical Enneagram-3 ("Achiever"), it wasn't enough for me to de successful in as many endeavors as possible.
I needed people to see just how wonderful and successful I was.
In academics, I was our school's valedictorian. In athletics, I earned my black belt in tae kwon do. As a Boy Scout, I became an Eagle Scout. And as a musician, I was selected for All-State
Band all four years of high school. I did all of these activities while faithfully attending church services, taking on leadership roles in my youth group, and serving as a student chaplain for a few of the aforementioned organizations. I wanted to be perceived as a successful Christian, just as I wanted a successful reputation in my extracurricular pursuits.
While working tirelessly to maintain my daytime image, I was drawn to another image at night—a projected image on the screen of my internet-accessible iPod Touch. At first, I was simply dipping my toes in the ocean of internet pornography.
Then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, I found myself figuratively swimming in waters too deep to fathom.
Anyone who is secretly wrestling with any sort of addiction can relate to what came next: ongoing tidal waves of shame, remorse, and guilt that cascaded every time I failed to resist
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porn's allure. Worst of all was the feeling that I was letting Jesus down—partly because I had a sincere love for him, but mostly because I had no concept of a Savior who related to me differently than my instructors, Scoutmasters, and band directors.
A lackluster performance in music would surely result in me missing out on another All-State selection; why would my
"performance" for Jesus work differently?
I was scared to death that my lack of success in fighting this temptation put meat risk of being demoted from Christ's graces.
I doubted that Jesus could truly love a failure like me; the best I could hope for was that he tolerated me with disgust or with cold indifference. Having resigned myself to the reality that I could never be truly pleasing to Jesus, I focused on the next best thing: maintaining the charade of my public respectability so as to keep the admiration of my family and friends.
I went to great lengths to hide my pornography usage. I didn't do this because I thought I could beat my addiction, or because I enjoyed the constant presence of shame and self-loathing. Rather, I had a vision in my mind of what "coming clean" would look like: shock, repulsion, and condemnation. I couldn't stand the thought of my pastor, parents, teachers, or friends seeing me in the same way that I envisioned Jesus seeing me: as a hypocritical, un-lovable failure.
The All-American Rejects' song "Dirty Little Secret" was popular during my high school years. The lyrics describe perfectly my daily fight to cover up my own dirty little secret:
"These sleeping dogs won't lie, and all I've tried to hide, it's eating me apart..."
| How I wish I knew then the Jesus I know now.
THE Jesus | WisH | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL The words of John 10:14—15 were instrumental in giving me eventual victory in my fight against internet pornography, and 1. The All-American Rejects, "Dirty Little Secret," Move Along (Toledo:
Doghouse Records, 2005), https://allamericanrejects.com/discography/ move-along.
Secrets and Mercy
they continue to be the basis for my growth in the areas of vulnerability, transparency, and authenticity. There, Jesus says, "I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep."
What is Jesus saying in these verses?
First, Jesus is saying that he knows his people better than _ they know themselves. Jesus says that he knows his people "just as" God the Father knows him, and "just as" he knows God the Father. The Father and Son so intimately know and share one another's attributes, plans, and purposes that they are described as being "one" (see John 10:30).
Jesus knows us with the same degree of intimacy. No sin is concealed, no fallen desire undetected, and no brokenness remains hidden from his gaze.
I grasped this truth in high school. Up to this point in time, however, I had wrongly assumed that Jesus was disgusted by me on account of what he saw. Just out of my view was a second theological truth found in the words of John 10:14—15—a truth which eventually led me out of hiding and into the grace-filled embrace of my Savior Jesus.
That second truth is this: Jesus is not like my instructors, band directors, or Scoutmasters. He does not deal with me based on my performance. The failures that drove me to run from Jesus are the very things that drive Jesus to run toward me.
What is Jesus's reaction to knowing me as intimately as he knows the Father? What is his response to my brokenness? The closing words of John 10:15 hold the answer: "I lay down my life for the sheep." Whereas Jesus had every reason to side against me on account of my sin, the cross of Christ is proof that my
Savior has sided against my sin—but with me!
Far from issuing his wrath against me, my dirty little secret evokes my Savior's deepest sympathy, compassion, mercy, and grace. They are the very things which drew him out of heaven— to live the sinless life of righteousness I could not achieve, to lay down his life in order to pay the debt of my sinfulness, and to
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forever disarm sin and death by rising from the grave. Now, Jesus welcomes me to share his resurrection (Romans 6:5), which means that the following are true of me.
First, my shame is gone. Romans 10:11 says, "Everyone who believes in [Jesus] will not be put to shame." As one who shares in Christ's resurrection, I no longer have grounds to feel ashamed; Jesus willingly took my shame as his own (see 15:3).
When he died, my grounds for shame died with him. When he was buried, so too was my shame. Now risen and living, shame has no claim on Jesus. And because I am one with him, shame has no claim on me, either. "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" (8:1).
Second, the love of Jesus is mine. Sharing Jesus's resurrection does more than simply remove my shame. Sharing Jesus's resurrection means that I am one with Jesus—to the point that the very love which the Father lavished on Jesus is lavished upon me as well (see John 17:26). Regardless of what my family, friends, etc. think about me, I could not possibly be more loved and affirmed. I am hidden in Christ, which means that God the Father loves me to the same degree that he loves Christ himself.
Third, healing is possible—through community. There were two main reasons that I did not reach out to others and ask for help dealing with pornography: I feared their shame-inducing reactions, and I feared losing their love/admiration/respect.
The gospel alone gave me courage to confess my sins and to ask for help, because the gospel alone assured me that Christ had freed me from shame, and that his love would never depart from me. By the mercy of God, the friends to whom I confessed did not shame me, but affirmed me in my relationship with Christ. There's no shame in having a dire need for Jesus; it's the very reason he lived, died, and rose again. I'm thankful for the friends who heard my confession in this light—who allowed me to come out of the shadows and to experience the joy of Proverbs
27:17, "Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another." My healing has taken place in the context of community.
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How I wish I would have grasped these realities during my high school years! How I long for you to grasp them now—to know the love of your Savior, to have your brokenness healed, and to have the burden of your own secrets lifted from your shoulders.
THE Jesus | WANT You To KNow Are you fighting tooth and nail to keep your own secret hidden?
Are you shackled by the same feelings of shame, isolation, and condemnation which were once my daily companions? Dear reader: remember that the areas of your life in which your sin is most manifest are the same areas to which Christ's compassion is most mercifully supplied. Don't let your sin and your shame drive you from Jesus—because your dirty little secret is what first drove Jesus to you.
The life of Jesus has won for you a track record of perfect righteousness. The death of Jesus has forever cleansed the blemishes of your sinfulness. The resurrection of Jesus unites you with him forever, and secures for you the very same love and approval which God the Father shows to Christ himself. You could not possibly be more loved, accepted, or affirmed, and the reactions of other people will not change that reality.
You have everything you need to come out of hiding.
DEVOTIONAL QUESTIONS
Read Romans 10:11.
According to this Scripture, all who believe in Jesus will not be put to shame. Can you imagine the freedom of never experiencing shame again?
The author of chapter 24 describes his secret struggle with pornography. What sin or struggle have you kept hidden from others?
The grace we have in Jesus gives us the freedom to bring all of our sin and shame into the light. Who in
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your life might speak words of grace and forgiveness over you, as you share your secret shame? pees pies rama so se apa area ipa na rane eee Sone Ny ( d \ ) FREEDOM (noun): Being released from eter- | nal death, bondage to sin, and the need to prove ourselves.
What this means for you: Freedom means that you can live like you've been forgiven. You can live like you are loved. You can dance like nobody's watching; you can wear that outfit you aren't so sure about; you can eat that ice cream that will bring you
Joy; you can let harsh words roll off your shoulders; you can live a big and ordinary and abundant life.
Rebellion and God's Pursuit by Chelsea Kingston Erickson (; od called me to trust in him when I was just three years old, but I didn't really begin to understand his grace until
I was seventeen.
Don't get me wrong—lI loved Jesus as a teenager. In the midst of high school heartaches and often tumultuous relationships with my parents, he was my refuge. But somewhere, somehow, I believed the lie that I had to be good in order to stay close to him, that my relationship with him was based on how well I was performing in my faith.
Essentially, this motivated me to work really hard at hiding my sin—and even harder at achieving the image of the perfect Christian kid. (You know, the one who never misses a day of reading her Bible, has all the right Sunday school answers, and faithfully serves her church.) I loved the moments when I felt close to God. And I enjoyed the praise I received from my parents and other Christian adults in my life for my efforts to follow Jesus; I threw myself into all kinds of activities in search of this affirmation. But whenever I failed either to hide my sin or to perform in these ways, my self-esteem plummeted. I pictured myself being pushed farther and farther away from God.
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Still, something in me didn't want to play the part of the good girl—at least, not all the time. The image I was trying to maintain was exhausting, and deep down I wanted to be liked by my peers too. I especially craved attention from boys, and I learned to get it: by being just the right mix of innocent and flirtatious.
My shallow understanding of God's love led me to live a double life. I was genuinely interested in growing closer to Jesus, but I suspected that this was only possible by self-effort.
Meanwhile, I also loved the thrill of being just a little rebellious—of lying to my parents about where I was going, of driving my car just a little recklessly on the open roads of central
Illinois farm country, and of making out with my on-again-offagain boyfriend.
Both of these approaches—my endless performance-oriented activities and my frenzied attention-seeking—became ways for me to feel valuable.
The only problem was, neither approach reliably "worked" for me. The approval of others was my drug. So whenever my boyfriend and I were ona break, or my parents and I were fighting, or I didn't get the attention I craved, I began to spiral emotionally. My unhealthy dependence on the approval of others led me to run from the reality of God's approval.
Dark thoughts gradually crept into my mind, and instead of banishing them with the truth of God's Word, I indulged them.
I began to imagine how good it would feel to escape my constant need for affirmation. I began imagining what it would feel like to escape life all together.
Finally, in a moment of desperation, I gave into the darkness and tried ending my own life.
Under the bright fluorescent lights of the emergency room, as doctors worked to heal what I had broken, a strange calm washed over me. It was the comforting realization that God was with me, even in my very worst moment. I recalled the words of Psalm 139, which I had memorized in middle school:
"Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? ...If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me,
Rebellion and God's Pursuit 4? and the light about me be night,' even the darkness is not dark to you" (vv. 7, 11—12a).
In the midst of the most shameful night of my life, I suddenly experienced the reality of those words: God had not abandoned me, even while I was running away. And for the first time, I realized that this was a gift, not something I had earned from him. In the darkest hour of my rebellion, he drew near, assuring me of his abundant love and presence.
THE Jesus | WisH | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL In the years that followed, I found myself in church communities where the gospel of grace was preached regularly. I began to learn from God's Word what I had already experienced: that God's grace for me wasn't only for salvation; it was for my entire future.
His sacrifice on the cross was enough to cover all of my sin and shame. There was nothing I could do, no performance I could offer, that could add to what he had already done. And even in my worst sin, there was no way I could out-run his love for me.
This freed me to live in a whole new way. Slowly, there were steps toward reconciliation with my parents, a change of heart in my relationships with boys, and a genuine desire to love and serve the Lord. Perhaps most miraculously, God provided release from the dark thoughts with which I had so often struggled. The transformation wasn't quick. In fact, it continues to this day. But God took my hard, divided heart and began to make it new (see Ezekiel 36:26).
John's gospel tells the story of a man named Nicodemus who, like me, found himself living a double life.
Nicodemus was a high-ranking member of the Jewish teaching class known as the Pharisees. These men were serious about studying the Jewish Scriptures (our Old Testament) and about watching for the Messiah, whom the prophets had promised.
They expected the Messiah to liberate them from the Roman Empire and to inaugurate a political kingdom that would restore
Israel to glory.
For many of them, Jesus didn't fit this image.
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Nicodemus found validation in his popular friends and his position, striving for excellence as one of Israel's teachers.
The name Nicodemus means victory of the people. It resembles the modern brand name Nike. As my church's senior pastor has explained, Nicodemus was the "Just-Do-It Man!" He imagined he could save himself by his own efforts and achievement.
On the other hand, Nicodemus was deeply curious about this Jesus who claimed to be the Jewish Messiah. But in order to preserve his status, Nicodemus only went to Jesus under the cover of night, when he wouldn't be seen by his fellow Pharisees.
Jesus knew Nicodemus's heart, just as he knows yours and mine. In John 3, Nicodemus tried to prove all that he knew about the Scriptures, but Jesus said to him, "The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit" (v. 8). Jesus was saying that in order to be saved,
Nicodemus must first experience God's grace—something that is completely and entirely free. It's something that Nicodemus couldn't buy and something that he couldn't control. Jesus told
Nicodemus that in order to enter the kingdom of God, he must be born again. In other words, he must have a new heart.
Although Nicodemus didn't initially accept Jesus's invitation to new life, he was different. In John 7, we read that when some of the Jewish leaders were looking for a way to kill Jesus,
Nicodemus spoke up. While he wasn't quite ready to declare allegiance to Jesus—he also wasn't willing to subject him to unfair treatment.
Nicodemus is mentioned once more in John's gospel, when he provided a lavish offering to anoint Jesus's body for burial. Maybe John included this snapshot to reassure us that Nicodemus's heart truly had been changed: he had finally come to realize that he couldn't "Just Do It." His costly demonstration of honor for Jesus leads us to believe that Nicodemus had come to see his own need for God's grace.
Like me, Nicodemus tried to get to God on his own terms, but found that his efforts didn't work. He wanted a little bit of
Rebellion and God's Pursuit
Jesus, and all the approval of his peers, too. His divided heart led him to hide parts of his life from others until Jesus finally captured his whole heart.
Soon after that day in the hospital when God captured my heart by grace, I read this quote, which resonates with trying to get to God on my own terms:
So long as we imagine that it is we who have to look for God, then we must often lose heart. But it is the other way about: he is looking for us. And so we can afford to recognize that very often we are not looking for God; far from it, we are in full flight from him, in high rebellion against him. And he knows that and has taken it into account. He has followed us into our own darkness; there where we thought finally to escape him, we run straight into his arms. So we do not have to erect a false piety for ourselves, to give us the hope of salvation. Our hope is in his determination to save us. And he will not give in!!
THE Jesus | WANT You To KNow Friend, this is the gospel I want you to know: God loves you so fiercely, and he is looking for you (even when you are on the run from him).
There is nothing you can do to prove yourself or earn your way to him, and there is nothing you can do to out-sin his grace.
My choice to try to harm myself was a foolish one, and oh how I pray that you will learn from my mistakes. When you are tempted to run away, may you run to the God of grace instead.
Our God has followed us into our darkest places by sending his beloved Son. Jesus did what we could never do by living the perfect life and dying the death we deserve. He has become the true victory by triumphing over sin and death forever. My
1. Simon Tugwell, Prayer: Living with God (Springfield: Templegate, 1975), 523
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prayer is that you will give him your whole heart and whole life, resting in the grace of the gospel.
DEVOTIONAL QUESTIONS
Read John 3:1—17.
Do you share any connections with Nicodemus? How might Jesus's words to Nicodemus comfort your own heart?
The author of chapter 25 describes living a double life.
What are some secret or hidden parts of your life that you need to bring into the light before God?
How does God's grace enable you to bring your whole life before God?
TRANSFORMATION (OR SANCTIFICATION)
(nouns): The process whereby a Christian grows in dependence on the grace of God. As they depend on God, the Lord changes them into a more
Christlike person, although they will continue to struggle with sin.
What this means for you: No matter how long you walk with the Lord, you will always still be a sinner.
But as you look more and more to Jesus for your ———— rescue, over time you will become more like him.
| \ This is God's grace, and nothing of your own doing.
"y My " "hpeursvngacgsatasredis asta eet eden nedeghan nad aspeareaen atta
Imperfect Parents and God's Family by Anna Meade Harris N ow I lay me down to sleep a Every night during my growing-up years, my family would pray together. My parents and younger brother and I would come together for a minute or two to repeat this prayer
I'd heard all my life.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.
After that familiar bit, we prayed for God to bless a long list of relatives. We did this every single night for the first eighteen years of my life.
And then after the final Amen, all hell would break loose.
Most nights, my parents fought. Loud and long and mean and scary. There were many nights when prayer time was effectively just a pause button in the middle of the yelling.
Compounding the conflict was the fact that one parent drank too much and the other parent didn't drink at all. They didn't seem to agree about anything. As a child, I didn't understand why they picked at each other so much. They often seemed to be searching for the meanest, most hurtful retorts they could find,
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like they were in an insult contest and someone would eventually win. But of course, all four of us lost every single fight.
My brother and I had roles in the daily drama. He was two and a half years younger than me, cute and funny and personable. When the arguments started, he would slip away to his room to find refuge in his record collection and video games. He was brilliant at turning up the volume to tune out the turmoil.
I turned to books for comfort, but the problem with reading is that you can still hear the yelling down the hall.
| I was also hampered by an urgent sense that I had to do something about the fighting. I don't remember ever consciously thinking the fights were my fault, but I was very careful to be good so my parents could never have cause to argue about me. Instead, I felt responsible to do what I could to make peace between them; in fact, I somehow read the Bible to mean that I was supposed to fix their relationship. There were a couple of Bible verses that I misapplied to our situation. The first, of course, was the fifth commandment: "honor your father and mother"
(Exodus 20:12a). The other worked in tandem: "blessed are the peacemakers" (Matthew 5:9a). That verse became my battle cry.
Whenever I went to intervene in the fights, I reminded myself, "blessed are the peacemakers," and dove headfirst into trying to make that peace.
I mediated the arguing in lots of ways. Sometimes I walked right into the fight, tried to get them to settle down, and coached them to speak rationally and kindly to each other. Other times
I waited until the next day, finding a calmer moment to invite one or the other of them to tell me their side of last night's battle.
I even wrote down what I thought could be solutions to their problems. I first gave my parents a suggested budget when I was eight years old. The first item on my list was cutting out our weekly trip to the gas station for candy; the fourth item on the list—placed strategically so that they wouldn't think it was a big deal—was eliminating alcohol.
The worst fights happened after midnight. When I sensed one of these brewing, I could not fall asleep—afraid that if I
Imperfect Parents and God's Family
didn't wake up and intervene, my dad might be gone in the morning. In the middle of the night I could hear him through my bedroom wall, grabbing his suitcase to pack and leave. That banging around in his closet was always my cue to get out of bed, knock on their bedroom door, and turn on the tears. I would plead with them to be quiet so they wouldn't wake my brother, then I'd feign surprise at the sight of the packed suitcase. I always begged my dad to sleep on the couch downstairs rather than leave. I don't know what I thought would happen if he left, I only knew that the thought of his driving away into the night was terrifying.
One night when I was about sixteen, something shifted inside me. I numbly got up from my bed to try to stop the fight, but I couldn't make myself cry. I just stood and watched my mom cry while my dad packed. When he waited for me to beg him to stay, I said, "Leave if you need to." I went back to my room and went to bed.
I wish I could say that night was the last time I tried to fix my parents. It wasn't. But it was my first glimpse of freedom from the burden of carrying my family on my back. By the grace of God, I simply ran out of ideas and energy, and for the moment, I let go.
THE Jesus | WisH | KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL I had never told anyone about the fighting at home because I thought that would dishonor my parents, but I was desperate in so many ways. Teetering on the edge of an eating disorder, failing math, and fighting insomnia had me worn out. Of course the chaos at home didn't cause all those problems, but I couldn't risk adding to my parents' list of reasons to fight. I reached the end of myself and called my pastor.
The things my pastor shared with me corrected my misunderstanding of those Bible verses. He gave me a much deeper understanding of Jesus's work on the cross and his will for me in my earthly family.
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First, he assured me that confiding in him was not dishonoring my parents. Rather than broadcasting their troubles to nosy neighbors, I came for counsel to the very counselor God had provided for me. He began to teach me that in Christ, I had been adopted into the family of God. When Jesus said that "whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother," he wasn't saying that our earthly parents aren't important
(see Matthew 12:50). That fifth commandment still stands. What he is saying is that the family he has created for us in the body of Christ, in his church, is where our truest, deepest fellowship will be found. The church is his provision for us that supersedes the biological family we were born into, and when those earthly families let us down—as his did, as yours and mine will—the church is designed to help us. We were never meant to fight our battles alone. In coming to my pastor for help, I was participating in that larger family that, in Christ, God had brought me in to.
My pastor spoke with deep compassion for my parents and their struggles. Just as I couldn't fix my insomnia or my eating issues with my own willpower or determination, neither could my parents stop fighting even though they knew they should
(see Romans 7:15). If I couldn't fix myself, why did I think I could fix my parents? That was something Jesus never meant for me to do. It was never my responsibility to mend their rela-. tionship. That was Jesus's job, and he was the only one who could ever right what was wrong between them. Jesus gave me tools to live in peace in the middle of all the fighting: he gave me
Scripture, prayer, and my larger church family. But he did not give me the tools to fix my parents.
_ Jesus lived for us, died for us, and rose again from the dead, all to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves or for the ones we love. Just as I need a Savior, so do my parents, and I can never be that savior for them. I am responsible to pray for them, and that is all the burden I can possibly carry. "Cast your burden on the Lorn, and he will sustain you" (Psalm 55:22a).
Pll admit, once I began to feel less responsible for my parents, I realized I was pretty mad that I had ever felt responsible in
Imperfect Parents and God's Family
the first place. In fact, I felt that way for years. But God has used this to teach me too. He has poured out so much grace on me that I have grown eager to forgive as I have been forgiven, through the finished work of Jesus on the cross (see Colossians 3:13).
THE Jesus | Want You To KNow If you, my friend, find yourself in a home that feels more like a war zone than a welcome haven, please know that the problems there are not yours to fix. Everyone in every home is broken by the effects of sin. You cannot make your loved ones submit to God for guidance and healing, but with his help, you can learn to love and trust God yourself. And if someone who is supposed to take care of you lets you down or leaves, God promises he never will:
"T WILL NEVER [under any circumstances] DESERT you [nor give you up nor leave you without support, nor will I in any degree leave you helpless], Nor wit I FORSAKE Or LET YOU DOWN or RELAX My
HOLD ON rou [assuredly not]!" (Hebrews 13:5b amp).
I wish I could tell you that the gospel has freed me completely, but I still have a stubborn heart. I still try to fix my parents from time to time. My church family is good about reminding me that only Jesus can change any of us. My hope for my parents, and for myself, is in Jesus alone. He (not me) is doing a new thing, in my heart and in the hearts of my parents.
Jesus makes a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland, and—praise him—I don't have to do any of that. And neither do you (see Isaiah 43:19).
DEVOTIONAL QUESTIONS
Read Matthew 12:50.
Jesus says that our true family is found in the body of Christ. How have you seen your church or youth group take on the role of family in your life?
The author of chapter 26 describes her desire to fix and control the broken parts of her family. In what ways do
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you see yourself trying to fix and control areas of your own lifer 3.
What would it look like for you to surrender your heart—and your attempts to be in control—to Jesus?
Can you trust him to do the fixing?
THE BODY OF CHRIST (noun): This is the worldwide church, Christ's hands and feet on earth—you, me, and our various local churches and Christian organizations.
What this means for you: As a Christian, you are a member of the body of Christ. Whether you know it or not, you bring Jesus with you wherever you go, to whomever you are with. Similarly, the body of Christ you surround yourself with is a powerful support—a wellspring of Jesus and the gospel in your own life.