The Joy of Abject Surrender
I don't know about you, but surrender has come hard to me. I find that I am always wanting to negotiate terms. You know what I mean. It's sort of an "I'll love you if..." mentality I sometimes slip into with God.
This year has been a difficult one. I lost my job, and am fighting for disability due to my ongoing health problems. I am living with my parents, who recently lost all their retirement savings due to the shenanigans of a "Christian" investment counselor, who, unbeknownst to them, put their money in a high-risk hedge fund. My mother is now recuperating from a recent traffic accident which totalled a family car. The present is painful, and the future uncertain. Now we begin to understand what our Pastor recently taught: "financial security" is an oxymoron...So? What else is new in a fallen world?
I find myself looking back at the recent dawn that accompanied what for me was a "long, dark night of the soul." In my life, even as a Christian, I had run from God, seeking pleasure in the world rather than seeking first his kingdom. Yet the hound of heaven patiently and persistently pursued me. When I was caught short at the end of my leash, I finally sank to my knees, realizing that if my love for God was conditional, it was no love at all. In my misery, I turned to God. And in that moment I understood that I must love God even if there is no end to my misery in sight, because my love of God cannot depend on my relief, but on who he is and what he has already done. Even if my only joy awaits me in heaven, I cannot but love and trust God on earth.
God loved me unconditionally. And only God's love can change the object of his love. My love is a weak and unsubstantial thing in comparison. It can only reflect the perfect love of God expressed in his Son, Jesus the Messiah, my Savior and Lord. God will not negotiate, as though we could add "riders" to his covenant, or conditions to his gospel. He will not be tested. We cannot demand a sign, where one has already been given. The surprise of advent was that God did not come in judgment, but in mercy. Where we deserved condemnation and death, God offered forgiveness and life. But only on his terms, not ours.
It was when I ceased my niggling negotiations and offered only my surrender that I was overtaken by joy himself...not a heady, frenetic excitement but an abiding happiness, a blessedness that extended beyond circumstance. God took away my loneliness and fear, and gave me himself. I began to understand what "Abba Father" meant, as for the first time I could imagine, like a child, the strong arms of a loving father, gathering me to himself. The Bible, which for so long seemed only a wagging finger of accusation, became the very picture of my Father, in black and white. Its bitterness had turned to sweetness, and nourished my spirit.
Perhaps this is the ministry of the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, the Paraclete, our advocate, the one "called alongside to help". Jesus promised that when the Comforter came, he would guide us into all truth. And truth is not cold dogma to be debated. Truth is a Person into whose loving embrace we are led. Yet as Jesus offered himself, so we must offer ourselves. Careless of our selves we must throw ourselves upon the altar as a living sacrifice. Only this is our just service, and only this is holy and acceptable to God. Ours must be an abject surrender, complete and without guile. And like fire from heaven God's own joy will kindle the flames of the altar of our sacrifice, and like sweet incense our joy will rise to return to our Father in heaven.
God bless us, extending to us that happiness which exists beyond circumstance that we might dwell securely in your presence.
- "I'll love you, God...if you'll take away my loneliness."
- "I'll love you, God...if you'll release me from this besetting sin, so that I'll no longer have to struggle to obey."
- "I'll love you, God...if you'll heal me from this affliction."
- "I'll love you, God...if you put food on my table, money in my pocket, clothes on my back, or a roof over my head." (Actually, most of us have these...just not of the type or in the amount we prefer)
This year has been a difficult one. I lost my job, and am fighting for disability due to my ongoing health problems. I am living with my parents, who recently lost all their retirement savings due to the shenanigans of a "Christian" investment counselor, who, unbeknownst to them, put their money in a high-risk hedge fund. My mother is now recuperating from a recent traffic accident which totalled a family car. The present is painful, and the future uncertain. Now we begin to understand what our Pastor recently taught: "financial security" is an oxymoron...So? What else is new in a fallen world?
I find myself looking back at the recent dawn that accompanied what for me was a "long, dark night of the soul." In my life, even as a Christian, I had run from God, seeking pleasure in the world rather than seeking first his kingdom. Yet the hound of heaven patiently and persistently pursued me. When I was caught short at the end of my leash, I finally sank to my knees, realizing that if my love for God was conditional, it was no love at all. In my misery, I turned to God. And in that moment I understood that I must love God even if there is no end to my misery in sight, because my love of God cannot depend on my relief, but on who he is and what he has already done. Even if my only joy awaits me in heaven, I cannot but love and trust God on earth.
God loved me unconditionally. And only God's love can change the object of his love. My love is a weak and unsubstantial thing in comparison. It can only reflect the perfect love of God expressed in his Son, Jesus the Messiah, my Savior and Lord. God will not negotiate, as though we could add "riders" to his covenant, or conditions to his gospel. He will not be tested. We cannot demand a sign, where one has already been given. The surprise of advent was that God did not come in judgment, but in mercy. Where we deserved condemnation and death, God offered forgiveness and life. But only on his terms, not ours.
It was when I ceased my niggling negotiations and offered only my surrender that I was overtaken by joy himself...not a heady, frenetic excitement but an abiding happiness, a blessedness that extended beyond circumstance. God took away my loneliness and fear, and gave me himself. I began to understand what "Abba Father" meant, as for the first time I could imagine, like a child, the strong arms of a loving father, gathering me to himself. The Bible, which for so long seemed only a wagging finger of accusation, became the very picture of my Father, in black and white. Its bitterness had turned to sweetness, and nourished my spirit.
Perhaps this is the ministry of the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, the Paraclete, our advocate, the one "called alongside to help". Jesus promised that when the Comforter came, he would guide us into all truth. And truth is not cold dogma to be debated. Truth is a Person into whose loving embrace we are led. Yet as Jesus offered himself, so we must offer ourselves. Careless of our selves we must throw ourselves upon the altar as a living sacrifice. Only this is our just service, and only this is holy and acceptable to God. Ours must be an abject surrender, complete and without guile. And like fire from heaven God's own joy will kindle the flames of the altar of our sacrifice, and like sweet incense our joy will rise to return to our Father in heaven.
God bless us, extending to us that happiness which exists beyond circumstance that we might dwell securely in your presence.
posted by Soulfyre | 8:51 AM
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