I saw my grandfather for Christmas and he asked what I was doing. He wanted to know where I worked and I tried with a sentence or two to prove that I was somebody he should be proud of. He nodded his head for a while, moderately impressed, and then said, “What about on the education front? Are you going to go to business school? It’s great on the resume.” I responded, “Oh yeah, F*** you, old man!” in my heart; and then said out loud, “Oh yeah, that’s true. I will look into that. I’m going to get some more eggnog, you?”
What is the problem with my life, grandpa? What am I doing that isn’t good enough? What more do you want from me? Will it ever be enough? Why business school? And who cares about my resume?
I believe that “God’s grace is sufficient for me;” that my “faith is credited to me as righteousness;” but I am one word, one word of law, away from a total nervous breakdown. I know this because all the little words, mere words implying imperfection send me spiraling.
- My grandfather tells me that he’s disappointed in me.
- My boss tells me that I need that I need to work on my proofreading.
- My wife starts crying and I can’t stop it.
- A stock turns the wrong way.
- I get lost driving and stuck in horrible traffic.
- My mother tells me to “be nice.”
- My fitness level is worse than the year before.
This is a confession that I am one word away from a total nervous breakdown. My belief in God’s grace is so fragile that almost any word of the law can plunge me into the abyss and send me running to my bed like a child in shame. I wish that I was stronger, but the law is always standing at the door ready to convict me. It is always there ready to tell me that I am not good enough; that nothing I do will ever be good enough; and I am always ready to believe it.
What do I want? I want to not be so easily crushed. I want to hear the law spoken by my grandfather, or mother, or boss and have it fall right off my back. Good luck!
I think that this comes from knowing yourself and knowing that the accusation is true and probably is worse than anybody, even my grandfather, knows: I have not “lived up to my potential”; I could have done things better. What was that story that FitzAllison retold? About a captured allied soldier being questioned and the interrogators asking questions to try and find a point of guilt in the soldier? There was something about the soldier, a Christian, having confessed all the things that were brought against him already- that there was nothing that they could pin on him, to which he hadn’t already confessed a much worse offense. I want to be like that. I want to hear what someone else says and not spiral on down, but know that it is much worse than they know and yet I am forgiven. I want to truly confess my weaknesses- that I beautifully and wonderfully made, but there is “no health in me”. Despite my weaknesses, I know that the work of Jesus on the cross has silenced the demands of the law. “Where, oh death, is your victory? Where oh death, is your sting?” There is nothing that the world can bring against me that the work of Jesus hasn’t already satisfied. Jesus has silenced the demands of the law. The law, the power of death, no longer have a grip on me. “For the law brings wrath, but where there is no law there is no transgression.” Praise be to God, through Jesus Christ.
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