In my recent post entitled God Doesn’t Want You to Forgive Yourself, I argued that the concept of “forgiving yourself” is not only unbiblical but counterproductive to growing in your faith.  In this follow-up, I wanted to address the pain and guilt that leads people to feel like they must forgive themselves even though they know God has already forgiven them.

What I do appreciate about encouraging hurting people to forgive themselves is that there’s a recognition that something is not right.  If after you’ve confessed your sin to God and to others you still feel a paralyzing guilt, an ingredient is missing.  But if that ingredient isn’t forgiving yourself, then what is it?

A passage from Matthew’s gospel I think gives us a good answer.  Matthew 9:1-8 is the famous story of the paralytic who was brought by his friends to Jesus in the hopes that he would be healed:

…And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven.’  And behold, some of the scribes said to themselves, ‘This man is blaspheming.’  But Jesus, knowing their thoughts, said, ‘Why do you think evil in your hearts?  For which is easier, to say, “Your sins are forgiven, or to say, “Rise and walk?”  But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins’ -he then said to the paralytic- ‘Rise, pick up your bed and go home.’ And he rose and went home.  When the crowds saw it, they were afraid, and they glorified God, who had given such authority to men.

What exactly is going on here?  While Matthew only writes that the Pharisees called Jesus a blasphemer, Luke (and Mark for that matter) fills out the picture a little more about why Jesus was accused of blasphemy: “And the scribes and the Pharisees began to question, saying, ‘Who is this who speaks blasphemies?  Who can forgive sins but God alone?’” (Luke 5:21)  As I wrote in the previous entry on this topic, since all sin is ultimately against God (Ps.51:4), only God can offer forgiveness of sins.  The Pharisees understood this well, which is why they accused Jesus of blasphemy when he claimed to forgive the paralytic’s sins.  He was claiming the ability to do something only God could do.

But there’s more to the story than this.  Any nut can claim to forgive a person’s sins.  So Jesus backs up his claim by healing the paralytic.  Why is this relevant to him claiming to be able to forgive sin?  Michael Green explains:

There was a deeply rooted conviction in Judaism that all suffering was a result of personal sin, and that nobody could be cured until he or she was forgiven.  For instance, Rabbi Chija ben Abba said, ‘No sick person is cured from sickness until all his sins have been forgiven him.’  Rabbi Alexander agreed: ‘The sick does not arise from his sickness until his sins are forgiven.’

The scribes and Pharisees felt that since Jesus had blasphemed God, he would not be able to heal the man.  So by healing the paralytic’s illness, Jesus was proving his authority to cleanse the man’s deepest and most difficult paralysis: sin.  It was his moment of vindication.

So what does this story have to say to those who struggle with lingering guilt?

First, it serves as a reminder that only the one sinned against can offer pardon for sin.  Jesus has authority to forgive sins, and he promises to permanently wipe clean the sins of anyone who comes to him (John 6:37).  He promises to cleanse us of our sins when we confess them (1 John 1:9), and as a child of God he separates our sins from us as far as the east is from the west (Psa. 103:12).

Secondly, in light of this it also reminds us of a huge truth: You are who God says you are and nothing less.  If you know that God forgives you but you struggle to forgive yourself, you need to start looking in a new mirror.  You’ve too long been looking in a mirror that reflects a failure, an addict, a pervert, a drunk, a whatever….  It’s a false mirror though.  It’s the mirror Satan wants you to look in.  But God holds up a different mirror.  Looking into it, you see Christ.  You see sinlessness, perfection, holiness, and a royal child of the Most High God.  Yes, I know you still sin.  And God knows and is grieved by those sins you still commit.  However, when it comes to your eternal salvation, God is judging you by the perfect life lived by Jesus.

Third and finally, I think this passage illustrates well the missing ingredient that people are looking for when they feel like they have to forgive themselves.  The greatest need of the paralytic was the same as ours: forgiveness for the sins which have made us enemies of a holy God.  Jesus provided this ultimate need for the paralytic, and if you’re a believer in Christ he did the same for you.  But he didn’t stop there.  He healed the man’s paralysis, and commanded him: “Rise, pick up your bed and go home.”  And the guy freaking did.  If you have truly confessed your sins to God, you’re forgiven.  And now Christ is commanding you to live in light of your new-found freedom.

God has forgiven you, and now you must rest in his forgiveness.  Instead of trying to forgive yourself, rise, pick up your bed, and start walking like a forgiven person.  Stop lying down on your bed dwelling on your former paralysis after Jesus has commanded you to rise, and accept the fact that you have new freedoms.  Every command that Christians are given in the New Testament stems first from who we now are because of our union with Christ.  For example the first three chapters of Ephesians are all devoted to reminding believers of what God has done for them and what is now true of them as a result of his work.  It isn’t until the last three chapters that all the commands start.  The point is that we can only ever do anything of worth for the Lord by first comprehending what he has done for us. (Eph.2:8-10)  As a child of God, the Bible says far greater things about you than you would ever dare believe about yourself.  And it’s belief in those things that’s the missing ingredient when you feel the need to forgive yourself.  Stated positively, when you accept who God says you are, you won’t feel the need to forgive yourself.

“‘I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins.’”
-Isaiah 43:25

If you’ve ever listened to a John Piper sermon, you’ve probably heard him talk about fighting sin by replacing sinful desires with superior pleasure in the glory of God for his supremacy manifested through Christ to the nations for his global cause.  (If you’ve listened to him, you get the joke.  If you haven’t, that didn’t make sense.  Keep reading!)  Basically, we grow in Christlikeness and experience victory over the sins we’ve been enslaved to by learning to find more joy in God than in sin (a process called “sanctification”).

A huge ally in the sanctification process is hatred of sin.  And while many Christians struggling with habitual sin know that they should hate their sin enough to forever flee from it, the reality is that a part of them still loves it.  And that can be confusing.  How can you love God so much, read his Word all the time, go to weekly accountability meetings, and still be enslaved to this sin?  Ultimately, I think it’s because we still love that sin deep down.  And I think the reason we still love it deep down is that we don’t hate it deep down. (Did I just blow your mind??)  So why don’t we hate it?

A big reason hatred for sin is lacking could be that we don’t see it for the cosmic treason that it is.  We give it less-than-horrible names and thus treat it lightly.  Or to say it another way, we just don’t call our sins for what they are, because to do so would be to face the ugly truth about ourselves.  Here are some examples of ways I’ve typically heard myself or others describe sin.

1. “I screwed up last night.”
2. “I’m struggling with anxiety.”
3. “I’m having a hard time getting in the Word.”
4. “Prayer hasn’t really been consistent.”

The problem with these phrases is that none of them sound that bad.  They succeed in getting across a “This isn’t ideal” vibe, but also a “Oh well no one’s perfect” one, and that’s the problem.  They don’t capture the magnitude of the fact that your sin cost Jesus his life.  Here’s the same list again, in the same order, worded now in such a way to capture what’s really going on:

1. “I looked at porn and masturbated.”
2. “I don’t trust in God’s goodness and provision.”
3. “Other things are just more important to me than God.”
4. “Prayer has no value to me.  I feel like God’s either not there or doesn’t care.”

Things like these are a lot harder to say.  The more specific we get with our sin, the more uncomfortable it becomes to confess it, because we’re starting to see it for what it really is.  The lines in the first list aren’t untrue.  But I don’t feel as terrible saying them since they’re sugar-coated.  When I go deeper though and say the words in the other list, I’m far more ashamed and disgusted.  It’s a lot more jolting.

Sin says something about how we view God.  When you’re anxious, you’re not really “struggling with anxiety.”  You’re struggling to believe that God loves you and is guiding your life according to his purposes.  When you’re “struggling” with inconsistent time in prayer, you’re struggling with a consistent arrogance that makes you feel like you don’t need God.  The tricky thing though is that we’re not always aware of these deeper heart issues.  Rather, things like praying to the almighty God of the universe are talked about in terms of personal discipline rather than personal obedience.  So when we’re not praying, we think the problem is our schedule (external) and not our hearts (internal).  And when we fail to pray, we feel like we’ve been defeated by something external rather than taking ownership for our own sin.  Jerry Bridges says it this way:

When I say I am defeated by some sin, I am unconsciously slipping out from under my responsibility.  I am saying something outside of me has defeated me.  But when I say I am disobedient, that places the responsibility for my sin squarely on me.  We may, in fact, be defeated, but the reason we are defeated is because we have chosen to disobey.

If we’re not calling sin for what it is and owning up to it, we’ll never learn to hate it.  Sin is personal, not abstract.  For example, if a wife catches her husband looking at porn, she’s going to take it personally.  What he’s doing says something about how he views her, in this case her desirability.  Similarly, sin says something about how we view God.  Struggling to find time to get in God’s Word isn’t primarily a discipline issue.  It’s an issue of you not finding God desirable enough to spend good quality time with him.

The process of sanctification is a long and painful one.  But it has an end, and it’s joyful along the way.  For the purposes of hating your sins and enjoying God, get good at calling sins for what they are.  And remember that the presence of the God you’ve offended is a safe place for doing that.

“Oh you who love the LORD, hate evil!”
-Psalm 97:10

I’ve heard it.  And you’ve heard it.  ”Yeah I know God forgives me.  I just can’t seem to forgive myself.”  One time I even heard a pastor counsel a friend of mine to forgive himself as he was burdened with the guilt of some recent sin in his life.  Is there any merit to this?  No, there’s not.  Not only that, I believe that harboring this kind of mindset is very dangerous in that it completely undermines the gospel.

I don’t want to be insensitive to the feelings that make one believe that they need to forgive themselves.  I’ve been there a million times.  You confessed your sin to God, asked him to forgive you for those sins, and yet you still feel horrible.  You can’t shake the guilt you feel over that sin.  It grips you and won’t let go.  What are we supposed to do with this?  Forgiving yourself not only won’t help you alleviate that guilt.  It will actually push you further away from comfort, because saying “I know God’s forgiven me, but I can’t forgive myself” is a form of pride.  Here are five reasons this statement is misguided:*

1. It makes you a bigger judge than God.

You say “I know God forgives me…”  If you acknowledge this much, then you’re acknowledging that the highest judge in the universe has looked at you and declared you innocent.  Paul writes, “Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect?  It is God who justifies.” (Rom.8:33)  In other words, if the highest judge justifies, who is going to contradict him?  You?  Fact: the highest court always overrules the lower ones.  If what God says about you isn’t the final word, then he’s not the highest court in your heart.  You are.

2. It shows that you’re trusting in something other than God for justification.

Sometimes what feels like guilt over sin is in actuality guilt over failing to achieve a goal you’ve set for yourself.  Timothy Keller, in his excellent book Counterfeit Gods, writes:

When people say, ‘I know God forgives me, but I can’t forgive myself,’ they mean that they have failed an idol, whose approval is more important to them than God’s.  Idols function like gods in our lives, and so if we make career or parental approval our god and we fail it, then the idol curses us in our hearts for the rest of our lives.  We can’t shake the sense of failure.

So you’re a seminary student, heavily involved in your church, a model of personal piety, and everyone looks to you for guidance.  Then one night you go a little too far with the godly woman you’ve been seeing.  You’re devastated.  You’ve confessed it to the Lord, but that doesn’t seem to be enough.  It could be that the guilt you feel isn’t from sinning against the Lord.  It could be that you haven’t lived up to who you have built yourself up to be in your mind: a super-godly person who would never do what you did.  In the words of David Powlison: “So often when people feel remorse for what they’ve done wrong, it is a remorse against their idealized self-image, a remorse in their own eyes, and a remorse against what other people think about them…”  None of which is remorse against God.

3. It means that your sin is a bigger deal to you than it is to God.

All sin is ultimately against God. (Ps. 51:4)  He above all is the one offended by your sin.  Your sin cost him his Son, and as a result of his sacrifice on the cross God now forgives you.  If you’re still trying to forgive yourself after he gave everything to forgive you, then that just means that your sin didn’t offend God as much as it offends you.  Mike Wilkerson notes that “[i]t is the height of self-centeredness to think your sin somehow offends you (or anyone else, even) more than it offends God.”

4. It could be a refusal to honestly confess your sin.

It’s worth considering that you may still feel unforgiven because you haven’t actually turned to God to confess and repent of your sin.  Plagued by the guilt of what you did or said, you figure that God is too mad to listen to you.  It’s “safer” instead to console yourself by distracting yourself from the guilt.  So instead of going into God’s presence you turn on the TV.  Instead of reading his Word, you read gossip articles online.  God = conviction = discomfort = finding something that won’t make you feel horrible.

“Without confession I will remain unforgiven,” Miroslav Volf writes, “not because God doesn’t forgive, but because a refusal to confess is a rejection of forgiveness.  Refusing to confess, I refuse to make forgiveness my own through confession of wrongdoing and joyful gratitude over it not being counted against me.”  (my emphasis)

5. It could be a form of works-based salvation.

We as Christians have a strange tendency to want to punish ourselves more than God wants to punish us.  We know that there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8:1), but there’s just a really good feeling we get when we condemn ourselves anyway.  It feels…noble.  Humble.  Righteous even.  The more we punish ourselves for our sins, the more righteous we must be since righteous people hate sin, right?

But God doesn’t want us to do penance for our sins.  It’s one thing to mourn our sinful condition while keeping our eyes on Jesus and the fact that we’re getting credit for his life and not ours.  It’s something else entirely to feel like God will accept you more as you punish yourself more for sin.

“Jesus frees me from trying to impress God or others because he has impressed God on my behalf.”
-Jonathan Dodson

—————-

*I’ve adapted this list from Mike Wilkerson’s book Redemption: Freed by Jesus From the Idols We Worship and the Wounds We Carry, pages 78-80.

“Whoever makes a practice of sinning is of the devil, for the devil has been sinning from the beginning…”
-1 John 3:8a

Growing up in the church is probably exactly like growing up in a five-story mansion on the side of a snow-laden mountain overlooking a rainbow valley where you daily see flocks of unicorns grazing: it’s a beautiful thing, but you run the risk of over-exposure.  For a while you appreciate it, then one day you wake up finding yourself unable to be moved by what’s before you.  Even though my official “rebellion years” ended when I got to college, since then I’ve continued to run the risk of being overly exposed (and therefore hardened) by the beautiful truths that are constantly before me.  Thanks be to God though, because I’m slowly relearning the beautiful truths behind Bible verses and Christian jargon that for a long time had been cold to my soul.  In that relearning process though, I’ve found myself particularly cautious about Christian phrases that get thrown around as often as the plot to Zookeeper.  This entry is about one such phrase:

“Christ is Enough”

This phrase (or the trinitarianly-appropriate equivalent “God is enough”) was my banner for a long time through college.  Chris Tomlin’s ”More than Enough” was my theme song.  I started reading books like John Piper’s Desiring God and Brother Lawrence’s The Practice of the Presence of God to fuel my growing conviction that finding everything I needed in Jesus would increase my joy and destroy my sin addictions.  It wasn’t quite that simple though.

Here’s the problem with phrases like “Christ is enough” and other Christian jargon: it’s very much a summary of something that’s true.  To be sure, this is a true phrase.  But as a summary phrase, it skims over the process of how you get from point A to point B.  Saying “Christ is enough” is often used in books and sermons to curb idolatry and addictions.  Struggle with materialism?  Christ is enough.  Can’t stop looking at porn?  He satisfies.  Have a problem with overeating?  God is all you need.  Again, I believe that finding satisfaction in Christ is the answer for our addictions.  But simply telling someone that God is all they need without showing them how to find that satisfaction can be (at least in my own personal experience) very unhelpful.  Why?  An example:

I’ve often seen the whole “God is enough” thing illustrated in sermons by setting up two tables.  On one table is a burger, fries, and drink from McDonalds.  The other table has a literal feast on it.  The puny McDonalds combo is that sin you keep turning back to.  The sumptuous feast is what Christ offers.  It would be ridiculous to run to the McDonalds table for something  that is far less in comparison.  Similarly, it is ridiculous for you to indulge in your addiction when Christ is so much better.  So leave your addiction in order to gain something that will truly satisfy you.

I last saw this example in the midst of a huge struggle I was having with pornography.  As time passed I developed a growing dislike for that illustration, and it’s only been recently that I discovered why I think that it is an incomplete picture of the truth it aims to display.  See, whichever table you choose, whether it’s the dinky McDonalds meal or the super-satisfying feast, you’re still satisfying the same basic urge: hunger.  But that correlation doesn’t always make a visible translation from Feast/McDonalds to Christ/Addiction when you personalize it.  For example, the “McDonalds” bag for me at the time was porn, with Jesus at the feast table.   The application was that I should stop turning to porn and go to Jesus.  But here’s  the problem with the illustration: if I’m hungry (desire), either table will give me what I want, which is food (satisfaction).  The difference is only in the degree to which I satisfy my desire.  In the real world, if I really want to look at naked people (desire), I can go to the “fast food” table of porn in order to meet that desire (satisfaction), or I can go to the “feast” table of Jesus in order to…what exactly?  Jesus doesn’t sexually satisfy anyone.  In the illustration, the difference between the tables was one of varying degrees.  In the real world example, the tables don’t even appear to address the same longing.  If what you’re really wanting is to see nakedness, Jesus isn’t anywhere close to being enough for you.  He doesn’t even appear to be in the same category.  To the addict, his choice isn’t the difference between okay food and amazing food.  It’s between getting what he craves or not, making the illustration about as effective as pointing to his addiction and saying “Stop it.”

The only strength in the illustration is the truth it’s trying to present.  Jesus is better than porn and far more satisfying than it.  The illustration just doesn’t do a good job of teaching people why.  The common denominator between the tables was food.  But until you can establish a common denominator between porn and Jesus (that is, finding what it is that both porn and Jesus are trying to satisfy in you), the illustration won’t make sense nor will it free you from your addiction.  On the surface (and in the eyes of the addict), porn appears to be about satisfying basic bodily needs, whereas Jesus appears to be about wanting to save your soul so that you can spend eternity with him.  So how is the cross of Christ possibly relevant to our sinful struggles and addictions?  How do we make the connection between the tables?

The connection between our addictions and Jesus is so much harder to see in real life than it is in the food illustration.  To find it requires that we look deep into our hearts.  Proverbs 4:23 informs us that it’s from the heart that the springs of life flow, and that’s where the connection needs to be made.  To overcome any addiction with the truth that “Christ satisfies” or that “God is enough”, you must learn that he provides what you’ve turned to X,Y, or Z to get, only to a far greater degree.  For example, I have a friend who struggles with smoking.  What does “Christ is enough” look like for him?  Can Jesus satisfy him in such a way as to curb his appetite for cigarettes?  Certainly, but not because Jesus transubstantiates into the smoke which fills his lungs and becomes the equivalent of the most intense cigarette ever.  Rather, my friend struggles a lot with smoking when he feels bad about himself.  When negative thoughts start plaguing him, the temptation to smoke rises.  And there’s the connection.  His real urge isn’t to have a smoke.  It’s to know that he has worth, that he’s valuable.  Jesus is enough because he can remind him that he’s been chosen for salvation from before creation (Ephesians 1:4), that he’s blessed (Psalm 32:1-2), and that he is part of a royal priesthood (1 Peter 2:9-10).  Another friend of mine (whose insight I can echo) said that porn for him provides a sense of acceptance, because none of the women in porn reject him.  Porn for him then isn’t about looking at naked women.  It’s about gaining a sense of acceptance that he feels he lacks.  Christ is enough for him, not because he provides an orgasmic experience beyond anything porn could offer, but because Jesus’s sacrifice on the cross for him gives him all the acceptance one could ever hope to achieve: acceptance before the one person in this universe whose opinion really matters. (See Romans 5:1, 8:1)

What drives our addictions are misplaced needs, and oftentimes those needs aren’t obvious to us.  It’s easy to see the problem as porn or over-eating or smoking or alcohol.  But underneath all these are some very basic heart needs which aren’t being met, causing us to look to something, anything, to meet them.  To say it another way, we’re searching for ways to meet needs that only God can meet.  When we do this we commit idolatry, first in the heart and then in our actions.  Things like alcohol and porn are only the surface idols that are fueled by the idols of the heart.  In his book Redemption: Freed By Jesus From the Idols We Worship and the Wounds We Carry, author and pastor Mike Wilkerson recounts the story of three people: Philip, who struggled with pornography; Lisa, who struggled with an eating disorder; and Christine, who struggled with drug addiction and a promiscuous lifestyle.  What these three different people with their three different addictions had in common was the urge which led them to pursue their respective sins: “they craved the love, acceptance, and attention of people in their lives.”  He continues: “The variety of surface idols that expressed this single deep idol is surprisingly  broad: pornography, food, cutting, drugs, prostitution, theft, social striving, weight loss, and religion.  An idol always lives in the heart before it is made visible by the hands.”  In other words, one simple idol like craving the acceptance of others can lead to a myriad of different struggles.  That heart idol is what Jesus is more than enough for.

You won’t understand why Jesus is a better alternative until you understand what’s really feeding your addictions.  So what’s your addiction?  What’s your struggle?  What’s your version of the fast-food on the table?  Trace it back to the heart, for it’s only there that it can be cut off.  That’s where addictions start and where Christ comes in.  Jesus is better than the idols of your heart.  When you turn to Jesus to satisfy the longings of your heart that you’ve turned to [name it] to satisfy, the healing process will start.  I know this because I’ve experienced it.  By God’s grace I can call porn a “former” addiction, and it has very little to do with external measures like setting up accountability software (things which control behavior but not the heart).  It has everything to do with undermining the lies I was believing in my heart with the truth of my identity in Christ.  When all is said and done, Christ really is enough.

“…The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil.”
-1 John 3:8b

“‘I am the vine; you are the branches.  Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.’”
John 15:5

I’ve often heard that Christians need to be in the habit of preaching the Gospel to themselves daily, and I’ve started to understand why.  The Gospel reminds the believer in Christ of his or her identity, and a proper understanding of our identity is so crucial in choking the life out of the sins that enslave us and the addictions we hate to love.

One of the aspects of Christian identity is that if you’re a believer in Christ, you’re no longer condemned by God but accepted.  And not grudgingly accepted.  We’re talking recklessly and passionately accepted.  You’re a child of God now, which means that he might discipline you when you stray from him, but he’ll never punish you since Jesus took your punishment on the cross.

A big part of what fuels habitual sins and addictions in Christians is that we just forget this.  Too simple?  Okay, walk with me through this then.  When we forget that we’re forgiven by God, we’ll feel condemned by God.  If we feel condemned by God, we won’t feel worthy to go to God.  And if we don’t feel worthy to go to God, we are utterly on our own and thus helpless.  Apart from him you can do nothing.  Hebrews 4:16 is a huge verse here:

“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

In your time of need, when you’re struggling with [insert your sin struggle], you need God’s mercy and grace.  You need his power to deliver you from it.  But to receive this mercy and grace, you must go to him.  You must “draw near to the throne of grace.”  But look how the verse says we’re to approach him: with “confidence.”  If you don’t feel worthy to draw near to God, you won’t.  And if you won’t draw near to him, you will be without the mercy and grace you need to stand up to sin.  You’ll be a sitting duck.  A sense of unworthiness cuts us off from God.  Thus, a sense of unworthiness fuels sin in our lives.

This is why preaching the Gospel to ourselves every day is so important.  On our own, yes, we are unworthy to go to God.  But the Gospel (or “good news”) is that we’re not on our own anymore.  Jesus took the punishment we deserved so that we could receive the benefits of his perfectly-lived life.  Because he took my place on the cross, his righteousness is imputed (or “credited”) to me.  That means that now I can approach God, not because I’m righteous but because Jesus is righteous, and I’m on his tab.

I think some of Satan’s biggest victories against us are not in his getting us to commit a particular sin, but in increasing our guilt over it.  It’s like that old proverb: “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day.  Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.”  Similarly, get a man to sin and you’ll separate him from God for a moment.  But get a man to feel guilty, and you’ll separate him from God forever.  Guilt causes us to believe that God doesn’t want us, that his arms aren’t open to us, that his attention can’t be grabbed except by maybe extreme effort.  It causes us to believe that we’re damaged goods and that God couldn’t possibly still want us.

I don’t think it’s too bold to say that the moments after sin can be more dangerous than the moments before it.  How you respond to sin is so important.  Will you move further away from your only source of life and help as a result of it?  Or will you move closer to him?  We need to preach the Gospel to ourselves every day because we sin every day, and the more we sin, the more we’re reminded that on our own we have absolutely no right to speak with God.  But we need to let that drive us to Jesus as our only right to be in the presence of God.  Jesus killed sin’s guilt.  And because there’s no longer any guilt or condemnation for God’s children, then sin’s power begins to diminish in their lives, because they’re confidently running to their Father for strength.

We should feel sorrow and grieve after we sin, sure.  But there’s a godly sorrow and a satanic sorrow.  The Puritan Thomas Brooks writes: “That sorrow for sin that keeps the soul from looking towards the mercy-seat, and that keeps Christ and the soul asunder, or that shall render the soul unfit for the communion of saints, is a sinful sorrow.”  In other words, if the sorrow you feel after you’ve lost your temper, looked at porn, or gone back to drunkenness leads you away from God, it’s not from God.  Godly sorrow will drive you back to him.  It won’t be fun.  It won’t be easy.  But you will find grace there.  And in those moments, you need to cling solely to Jesus.  Because he can be in the Father’s presence, you can, because you’re united to him.

This is an identity issue.  What delivers you from sin is running to God, and you’ll only run to him if you have the confidence to do so.  Writing about pornography, Tim Chester writes: “To win the battle against porn, you need to keep drawing near to God, and that movement starts with confidence in his gracious welcome.”  That confidence is gained by remembering who you are in God’s eyes.  Whatever excuse you make for why God won’t graciously welcome you into his presence, Scripture says something which undermines it.  If you are a believer in Christ, you are fully forgiven, because he is without sin.  So run to God for everything.  You’ll only find open arms at his throne.  You’ll never want to be with him more than he wants to be with you.

Truth: “I’m forgiven.”
Lie: “I’m condemned.”

“So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. And because you belong to him, the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death. The law of Moses was unable to save us because of the weakness of our sinful nature. So God did what the law could not do. He sent his own Son in a body like the bodies we sinners have. And in that body God declared an end to sin’s control over us by giving his Son as a sacrifice for our sins. He did this so that the just requirement of the law would be fully satisfied for us, who no longer follow our sinful nature but instead follow the Spirit.”
Romans 8:1-4 (New Living Translation)

“Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.  Blessed is the man against whom the LORD counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.”
Psalm 32:1-2

For pretty much all of 2008, I was convinced I was going to move out of state to go to seminary.  That was a transition year for me as I prepared to leave my life in Texas and head off to start something completely new.  At the beginning of ’09 though, God re-routed all that planning and all those hopes and expectations and put me in (drum roll)…Dallas.  Half an hour from where I grew up.  Dallas.  Honestly I wasn’t bitter.  But God’s path did bring me to the end of myself.  For so long I was so certain I was going to be going to one place far away only to end up pretty close to home.  As I moved to Dallas, I admitted that I was tired of trying to plan out my life on my terms.  I can plan a thousand things but God may have a different plan.  I decided I’d rather just hold my plans loose and let God carry me where he will.  A big verse on my mind as I moved was Romans 8:28- “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”  The “good” mentioned here is being made like Christ (v.29-30).  With that verse in my heart I said something of this effect to God: “Lord, you have promised good to me.  You’ve promised it.  And far be it from me to decide what that looks like.  I’ll let you decide how you want to be good to me.”  It was a sweet release.  I knew that somehow God’s ruining of my plans was an act of his goodness.  And I only knew that because he promised that’s how he would relate to me as his son.

That event absolutely changed the way I read Scripture, and as a result of that change, I’ve been experiencing more joy in him and more freedom from sin than I ever have.  I’ll explain…

A few months later, I was working a couple of jobs and taking some classes in seminary.  I knew that I was where God wanted me at that minute, but it was becoming increasingly clear to me that the two-job/seminary thing wouldn’t last long.  In fact seminary, which I’d been wanting to do for a few years, was looking less and less like what I was supposed to be doing.  And when that thought entered my head, I went through some very dark moments.  See, I felt like most people my age had their life pretty figured out.  They were all working full-time, making a pretty decent salary, knew what they loved doing, etc.  I on the other hand was working two jobs and barely getting by.  I was doing it to support what I loved: going to seminary.  But again, I realized I couldn’t afford to do that much longer, and that freaked me out.  Not because I loved it so much but because I felt like a core part of who I was was being taken away.

When you’re in college, the conversation-starter is “What’s your major?”  Post-college, it’s “What do you do?”  How we make money was now the defining factor of a person.  I’d answer that question by telling them my boring answer of working two part-time jobs, but then I’d clarify it with “I’m a seminary student.”  But I knew that if I couldn’t say that, what I’d have to say is “I work here and here.”  And as they are jobs I don’t plan on staying at forever, I was being forced to confront the fact that I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.  And if I had no clear purpose, I felt worthless.  I also felt that if all I did was work and not take classes, my value was in my jobs.  And since I don’t make a ton of money, I didn’t feel very valuable.

I don’t remember when I came across it exactly, but somewhere in the midst of all that darkness, I read Psalm 32:1-2.  Familiar verses to me.  But this time, I did the same thing as I did with Romans 8:28.  With Romans 8:28, what I essentially did was say “You know what? I don’t understand what God’s doing, but he says he’s being good to me.  So I can either trust him or not.”  And I decided to trust him.  Reading Psalm 32, I took note of what God calls a blessed man.  It’s a man “whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.”  Since I was poor and unclear on what I wanted to do with my life (unlike other people my age who all knew what they wanted to do and were doing while making a salary), “blessed” wasn’t even close to being a word I’d use to describe myself.  But here it was in Scripture.  The blessed man is a forgiven man.  My sins have been forgiven because of Christ.  Therefore…I’m blessed.

Okay, here’s something real practical I did to drive this point home to myself.  I don’t know why we do this (maybe extra syllables = more holiness points in our minds), but whenever I read “blessed” in Scripture I pronounce it with two syllables: bless-ed.  ”Bless-ed is the one whose transgression is forgiven.”  But no one says that in day-to-day conversation.  We never say “Bro, that guy’s got a beautiful wife, awesome kids, the nicest car ever, a pet camel, and lives next door to Chili’s!  He’s bless-ed!”  That’s dumb.  We say that he’s- one syllable- blessed.  So I decided to use my day-to-day pronunciation of the word when I read that verse.  Because my sins are forgiven, I’m blessed.  That may seem like a small adjustment, but it actually helped me a ton.

So I came to the same moment of truth with Psalm 32:1-2 that I did with Romans 8:28.  ”Okay.  I know what God says.  But will I trust him or not?”  Once again, I decided to trust him.  I decided to trust God when he says I’m blessed.  I decided to trust that his vantage point is the true vantage point.  I decided that every time I looked in the mirror and saw a failure and a loser that would die alone, I was believing a lie.  And when I decided to trust him on the fact that I’m a blessed man, I began to ask myself what else Scripture says about who I am.  So I paid careful attention from then on as I read Scripture, and the floodgates of comfort and freedom opened up to me like never before.

I don’t think I realized it at the time, but I soon came to understand that this was all an issue of identity. I’ve always heard of having an identity-crises, but I never really thought it applied to me.  And I figured identity was something that women struggled with but not so much men.  (Just looked on Amazon.  Apparently there’s a True Identity Bible for women, but not for men.)  But I soon understood that identity is something everyone struggles with, even if they don’t realize it.  Our identity is what most defines us.  It’s what we feel gives us our purpose and meaning.  It is what we believe is most true about us, and we live our lives through that lens, for good or, tragically, for bad.  For example, people are sometimes more willing to continue to give themselves away sexually when they feel like they’re “damaged goods.”  It’s not that they like it.  They just figure there’s nothing precious left to preserve.  Poor identities lead to lives of shame, abuse, and addiction.  That dark time in my life a couple years back was made darker by the way I’d retreat into pornography.  I ran there because there was no rejection there.  There I was accepted.

People feel an instinctual need to preserve what’s precious.  And if you’re a believer in Christ, it’s time to open your eyes to accept that you are who GOD says you are, not what you feel like you are.  If you’re not a believer in Christ, now’s the time to own up to the God who is calling you to be his child.  One of the great things about finding your identity in Christ is that it can’t be taken away.  If my identity is “student”, I could end up with little money for classes.  If your identity is in your job, you could lose it.  Your spouse could leave you.  You could lose everything.  But when you understand that you are a son or daughter of God and own up to the fact that you’re blessed and that nothing can change that, then you will be anchored when the storms of this life hit.

So here’s the takeaways from all this.  One, start reading Scripture with an awareness of what God says about you in it.  It’ll more than make you feel good.  It will free you.  Verses like Psalm 32:1-2 that remind me of my identity in Christ have freed me from pornography far more than verses that are explicitly about lust ever have.  Why?  Because all sins are based on lies.  For example, we have anxiety because we believe the lie that God doesn’t care about us.  We look at porn because of a thousand different lies.  One that got me often was that God is a withholding God.  I wanted a wife badly, but I was single with no prospects.  I was lonely.  So I medicated with porn.  But then I started to realize that God is not withholding (Psalm 84:11) and that he actually pours out a lot of blessings into my life (Ephesians 1:3, 2 Peter 1:3).  When you realize that God is actively working to bless you, your need to medicate yourself with [insert your struggle here] begins to diminish.  When you realize he loves you, things change.  The truths found in God’s Word undermine the lies which fuel your sins, struggles, and addictions.

I’m going to be writing a lot of entries dealing with identity.  My second takeaway, specific to this entry, is to drive home the truth of Psalm 32:1-2 for the believer in Christ.  The nice thing about truth is that it’s true whether you believe it or not.  You can do yourself a favor and accept it, or you can delude and injure yourself by refusing to.  Here’s this entry’s truth: You are blessed. Maybe life hasn’t gone the way you wanted it to.  Regardless, you’re a blessed person.  You’re not a victim.  God hasn’t forgotten you, abandoned you, nor is he out to mess up your life.  That’s not the God who sent his Son to die on a cross for you.  Whether you believe it or not, YOU ARE BLESSED.  The question: will you trust God when he says that?  Or not?

Truth: “I’m blessed.”
Lie: “I’m a victim.”

See Also:
Practical Theology- An Introduction

The Picture on the Jigsaw Box

“Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth.”
John 17:17

“and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”
John 8:32

I recently wrote an entry in which I talked about how I am starting to read Scripture with a renewed seriousness, asking myself if I really believe what it is I read there. I talked about how by consciously choosing to trust that what God says about me is true, the Bible has started to come alive in fresh and comforting ways I’ve never really known before. For example, when I feel sorry for myself, I take comfort that in God’s eyes I’m a blessed man because my sins are forgiven (Psalm 32:1-2). When I feel like God must hate me for all the ways I fail him each day, I remember that because of Christ’s work on the cross, God does not condemn me (Romans 8:1). When I feel like I have to prove myself to God or others, God’s Word reminds me that I am fully justified and accepted before God (Romans 5:1), and therefore I have nothing to prove.

This is “practical theology.” Practical theology takes the truths we confess and makes them applicable to all areas of our lives. It answers questions like:

• How is God’s sovereignty and goodness relevant to you while you’re stuck in traffic on the way to an important meeting?
  
• How is Christ’s ascension into heaven to sit at the Father’s right hand relevant to you when your desire to look at pornography is overwhelming?
  
• How does a proper understanding of your accepted status before God (justification) help you to fight loneliness and depression?
  
• How does God’s promise to never leave or forsake you help to dismantle anxiety?
  
• How is God sending his own Son to die for your sins relevant to your struggling marriage and/or friendships?

The degree to which Scripture is relevant to circumstances like the ones listed above is the degree to which our theology is practical. And if it’s not practical, it is not true theology. Ed Welch says that the “only true theology is applied theology. If it’s on the shelf, it’s unglodly.” As Jesus prays in the verse above, truth is meant to sanctify us. And since God’s word is the truth referred to here, the truths found in the Bible are given to transform us. If they fail to do that, it is because we have failed to truly grasp them.

If truth is what transforms us, then what kills us and fuels sin in our lives are lies. Tim Chester writes that “[s]inful acts always have their origin in some form of unbelief. Behind every sin is a lie.” When I first read that sentence, it seemed almost too simple. But after reading Chester’s dissection of it, I think he’s absolutely right. We may say we believe something (confessional faith), but that may not be exactly what we believe in practice (functional disbelief). The distance between our confessional beliefs and our practical beliefs is indicative of the number of lies we’re believing. For example, I may confess that God is in control of all things and that his purposes for me are good. But as Chester observes, if I get caught in a traffic jam and start getting angry, I’m demonstrating that I don’t honestly believe those things deep down. How can I get angry with my circumstances if I believe that one who is in complete control of all things is the same one who loves me deeply? Take a minute and think about the tremendous implications of truly believing God’s complete power over all things and his love toward you.  Seriously.  It’ll do wonders for your faith to realize that God’s not trying to screw you over.

I believe that the lack of  a practical theology is killing many Christians, especially the ones like me who have heard Bible truths so often that we’ve become numb to them. The phrase “God loves you” is boringly familiar instead of a truth of immeasurable comfort. The promise that “God is with you” feels about as impactful as a lucky rabbit’s foot than a truth which decimates anxiety and worry. But I have personally experienced the transforming power of stopping at these Biblical truths and swallowing them rather than passing by the all-too-familiar verses. I am experiencing the freedom that comes from digging up the lies that lead to my sinful behavior and replacing them with truths from Scripture. If sinful behaviors are merely the symptoms of lies we believe deep in our hearts, it’s very likely that the Bible passages which give us freedom from those behaviors will on the surface look almost irrelevant to our sin struggles, because they will address the lie and not the behavior itself. For example, I’ve found a treasure-trove of ammunition for battling lust not from Matthew 5:27-30, not from Job 31:1, and not from Proverbs 5, but from Psalm 32:1-2 (among others). What possible relevance do these two verses have for fighting sexual temptation? Another entry is coming soon devoted entirely these two verses and their implications, but briefly I’ll say that it comes down to where you’re getting your sense of identity.  Historically, my heart has been a breeding ground for lustful thoughts when I feel very negative about myself.  Even if I knew lust was wrong, I didn’t care.  It’s hard for a person with a negative sense of identity to care about what will benefit them because…what’s the point?  Enter Psalm 32:1-2, where I’m reminded that my greatest need is salvation, and because I’ve been given it I’m a blessed man, not a victim.  Enter Psalm 84:11, where I’m reminded that God’s not withholding anything from me.  Enter Ephesians 1:3 and 2 Peter 1:3-4, where I’m reminded that not only is God not a withholding God, but that he gives and gives and gives to me.  Suddenly I realize I’m a rich, blessed man, without a lick of condemnation against me (Romans 8:1).  Suddenly I start to feel how precious I am to God.  And since people have an instinctual need to protect what is precious, the desire to pollute myself weakens, while the desire to preserve my value in my Savior’s eyes grows.  And that is how you beat sin: by enjoying God more than it.

God glorifies himself in the mercy and joy he gives to undeserving sinners like you and me.  He gives us his Word (the Bible) in order to give us truth, and by doing so, to sanctify us.  This means that transformation is unattainable apart from being in God’s Word.  To have a theology that’s practical, one must first have a theology.  Studying theology and doctrine is not reserved for those in the Church that have the spiritual gift of teaching.  It’s not for the elite.  It’s not on one end of the Christian spectrum with “social involvement” on the other.  The “conflict” between focusing on doctrine or focusing on social issues is the result of a theology that’s not practical and is therefore, in the words of Ed Welch above, ungodly.  We need a theology which yields results.

This is the first of many entries which will deal with this subject.  In closing though, I’d encourage you the reader to read Scripture, pause, and ask yourself if you truly believe what you’re reading.  Believe it and let it sink deeply into your heart.  That’s the beginning of a harvest right there.

“What then shall we say to these things?  If God is for us, who can be against us?”
Romans 8:31

I believe my spiritual gift is teaching.  This means that I struggle a lot with being proud as well as being a lot smarter and more awesome than you.  One of the ways I’ve noticed this manifest itself over the years is when I’m talking with someone about what God’s been teaching us in his word.  I’ve found that I’ll almost look down on them if they’ve been comforted by a verse that is ridiculously familiar to every Christian.  Like it’s somehow “newbie Christian” to say “Man, I was reading Philippians 4:6-7 the other day and it was so comforting!  I mean LISTEN to this: ‘do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.’  Okay brah, and get THIS: ‘And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.’ Whoa dude!”

“Yeah man, that’s really cool,” I say, which really means “Yeah man, every Christian in the world knows that verse, and if the Bible were translated into Barkese, so would their dogs.”  When someone asks me what God’s been teaching me in the word, I almost feel like I have to live up to my perception as a teacher of the word and give them some incredibly obscure Bible reference that I’ve just been blown away by recently.  “Dude, God’s totally rocking my world through Nahum.”  Or, “Bro, I’m getting so fed by the genealogies of 1 Chronicles.  I mean, you really have to study a lot to understand why it’s so awesome, but you know…I have.”  So to throw it out there: if you’ve ever been comforted by a well-known Bible verse and told me about it, you probably got judged.  Sorry about that.

I’m in a season of life where I’m starting to derive a lot of comfort from verses I already know and have known for a long, long time.  I feel like God really wants me to dig deeper in some of these truths because as I’ve come to learn very intimately, knowing these things alone won’t comfort and benefit me.  Knowing these things isn’t the point.  Living by that knowledge is.  Recently I found great comfort in the most cliche comfort chapter of the Bible: Romans 8.  In particular I focused on verses 31 through the end of the chapter.  Verse 31 says “What then shall we say to these things.  If God is for us, who can be against us?”  But reading verse 35 on, where it talks about tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, swords, and being slaughtered like sheep, I had the thought: “Well gosh, Paul, it seems like there are lots of things that can be against us.”  He’ll go on to make the point that there is absolutely nothing that is “able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

So here was my train of thought in that section: God is for us.  Therefore nothing can be against us.  But there ARE things that are against us as verses 35 and 36 make clear.  So how do I resolve this?  The resolution I found can be summed up in this way:  God being for us must carry such an immense weight that the weight of things which are against us are inconsequential by comparison.  While many things exist to attack the believer in Christ, the fact that God is for him completely trumps those things.  We see this idea earlier in the chapter.  In Romans 8:18, Paul says “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” (See also 2 Corinthians 4:17)

I’ve come to believe something in the past couple years that has had a big impact on my thinking and how I approach the Bible: Perspective changes everything.  What this means is that while truth is truth whether or not we agree with it, our perspective on the truth determines how it affects us.  A believer in Christ and a demon both recognize truth (James 2:19).  But their reaction to it makes all the difference in the world.  For the Christian, God is worthy to be worshipped.  For the demon, not so much.  Or here’s an example from my life.  Running in a lot of American Christian circles, I’ve often had the idea put in my head that Christianity is under attack from its opponents.  They’re taking away prayer in schools, crosses in cemetaries, and want to take “under God” out of the Pledge of Allegiance (which- history lesson- wasn’t originally in the pledge).”  In other words, I’ve been raised on a victim mentality.  As I hear about persecution all over the world, I’m tempted to think of the Church as a quiet little village that’s being ravaged by barbarians.  God’s Bride, the Church, is under attack.

But then I started asking myself a question.  What is the Church isn’t the one being attacked?  What if it’s doing the attacking?  Hmmm.  Now to be sure, Christians are slaughtered all the time.  And many of them have been helpless as they’ve died at the hands of people in power.  But I think there’s a fundamental difference between dying while being invaded and dying while being the one to invade.  What if the persecution that Christians face isn’t really Satan oppressing the Church?  What if it’s Satan desperately trying to hold his defenses?  Perhaps the casualties and trials we face are due more to the fact that we’ve invaded enemy territory and the enemy is trying to resist.

When I think of it this way, I’m hopeful.  It’s the whole “Glass Half Full or Half Empty” scenario.  The truth is that the same amount of water is in there anyway.  But our perspective on that reality determines whether we’re happy with it or miserable.  “The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil” says 1 John 2:8.  “‘And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.’” (Matthew 16:18)  Jesus came to launch an invasion on the ruler of this world who has now been cast out (John 12:31), and those who believe in him are his plunder. (See Matthew 12:28-29)  On a worldly level, it looks like the world is attacking the Church.  But what Scripture reveals is that what’s really happening is just the opposite.  Understandably, it’s easier to see what’s going on in the earth than to know what’s going on in the spiritual realm.  But what we see on the earth is not the true state of things.  Therefore, I’ve found the need to shift my perspective to the spiritual state of things.  And that’s hard.  But that’s the kind of mentality Paul is advocating in Romans 8.  We are going to go through so many trials as Christians.  It will be easy to feel like the victim.  But the truth is that God is for you.  And that means that your identity is not that of a victim, but of a conqueror (Romans 8:37).

Okay, so I want to get real practical here.  I’ve been in church for practically my whole life and I know so well just how empty it can be to hear “Christianese.”  Phrases like “God loves you”, “Jesus loves you”, “He’ll never leave you or forsake you”, “You can do all things through Christ who strengthens you”, “Pray without ceasing”…man, name it.  I’ve heard them all.  I know how insincere those can all sound.  I know how frustratingly easy the people who say them make them sound.  But most of all I know the excruciating frustration that comes from hearing those words and knowing that they should comfort you…but they just don’t. And I know how that makes you feel like a subpar Christian.  But as a lifetime churchgoer, the past year and a half or so of my life have been some of the most fruitful times in my life of being comforted by the things which usually just bounce right off my heart without ever going in.  How that’s happened is where I’m going with all this.

Like I said, the things I’m starting to be really comforted by are the things that every Christian knows.  What’s making the difference though is my change of perspective.  I’ve been looking at the glass for so long and calling it half-empty.  To have the same warfare perspective I wrote about above, you have to look at the world and begin to understand that this is not the true nature of things.  God is in control, even when it’s hard to see that.  Similarly, you have to stop seeing a half-empty glass when you look in the mirror.  Change your perspective.  Here’s a question I’ve started asking myself that has changed my life: What does GOD say about me?  I know what I think of myself, and it’s pretty pessimistic.  “Disappointment” is a frequent adjective I use in self-evaluation.  And I don’t think I’m alone in this.

I recently tried to sum up the New Testament.  Here’s what I came up with.  Truth: God sent his Son to take on our sins so that we could take on his righteousness and be adopted as sons and daughters of God.  Our commanded response: Claim what is now rightfully ours.  Reap.  Store up.  Feast.  Celebrate.  “Again and again in the New Testament we are called to be what we are,” writes Tim Chester.  Peter writes that “His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence” (2 Peter 1:3).  Paul writes that God “has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 1:3).  David writes “Blessed is the one whose trangression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.  Blessed is the man against whom the LORD counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.”  (Psalm 32:1-2)  I could go on and on, but are you seeing the pattern in these verses?  These are not verses of lack.  They’re verses of abundance.  Abundance that it says we possess.  While we do need to intercede for one another that we may look more like Christ, that’s not the starting point in either our relationship with God or our relationship with others.  Our starting point is worship.  Our starting point is what God has already done for us in Christ.  Work remains, sure.  The fight is not over.  But victory is certain.  The destiny for believers in Christ is not wrath but salvation (1 Thessalonians 5:9), so we need to live in light of the salvation that is coming.

The Bible is very clear about what is to comfort us.  So if we’re not comforted by those things, the problem isn’t with God.  It’s with us.  If you’re trying to put a jigsaw puzzle together and it doesn’t look anything like the picture on the box, you don’t need to take a second look at the box but rather the way in which you’ve arranged the pieces. Far too many Christians struggle to put pieces together that don’t fit and end up getting weary and frustrated and they eventually give up.  Unless you let Scripture define what comfort looks like, you will never truly be comforted by it.  It can bless you only on its own terms.  The degree to which verses like 2 Peter 1:3, Ephesians 1:3, and Psalm 32:1-2 seem like distant, pleasant-sounding-but-impractical pieces of encouragement is the degree to which our mindset is divorced from God’s mindset.  Being comforted by God requires the perspective of God.  It’s important to remember that Jesus told the apostles that he does not give to them as the world gives.  And it’s also important to remember that comfort is the context of that passage.  (See John 14:27)

It all comes down to faith.  Too churchy-sounding?  Okay, let me put it this way: it all comes down to trust.  Do you trust God or don’t you?  Comfort is a choice.  In my own life, I have found that the deciding factor in whether I am deeply comforted by Scripture or find it bouncing off my chest is whether or not I believe what I’m reading.  It’s easy for me to pass by the all-too familiar.  It’s easy to pass by Romans 8:1.  “Yeah, yeah, ‘no condemnation’, blah, blah….”  But wait, what does it mean that God no longer condemns me?  What does it mean when Psalm 84:11 says that God is not withholding?  Or when Luke 11:13 says that God will give his Holy Spirit to those who ask?  Or when God tells us that even though he created the entire universe, he has set his people apart as his own special possession (Leviticus 20:26, Deuteronomy 10:14-16, Psalm 4:3, 1 Peter 2:9-10)?  What are the implications for my prayer life when God says that he hears the prayers of the righteous (Psalm 34:15, Proverbs 15:29) and that he counts us as righteous as Christ (2 Corinthians 5:21, Philippians 3:9)?  Do you believe that God only deals lovingly with his children (Psalm 25:10, Romans 8:28)?  Do you believe God when he says that he has given you so much (Ephesians 1:3, 2 Peter 1:3)?  Do you believe him when he says that he looks at you, who he gave EVERYTHING for, and describes you as “Blessed!” (Psalm 32:1-2)?

Or will you continue to count the ways you’ve disappointed God?  Will you continue to feel like God is giving everyone else you know so much but is withholding blessings from you?  Will you lament that you’re not experiencing the Holy Spirit in your life and the victory over sin that comes with that?  Are you going to sit there and feel like God is just way too big to focus on poor little old you?  Will you continue to believe that you have to  make a case for why he should hear your prayers before you actually start praying?  (Just point to Christ, say “I’m with him” and start praying.)  Will you insist on believing that God is just barely okay with you and must be persuaded to show any kind of goodness to you?  Will you honestly have the audacity to read Romans 8:32 and then feel sorry for yourself because life hasn’t met your expectations?

What God says about you is like the picture on the box of the jigsaw.  If your life doesn’t reflect the picture, adjust the pieces.  I fight with everything in that last paragraph pretty often.  I think most believers do.  The things God says about us and his commitment to us in his word sound way too good to be true.  Yet they are.  It’s true whether we remember it or not.  The only question is: will I be comforted by it?  Will I believe God when he says it?  Every negative thought in the previous paragraph is sharply undermined by the truths of the paragraph before that one.  I’ve referenced about 39 different verses in this entry, and many of them have revolutionized my life.  I just need to slow down and soak in those all-too-familiar truths and ask myself whether or not God can be believed concerning them.  These handful of verses have helped me immensely.  What treasures they contain.  My encouragement to you all is to soak in these verses, and then go hunting for more.  When you trust God enough to believe that he means what he says, reading the Bible becomes so much more rich.  I’ve given you 39 verses to think about.  There’s over 31,100 more.

Happy hunting.