Reacting to the Gospel

Pastor Tyler gave a hard and moving message this Sunday, that I in particular needed to hear. I wish I had taken notes so I could remember the words that spurred on my thoughts, but I will post my thoughts and hope they make sense to you.

I remember he classified three reactions to the gospel for followers of Christ. My interpretation of these was: numbness due to being in a desert, passion and excitement due to a heart in tune with God, and cynicism due to rebellion. Typically, I feel like the desert traveler. Here's an excerpt from Richard Foster's book, "A Celebration of Dicsipline" which defines being in a desert, it's purpose, and how to react.

What does the dark night of the soul involve? We may have a sense of dryness, aloneness, even lostness. Any overdependence on the emotional life is stripped away. The notion, often heard today, that such experiences should be avoided and that we always should live in peace and comfort, joy, and celebration only betrays the fact that much contemporary experiences are slush. The dark night is one of the ways God brings us into a hush, a stillness so that He may work an inner transformation on the soul...

When God lovingly draws us into a dark night of the soul, there is often a temptation to seek release from it and to blame everyone and everything for our inner dullness... We begin to look around for another church or a new experience to give us "spiritual goosebumps." This is a mistake. Recognize the dark night for what it is. Be grateful that God is lovingly drawing you away from every distraction so that you can see him clearly. Rather than chafing and fighting, become still and wait."...

What should we do during such a time of inward darkness? First, disregard the advice of well-meaning friends to snap out of it. They do not understand what is occurring. Our age is so ignorant of such things that I recommend you do not even talk about these matters. Above all, do not try to explain or justify why you may be "out of sorts." God is your justifier; rest your case with him. If you can actually withdraw to a "desert place" for a season, do so. If not, go about your daily tasks. but whether in the "desert" or at home, hold in your heart a deep, inner listening silence and there be still until the work of solitude is done.

While I tend to romance this idea of being in a desert place, a time of emotional stripping and aloneness, I knew on Sunday that this was not the case with me. Because I did not feel impassioned by the gospel, I knew by process of elimination that I was that other case, the ugly case. I was in a state of rebellion. I nearly grimaced when Tyler mentioned this group, waiting for the condemnation and warnings, but instead he spoke of God's gentle call back to himself and his persistent pursuit of his children that have pushed him away.

I may have been in the desert a year ago, but since then, I have been sitting at the edge of a new landscape - one with lush fields, rushing rivers, abundant crops, and an enormous table covered with my favorite foods, surrounded by people I know and long to love and be loved by. At the edge of this landscape, I have set up a tv tray, on which I have arranged a small plate of the most bitter fruits and am accompanied by my two foes: envy and cynicism. I envy those at the banquet table eating and drinking deeply of God, and cynically I wish they wouldn't smack so loudly. I would be hungry, but my stomach has been turned so sour by my bitterness, the site of the banquet makes me queasy.

How did I get here and how do I escape? What are these sacks of bricks tied to my ankles that keep me from running to the table, running to community, running to God?

Shame.

I thought I was better than this. I thought I was incapable of this. My friends think I am better than this. What if the darkness of my heart is exposed?

At some point in the past year, I decided to follow the old adage "time heals all wounds" rather than the truth that Christ alone sets us free - free from sin, free from pain, free from shame. Time only embitters and callouses the heart.

The past couple days I decided to do some reading in scripture no matter how undeserving I felt, no matter how afraid I was that the words would pass through and find an dried up soul. Instead of my fears being confirmed, I found there was a longing, a small shout of joy, like a wilted, thirsty plant finally being watered and opening the remaining leaves.

What God has claimed, he will never surrender. I am his.

Repentance is not an easy thing, but it seems that is should be. I don't want to offer fabricated tears. I don't want to force my hands in the air for show. I want to genuinely respond to the gospel in joy. Repentance is complete awakening of the sovereignty of God to the complete denial of self. The sacks of bricks fall away and we run to the table, not worried about people asking where we've been and why did it take us so long to get there. We hum while we chew as my toddler does when he is extremely satisfied. We smack loudly as we want.