For marriage, as indeed for life as a whole, I feel that there is one primary (though two-fold) purpose: to know God more and, being in Him, to become more like Him. Practically, what this means is that our own pleasure is not the purpose of marriage. We marry someone we love and whose company we enjoy, with whom we share similar interests, beliefs, and visions for life, and with whom we expect to be able to cultivate happiness - but ultimately the end for which we ought to strive, in marriage, is most emphatically not our own personal temporal happiness or fulfillment. In a word, the purpose of marriage is sanctification.
When I was single, I noticed how many of the resources for singles focused on God's use of that time of life to draw one closer to Him - to help us learn, variously, to trust in Him more, to be content with the situations in which He places us, to deepen our faith in both large and small things, to give of ourselves wholeheartedly and passionately for His work, to develop godly character, and so on: essentially, to sanctify and refine us through the "fire" of singleness. Similarly, when I read the old classics of the Christian faith (and I mean the very old classics!), I found that most of them were written by vocational celibates (such as monks) for other vocational celibates, and singleness was praised because of its ability to be used by God for our sanctification. And I thought as a single and still think now that this is very true. God will indeed use our singleness to teach us about Him, to draw us closer to Him (often by giving us no one else to turn to), and to generally shape us into the person He desires us to become.
But what all those messages left out, and what I felt seemed to be missing in most of the marriage resources I was given when Paul and I were approaching our wedding, was that God continues this sanctification process in marriage. Just as He will use the unique challenges and opportunities presented by singleness to grow our character and deepen our relationship with Him, so He will use the unique challenges and opportunities presented by marriage. The situations will be different, and the ways in which He will change us will very likely be different, but the overarching purpose will be the same: our sanctification. God desires to make us holy, so that we can be with Him in joy and glory instead of fear and condemnation, and in this life He is working out in us through the Spirit the righteousness that He gave us in Christ. Whether we are single or married, He will use the circumstances in which we find ourselves to transform us for our good and His glory.
I must admit that I wouldn't have thought of this idea of marriage as a means for sanctification unless I had read it in a book given to us by an older couple I knew in college, titled Sacred Marriage. But this book is the only one that has even mentioned, much less developed, the idea, and I think it is important for those of us who are married and thinking about getting married. It should give us cause to examine our motivation for marriage in the first place - are we seeking marriage to obtain physical pleasure, emotional security, or companionship, or are we seeking it because we feel God is leading us in that direction and has a purpose for it in our walk with Him? Once married, it should inform the priorities that we create in our relationship with our spouse: do we use them for our own pleasure (whether blatantly or through more subtle hinting and manipulation), or do we strive to put his or her needs first, even when that entails self-denial? Do we see their weaknesses as insufferable flaws, or do we learn to show them (consistently and constantly) the same grace that God shows us? Do we try to ground our identity on their approval and on our perception of their love for us, or do we find our meaning and worth in Christ and from that established and secure identity begin to truly love our spouse without a continual search for their validation? Do we expect our marriage to be perfect, and fix blame and condemnation on either our spouse or ourselves when struggles arise, or do we expect those struggles and learn to work through them together, edified and strengthened by the grace of God?
Essentially, the question to ask in marriage (and maybe in any venture of life) is whether I am making any given choice for the glory of God and out of my new life in Christ, or whether I am making that choice for my own convenience - to obtain my own desires - and out of my old life enslaved to sin. If throughout each day I consciously strive to take the former path, I will be employing marriage for its intended purpose in my life: my sanctification. But if I fail to be vigilant and intentional, if I choose not to seek God in those situations that marriage has brought upon me, I will throwing away those golden opportunities God would like to use to draw me to Him. By His grace, I hope that my marriage to Paul will truly be a means for both of us to learn to walk more closely with our Lord, and grow in our knowledge of Him and in the fruit we bear in our lives.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Lingering in beauty
Being a Type-A personality (that is, continually striving for perfection and efficiency), it can be hard for me to do anything slowly without becoming frustrated. Naturally, I don't sit back and enjoy the beauty and peace of a simple moment - I identify a task, complete the task as quickly and as well as I can, enjoy the sense of fulfillment at its completion, and then move on to the next task.
But those simple moments can hide some incredible beauty, and I think it is worthwhile for me to make the effort to slow down and linger in them while they last.
For example, on Friday afternoon I bought a bag of black beans in bulk, and needed to transfer them from the little plastic bag to a glass jar for pantry storage purposes. Now, these little plastic bags they use in the bulk sections of stores are really quite flimsy, and when I've tried to pour beans directly from the bag into a jar in the past beans have gone flying everywhere. Nevertheless, because it feels so much faster, I typically do it that way anyway, and just try to be especially careful. On Friday, however, for some reason, I decided to scoop the beans out and into the jar with my hands. It felt slower, because I could only pick up a certain amount at a time (not a full double handful, lest I risk dropping them) and then had to funnel them delicately into the jar (not too quickly, lest they bounce off the mouth of the jar). But as I let the beans fall from my cupped hands into the jar, I felt the smoothness of their skins and the firm curvature of their shape as they jostled against each other and against my hands. I saw the dull gleam of their black matte exteriors, and the ever-changing shadows between them. I heard the gentle rhythmic rain as they fell onto the glass and then onto each other. And for a moment, my shoulders relaxed and my mind quieted, and the simple beauty of the action filled the room with peace.
So, my goal for this week: to take more time to notice these moments of beauty that God has placed in even the most seemingly trivial aspects of our lives, and not just to notice them but to linger in them, to let their peace seep into my heart. It is true that these moments are purely of this life, completely temporal - but God created this world, and temporality, and He can use it to teach us about eternity and craft us in His image.
But those simple moments can hide some incredible beauty, and I think it is worthwhile for me to make the effort to slow down and linger in them while they last.
For example, on Friday afternoon I bought a bag of black beans in bulk, and needed to transfer them from the little plastic bag to a glass jar for pantry storage purposes. Now, these little plastic bags they use in the bulk sections of stores are really quite flimsy, and when I've tried to pour beans directly from the bag into a jar in the past beans have gone flying everywhere. Nevertheless, because it feels so much faster, I typically do it that way anyway, and just try to be especially careful. On Friday, however, for some reason, I decided to scoop the beans out and into the jar with my hands. It felt slower, because I could only pick up a certain amount at a time (not a full double handful, lest I risk dropping them) and then had to funnel them delicately into the jar (not too quickly, lest they bounce off the mouth of the jar). But as I let the beans fall from my cupped hands into the jar, I felt the smoothness of their skins and the firm curvature of their shape as they jostled against each other and against my hands. I saw the dull gleam of their black matte exteriors, and the ever-changing shadows between them. I heard the gentle rhythmic rain as they fell onto the glass and then onto each other. And for a moment, my shoulders relaxed and my mind quieted, and the simple beauty of the action filled the room with peace.
So, my goal for this week: to take more time to notice these moments of beauty that God has placed in even the most seemingly trivial aspects of our lives, and not just to notice them but to linger in them, to let their peace seep into my heart. It is true that these moments are purely of this life, completely temporal - but God created this world, and temporality, and He can use it to teach us about eternity and craft us in His image.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
The precarious heady happiness of temporality
There are so many wonderful things in this life, to enjoy and to delight in! Yesterday afternoon I was able to go to a bridal shower for a friend from college, to spend time celebrating her and rejoicing in the beautiful relationship God is building in the lives of her and her husband-to-be; in the evening, I was able to visit friends who have just had their third son, and got to spend time enjoying their company, catching up with them, and even holding their not-quite-two-week-old son. Driving home from their house, I was practically overflowing with happiness, from all the love which I had witnessed and been able to be a part of all throughout the day. These relationships that God gives us, in which we can be loved and learn to love others, which force us to take our minds off of ourselves and think about, care for, and value the people around us, are such an incredible blessing, and it is right and good to be happy because of them!
But as I was driving home, I realized that this happiness isn't a stable, steadfast, lasting thing. It is an emotion, and it can come or leave at the drop of a hat, and as quickly as a butterfly takes wing. And because it takes you soaring so high, the fall can take your breath away when it comes. At least, that how it works for me; I do know quite a few people whose emotions seem to never fly so high or fall so low, so they never have to deal with the crazy contrast, with the unstoppable fear-inducing plummet when the peak of happiness is surmounted and passed. But for those of us whose emotions swing through the wide range of human feeling more easily and often, that happiness - even though it comes from good and wonderful things - can be dangerous, like walking on a tightrope. Though intoxicating, it is hazardous: the precarious heady happiness of temporality.
When happiness comes from Christ, as a result of being in Him and resting in the knowledge that all things are through Him and for Him, it can endure through the fickle whims of human emotion. The joys of fellowship and community can then deepen that happiness in the moment, without exciting the fear of instantly falling into a pit without so much as a warning sign, because the happiness we have in Christ can create a stable, solid ground to walk on, a place of emotional security in which to operate. Being in Him will not deaden or dampen our emotions, but it should give them a foundation to rest upon, and truth to inform them, so that we can use them - just as we use our minds and our bodies - for His glory.
But as I was driving home, I realized that this happiness isn't a stable, steadfast, lasting thing. It is an emotion, and it can come or leave at the drop of a hat, and as quickly as a butterfly takes wing. And because it takes you soaring so high, the fall can take your breath away when it comes. At least, that how it works for me; I do know quite a few people whose emotions seem to never fly so high or fall so low, so they never have to deal with the crazy contrast, with the unstoppable fear-inducing plummet when the peak of happiness is surmounted and passed. But for those of us whose emotions swing through the wide range of human feeling more easily and often, that happiness - even though it comes from good and wonderful things - can be dangerous, like walking on a tightrope. Though intoxicating, it is hazardous: the precarious heady happiness of temporality.
When happiness comes from Christ, as a result of being in Him and resting in the knowledge that all things are through Him and for Him, it can endure through the fickle whims of human emotion. The joys of fellowship and community can then deepen that happiness in the moment, without exciting the fear of instantly falling into a pit without so much as a warning sign, because the happiness we have in Christ can create a stable, solid ground to walk on, a place of emotional security in which to operate. Being in Him will not deaden or dampen our emotions, but it should give them a foundation to rest upon, and truth to inform them, so that we can use them - just as we use our minds and our bodies - for His glory.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Need
Towards the end of his book Perelandra, C.S. Lewis juxtaposes two seemingly opposite ideas as true ways of perceiving reality. There is first the idea that God has a purpose for us - a part for us in His plan that gives us meaning - and that He thus has need of us and we likewise have need of each other. No one is separate and alone; in the great plan of God, every part is necessary and depends on each other. We see this in the common biblical analogy of the church to a body, where every member is strengthened and built up by what the other members supply: no one of those members could survive separately, but each needs all and is needed by all. Even Christ, as the Head of the body, needs us (in a manner of speaking, for He is self-sufficient), that, for example, He might reveal in us His grace, mercy, and righteous judgment.
The second idea is that God has no need of anything that He created - He simply created us and loves us out of the overflowing abundance of His goodness. He was not less before He created us, nor is He the greater because He created us. He does not lavish His grace and blessing upon us because He needs our love or because we deserve His favor, but simply because He is. Likewise, in this idea, we have no real need of one another, and so we are able to love as He loves: freely, without the conditions of merit or need.
I can't say that one or the other of these ideas is false; both ring true to me. The first speaks to my inner hunger for purpose, to my desire to be needed, and to my honest admission that I desperately need God and other people. But the second expresses the riches of God's grace, explains how we can begin to love as God loves us, and leaves God's eternal glory unlimited. Maybe this is one of the seeming paradoxes of Christianity - the pairs of apparently contradictory truths whose reconciliation lies beyond our current ability to reason and understand, like the concept of the triune nature of God. What matters is that it is true. We are needed, and all that we do matters and has significance, and we must not let our feet slip; we are not needed, and we can give and love in the freedom of our insignificance, resting in the greatness of our God.
"He has immeasurable use for each thing that is made, that His love and splendour may flow forth like a strong river which has need of a great watercourse and fills alike the deep pools and the little crannies, that are filled equally and remain unequal; and when it has filled them brim full it flows over and makes new channels. We also have need beyond measure of all that He has made. Love me, my brothers, for I am infinitely necessary to you and for your delight I was made. Blessed be He!
"He has no need at all of anything that is made. An eldil is not more needful to Him than a grain of the Dust: a peopled world no more needful than a world that is empty: but all needless alike, and what all add to Him is nothing. We also have no need of anything that us made. Love me, my brothers, for I am infinitely superfluous, and your love shall be like His, born neither of your need nor of my deserving, but a plain bounty. Blessed be He!" - C.S. Lewis, Perelandra
The second idea is that God has no need of anything that He created - He simply created us and loves us out of the overflowing abundance of His goodness. He was not less before He created us, nor is He the greater because He created us. He does not lavish His grace and blessing upon us because He needs our love or because we deserve His favor, but simply because He is. Likewise, in this idea, we have no real need of one another, and so we are able to love as He loves: freely, without the conditions of merit or need.
I can't say that one or the other of these ideas is false; both ring true to me. The first speaks to my inner hunger for purpose, to my desire to be needed, and to my honest admission that I desperately need God and other people. But the second expresses the riches of God's grace, explains how we can begin to love as God loves us, and leaves God's eternal glory unlimited. Maybe this is one of the seeming paradoxes of Christianity - the pairs of apparently contradictory truths whose reconciliation lies beyond our current ability to reason and understand, like the concept of the triune nature of God. What matters is that it is true. We are needed, and all that we do matters and has significance, and we must not let our feet slip; we are not needed, and we can give and love in the freedom of our insignificance, resting in the greatness of our God.
"He has immeasurable use for each thing that is made, that His love and splendour may flow forth like a strong river which has need of a great watercourse and fills alike the deep pools and the little crannies, that are filled equally and remain unequal; and when it has filled them brim full it flows over and makes new channels. We also have need beyond measure of all that He has made. Love me, my brothers, for I am infinitely necessary to you and for your delight I was made. Blessed be He!
"He has no need at all of anything that is made. An eldil is not more needful to Him than a grain of the Dust: a peopled world no more needful than a world that is empty: but all needless alike, and what all add to Him is nothing. We also have no need of anything that us made. Love me, my brothers, for I am infinitely superfluous, and your love shall be like His, born neither of your need nor of my deserving, but a plain bounty. Blessed be He!" - C.S. Lewis, Perelandra
Thursday, February 23, 2012
God with us
In the midst of all that is evil and ugly and dark - in the middle of our failures, frustrations, sorrows, and dashed dreams - God stands with us. And with God is light, joy, hope, and truth. Where He is, grace triumphs over failure, condemnation is defeated by mercy, and sorrow is comforted by the love that went to the cross on our behalf. All the darkness of this world is passing; the light of God is everlasting. It will endure, and because we are in Him we will endure with it, through the destruction of all that is sinful and fallen into the restoration and renewal of all thing good and noble and lovely - through death into life.
This world and its worries lie heavy on us, and we struggle with burdens beyond our strength and pains that seem to split our heart in pieces, and it is only a small comfort to know that someday they will pass away. What is greater is to know that God is with us, now, through those things. He is not distantly waiting for us to reach Him at the end of our lives! He is walking with us, by the quiet waters, in the green pastures, and even through the valley of the shadow of death.
This world and its worries lie heavy on us, and we struggle with burdens beyond our strength and pains that seem to split our heart in pieces, and it is only a small comfort to know that someday they will pass away. What is greater is to know that God is with us, now, through those things. He is not distantly waiting for us to reach Him at the end of our lives! He is walking with us, by the quiet waters, in the green pastures, and even through the valley of the shadow of death.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Meditation for Ash Wednesday
I've been writing about death, specifically as in our death as citizens of heaven to this world (here and here), for the past couple days because today is the first day of Lent, and Lent is in a sense all about death. In the sense that Advent is a time of preparation leading up to the celebration of Christmas, Lent is a time to ready our souls for the celebration of Easter. Traditionally, this is done by an increased focus on prayer, fasting, and giving: prayer aligns us with God, drawing us nearer to Him; fasting (not necessarily from food, but as a general practice of self-denial) is intended to help us detach from the pleasures and pursuits of this world, to die to ourselves; and giving is a restoration of harmony between people made by considering the needs and interests of others as well as of ourselves. So in our relationship with God, ourselves, and others we seek to put off the old man of sin and put on the new man of righteousness in Christ. Because of where the season falls in the liturgical year, it is also a fitting time to read the gospels and see how Jesus lived and conducted Himself as He prepared for His own death, and then seek to emulate Him in our lives here and now.
Shouldn't we be doing this all year long, though? Of course! Seeking righteousness for forty days during Lent isn't a ticket for pursuing our own pleasures and desires the rest of the year! But I think maybe it is good to have a yearly reminder, encouragement, and challenge to seek God more intentionally, just as it is good to rejoice in His resurrection on a specific day each year even though that resurrection should be a source of joy in our lives on every day. As long as the season of Lent remains just that, instead of becoming a ritual through which you try to obtain righteousness, merit, and the approval of God, I think it can be a very good thing - a time to recommit (to use a more Evangelical-friendly word!) and repent.
My main concern with Lent (and with many of the other traditions and rituals of the Church) comes from Paul's letter to the Colossians, where he writes,
While I want to commemorate Lent this year, I need to make sure that my heart is right as I do it (in the same way as I need to do with Advent and Christmas, honestly, although the temptations for each season are different). If I use the time to more intentionally seek God or to strive to be more generous with my resources, I must make sure that I do so without pride, without loudly proclaiming what I'm doing so as to get recognition for it, and with a genuine desire to know God more. He must be the center in order for it to be good - but conversely, if He is the center, than it will be good. And personally I think that if I spend all of Lent trying to follow God with my whole heart, I will be constantly reminded of my great need for His grace, so that when Easter comes (which is the celebration of His wonderful grace and power toward us!) I will be able to celebrate it with incredible joy - and hopefully I will have begun to establish patterns and habits of seeking God in my life, so that after the season is over I may continue to pursue Him just as intentionally and just as passionately.
Shouldn't we be doing this all year long, though? Of course! Seeking righteousness for forty days during Lent isn't a ticket for pursuing our own pleasures and desires the rest of the year! But I think maybe it is good to have a yearly reminder, encouragement, and challenge to seek God more intentionally, just as it is good to rejoice in His resurrection on a specific day each year even though that resurrection should be a source of joy in our lives on every day. As long as the season of Lent remains just that, instead of becoming a ritual through which you try to obtain righteousness, merit, and the approval of God, I think it can be a very good thing - a time to recommit (to use a more Evangelical-friendly word!) and repent.
My main concern with Lent (and with many of the other traditions and rituals of the Church) comes from Paul's letter to the Colossians, where he writes,
"Therefore, if you died with Christ from the basic principles of the world, why, as though living in the world, do you subject yourselves to regulations - 'Do not touch, do not taste, do not handle,' which all concern things which perish with the using - according to the commandments and doctrines of men? These things indeed have an appearance of wisdom in self-imposed religion, false humility, and neglect of the body, but are of no value against the indulgence of the flesh."For example, it is really spiritually beneficial to fast on Ash Wednesday, as the tradition goes? Or if I fast as a mere religious ritual, am I really strengthening my spiritual pride in my control over my flesh without actually having to learn self-denial and death in the ways God gives me to learn them? Am I creating my own rules, which I am capable of following, so that I don't have to face up to my failure to follow God's rules? Am I creating my own self-imposed religion, so that I don't have to feel my deep and biting need for God's grace?
While I want to commemorate Lent this year, I need to make sure that my heart is right as I do it (in the same way as I need to do with Advent and Christmas, honestly, although the temptations for each season are different). If I use the time to more intentionally seek God or to strive to be more generous with my resources, I must make sure that I do so without pride, without loudly proclaiming what I'm doing so as to get recognition for it, and with a genuine desire to know God more. He must be the center in order for it to be good - but conversely, if He is the center, than it will be good. And personally I think that if I spend all of Lent trying to follow God with my whole heart, I will be constantly reminded of my great need for His grace, so that when Easter comes (which is the celebration of His wonderful grace and power toward us!) I will be able to celebrate it with incredible joy - and hopefully I will have begun to establish patterns and habits of seeking God in my life, so that after the season is over I may continue to pursue Him just as intentionally and just as passionately.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
More thoughts on dying to this world
In C.S. Lewis's book Out of the Silent Planet, an unsuspecting Englishman named Ransom is kidnapped (by other humans) and taken to a planet called Malacandra, where he meets and befriends its rational inhabitants. At one point they are preparing to hunt a dangerous water creature called a hnakra (plural hneraki), and one of the inhabitants of Malacandra is speaking with Ransom about the hneraki (for reference, Oyarsa is the ruler of Malacandra and Maleldil is God):
So let us pursue what is right without regards to the risk. Let us seek what is good without compromising for our own security or comfort. Let us proclaim what is true without omission due to fear or embarrassment. Let us follow God with all of our being, so we may find that death is not the terrifying end of all good things, but is rather the pathway to glory and life.
"'I do not think the forest would be so bright, nor the water so warm, not love so sweet, if there were no danger in the lakes. I will tell you a day in my life that has shaped me; such a day as comes only once, like love, or serving Oyarsa in Meldilorn. Then I was young, not much more than a cub, when I went far, far up the handramit to the land where stars shine at midday and even water is cold. A great waterfall I climbed. I stood on the shore of Balki the pool, which is the place of most awe in all worlds. The walls of it go up for ever and ever and huge and holy images are cut in them, the work of old times. There is the fall called the Mountain of Water. Because I have stood there alone, Maleldil and I, for even Oyarsa sent me no word, my heart has been higher, my song deeper, all my days. But do you think it would have been so unless I had known that in Balki hneraki dwelled? There I drank life because death was in the pool. That was the best of drinks save one.'Death itself is not a glorious thing, but it can be a precious and desired thing because of what it entails: because it can throw the piercing glory of life into stark reflection, preventing one from sinking back into the complacent stupor of pleasant and meaningless existence; and because it is the door through which we must pass to receive true and everlasting life and to be with God in a greater way than we yet can. It is not for us to try to thrust open that door before God calls us through it, but it is also not for us to shirk back in fear of the passing through. As Jesus Himself warned us, "He who loves his life will lose it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life."
'What one?' asked Ransom.
'Death itself in the day I drink it and go to Maleldil.'"
So let us pursue what is right without regards to the risk. Let us seek what is good without compromising for our own security or comfort. Let us proclaim what is true without omission due to fear or embarrassment. Let us follow God with all of our being, so we may find that death is not the terrifying end of all good things, but is rather the pathway to glory and life.
Monday, February 20, 2012
To seek death
When we seek to live in a way that pleases God, when we strive to be like Jesus in our thoughts and actions, when we desire to know Christ and have Him be the center of our lives - what does that entail? More than I know and can write about, certainly, but one thing it means is that we seek death.
Before you lessen the impact of that statement with all the rationalization of what exactly "death" means when, say, the Apostle Paul says in Philippians that "to die is gain" or that he longs to be "conformed to His death," take the time to think about it honestly. What does it mean to die? It is to be cut off, alone, from everyone else, as a single individual - to see your dreams for your life fading from your grasp, to know that you will have no future in which to do the things you've always wanted - to suddenly wonder what substance or worth any part of your life has had, and if anything you did ever truly mattered - to abandon all material things without a hidden reserve, to lose all earthly treasures without a safety net or back-up plan, to be separated irrevocably from the physical, visible world around you. How could this be the thing that we seek, when we serve a God of life, a God who delights in pouring out blessings upon His people, a God of joy and harmony and love? Is it strictly a physical death that we seek? Clearly not, since those who followed Christ, though they died for Him, did not seek that death as a suicide seeks death. They were seeking something else, and had already attained death before they reached that earthly death.
So what is this death that we seek? We seek to die to this world, even as we still live and remain in it. And how does that work? It means that the things that matter in this world - respect, approval, fame, material security, wealth, physical health, pleasure, comfort, convenience, and so on through the list of all that we pursue and idolize - these things must not matter to us any longer. Whether we are rich or poor, wealth or poverty must not be the thing that matters or the thing we seek; whether we are sick or well, health or sickness must not be the thing that matters or the thing we seek; whether we are well-loved or despised, the opinion of others (negative or positive) must not be the thing that matters or the thing we seek. It should be as though we have been cut off from those things, alone as a single individual on the other side of the great divide, seeing our dreams for this world fading away, knowing that our future does not lie with them, dispensing of every last hidden reserve and secret treasure that would bind us to this world.
Death hurts, dearly beloved.
It hurts like hell to be torn from the things and the people we love, that matter to us, upon which we have built the whole of our precariously balanced lives. And ultimately, death is hell, because it tears apart relationships and we were not made to be alone. But we seek death because we know that in Christ this death is not the ending. If we have attained this death - the death to this world, even as we physically live on in this world - then when physical death does come for us as it comes for all, we will find ourselves in the fullness and completion of life: not physical life, but that greater heavenly life which we begin to taste and see even now as we learn to die to things of earth. If we give up all this world first, simply because we seek to know and be with Christ and not for any other future pleasure we may hope for or any present accolades or admiration, we will find a more wonderful and beautiful life in Him. We seek death so that we might know what is the power of His resurrection; we desire to be conformed to His death so that we may attain to the resurrection from the dead.
Before you lessen the impact of that statement with all the rationalization of what exactly "death" means when, say, the Apostle Paul says in Philippians that "to die is gain" or that he longs to be "conformed to His death," take the time to think about it honestly. What does it mean to die? It is to be cut off, alone, from everyone else, as a single individual - to see your dreams for your life fading from your grasp, to know that you will have no future in which to do the things you've always wanted - to suddenly wonder what substance or worth any part of your life has had, and if anything you did ever truly mattered - to abandon all material things without a hidden reserve, to lose all earthly treasures without a safety net or back-up plan, to be separated irrevocably from the physical, visible world around you. How could this be the thing that we seek, when we serve a God of life, a God who delights in pouring out blessings upon His people, a God of joy and harmony and love? Is it strictly a physical death that we seek? Clearly not, since those who followed Christ, though they died for Him, did not seek that death as a suicide seeks death. They were seeking something else, and had already attained death before they reached that earthly death.
So what is this death that we seek? We seek to die to this world, even as we still live and remain in it. And how does that work? It means that the things that matter in this world - respect, approval, fame, material security, wealth, physical health, pleasure, comfort, convenience, and so on through the list of all that we pursue and idolize - these things must not matter to us any longer. Whether we are rich or poor, wealth or poverty must not be the thing that matters or the thing we seek; whether we are sick or well, health or sickness must not be the thing that matters or the thing we seek; whether we are well-loved or despised, the opinion of others (negative or positive) must not be the thing that matters or the thing we seek. It should be as though we have been cut off from those things, alone as a single individual on the other side of the great divide, seeing our dreams for this world fading away, knowing that our future does not lie with them, dispensing of every last hidden reserve and secret treasure that would bind us to this world.
Death hurts, dearly beloved.
It hurts like hell to be torn from the things and the people we love, that matter to us, upon which we have built the whole of our precariously balanced lives. And ultimately, death is hell, because it tears apart relationships and we were not made to be alone. But we seek death because we know that in Christ this death is not the ending. If we have attained this death - the death to this world, even as we physically live on in this world - then when physical death does come for us as it comes for all, we will find ourselves in the fullness and completion of life: not physical life, but that greater heavenly life which we begin to taste and see even now as we learn to die to things of earth. If we give up all this world first, simply because we seek to know and be with Christ and not for any other future pleasure we may hope for or any present accolades or admiration, we will find a more wonderful and beautiful life in Him. We seek death so that we might know what is the power of His resurrection; we desire to be conformed to His death so that we may attain to the resurrection from the dead.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
My little dream and what it taught me
I had a rather amusing dream last night. It was around Thanksgiving, I presume, because we were baking pies. These pies were glorious! There were three pumpkin pies and one pecan pie, and I was so proud of them and so excited to serve them the next day at Thanksgiving dinner. But there were guests staying at the house (or maybe just family - I'm not sure how it went exactly) and they started eating those pies right then! And by the time they were done there was only one pumpkin and half the pecan left, and I was so upset because they had ruined everything for the next day, and hadn't shown any restraint or self-control or consideration. So in my dream, my mom was trying to calm me down and say that everything was ok, and the tension built up inside me so much that I let out this awful scream. At least, in my dream I did (which is impressive in itself, because usually my dreams don't have any kind of sound at all). Hopefully I didn't actually scream in my sleep and wake Paul up :P
Anyway, I think the dream illustrates rather nicely my desire for all things in life to be beautiful and perfect and well-ordered, as well as my inability to cope when it all goes wrong! I've been doing all this meditating on grace, but maybe I need to start learning to give grace to others when they don't follow my rules of order for a given situation - to live by grace rather than by law in the little trivial things like my dream presented as well as in the big matters of identity and life purpose. It could make life a lot more enjoyable, because it would allow the focus to be on relationships rather than on successful completion of a task or maintenance of an appearance :)
Anyway, I think the dream illustrates rather nicely my desire for all things in life to be beautiful and perfect and well-ordered, as well as my inability to cope when it all goes wrong! I've been doing all this meditating on grace, but maybe I need to start learning to give grace to others when they don't follow my rules of order for a given situation - to live by grace rather than by law in the little trivial things like my dream presented as well as in the big matters of identity and life purpose. It could make life a lot more enjoyable, because it would allow the focus to be on relationships rather than on successful completion of a task or maintenance of an appearance :)
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
His strength in my weakness
In a letter to the Corinthian church, the Apostle Paul wrote the following well-known passage:
When I think of my weaknesses, it is usually with shame, guilt, anxiety, and self-condemnation. I want to be cured of them, essentially: to be strong and perfect so that I can then give, love, sacrifice, and obey as God desires me to; to be righteous and above reproach in everything so that I can accomplish great and glorious things for God; to have my testimony be that He has made me perfect. At the center of this whirlwind is the desire to be something in myself so that I, myself, can please God. And I think most of us can relate to this desire to be able to offer something to Him, instead of always being needy and dependent!
But this is ultimately a self-focused desire, founded on pride (which is why our perceived failures and weaknesses, even about trivial things, matter so much to us, and why the slightest criticism has the potential to wound us deeply). While we do want to honor God, we also very much want it to be seen and known that we specifically are the ones honoring Him; we want Him to be glorified, but we specifically want Him to be glorified by our actions, and to share in His glory. Brothers and sisters, what I am slowly coming to know is that to truly honor Him our own honor must be utterly forsaken. In order to truly glorify Him with our lives we must learn not to desire our own glory in any way - to obey, and love, and seek God, and not care whether or not we are noticed, respected, or admired for our actions.
So our weaknesses really do become wonderful gifts, because they are precisely the areas where our obedience and love come from Christ's power rather than our own strength, and are thus the areas where we can most easily seek to glorify Him self-forgetfully. If we have nothing to offer, nothing to give, than we can give (but really it is God giving through us) without expecting glory or admiration in response. How could we expect those things, when the power to accomplish what we have done is not our own, but is God's power given to us, resting on us, and working through us?
Francois de Fenelon, a French priest and author from the late 1600s, wrote the following thoughts along these lines, which have been very convicting to me:
So I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses. My power is insufficient, but there is this great hope that Christ's power will rest upon me and work through me - and in this work it will be Christ Himself who receives the praise and the glory for whatever is accomplished, not me. And that is how it should be. It is His power, after all, that created me, sustains me, and gave me new life in Him through His death and resurrection. As I was unable to accomplish my own salvation, so I am unable in my own strength to continue in righteousness now that I have been saved. But in my weaknesses, His strength can be made manifest in my life, and I can begin to learn to set myself aside so that He may receive the glory, for it is His to receive.
"And He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me."That first phrase - "My grace is sufficient for you" - is the one my mind usually lingers on (it's the one I have hanging on a wall in my house, too, which is probably why it comes to mind first!), but I want to set it aside and move past it today. Instead, I want to focus on the whole idea of God's strength being made perfect in our weaknesses - of our weakness being the opportunities for God's power to rest upon us and be made manifest in our lives.
When I think of my weaknesses, it is usually with shame, guilt, anxiety, and self-condemnation. I want to be cured of them, essentially: to be strong and perfect so that I can then give, love, sacrifice, and obey as God desires me to; to be righteous and above reproach in everything so that I can accomplish great and glorious things for God; to have my testimony be that He has made me perfect. At the center of this whirlwind is the desire to be something in myself so that I, myself, can please God. And I think most of us can relate to this desire to be able to offer something to Him, instead of always being needy and dependent!
But this is ultimately a self-focused desire, founded on pride (which is why our perceived failures and weaknesses, even about trivial things, matter so much to us, and why the slightest criticism has the potential to wound us deeply). While we do want to honor God, we also very much want it to be seen and known that we specifically are the ones honoring Him; we want Him to be glorified, but we specifically want Him to be glorified by our actions, and to share in His glory. Brothers and sisters, what I am slowly coming to know is that to truly honor Him our own honor must be utterly forsaken. In order to truly glorify Him with our lives we must learn not to desire our own glory in any way - to obey, and love, and seek God, and not care whether or not we are noticed, respected, or admired for our actions.
So our weaknesses really do become wonderful gifts, because they are precisely the areas where our obedience and love come from Christ's power rather than our own strength, and are thus the areas where we can most easily seek to glorify Him self-forgetfully. If we have nothing to offer, nothing to give, than we can give (but really it is God giving through us) without expecting glory or admiration in response. How could we expect those things, when the power to accomplish what we have done is not our own, but is God's power given to us, resting on us, and working through us?
Francois de Fenelon, a French priest and author from the late 1600s, wrote the following thoughts along these lines, which have been very convicting to me:
"Strength is made perfect in weakness. You are only strong in God when you are weak in yourself. Your weakness will be your strength if you accept it with a lowly heart.You will be tempted to believe that weakness and lowliness are not part of trusting God. It is commonly believed that to trust God you generously give God everything because you love Him so much. Heroic sacrifices are held up as true examples of trusting God. To truly trust God is not so glamorous." - The Seeking HeartIsn't it true? We desire the glamor, the glory - we want to do great things for God and be the heroes whose stories are told throughout the church. But that is not truly trusting God, and it is not true strength in our faith either; true strength, perfect strength, is that which comes upon us from God in the midst of our weaknesses.
So I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses. My power is insufficient, but there is this great hope that Christ's power will rest upon me and work through me - and in this work it will be Christ Himself who receives the praise and the glory for whatever is accomplished, not me. And that is how it should be. It is His power, after all, that created me, sustains me, and gave me new life in Him through His death and resurrection. As I was unable to accomplish my own salvation, so I am unable in my own strength to continue in righteousness now that I have been saved. But in my weaknesses, His strength can be made manifest in my life, and I can begin to learn to set myself aside so that He may receive the glory, for it is His to receive.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Worship and work
In the middle of a little book of discourses, there is a collection of discourses on What We Learn From the Lilies In the Field and From the Birds of the Air, and the middle of this little collection is a discourse entitled "How Glorious It Is to Be a Human Being." And in this discourse the author argues that the glory of being human comes from these two things that we alone of all creation can do: that we can worship, and that we can work.
When the author of this discourse took the time to look at the lilies of the field, as Jesus commanded, and thought about how God clothes us in so much more glory than the lilies, he saw that this clothing must refer to something innate in us as being humans, not in our literal clothing (which has never been so glorious as the lily, not even that which adorned King Solomon). And what was this particular glory, that could be compared to the beauty in which the lilies were clothed? It was, the author concluded, simply that to be human means to have been created in the image of God, in a unique manner not shared by any other created thing. The lily bears witness to its Creator, but it does not bear the image of its Creator. We as human beings do, and that is our glory. In the quote I posted earlier, you can read how the author of this discourse explained that we resemble God as His inverse image by worshiping Him, and how that worship is our glory because by it we show that we were made in His image.
When this author then turned to look at the birds of the air, he saw how the bird did not worry about providing for himself in the future because the bird did not work nor have indeed any conception of the future. So while we ought to learn not to worry from the bird, our not worrying is different in essence from the bird's, because we touch the eternal and thus understand the future. It is our glory - as a created being with an eternal spirit, not just a temporal body - to be able to understand the worry about the future, and it is our glory to be able to work for the needs of our eternity and our future as the bird cannot work but as God Himself does work. It is another aspect of our being created in the image of God! And when we work, because we understand that it is God who provides for us ultimately as He provides for the bird (which is why we need not worry), we can think of ourselves as working together with God instead of as working for ourselves. And this also is our glory.
So to worship God and to work together with God (as being made in His image we are able to do in a way that nature cannot) - those are the things that the author of this discourse has concluded are the twin glories of a human being. And it makes me excited! For in those two glories we find eternal value and purpose for our lives, in God. Live is not empty and dark, because we have a God who loves us, who is worthy of our love and adoration and praise, in whom we can delight. Neither is life meaningless and despairing, because we have a God with whom we can work as He carries out His great eternal plan - and even the most trivial aspects of our temporal work are woven by Him into that great plan.
When the author of this discourse took the time to look at the lilies of the field, as Jesus commanded, and thought about how God clothes us in so much more glory than the lilies, he saw that this clothing must refer to something innate in us as being humans, not in our literal clothing (which has never been so glorious as the lily, not even that which adorned King Solomon). And what was this particular glory, that could be compared to the beauty in which the lilies were clothed? It was, the author concluded, simply that to be human means to have been created in the image of God, in a unique manner not shared by any other created thing. The lily bears witness to its Creator, but it does not bear the image of its Creator. We as human beings do, and that is our glory. In the quote I posted earlier, you can read how the author of this discourse explained that we resemble God as His inverse image by worshiping Him, and how that worship is our glory because by it we show that we were made in His image.
When this author then turned to look at the birds of the air, he saw how the bird did not worry about providing for himself in the future because the bird did not work nor have indeed any conception of the future. So while we ought to learn not to worry from the bird, our not worrying is different in essence from the bird's, because we touch the eternal and thus understand the future. It is our glory - as a created being with an eternal spirit, not just a temporal body - to be able to understand the worry about the future, and it is our glory to be able to work for the needs of our eternity and our future as the bird cannot work but as God Himself does work. It is another aspect of our being created in the image of God! And when we work, because we understand that it is God who provides for us ultimately as He provides for the bird (which is why we need not worry), we can think of ourselves as working together with God instead of as working for ourselves. And this also is our glory.
So to worship God and to work together with God (as being made in His image we are able to do in a way that nature cannot) - those are the things that the author of this discourse has concluded are the twin glories of a human being. And it makes me excited! For in those two glories we find eternal value and purpose for our lives, in God. Live is not empty and dark, because we have a God who loves us, who is worthy of our love and adoration and praise, in whom we can delight. Neither is life meaningless and despairing, because we have a God with whom we can work as He carries out His great eternal plan - and even the most trivial aspects of our temporal work are woven by Him into that great plan.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
The glory of being human
"The upright gait is the sign of distinction, but to be able to prostrate oneself in adoration and worship is even more glorious; and all nature is like the great staff of servants who remind the human being, the ruler, about worshiping God. This is what is expected, not that the human being is to come and assume the command, which is also glorious and is assigned to him, but that worshiping he shall praise the Creator, something nature cannot do, since it can only remind the human being about doing that. It is glorious to be clothed as the lily, even more glorious to be the erect and upright ruler, but most glorious to be nothing by worshiping!
[...] The human being and God do not resemble each other directly but inversely; only when God has infinitely become the eternal and omnipresent object of worship and the human being always a worshiper, only then do they resemble each other. If human beings want to resemble God by ruling, they have forgotten God; then God has departed and they are playing the rulers in God's absence. This was paganism; this was human life in the absence of God. This was why paganism was still like nature, and the most grievous thing that can be said about it is that it could not worship." - Soren Kierkegaard, Uplifting Discourses in Various Spirits
[...] The human being and God do not resemble each other directly but inversely; only when God has infinitely become the eternal and omnipresent object of worship and the human being always a worshiper, only then do they resemble each other. If human beings want to resemble God by ruling, they have forgotten God; then God has departed and they are playing the rulers in God's absence. This was paganism; this was human life in the absence of God. This was why paganism was still like nature, and the most grievous thing that can be said about it is that it could not worship." - Soren Kierkegaard, Uplifting Discourses in Various Spirits
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
A proper attitude towards sin
An anonymous reader left the following question on my previous post:
Before I begin, though, I have a disclaimer to make. Not being perfect myself, I don't respond to my own sin perfectly either. I would not be surprised if the way I think I ought to respond to my sin is also imperfect. That is an unfortunate but rather unavoidable consequence of not being omniscient and of having a sin nature that strives to darken and confuse what knowledge I do have. On the other hand, of course, I am much better equipped to write about how to respond to one's sin than about how to avoid sinning altogether, since I have had much more experience with the former than with the latter!
I believe there are three primary paired aspects of a proper attitude and response toward sin: first, confession and forgiveness; second, repentance and renewal; and finally, humility and grace. The first is pretty straightforward - in order for there to be healing, in order for one to move on from a sin and continue to try to follow God, there must be recognition of the sin and confession to God of the sin. As long as we are in denial of a sin, or as long as we are trying to conceal a sin from God (and often from others), we are allowing that sin to ensnare and enslave us. So it is important, however painful it may be, to confess our sin to God and to whomever else it may have affected. With God, we can be sure that He will forgive us that sin; that is what He has promised.
The strength given to us by God's forgiveness of our sin is what enable us to move on to the next step, to refocus the eyes of our hearts and to set our feet once more on the path He has laid out and which His word illuminates. In repentance, we turn away from our sin and gaze once more upon Christ. We press on again toward the goal, reaching for the prize. It is in this step that we remember that we are washed of our sin by the blood of Christ, that He has removed them as far as the east is from the west and has promised not to remember them - and so we too, in a sense, forget the sin and move forward. In Christ, following our repentance, we are set free (in a practical, immediate sense - eternally, we are already free and cannot be enslaved again) from the bondage in which our sin had placed us, so we can leave it behind. There is no guilt or condemnation.
In another sense, of course, we do remember our sin. We remember that we are weak in certain areas, and learn to be more wary of those temptations. We remember that when we felt we were following God with passion and zeal, sin still found a way to bring us down, and from these memories we learn humility. If we are honest with ourselves about our sinfulness, and about our constant need for God's forgiveness and renewal, it is hard to have a heart full of pride! Instead, we can use the occasion of sin to lead us to renewed gratitude and humility by giving us reason to remember the incredible grace of God. So while we will still struggle and sin, we can use those struggles and failures to mature our character and to deepen our understanding of and love for God, because of the gift of His grace.
I am thinking I would like to go into more depth on each of these three aspects, so there might be more posts forthcoming along these lines, but this is the essence of my thoughts on what exactly is the proper attitude of the Christian towards his or her own sin.
"I wonder how grace transforms our feelings about our own sin. Do we stop despising? Do we no longer care to forget? What is life like when we view our sin differently? Do we disregard it? Do we see sin as a way to learn and grow as individuals? Do we laugh at it? In other words, what is the or a proper attitude towards sin?"As you can see, a lot is covered and asked in that comment, and I hope the reader will not mind that I am going to focus on the last question in my response: what is the (or a) proper attitude towards sin?
Before I begin, though, I have a disclaimer to make. Not being perfect myself, I don't respond to my own sin perfectly either. I would not be surprised if the way I think I ought to respond to my sin is also imperfect. That is an unfortunate but rather unavoidable consequence of not being omniscient and of having a sin nature that strives to darken and confuse what knowledge I do have. On the other hand, of course, I am much better equipped to write about how to respond to one's sin than about how to avoid sinning altogether, since I have had much more experience with the former than with the latter!
I believe there are three primary paired aspects of a proper attitude and response toward sin: first, confession and forgiveness; second, repentance and renewal; and finally, humility and grace. The first is pretty straightforward - in order for there to be healing, in order for one to move on from a sin and continue to try to follow God, there must be recognition of the sin and confession to God of the sin. As long as we are in denial of a sin, or as long as we are trying to conceal a sin from God (and often from others), we are allowing that sin to ensnare and enslave us. So it is important, however painful it may be, to confess our sin to God and to whomever else it may have affected. With God, we can be sure that He will forgive us that sin; that is what He has promised.
The strength given to us by God's forgiveness of our sin is what enable us to move on to the next step, to refocus the eyes of our hearts and to set our feet once more on the path He has laid out and which His word illuminates. In repentance, we turn away from our sin and gaze once more upon Christ. We press on again toward the goal, reaching for the prize. It is in this step that we remember that we are washed of our sin by the blood of Christ, that He has removed them as far as the east is from the west and has promised not to remember them - and so we too, in a sense, forget the sin and move forward. In Christ, following our repentance, we are set free (in a practical, immediate sense - eternally, we are already free and cannot be enslaved again) from the bondage in which our sin had placed us, so we can leave it behind. There is no guilt or condemnation.
In another sense, of course, we do remember our sin. We remember that we are weak in certain areas, and learn to be more wary of those temptations. We remember that when we felt we were following God with passion and zeal, sin still found a way to bring us down, and from these memories we learn humility. If we are honest with ourselves about our sinfulness, and about our constant need for God's forgiveness and renewal, it is hard to have a heart full of pride! Instead, we can use the occasion of sin to lead us to renewed gratitude and humility by giving us reason to remember the incredible grace of God. So while we will still struggle and sin, we can use those struggles and failures to mature our character and to deepen our understanding of and love for God, because of the gift of His grace.
I am thinking I would like to go into more depth on each of these three aspects, so there might be more posts forthcoming along these lines, but this is the essence of my thoughts on what exactly is the proper attitude of the Christian towards his or her own sin.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Apologies...
I apologize for my silence this past week! Work (typically where I mull over ideas and even write if there is down time) has been particularly busy, I've been trying to think of how to write out an answer to a question left on the previous post by an anonymous commenter, and when I have had time to write I've spent it on a letter of recommendation I'm writing for a former teacher. I've started five or so posts and not had the time to finish them - or really, to be honest, the mental togetherness to conclude them in a coherent way. So I thought I'd let you all know (however few of you there are!) that I am still here and still writing, or at least trying to write. If all goes well I'll post something more substantial by tomorrow; the post I mentioned above that has been claiming what mental energy I do have will most likely come later, as it is threatening to become lengthy and involved :)
Alright, I wish you all well! As the Apostle Paul would say, grace be with you :)
Alright, I wish you all well! As the Apostle Paul would say, grace be with you :)
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Another meditation on God's grace
When you begin to understand God's grace, it changes everything. How you perceive God, how you perceive yourself, how you perceive other people, how you deal with sins and shortcomings in yourself and others, how you deal with successes and recognition (both yours and others'), and how you handle all kinds of situations - all these things start to change. At least, this is what I am starting to see in myself as God has seemingly been coming at me on every side with this concept of grace, and interestingly enough, I'm seeing this change even in the midst of my sin. I don't mean that I'm suddenly sinning less, unfortunately, but that my response to my own sin is qualitatively different, at least a little bit. Sin does not automatically lead to despair, when grace is present; one failure does not mean that we need fear losing God's acceptance and love, when His grace has covered all our sins already and has reconciled us to Him.
The wonder of God's grace is that even as we mourn over and despise our own sin we can find peace for the past, strength for the present, and encouragement for the future through our hope in Jesus Christ. Do you know that wonder, of finding the strength in Him to forget the failures of the past and to try again to follow Him? The liberty of God's grace is that our lives are no longer bound by a list of "oughts" - a book of duties supplying an correct course of action for every situation - but rather by His love. Do you know that liberty, that breathtaking freedom of learning to live by grace rather than by law, of stepping outside the rigid walls of earthly duty and walking in the love and light of heaven? Outwardly, your actions may not change much, but the heart behind them will be altogether new. The burden of God's grace - and yet it is not a burden at all, but a gift whose value is beyond measure - is that He desires us to become channels, to pour out to others in every trivial daily event of our lives the great grace which He constantly pours upon us. To be able to give that grace to others, not as yet another thing we ought to do for God, to please Him with our law-keeping; nor yet with condescension, as if we were so great that we could certainly spare some grace for those lowly people around us; but with humility of heart, knowing we need grace at least as much as they do, and with gratitude of spirit that God has given us this chance to imitate Him in this most beautiful of His works toward us - that is a gift beyond description.
The wonder of God's grace is that even as we mourn over and despise our own sin we can find peace for the past, strength for the present, and encouragement for the future through our hope in Jesus Christ. Do you know that wonder, of finding the strength in Him to forget the failures of the past and to try again to follow Him? The liberty of God's grace is that our lives are no longer bound by a list of "oughts" - a book of duties supplying an correct course of action for every situation - but rather by His love. Do you know that liberty, that breathtaking freedom of learning to live by grace rather than by law, of stepping outside the rigid walls of earthly duty and walking in the love and light of heaven? Outwardly, your actions may not change much, but the heart behind them will be altogether new. The burden of God's grace - and yet it is not a burden at all, but a gift whose value is beyond measure - is that He desires us to become channels, to pour out to others in every trivial daily event of our lives the great grace which He constantly pours upon us. To be able to give that grace to others, not as yet another thing we ought to do for God, to please Him with our law-keeping; nor yet with condescension, as if we were so great that we could certainly spare some grace for those lowly people around us; but with humility of heart, knowing we need grace at least as much as they do, and with gratitude of spirit that God has given us this chance to imitate Him in this most beautiful of His works toward us - that is a gift beyond description.
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