God is doing something wonderful in my life. Wonderful and scary. I’ve never been more certain of His presence and power working in me, and yet I readily admit that I don’t completely understand where this is headed.
I think it’s a journey toward grace.
If you’ll allow me, I’ll try to explain. For many years, I have believed in the grace of Jesus Christ. His unearned favor, freely given as a gift, received by faith. The good news of the gospel is this: we trade our sin for Christ’s righteousness. It’s all of Christ. So, “amazing grace” is central to everything about me. I’m totally committed. My doctrine is rooted in grace. My understanding of my relationship to God is rooted in grace. My preaching is rooted in grace. My teaching is rooted in grace. And, as a Christ follower, all my hope for the future is rooted in grace.
And yet, I think that I’ve suffered from a debilitating grace disconnect. By that I mean that my knowledge of grace hasn’t translated into my personal experience of grace. I’ve been committed to salvation by grace in theory, but I’ve been slow to feel it in my bones.
Over the last year and a half, deep in my soul, something has shifted. The shift has been subtle but steady, so I’ve undergone a considerable transformation at this point. It all started when a trusted friend helped me recognize my struggle with anxiety. At first, I was quite reluctant to own any anxiety whatsoever – I am, after all, the life of the party – but eventually I was able to acknowledge that I’ve spent much of my life worrying about all kinds of things.
That may not seem to you like a big revelation, but it was to me. I had to recognize that my longstanding doctrinal commitment to the sovereignty of God was not overflowing from my mind to my heart. Said differently, my intellectual assent to “all things work together for good” was incapable of comforting my anxious heart.
The anxiety has been rough. In my particular situation, anxiety has not manifested itself in ways that make me look like a nervous person – to the outside world – but my anxiety has driven me to spend far too much time battling intrusive and catastrophic thoughts. Some of my thoughts have been diametrically opposed to what I know to be true. For example, I’ve struggled with obsessive fears that I’ve offended God beyond the reach of the atoning sacrifice of Jesus.
Friends, I know that the Cross is sufficient. I understand. I get it. I know that Christ’s blood covers all my sin. I know that I can’t out-sin the grace of God. I know all about “taking captive every thought” and “demolishing spiritual strongholds” and “being anxious for nothing” and “the peace which surpasses all understanding” and “thinking lovely and excellent thoughts.” I know all of those things, and they’re 100% true. I know them intellectually and theologically … but they’re not always confirmed by the most prominent voices echoing in the ear of my soul. Sometimes, at 3:00 in the morning, my anxiety screams louder than all that truth put together. Maybe you can relate.
I am learning, slowly but surely, that I don’t have to be embarrassed by those crises in the dark. I don’t like them. I don’t want them. I don’t look forward to them. And I’m not happily volunteering for more of them. But I don’t have to pretend that I’m something I’m not. And what I am is someone who’s prone to anxious thoughts. Even debilitating anxious thoughts. And that’s not an indictment of me. I think of it more like a handicap. A holy handicap, in fact. I’ve finally become convinced that God loves anxious Charles.
That milestone itself was a big step for me, because it allowed me to lay down my shame. I still pick up that shame from time to time, but shame and I are no longer joined at the hip. And, as I experience more and more freedom, I’m able to have much healthier conversations with God at 3 a.m. – or at any other time. When you’re not feeling “less than who God wants you to be,” it sets you free to welcome God to hang out with who you really are. I hope that makes sense.
Here’s the thing I’m learning about handicaps in our lives: they’re a point of human weakness, but they’re a place for God to shine! And that’s the change that God is making in me, albeit so slowly that it’s nearly imperceptible at times. Month by month. Day by day. Hour by hour. Minute by minute. My gracious God is moving me from despising my handicap to recognizing my handicap as an important tool in His merciful hands. My handicap is used of my Lord to drive me toward His incomparable grace. And not just theoretical grace, but practical grace. Grace that touches and changes me.
My strange handicap is, itself, a strange grace.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” That was God’s good and perfect Word to the Apostle Paul, who wanted so desperately to trade in his handicap for some other plan (2 Corinthians 12:7-10). It’s also God’s Word to you, and to me. Like Paul, will we – when grace finally overwhelms us as it should – brag about our holy handicaps?
This is my journey, and it’s still underway. It hasn’t been all fun – that’s the understatement of the day – but it holds tremendous promise for grace to have the last word. That’s what I want. And I believe that’s what God wants. As I walk this road, I’m trusting that my faithful Christ is spearheading this whole new adventure.
Though His voice sounds muted – by my humanness, I’m sure – I think that I can hear Him from not too far away. I think He’s cheering me on. And I think I’ll take another step.
Pastor Charles
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