Storms

I often find that when I'm low, physically, I feel low emotionally too. When I'm stressed, or tired, or sick, I wind up saying and doing things I wouldn't otherwise do - things that often hurt others. It's like the filter in my brain gets switched off, and instead of really thinking about what I'm doing, I react immediately to things - and often, my first reaction is the wrong one.

Given how stressed and sick I've been recently, I'm sure you can imagine some of the stuff ups I've made. I'm still fairly sure that with one of the colossal mistakes I've made in recent weeks I've burnt bridges which will never be fully restored.

Which brings me to Paul's reflections in Romans 7:15. I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. Every fibre of my being resonates with Paul's sentiments. I hate what I do. I hate that I can't do the good that I want to do. I don't understand why I can't just do what Jesus teaches, why I often do the EXACT opposite. I don't understand why, when I know how to be pure, good, loving, faithful, kind, generous, peaceful, lovely, and all the other holy attributes, the core from which my emotions overflow continues to be selfish, angry, hate-filled, arrogant, mean-spirited, jealous, and all the other evil attributes.

As I reflect on my actions, I find myself turning to self-loathing. In the very core of my being there is rottenness, evil, horrible filth. I wonder afresh at how anyone could really love me, when inside of me lurks this horrid monster that apparently cannot be tamed, that apparently has not been changed by the love of God, that rears its head when I am most vulnerable, hurting those around me (and myself). I wonder afresh at whether the world would not be a better place if I were no longer in it*. I find myself thinking, once again, that I would be better off if I were not in this world - because by dying, I would no longer have to struggle with this resident evil. Hopelessness surrounds me, because I cannot see how things will EVER be different, how this fundamental portion of my being can EVER be fixed, changed, redeemed, set free.

We're doing a series in church at the moment, looking at the different religions that are followed in Cape Town. It's called "Coexist", and if you're interested in that kind of thing, then I'd recommend you check out these talks... very powerful while being respectful. There are several things about Christianity that I believe make it unique. One of those things is grace.

Grace is something VERY hard to grasp, let alone to appropriate. Grace is the unmerited favour of God. It is completely scandalous; it's offensive to the core. If some part of you doesn't find it offensive, then you probably haven't understood it properly. (For an explanation of why it is scandalous and offensive, you might want to read this blog post.) 

Back in 2004 the movie 'The Passion of the Christ' (directed by Mel Gibson) was released. I went to see it with a girlfriend. When I came out, I had gouged my palms with my nails in the (unsuccessful) attempt to control my emotions. I walked out of that movie with one lasting, overarching impression: How could I be worth the price that God was willing to pay? I can't comprehend why God was willing to pay such an extravagant price for me, when I am clearly so unworthy. In comparison to his glory, even the very best parts of me, the person I most strive to be - even THIS part of me is like excrement-covered rags next to him.

I particularly wonder about this incredible love at times like this, when I have messed up YET again. Why does God put up with me, when time and time again, I fail to learn the lessons, when I repeat the mistakes of the past, and let Him, myself and everyone around me down again? I am completely perplexed by his long-suffering patience with me, by his deep, abiding passion for me. What on earth does he see in me? I marvel at how a perfect God could love such an imperfect creation as myself, and not just love me, but love me enough to be willing to suffer ALL THAT. 

Grace.

In times like this, when I'm feeling incredibly low, and hopeless, it is the grace of God I cling to. I have stuffed up, and done a pretty good job of that too. Yet, as I turn to him and confess how wretched I am, I hear his voice speaking words of comfort to me. "I did this all for YOU because I love YOU and YOU are worth this price to me. Your sin is not the end of the story. You sin is not what defines you. I am what defines you. I am the end of your story."

Grace.

Thank God for grace.

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*I should point out that I was suicidal years before. There is a vast difference between how desperate I felt then and how I feel now. I can assure you that I'm nowhere near that level now, and I'm not about to try to kill myself.