Lorrie Spinney

Tag: God’s love

  • What Jesus thinks

    What do you think Jesus thinks about you?

    It matters a lot, almost as much as what he actually thinks.

    I tend to think he is always a little bit angry with me, and disappointed – so often disappointed. It’s my default idea about him: he is burdened by the mess of me.

    But what if he isn’t?

    What if he is delighted with me? What if he is able to see all my flaws and shortcomings, all my stupid mistakes and wasted time, and isn’t bothered by any of it?

    What if he knows that I am going to turn out to be wonderful and he can already see it?

    What if he knows that it will take a million mistakes for me to learn what I need to learn; and so each mistake is one off the list, moving me closer to the prize?

    What if, all along, he’s been keeping count of them?

    Because I matter that much to him.

    Because he’s so happy and excited about my progress.

    What a different perspective.

    Doesn’t it change everything?

    And why wouldn’t it be true?

    It’s his nature to love, and love enjoys – love delights in, takes pleasure in – the beloved.

    That’s me. I am the beloved.

    Say it with me: I am the beloved.

    He knows the future, and he knows his own ability to ‘finish what he started’ in me.

    He’s not afraid. He’s not worried. He can’t be: he’s God.

    He’s already dealt with my sin, and accounted for all my mistakes.

    He sees me already transformed, already glorious with his glory, already radiant: beautiful, and doing beautiful things.

    And he’s not just waiting for me to get there.

    He goes with me.

    Each stumbling step.

    ‘Cause he likes me.

     

  • What Jesus Wants

    I love what the New Living Translation does with this verse:

    He gave his life to free us from every kind of sin, to cleanse us, and to make us his very own people, totally committed to doing good deeds.

    (Titus 2:14, emphasis mine)

    He wants us free from every kind of sin and ‘want’ is too weak a word. He died to free us from every kind of sin.

    And the thing is: sin sucks.

    We get it wrong when we think of sin as all-the-bright-shiny-things-that-I-really-want-but-God-won’t-let-me-have. It is those things but only for a moment – the moment just before we get them. Ultimately, and far more importantly, sin is all the things that keep us miserable.

    Those relational problems you hate? Their roots, deep down in the dirt somewhere, are sin. I know this because love doesn’t damage relationships (though it might end a damaging relationship); so whatever is causing the hurt comes from something other than love. And in a relationship: where love stops, sin begins. There is actually nothing in the middle.

    That fear? Oh, this is a big one for me – fear is sin. Did you know that? Fear opposes faith. It has no place in God’s kingdom. Have you ever thought to repent from fear?

    Addictions, obsessions, meanness, impatience, doubt, anxiety; even boredom is a kind of sin.

    Loneliness too, can be; since it can deny the love and presence of God.

    Guilt itself – the kind that doesn’t lead to forgiveness, the kind that acts as if Christ’s death isn’t enough – that sort of debilitating guilt is sin.

    And this is good news.

    It’s great news, because it means that Jesus hates these things as much as we do – more. He died to free us from all of it – every kind – to free us and to cleanse us. He wants it gone. And there’s more.

    He wants us for Himself. All. His. Very. Own.

    “Totally committed to doing good deeds.”

    The only way I will ever be totally that, is if I am totally filled with the Spirit of Jesus and then – oh, then! – I will also be full of all kinds of good things, things like love and joy and peace. No wonder they will spill out in good deeds.

    He wants this for us.

    He let Himself be tortured and killed so we could have this.

    Yes but – I can hear your argument – yes but, still here I am, not full of love, joy and peace; not free of every kind of sin. How do I make sense of all this in light of the reality of my experience?

    See, that’s the wrong question. The question should be: how do I make sense of my experience in light of the reality of these things?

    That one is an excellent question.

    I can’t answer it for you.

    But keep asking, because it will bring you where you need to go.

    In fact, ask Him.

     

     

     

  • When it’s my fault

    (Isaiah 10)

    The people of Israel in the Old Testament don’t know about Jesus.

    They don’t know God as a Father who would give His son for them. They don’t have that wide a window into his heart.

    What they know is the God of fire. They know His law, His temple, and the smell of sacrifice blood. They know He has chosen them and made them what they are: a strong tree planted deeply in the land He took from other nations to give to them – the Promised Land.

    In many ways the Land is their Heaven: proof of God’s favour and His ultimate reward.

    So when Assyria crashes over them and brutally uproots the northern tribes of Israel; it leaves Judah, in the south, broken and dazed. What can it mean?

    Only that God has abandoned them.

    Now nothing is certain but fear. Is God still with them? Is He still for them? Are they safe?

    Into this God speaks:

    I am sending Assyria against a godless nation (Israel), against a people with whom I am angry. (v 6).

    Oh. God is mad at them. That’s why this is happening.

    Doesn’t that make it worse?

    When bad things happen to me, if I think I’m being punished, it magnifies the awfulness. If I’m being punished I can’t be comforted or helped, because the very God who gives comfort and help is angry at me. It’s worse than being alone.

    Too often when I’m in trouble I try to figure out whether it’s my fault because I think that will determine how much help I can expect from God.

    But that kind of thinking is dead wrong.

    Listen to what He says to Judah here:

    O my people in Zion, do not be afraid of the Assyrians when they oppress you with rod and club… (v. 24)

    Why not? The Assyrians are brutal, and God is mad. Why shouldn’t they be afraid?

    In a little while my anger against you will end, and then my anger will rise up to destroy them. (v. 25)

    And that’s not all. In the next chapter, He gives them sparkling promises of a bright, bright future.

    He still wants to bless them.

    His anger isn’t like ours. It doesn’t linger. What He really wants is to be able to bless us, and everything He does is to that end. If our sin gets in the way, He will sometimes take drastic measures to show it to us so that we can deal with it. We feel those measures as punishment, but I think they are invitations.

    He invites us to admit our wrong; to stop pretending, even to ourselves, that we have nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. He invites us to uncover our festering sin and let Him wash us in His healing forgiveness.

    Yes, trouble comes and sometimes it’s our fault.

    So we need God’s grace, just like always.

    And just like always, it’s here.