I have been a Christian for many years; how is it that I'm only now beginning to understand the Peace of God? Why isn't this a subject that we talk about more often?
It has always seemed to me that if your conscience wasn't clean, then life really wasn't worth living.
Of course, nothing I could do made the guilt in my conscience go away.
I tried justifying. I tried bargaining. I tried to balance it out with good works. But I knew myself well enough to know that I could never assuage that guilt.
Guilt. Is there anything worse in this world? That shame, that knowing deep inside that you did it. No matter what you tell yourself or others, it's just a fact. You can't change it. You can't write over it. It's done.
Even if I wasn't doing crazy things or outwardly being rebellious, I knew my heart was selfish. All I wanted was to pursue my own interests and agenda with no interference from others. I wanted to be loved and idolized by everyone around me.
As a young child, I was always aware that when I was trying to do the right thing there were selfish motives mixed into my actions. Yeah, I wanted to do what was right, but I also wanted to be seen doing the right thing. I wanted approval for it. Which, strictly speaking, is not entirely wrong. Every child wants to be delighted in. But I also desperately craved the approval of my own conscience. If I did what was right, even with right and wrong motives mixed together, I at least knew I was trying. And that counts for something, doesn't it?
I was forever haunted by the realization that I ought to always be trying; every moment of every day. Every decision, every motive. Even forgetting to try was failing.
God's Law is written on every human heart. We can't escape this reality, no matter how hard we try to ignore it.
I couldn't handle it. My conscience was pricked over the tiniest things. At least when I was repenting and asking forgiveness it made some of the guilt go away.
I was six when I prayed to receive Jesus into my heart. From that day to now, I have known that my wrongdoing has all been paid for. I know that I am blood-bought, ransomed.
The trouble was that peace was something that eluded me.
Now, peace with God is not a feeling. At least it isn't all the time. Searching for a feeling is always a mistake. Trying to recapture a feeling is futile, like trying to chase after the end of the rainbow. It's always just out of reach. Or you grasp it for a moment, but you can't keep it.
Peace is knowing that all is well between you and your God. Knowing, beyond feelings, beyond painful circumstances, and beyond all the forces of hell screaming the opposite at you.
I think most of my life I've lived under the expectation that all will be well someday, but not today. That it was up to me to muddle through as best as I could.
In other words, that God had ransomed me, taken me from my captors, then shown me into His family and then kind of dismissed me. "Here's your new family. Here's what I want you to do now. Enjoy. I'll call you when I'm ready for you." Then walked out and shut the door on me.
I've always had it impressed on my mind that every person has a role to play in this life; something they must do. What happens if you don't know what that is? What if you guess, then find out it was wrong all along?
There's always something better you can do. There's always more you could have done. How do you live with that guilt bearing down on top of all the other guilt?
I've always loved 1 John 4:18 that says "Perfect love casts out fear." For a long time I didn't understand how that truth worked into my matrix of guilt within guilt. Even if I knew the sins would not claim me in the end, they certainly seemed to hold dominion over me--every day.
I hate that I keep sinning. I hate that all my selfish desires are still there all the time. Try as I might, I can't get rid of them. I hate that I can't thank the Lord like I should. I hate that I can't praise Him joyfully every moment. If I only loved Him more, all the temptations would have no appeal. I hate my selfishness. I hate my bitterness. I hate my jealousy. I hate my passion to be proven right. I hate the way I enjoy using words and speech to manipulate. There's a fine, fine line between subtlety for others' good and manipulation, attempting to control or turn the truth. I hate the spite in my heart, I hate how I am prone to flattery. I hate the doubts that I feed in my soul where I think no one can see.
I hate how I wallow in sullenness and dejection; and more, how much I enjoy wallowing in it! It lets me feel abused, and thus have the illusion of being "right."
"Have you ever heard that Jesus is the Answer?
And thought about the many doubts you hide?
Have you wondered how He loves you
If He really knows how dark you are inside?
Well, I say faith is a burden
It's a weight to bear
It's brave and bittersweet.
Hope is hard to hold to
Lord, I believe!
Only help my unbelief."
("No More Faith," by Andrew Peterson.)
"You're holding to an image of a disconnected God
Who needs to be protected from the darkness in your heart.
Who waits for you to sober up before He gives His love.
Well, I think God would say if that's who He was.
So let it go."
("Let It Go," by Andy Gullahorn.)
If He knew me, who I really am, He wouldn't love me.
But He's God, He knows everything. So He knows it all.
I know He loves me, because He said He does. He died for me. The ransom on my head was paid.
The only way I could make sense of those things (at least in my own head) was to decide that He has bound Himself to love me, but I provoke Him every moment. I knew He'd never let go of His covenant for His own character's sake, but that my sins that held dominion over me kept me from ever experiencing His approval.
Friends. My friends...it was a lie. I believed a lie. I believed that God loved me, but wanted little to do with me. It was a reflection of my own selfish heart that can love people and yet remain indifferent to them.
I didn't feel right "bothering" the God of the universe with my petty prayers. I felt burdened under what I felt was God's righteous or exasperated frown when I bowed my heart to confess and repent. I hoped one day to experience His delight...when my soul reached Heaven. Even that seemed too much to hope for.
Having peace in your heart comes, I have learned, when you set your mind to believe what God has promised. Denying your fears and choosing to trust Him.
I suppose the reason we think peace is a feeling is because it's true that a feeling does come with it. Inside the swirling chaos and emotions running high, like enormous waves crashing from every direction, it's like a rock set in the very center of your soul. It doesn't make the sky clear or the lightening or the thunder or the accusations go away. It doesn't always take away all the fear. It doesn't always make the task easier.
But.
In the very, very core of your heart, you have this stillness. This knowledge that beyond all doubt, "God loves me. He is here with me. He is pleased with me."
How did I fail to see this? It's everywhere in Scripture. He no longer sees or even relates to me the way my sins deserve!
As far as the East is from the West.
You can go as far East as you like, you'll never find the West. If you go far enough West, it becomes the East again.
He says He remembers our sins no more. He never brings it to mind again.
This is the only true God. He felt so much mercy for me that when Death had a blade to my throat, gloating that he had claimed another of God's creations for his own, Jesus stepped forward and said, "Let her go. You can take me instead."
"Take me instead."
Don't we love those moments in the movies? When someone steps in to take another's place?
That's what Christ did for me. For you. For everyone who will trust and follow Him.
My emotions are always stirred in those moments in stories. Because I know that I need a Savior. Someone who will be both Rescuer and Substitute.
I can love a Master who took my place. And you'll notice, when the hero cares enough to give his life for someone, they aren't indifferent to them. In the great stories, the Hero comes back, having outwitted the adversary. He comes striding back with power and a huge smile on his face. He comes back for the girl with his arms open.
Peace comes when I understand that God loves me like a Hero loves the girl he saved. Perhaps it's easier for me as a woman to think of it that way, but I don't know. When the Hero saves a boy, he becomes his father, whoever his biological father may be. The special bond of a father and son speaks to each of us. God designed us that way so that we would know Him when He comes for us.
He is with me. He knows all the obscure trivia about me. He knows His way around my soul, with all its landscapes and secrets. He takes delight in me. He sends things every day to make me smile. He chooses to love me, every moment of every day. He watches me and guides me.
"I will never leave you, nor forsake you." (Heb. 13:5)
"I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you." (John 14:8)
"If I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to myself, that where I am, there you may be also." (John 14:3)
Love casts out fear.
I'm not afraid of Him anymore. Of course, I confess my sins to Him and repent. But then I lay my guilt down and bear it no more. He would not have me take it up.
"When your sky is cold and lonely
And your heart is filled with fear
I will wrap My arms around you.
Know that I am here.
And I will keep you safe and sound
Through the darkness that surrounds.
When your way is bright and glowing
And your soul knows no despair
Can you hear Me singing with you?
In your triumph I will share.
For I am watching over you,
And I rejoice in all you do.
So remember, never doubt this
Hold it tightly to your heart
I'm forever, always with you
I will be right where you are.
I will never leave you nor forsake you
Know that I am with you
You will never be alone."
("I Will Never Leave You," from Hidden In My Heart-Scripture Lullabies.)
Peace is being sure of that, and choosing to value that above all else.
Peace is knowing that I am loved by my Creator.
Peace is the serenity deep inside that one day all things will be,--and even now are--well.
~Cadenza
It has always seemed to me that if your conscience wasn't clean, then life really wasn't worth living.
Of course, nothing I could do made the guilt in my conscience go away.
I tried justifying. I tried bargaining. I tried to balance it out with good works. But I knew myself well enough to know that I could never assuage that guilt.
Guilt. Is there anything worse in this world? That shame, that knowing deep inside that you did it. No matter what you tell yourself or others, it's just a fact. You can't change it. You can't write over it. It's done.
Even if I wasn't doing crazy things or outwardly being rebellious, I knew my heart was selfish. All I wanted was to pursue my own interests and agenda with no interference from others. I wanted to be loved and idolized by everyone around me.
As a young child, I was always aware that when I was trying to do the right thing there were selfish motives mixed into my actions. Yeah, I wanted to do what was right, but I also wanted to be seen doing the right thing. I wanted approval for it. Which, strictly speaking, is not entirely wrong. Every child wants to be delighted in. But I also desperately craved the approval of my own conscience. If I did what was right, even with right and wrong motives mixed together, I at least knew I was trying. And that counts for something, doesn't it?
I was forever haunted by the realization that I ought to always be trying; every moment of every day. Every decision, every motive. Even forgetting to try was failing.
God's Law is written on every human heart. We can't escape this reality, no matter how hard we try to ignore it.
I couldn't handle it. My conscience was pricked over the tiniest things. At least when I was repenting and asking forgiveness it made some of the guilt go away.
I was six when I prayed to receive Jesus into my heart. From that day to now, I have known that my wrongdoing has all been paid for. I know that I am blood-bought, ransomed.
The trouble was that peace was something that eluded me.
Now, peace with God is not a feeling. At least it isn't all the time. Searching for a feeling is always a mistake. Trying to recapture a feeling is futile, like trying to chase after the end of the rainbow. It's always just out of reach. Or you grasp it for a moment, but you can't keep it.
Peace is knowing that all is well between you and your God. Knowing, beyond feelings, beyond painful circumstances, and beyond all the forces of hell screaming the opposite at you.
I think most of my life I've lived under the expectation that all will be well someday, but not today. That it was up to me to muddle through as best as I could.
In other words, that God had ransomed me, taken me from my captors, then shown me into His family and then kind of dismissed me. "Here's your new family. Here's what I want you to do now. Enjoy. I'll call you when I'm ready for you." Then walked out and shut the door on me.
I've always had it impressed on my mind that every person has a role to play in this life; something they must do. What happens if you don't know what that is? What if you guess, then find out it was wrong all along?
There's always something better you can do. There's always more you could have done. How do you live with that guilt bearing down on top of all the other guilt?
I've always loved 1 John 4:18 that says "Perfect love casts out fear." For a long time I didn't understand how that truth worked into my matrix of guilt within guilt. Even if I knew the sins would not claim me in the end, they certainly seemed to hold dominion over me--every day.
I hate that I keep sinning. I hate that all my selfish desires are still there all the time. Try as I might, I can't get rid of them. I hate that I can't thank the Lord like I should. I hate that I can't praise Him joyfully every moment. If I only loved Him more, all the temptations would have no appeal. I hate my selfishness. I hate my bitterness. I hate my jealousy. I hate my passion to be proven right. I hate the way I enjoy using words and speech to manipulate. There's a fine, fine line between subtlety for others' good and manipulation, attempting to control or turn the truth. I hate the spite in my heart, I hate how I am prone to flattery. I hate the doubts that I feed in my soul where I think no one can see.
I hate how I wallow in sullenness and dejection; and more, how much I enjoy wallowing in it! It lets me feel abused, and thus have the illusion of being "right."
"Have you ever heard that Jesus is the Answer?
And thought about the many doubts you hide?
Have you wondered how He loves you
If He really knows how dark you are inside?
Well, I say faith is a burden
It's a weight to bear
It's brave and bittersweet.
Hope is hard to hold to
Lord, I believe!
Only help my unbelief."
("No More Faith," by Andrew Peterson.)
"You're holding to an image of a disconnected God
Who needs to be protected from the darkness in your heart.
Who waits for you to sober up before He gives His love.
Well, I think God would say if that's who He was.
So let it go."
("Let It Go," by Andy Gullahorn.)
If He knew me, who I really am, He wouldn't love me.
But He's God, He knows everything. So He knows it all.
I know He loves me, because He said He does. He died for me. The ransom on my head was paid.
The only way I could make sense of those things (at least in my own head) was to decide that He has bound Himself to love me, but I provoke Him every moment. I knew He'd never let go of His covenant for His own character's sake, but that my sins that held dominion over me kept me from ever experiencing His approval.
Friends. My friends...it was a lie. I believed a lie. I believed that God loved me, but wanted little to do with me. It was a reflection of my own selfish heart that can love people and yet remain indifferent to them.
I didn't feel right "bothering" the God of the universe with my petty prayers. I felt burdened under what I felt was God's righteous or exasperated frown when I bowed my heart to confess and repent. I hoped one day to experience His delight...when my soul reached Heaven. Even that seemed too much to hope for.
Having peace in your heart comes, I have learned, when you set your mind to believe what God has promised. Denying your fears and choosing to trust Him.
I suppose the reason we think peace is a feeling is because it's true that a feeling does come with it. Inside the swirling chaos and emotions running high, like enormous waves crashing from every direction, it's like a rock set in the very center of your soul. It doesn't make the sky clear or the lightening or the thunder or the accusations go away. It doesn't always take away all the fear. It doesn't always make the task easier.
But.
In the very, very core of your heart, you have this stillness. This knowledge that beyond all doubt, "God loves me. He is here with me. He is pleased with me."
How did I fail to see this? It's everywhere in Scripture. He no longer sees or even relates to me the way my sins deserve!
As far as the East is from the West.
You can go as far East as you like, you'll never find the West. If you go far enough West, it becomes the East again.
He says He remembers our sins no more. He never brings it to mind again.
This is the only true God. He felt so much mercy for me that when Death had a blade to my throat, gloating that he had claimed another of God's creations for his own, Jesus stepped forward and said, "Let her go. You can take me instead."
"Take me instead."
Don't we love those moments in the movies? When someone steps in to take another's place?
That's what Christ did for me. For you. For everyone who will trust and follow Him.
My emotions are always stirred in those moments in stories. Because I know that I need a Savior. Someone who will be both Rescuer and Substitute.
I can love a Master who took my place. And you'll notice, when the hero cares enough to give his life for someone, they aren't indifferent to them. In the great stories, the Hero comes back, having outwitted the adversary. He comes striding back with power and a huge smile on his face. He comes back for the girl with his arms open.
Peace comes when I understand that God loves me like a Hero loves the girl he saved. Perhaps it's easier for me as a woman to think of it that way, but I don't know. When the Hero saves a boy, he becomes his father, whoever his biological father may be. The special bond of a father and son speaks to each of us. God designed us that way so that we would know Him when He comes for us.
He is with me. He knows all the obscure trivia about me. He knows His way around my soul, with all its landscapes and secrets. He takes delight in me. He sends things every day to make me smile. He chooses to love me, every moment of every day. He watches me and guides me.
"I will never leave you, nor forsake you." (Heb. 13:5)
"I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you." (John 14:8)
"If I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to myself, that where I am, there you may be also." (John 14:3)
Love casts out fear.
I'm not afraid of Him anymore. Of course, I confess my sins to Him and repent. But then I lay my guilt down and bear it no more. He would not have me take it up.
"When your sky is cold and lonely
And your heart is filled with fear
I will wrap My arms around you.
Know that I am here.
And I will keep you safe and sound
Through the darkness that surrounds.
When your way is bright and glowing
And your soul knows no despair
Can you hear Me singing with you?
In your triumph I will share.
For I am watching over you,
And I rejoice in all you do.
So remember, never doubt this
Hold it tightly to your heart
I'm forever, always with you
I will be right where you are.
I will never leave you nor forsake you
Know that I am with you
You will never be alone."
("I Will Never Leave You," from Hidden In My Heart-Scripture Lullabies.)
Peace is being sure of that, and choosing to value that above all else.
Peace is knowing that I am loved by my Creator.
Peace is the serenity deep inside that one day all things will be,--and even now are--well.
~Cadenza
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