The Better Man, The Better Me

The Christian life is one of sacrifice. For many, that sacrifice is done begrudgingly. We fear that we will be less without our things. But what we find is different.

I remember being scared of who I would become without my baggage. It was the summer of ’02 and the church I was interning at was sending me to counseling. I was depressed and one of the members was a psychiatrist, and a good one at that. After a few sessions, I began to see the possibility of being free of so much junk. That frightened me. I was afraid that I would lose those things about myself that I liked, as if somehow they were consequences of my brokenness. But more than that, I was afraid that my family and friends wouldn’t recognize me, wouldn’t accept me, wouldn’t love me. As such, I hung onto my brokenness, to my detriment.

Thankfully, God is good and faithful. He has cleansed me of so much, my lust, my laziness, my loneliness. And here is what I have found. Those things I liked about myself, my humor, my wisdom, my desire to serve, have not diminished in the slightest. In fact, they have grown, along with joy and love. And even things I disliked about myself have taken on new aspects.

I have long felt that my sensitive nature was a liability. I cry pretty regularly. It’s bothersome and not particularly masculine. I have always had me heart on my sleeve, and it has always made me vulnerable. Consequently, that meant I was not very social. The more people around, the more likely you are to get burned. For me, those hurts never healed right. I had hoped that the process of maturing in Christ would mean that I would toughen up some, that things just wouldn’t trouble me as much. Instead, with every step that I take closer to Jesus, my tears increase. They were not tears of pain but of joy. All the same, it bothered me for awhile.

But my thinking has changed lately. In life, you have two kinds of armor: the type where you feel nothing or the type where nothing sticks. I wanted to feel nothing, but that means no pain or joy. But what if, instead of being impervious to pain, I can just give it all to God and let Him take care of it? I still get to feel joy as deeply as possible and I don’t have to hold onto any of the pain. There is risk involved, but now, the tears I cry are not because of slights and rejections from days long past. I cry because my heart is just not big enough for all the joy Jesus keeps heaping upon me, at least not this side of eternity.

It’s like taking your broken bike to our dad. You have had it for awhile and you have grown to like the bell or the cards in the tires. It’s your bike and you couldn’t imagine riding anything else. But the chain keeps slipping, there is rust in portions, and the tires keep losing pressure. You worry that it would be simpler to get a new bike, but even though a new bike might ride better, it wouldn’t be …yours. Instead of the new bike, however, you get your own bike back, and even better than ever. All the things you loved before are still there but sleeker, faster, stronger. And even better things are in store.

A day is coming when even the gifts we have now will pale in comparison. Today, I like what I say or write if it merely resembles what God has put in my heart. First Corinthians, 13:12 puts it this way: Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. What if this applies to gifts as well? One day, the painter will be able to capture the exact image in her head; the singer will hit all his notes and right ever time; the architect, the composer, the writer…we will be creative like Him who created us. And it will be beautiful and He will be pleased. We will serve our Audience of One and we will serve Him well.