For months in Australia and Mozambique, I thought that coming back to Phoenix would be a time of pouring out – a time of building others up, but it has been the polar opposite… God has been tearing me down: stripping the layers of self-knowledge, and pulling back the veneer of self-gratification that kept me at a comfortable distance from my family and friends so that they wouldn’t see the vulnerable, guard less, still entirely flaw-filled at the core, me. That layer, that polish, that wall… is pride, and it is the ugliest fat beast I have ever seen. It breeds shame. It causes hostility toward people I long to love; it plants a root of bitterness in my core because I think I am better. I think I am stronger. I think I am wiser. I think I have the right to hold myself in a higher esteem above everyone because I am what I am and they should deal with it. And if they don’t understand, then who cares about them. If they don’t understand this hierarchy I have made, then, well, they’re worthless. This is the very thing that I hate in my nature: self-righteousness that steers my heart more often than humility and love.
Jesus said to consider myself below all people for the sake of them knowing Him and His perfect Kingship; to be their servants, to be humble and gentle to reflect the face of a King who didn’t have to, but chose to be lowly to meet us in our lowly state. He asks for me to be soft-hearted yet strong in His power. He asks me to not be my own, but His. My self-righteousness only got me as far as my own face, and broke not only my heart but also those around me, and most importantly, my Dad’s.
And then there were tears.
God makes beautiful masterpieces out of ashes, but not out of self-made pillars. So He broke. He bent. He met me, softly spoke, and conquered the madman of pride that was slowly wreaking havoc on my relationship with Him and with others. He wouldn’t have that, so He tore down the pillar of me that I had built up, all for the sake of me knowing His character, His love, and His plan. The persistency of God astounds me. Seriously, I frustrate the crap out of myself sometimes; I can’t imagine how God must shake His head at my moments and still be patient with me. Oh man, I’m a handful.
I also have been falling in love with the act of repentance. Especially today. Not just repenting in solitude before God, even though that’s sick, but to those whom I have wronged. Admitting I’m imperfect is truly a glorious thing. Like, I can just see Jesus sitting in front of the shattered pieces of a mirror, rubbing His hands together as He smiles and thinks of how He is going to place it back together perfectly.
I am a fool for thinking that I was all done with being broken and reshaped. God is refining my character like it’s a golden staff with smudges and dings – it still has the substance of gold, but needs the fixing touch of the refiner.
There was a strong bond that broke within me today. A weight lifted, a spiritual depth released. All because of humility. All because of love. All because I obeyed the small, persistent voice inside of me that said to humble myself before this man, before my family, before my selfish ideals, and say that I’m sorry and that I forgive him.
Praise God for being more than willing to forgive and for lavishing His grace on us in a way that is so beautiful.
Something very real and brilliant happens when we are manifested with that same forgiveness toward others; our pride breaks, we become meek and gentle-spirited… We take on the attitude of our Lord and a deep unity is created between Him and us. To me, it feels like running in a field of yellow daisies with the blue sky and a lot of big clouds and the warm sun and a breeze that sings. It’s freeing.
Seventy times seven is a lot. But an entire record of sin and pride is a whole lot more. I am drenched in this forgiveness, and that proud beast in my heart no longer has a place. Bam!
