USED BY GRACE

The soles of my running shoes slapped the rubber conveyer belt of my favorite treadmill. The end one. An obvious reminder of unpredictable claustrophobia. One after the other, my legs responded to my mind's demand. I don't want to be here. But . . . those cookies. Guilt is almost always a good motivator to commitment.

An agonizing situation forces its way into the forefront of my thoughts and a lump rushes to my throat. I don't stop it and begin to grieve the used parts of my heart and whine over the unfairness. To myself. To God. Whoever'll listen. 

Convicted by my internal trash talk to self protect, I back peddle the scandalous thoughts. Don't go there. Focus. Worship. Run. 

Pressing my ear buds in tighter, I order my mind to praise Jesus after I take a quick swig from my water bottle. I push to find that harmonious stride of body, mind, spirit and soul. Just give yourself a few minutes.

Then it happens. The undeniable speaks over my wounded life. "Do you want Me to use you?" Stunned and defensive, I swallow hard. Divine inquiry is often painful because the truth asks hard questions. Is this really what's going on here? No! I demand. I try to refuse it. But His examination brings weeping. 

Sweat mixed with tears wet my cheeks. I slow the speed on the display panel and wipe away the muddled mess of striving and self-preservation. How could I have missed it all along? Because being used by grace actively working in humble and quiet places looks a lot like passive suffering—victimhood.

To be used by people really hurts, but to be used by grace . . . well, that hurts too. I want to run away. I just want to run far away where I don't have to be used anymore.

I look down to track my feet. Somehow this pushes me to drive my legs harder as I raise the speed. I notice a new hole at the tip of each big toe. Quick mind shift. I feel accomplished by the evidence of how hard I work out. How easy it is to wander from the Lord's most difficult commands. 

A not-so-random question redirects my mind. "Does your Bible show the same wear?"  I answer myself. "Well, yes . . . yes, it does." I picture its loose, wrinkled pages and unraveling spine. Feeling good about my goodness again, another question comes: "Do you not expect to sweat and weep when you spend time there too?" In that moment I realize that being used by people and being used by grace does look and feel the same. 

But there's one difference. Perspective. And that changes everything.

. . . . . . . . . . 

 27 “But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. 29 Whoever hits you on the cheek, offer him the other also; and whoever takes away your coat, do not withhold your shirt from him either. 30 Give to everyone who asks of you, and whoever takes away what is yours, do not demand it back. 31 Treat others the same way you want them to treat you. 32 If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. 33 If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. 34 If you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is thatto you? Even sinners lend to sinners in order to receive back the same amount. 35 But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High; for He Himself is kind to ungrateful and evil men. 36 Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful." LUKE 6:27-36

THE HARDEST PART

As a Christian, I'm called to be like Jesus.

Be like Jesus. I take a deep breath. Jesus loved difficult people. He was flat out selfless. He served people He knew would turn on Him. Still, He loved. He even loved people He knew would one day drive long stakes into his sinless flesh and smugly taunt Him as He died a criminal's death.

Not even His closest friends were able to endure a day of sacrificial prayer for the Savior of their souls. Jesus gave and He gave, but they could never give back what His heart needed. They didn't have the capacity to love their Lord the way He loved them. Jesus' relationships were definitely one-sided. Except one. God the Father. He loved the Son perfectly and provided all the comfort His humanity required, while giving ultimate value to His sufferings.

Jesus might appear to be a doormat. He was no doubt used by the multitudes for what He could do for them, as many walked away, thankless, dusting their filthy shoes off on the ground He created. That hasn't changed.

(I squeeze my nails into the palms of my hands. I refuse to be a doormat.)

But, lets not be unaware. Jesus set clear boundaries with people. And He still does. His boundaries are grace and truth. Set in such an infallible way, He mercifully bestows upon mankind the choice to be in relationship with Him—not the other way around. 

Jesus was never a people pleaser, like me, but a God pleaser and a God lover above everyone else. This commitment hardwired Him to love His enemies and enter into a loving relationship with them. 

Be like Jesus. The crux of such a high and holy calling is loving people. Yet its the hardest. Loving people is so painful at times that my soul screams for release. Sometimes I despise the hard command—to love people. Especially people who come against me, who hurt me, who hurt people I love. 

Sound harsh? Are you surprised? Or are you thinking, "Finally someone is telling the truth"?  

Let's just be honest—loving others the way Jesus loves is not natural. Actually, its impossible. And pretending to love people "like Jesus" defiles my soul more than anything. Jesus wasn't pretending when He hung on that cross and my fake love is the greatest insult to His salvation. The often practiced fake-it-'til-you-make-it mantra is only a cunning appeal to my self-righteousness. It's insincerity cloaked in niceties tell lies to my heart that hypocrisy will eventually turn into love. Not in my strength it won't. Only bitterness and resentment will flourish there. 

"Just be like Jesus . . . love like Jesus", I'm told. As I write this the answer hits me as to why a rebellious urge to resist God's supernatural work in me to love unloveable people moves front and center, aiming to push Jesus out of the way.

Its not because I don't love God, but because I love myself more. Loving difficult people, even praying for my enemies threatens that love. Threatens me. My soul screams, "I can't! I won't!"

Tears stream down my cheeks. In His presence, I am broken. Because my soul truly longs to love like Jesus. It yearns for more of Christ to love like Christ. And with God's help, I am able to love Him and love others—even those who hurt me—a little more today than yesterday.

Because God gives value to suffering. 

I pause at that unexpected notion and I chew on it a while. It tastes like nothing I've ever experienced. 

. . . . .

Father God, thank You for loving me. I am unworthy. My love is prideful and self centered. Please help me to love like Jesus. Please help me to love You. I can't love right without You. Amen.  

"Consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." Hebrews 12:3