I read a quote about a year and a half ago that unlocked my heart and lifted a weight off my shoulders all at the same time. It was permission. Frick, if only I knew this whole time I just needed permission. There are so many things I've learned since I met Jesus that I felt were so so right. Then a year or two later I'd find that I didn't really believe it at all because I'd just learned something new. "At least I've got it right this time," I'd think to myself.
A few nuggets of alleged truth stuck with me for a long long time though. Some of which came to define me and consequently restrict my heart from hearing a loving, affirming voice. That was until this:
"If I had my whole life to do over again I would not only swim more rivers, watch more sunsets and climb more mountains; I would not only go barefoot earlier in the spring, jettison my hot water bottle, umbrella and raft but I would spent not one more minute monitoring my spiritual growth. No not one." *
So that's what I did. I stopped monitoring my spiritual growth. Why was I ever doing that exhausting, forever disappointing scrutiny? Oh ya. To get "there". But where exactly was "there" for me?
I wanted to know that I was acceptable and pleasing. A smile on God's face was my "there". And it wasn't until I realized that that acceptance, delight and pleasure I was working so hard to obtain was there all along, that I was able to let go of trying to get "there". Because in reality, I am "there". I have arrived! This is freaking beautiful! He is smiling at me, with me, for me, because of me. Because He loves me. Because I am pleasing to Him, because I am His delight, because His displeasure was nailed to cross with my sin that Jesus became.
So what the heck do I do now? This was the inevitable next step in my journey and next daunting fear infested swamp I must forge through. Surely another deep-end of striving lies ahead of me. I mean if I stop working to make Him happy, what is my job description as a Christian now?
One day while contemplating all this I heard an ever-familiar thought in my head say, "Now that you've learned how much He loves you, do something about it." And there I was in swamp, feeling the life and breath being forced out of me. And then it hit me; this was the same thought that ended every great season in my life. Screw this! I'm not going here again. But where was the lie in "you must do something with the love He's poured out"? I mean it sounds so biblical.
All of the sudden I hear, "Aaron, I don't tell you I love you so that you will do something for me. That's called manipulation and I've never needed it nor used it. Aaron, I love you, because I love you, because I love you and I'm going to forever tell you that I love you because I love you, because I love you."
Back on dry land with green grass and a cool breeze. So what the heck do I do now?
I live free. Full of joy and peace. Full of security and wholeness and abundant life. That's what this world needs.
Dang. I get a whole lot more "done" and with more ease than I ever got done striving to get somewhere I've never left.
It feels safe working for His love. Because if Grace really isn't as good as it sounds, then at least we've got a back-up list of good works to keep us on His "well done but just barely" list. But if you give yourself to learning about His love for you, listening for that more than anything and feasting on it, I'll show you someone who does what the striving can only dream about.
* an excerpt from The Furious Longing of God by Brennan Manning. I just wrote this from memory so it isn't word for word. But it's the jist of what he so eloquently put
