Do you ever have days when you feel what you conquered several hours before is back defeating you now? For me, this is one of the hardest parts of life.
I'm not one for repetition. I hate song lyrics that repeat and repeat. I get impatient with hearing long stories of trite origin retold.
This is one of the reasons I didn't last as a piano student. I hated scales. Maybe it's because I'm task-oriented; I love to accomplish something and check it off my list. Likely too, I'm just lazy.
Regardless, in my image of how life should play out, I should learn something, master it, and move on; I should not be trying to emotionally grasp it a week, a day, an hour later.
Someone aptly quoted a Professor Clair Davis saying that the Christian life is "a combination of amnesia and deja vu, but I'm not sure if I've said that before!" It correctly sums up this feeling of learning and relearning.
I've been reading through Genesis, Exodus and now into Leviticus. One of the things that struck me this time, while reading of the rituals of the sacrificial system, was how interactive it was. It cost something. You had to bring one of your own animals or purchase one, lay your hand on it, and kill it. It cost financially, but it also cost emotionally. That animal was taking your place, dying because you sinned. The physical interaction had to leave an indelible impression. There was the smell of incense, not to be burned anywhere else; the feel of the lamb's head under your hand as you held it while it was slain; the sight and smell of the blood and burning...
Our sins have cost Jesus the utmost price; dying for sins He never committed, and for people who never loved Him (and most who never would). Dietrich Bonhoeffer calls it costly grace. Jesus paid the ultimate penalty so that we would be free. Free to do what we want? No. Free to serve Him from our heart.
This all comes back to the battle. We are free to fight now. Free to win by the Spirit of God in us, who belong to Him. Yes, it is wearying to fight and re-fight, but we have the chance to win a battle that before Jesus we had no hope to win.
This fight is the cost of our faith. It does not win us salvation, but is a result of being saved.
My nephew said it this way: "Just when I think that I cannot go on, I look up and see Your cross."
And the writer of Hebrews says, "In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood." (Hebrews 12:4)
The trials and lessons of life are God's way of discipling us as His sons, Hebrews goes on to say. We are disciplined out of love, so that we won't be spoiled children.
What about you? Are you relearning a lesson you thought you'd learned? Don't lose heart. There is a point to this deja vu. He teaches us again, and He doesn't give up on us.
"Let us not get tired of doing what is good, for at the right time we will reap a harvest-if we do not give up." (Galatians 6:9)
Showing posts with label spiritual lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spiritual lessons. Show all posts
20 September 2009
11 July 2009
Spiritual Lessons from My Cat
My cat, Chiara, just turned ten this year. Throughout her life, I have contemplated some of the interesting things she's taught me about myself and my walk with God. Two lessons come to mind now.
While Chiara was young, I had her spayed and declawed. She, of course, could not understand why I was taking her and leaving her at that scary, strange place full of pain and dangerous smells. I assured her it would be alright. When I picked her up the next day, she was a bit sick, but very affectionate.
As I thought about how horrible it must have seemed that I caused this pain by bringing her there, and then her sweet acceptance and trust of me after, I thought about my own reaction to trials. I doubt I often accept them, at least at first, with such trust in the righteous wisdom of my Master. Instinctively, I think I'm getting a bum rap. Then I remember exactly who I am and who He is; although, my emotions take longer to bring into check. How wonderful it would be if I could trust His hand as He places me in surgery. And, as I heal, praise Him for His goodness, even though I may not know the reason for the pain.
Also in Chiara's young life, I had a couple occasions where I lost my temper with her. She is a very vocal cat. Sleeping and driving were the times she tried my patience and found them wanting. I yelled at her and picked her up. She cowered. I still feel sick when I jokingly say something to her in a tone that she takes as angry, and she flinches. What amazes me, though, is how she trusts me still. She would allow me to do most anything with her. She greets me at the door when I come home, follows me around the house, brings me her toys to throw, sleeps with me, and wants to always be near me.
Although a vastly imperfect analogy, her forgiveness reminds me both of God's forgiveness and the kind of forgiveness we are told to give. Although lashed out at, misunderstood, misrepresented, etc., when we seek His forgiveness, God does not keep bringing up our past. He is eager to forgive the truly repentant. Not just forgive, but He trusts us again, as we follow Him, with His Word and His testimony. Then, He asks us to give the same forgiveness to each other.
If you have fallen, don't stay there. Confess your sins to God and leave them with Him. If someone has hurt you, remember the sins God could list to your account, but instead He forgave. If you're going through a painful time, trust God that the surgery is necessary and for your good, even if you don't ever know why.
While Chiara was young, I had her spayed and declawed. She, of course, could not understand why I was taking her and leaving her at that scary, strange place full of pain and dangerous smells. I assured her it would be alright. When I picked her up the next day, she was a bit sick, but very affectionate.
As I thought about how horrible it must have seemed that I caused this pain by bringing her there, and then her sweet acceptance and trust of me after, I thought about my own reaction to trials. I doubt I often accept them, at least at first, with such trust in the righteous wisdom of my Master. Instinctively, I think I'm getting a bum rap. Then I remember exactly who I am and who He is; although, my emotions take longer to bring into check. How wonderful it would be if I could trust His hand as He places me in surgery. And, as I heal, praise Him for His goodness, even though I may not know the reason for the pain.
Also in Chiara's young life, I had a couple occasions where I lost my temper with her. She is a very vocal cat. Sleeping and driving were the times she tried my patience and found them wanting. I yelled at her and picked her up. She cowered. I still feel sick when I jokingly say something to her in a tone that she takes as angry, and she flinches. What amazes me, though, is how she trusts me still. She would allow me to do most anything with her. She greets me at the door when I come home, follows me around the house, brings me her toys to throw, sleeps with me, and wants to always be near me.
Although a vastly imperfect analogy, her forgiveness reminds me both of God's forgiveness and the kind of forgiveness we are told to give. Although lashed out at, misunderstood, misrepresented, etc., when we seek His forgiveness, God does not keep bringing up our past. He is eager to forgive the truly repentant. Not just forgive, but He trusts us again, as we follow Him, with His Word and His testimony. Then, He asks us to give the same forgiveness to each other.
If you have fallen, don't stay there. Confess your sins to God and leave them with Him. If someone has hurt you, remember the sins God could list to your account, but instead He forgave. If you're going through a painful time, trust God that the surgery is necessary and for your good, even if you don't ever know why.
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