There is much said about The Promised Land in Christian circles. I used to walk down the aisle as a child and teenager, in an upheaval, in an attitude of surrender to the Lord. There were all these emotional appeals at revival services, appealing to the lost and to the backslidden....but also to anyone breathing. There was the clear inference that if you were still alive, you were missing something and that you needed to muster up a boatload of emotions and vows and renewals so that you might cross over into the Promised Land, yes, while you were still here breathing. I so wanted to please the Lord. I wanted to do the right things. I loved Him, prayed all the time, read my Bible, went to church, lived morally.... but the message I was getting was that there was more. More. More. And that I needed to figure out what God's best was for my life. Heaven forbid, if I missed what that was, because then my "diamond" would get shattered and I would have to settle for smaller but more brilliant, if I ever were able to figure out God's best and then to actually implement it.
Eventually, many, many moons later.... as I studied the Word and pondered what it ACTUALLY said, I began to see that God's will is not as plainly laid out as I thought. There were obvious things, like sin, that I seemed to figure out pretty well. Especially that I was one of those (sinners). As far as discerning God's will, I was often taught that I needed to pray, seek counsel and then wait on perfect peace. Perfect peace was my signal that, yes! -- this is God's will. Peace goes way beyond some fuzzy, ethereal emotion that can be used as a green flag. Peace, believe it or not, does not always mean I feel great about something. It's hard to explain.
We can spend our lives and our emotions trying to manipulate God. That's really what it comes down to. God as Santa Claus. If I "discern" His will, and then I do all the little steps just right, then I'll get God's best. Is this Scripture or wishful thinking?
I am no theologian.
But the Gospel is simple, yet profound. Man wants to muck it up and turn it into a badge-earning-contest that, in the end, glorifies man, not God.
Here we are, cracked and sinful beings. Proud in our posture. Needing redemption but not willing to bow the knee to our Maker. I've known sweet old ladies who seem to be loving and accepting of most everyone and everything, until the subject of Christ comes up. They are okay with Him, until I suggest that I need Him or that I am a sinner....then suddenly a prideful ball of fire erupts from that formerly sweet demeanor. And I'm not telling this dear lady that SHE needs Him or that SHE's a sinner. I'm talking about my own life. But it hits a chord, a sour note, and I see the wall that is separating this dear person from God and from true peace.
If I set myself as good enough to work my way into heaven, then really what I'm saying is that I am God. I am my own God. I call the shots, I say what goes and what doesn't. The world according to me. What is right in my own eyes. Yeah, that's the way we like it. No rules. Just right. Don't try to tell me I'm not good. Don't try to tell me I have to bow my knee or to admit that I do anything wrong.
This is human nature.
I have one of those.
I was a child when I became a believer. It was so simple then. When I think on it and the things I've come to realize from the Scripture as a mature person, it all comes around. I remember lying in my bed with my sister at night in our hot oven of a brick house, with the dark all around and the thin curtains blowing gently at the window.... the stars were intense, the moon so round and full. The night sky inky and blue. I felt God whispering to my heart, over and over. I would talk to Him as only a child can, honestly and full. I came to know that He loved me, because He wooed my heart to Him. I would be afraid of the dark sometimes, but then would be comforted by the thought that He was cradling me like a baby.
I was lucky to have had a secure childhood (but not without its warts, mind you) and two parents that loved and nurtured me. I didn't have to sleep in a nasty bed or on a floor. I didn't have drunken parents fighting it out or neglecting to feed me. I had a father who played with us, worked to provide for us, and a mother who kept us clean, warm and safe. We had a house, food, a yard, a school, a dog. Probably lower middle class, but we didn't know that. We were happy.
It could be said that becoming a Christian was easy and natural in that environment. It would seem so, but I know many others, and often with way more creature comforts and securities than I, who reject Him vehemently. It's because coming to Christ is His work, not mine. Given my natural nature, I'd choose me every time. Not Him. Not bending my knee. Not choosing the narrow road. Not choosing to ever deny myself and follow anybody, much less Christ. Our pastor used to put it this way..... I was dead on the bottom of the ocean. Dead. Dead in my sin. I couldn't save myself. He reached down from heaven and purchased me with His Son's life blood. He gave me life and pulled me up off the bottom of that ocean. He redeemed me from the pit. It's not my goodness or my figuring everything out that made me special or measured me up to getting picked. Redemption is about rescuing someone who is not able to rescue themselves.
The rest of my life is lived in a grateful spot, because I realize, in part, what He has rescued me from.... and what the marrow of life is about. I am thankful for the Scriptures, all that milk and meat and veggies, that feed and help me see the path that is in front of me. I am thankful for Him, that once I was blind but now I see. This ain't the Promised Land, ya'll. There's thorns, critters, and lots of desert. And we are pilgrims, wandering in the middle of it. We will get there in His time, but until then, we have a Well in the desert.
