Sometimes, despite hearing bible verses about fixing our gaze on Jesus or thinking about heavenly things, our minds can still get so wrapped up in doing good and being responsible. We can prioritize our to-do list and things to take care of. Not only that, we see and observe our shortcomings relationally or in character. And then, in God’s mercy, when we stop for a moment, a mere minute. He reminds us of himself. “Christ has already accomplished the purpose for which the law was given. As a result, all who believe in him are made right with God.” Romans 10:4

So often, my mind fills with the ways I have not achieved, accomplished, or lived out that which God has called me to. I find it feels like, on a daily basis, that I am stagnant and have controlled my environment enough for peace and a measure of predictability, and yet he doesn’t feel near. And so, when I thirst for consolation for life in the spiritual sense again, I am reminded of something that Christ accomplished that I never will be able to achieve of my own effort or stubborn persistence, being made right with God.

Even if I was disciplined in every area of my life, I would bear much fruit and with that, much reward, but I would not earn his affection. I would not achieve reconciliation. Despite this, it is not a reason not to become more disciplined, to learn, to grow, to listen, and to seek. I just have to make my peace that God has already given me the cup of salvation, complete and whole, from the work he accomplished through his suffering. I then remember Jesus in the equation of my own self-evaluation.

My acceptance has already been paid for. Christ’s suffering was not incomplete. God is not looking for me to become my own savior. Striving cannot achieve righteousness; that’s not how Heaven has designed our relationship with Himself. I am still on milk, infant and young. I cannot get over the constant wave of his good news crashing repeatedly on the shore of everything my independence tries to resist, preserve, and build.

And yet, without me asking, without me yielding and surrendering, not letting myself off the hook, he comes to me in kindness. He approaches me with dignity, respect, honor, and truth. He reminds me again and again of what my spirit and brain seem to forget so quickly, like trying to hold sand or water in my hand, that he is good. He is for me. He enjoys me. He likes me. He wants me to be happy. He wants me to enjoy my life. To be whole. To be known and celebrated.
I have value. I have gifts. I am a blessing. I have been adopted into his family. I have a home, and I belong in Him. For some reason, I always feel like I choose to remain standing on the threshold of the entryway. I’ve been invited into the party of heaven. I can see it happening; I know I am welcome, but rather than participate, I linger at the door. I would rather be nowhere else outside this place, but I have not yet allowed myself to stay seated and remain comfortable in his love for me. I cannot tell you why. I’m just hoping that when the door to this party shuts I am on the right side. Just accepting the access I’ve been granted is my minimum standard. That heaven will tolerate my presence because of his sacrifice, but I didn’t do much with that costly gift, and surely the measure I poured back was disappointing.

I remember the Lord asking me one day while I was getting ready in my bathroom. Why do you not think I will celebrate you? When your life is over, and you’re in my presence, why do you not think I will see the good that happened as a result of your life and celebrate all the love that was? I could not give him an answer. Even now, I anticipate and fear his reproach. I know these themes are not true. But perhaps I still feel like I need my own protection to beat him or anyone else to the punch.

I know I am safe with him. He is the safest place for me to exist in. He created me and knows everything about me. Not only the whats but the whys. The whys I can’t seem to figure out. My connection with him is something I know lives, but in confession, I don’t do much to foster its growth. I did, once. I complain more than I want to, and my heart is colder than I would like. I care less than I should, and I remember being more fun. I know the narrative of ‘this is just what getting older is like’ is a lie every time I encounter a 40 or 50-year-old with the twinkle of heaven’s joy in their eye. My perspective is my choice.

I shared this post to remind you of what God reminds me. I have a savior. He is good at his job. His promises to me are still real and still stand. I believe in Jesus Christ as my savior despite my failures and shortcomings. I love him, and I think he has asked me to write. These words may not be as chipper as they were ten years ago, but he is just as worthy, and I am still loved as much as I was then. I am still chosen. God is still hopeful. I am still his. He is still mine. And this is me at this time.

To leave you with his words and not my own, Romans 6:11 says, “And since grace is through God’s kindness, then it is not by their good works. For in that case, God’s grace would not be what it really is—free and undeserved.”