It is the beginning of the school year. I have new pencils, paper, backpack, books. I arrive early to school after donning my new clothes, spending an hour getting ready and eating a healthy breakfast. I read the syllabus with every intention of following it to the letter. I head straight home from practice to complete my homework and maybe even read ahead for the next day. Before bed, I lay out the clothes for tomorrow. I am on top of it. I am setting myself up for success.
Fast forward 3 months...My backpack is crammed with papers from the second week of school. Somewhere under those is a pencil...there has to be. I know I did my homework in the car on the way to school this morning, but where did I put it? Maybe it is under the McDonald's wrapper from my breakfast that caused me to be late to class. What time is that orchestra concert tonight? Did I tell my family about it at all? Oh, dang, did I remember deodorant today?
This cycle is my life. I start everything out with the best intentions. The new car, the clean house, the organized closet, the prayer journal full of pages to fill, the hand weights and new running shoes, the new devotional book. I am good at getting things started. I know how to organize, plan, prepare. I like the feeling of fresh starts and new beginnings. Then, the task that seemed so new and crisp turns to an old limp habit. Something that made me feel productive and happy transforms to something that feels like a time-consuming obligation.
So, to fight this, I tend to give up completely. I don't even try. I throw my shoes in my closet and leave cups with banana peels in my car. (Ok, not forever, but until I have amassed a small collection.) I leave the devotional books in the basement where I can't fail to read them because I didn't try. I put the running shoes on the bottom of the stack. What is the point of starting fresh when my flame of excitement will just flicker out sooner rather than later? It is such a frustrating part of me. Maybe the part of me that gets me the most down on myself. The all-consuming roller coaster of my life. That part of me that I can't let go.
When I think of surrender, I don't think I imagine this part of me being surrendered. This is the part of me that is all about what I can do. It is about me working to be better. Working to have it all together.
Romans 7: 17-20 (The Message)
But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can't keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help! I realize that I don't have what it takes. I can will it, but I can't do it. I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time.
So, if I am going to fail, does that mean I don't try? No! Every time I try, I do a little better. I last a little longer. God teaches me something about myself, and I stand up and start again. I do this with confidence that it is not my failure that God sees, but the heart of someone who wants to please Him. It is the fact that I am leaning on grace and mercy to get through this life. I am so thankful that it is there for each of us. His grace is there to cover up the messes I leave behind. Where would I be without it? ...Most likely, sifting through banana peels and running shoes just to find one sharpened pencil.
What actually took place is this: I tried keeping rules and working my head off to please God, and it didn't work. So I quit being a "law man" so that I could be God's man. Christ's life showed me how, and enabled me to do it. I identified myself completely with him. Indeed, I have been crucified with Christ. My ego is no longer central. It is no longer important that I appear righteous before you or have your good opinion, and I am no longer driven to impress God. Christ lives in me. The life you see me living is not "mine," but it is lived by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I am not going to go back on that. Is it not clear to you that to go back to that old rule-keeping, peer-pleasing religion would be an abandonment of everything personal and free in my relationship with God? I refuse to do that, to repudiate God's grace. If a living relationship with God could come by rule-keeping, then Christ died unnecessarily. Galatians 2: 19-21 (The Message)
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