Getting honest with ourselves does not make us unacceptable to God. It does not distance us from God, but draws us to Him—as nothing else can—and opens us anew to the flow of grace. While Jesus calls each of us to a more perfect life, we cannot achieve it on our own. To be alive is to be broken; to be broken is to stand in need of grace. It is only through grace that any of us could dare to hope that we could become more like Christ. The saved sinner with the tilted halo has been converted from mistrust to trust, has arrived at an inner poverty of spirit, and lives as best he or she can in rigorous honesty with self, others, and God. The question the gospel of grace puts to us is simply this: Who shall separate you from the love of Christ? What are you afraid of? Are you afraid that your weakness could separate you from the love of Christ? It can’t. Are you afraid that your inadequacies could separate you from the love of Christ? They can’t. Are you afraid that your inner poverty could separate you from the love of Christ? It can’t. Difficult marriage, loneliness, anxiety over the children’s future? They can’t. Negative self-image? It can’t. Economic hardship, racial hatred, street crime? They can’t. Rejection by loved ones or the suffering of loved ones? They can’t. Persecution by authorities, going to jail? They can’t. Nuclear war? It can’t. Mistakes, fears, uncertainties? They can’t. The gospel of grace calls out, Nothing can ever separate you from the love of God made visible in Christ Jesus our Lord. You must be convinced of this, trust it, and never forget to remember. Everything else will pass away, but the love of Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Faith will become vision, hope will become possession, but the love of Jesus Christ that is stronger than death endures forever. In the end, it is the one thing you can hang onto.
~Brennan Manning
O LORD, you are my God; I will exalt you; I will praise your name, for you have done wonderful things, plans formed of old, faithful and sure. For you have made the city a heap, the fortified city a ruin; the foreigners’ palace is a city no more; it will never be rebuilt. Therefore strong peoples will glorify you; cities of ruthless nations will fear you. For you have been a stronghold to the poor, a stronghold to the needy in his distress, a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat; for the breath of the ruthless is like a storm against a wall, like heat in a dry place. You subdue the noise of the foreigners; as heat by the shade of a cloud, so the song of the ruthless is put down. On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine, of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined. And he will swallow up on this mountain the covering that is cast over all peoples, the veil that is spread over all nations. He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from all faces, and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the LORD has spoken.
~from Isaiah 25
Oh beloved, it is true. Life on this plane is short. It is a hard to live, and only a little bit harder to die.
48 hours ago, this fool of a writer was literally in a fight for his life. Somehow, a minor family dispute had erupted into something that i had never experienced. While trying to walk away from a stressful situation and give it some space for thinking and healing, a drunk brother-in-law arrived on the scene.
As he tottered around my house for a few minutes, he began talking to me about how we needed to sit down and talk. The weird thing about this was that the conversation i was having with another family member had nothing to do with him. Anyway, this drunk man did not like the fact that he was not getting his way, and within moments he was slamming things around in my house.
Then he went out on the porch and smashed some beer bottles. But that was not enough… he breezed back into the door and into the kitchen, where he retrieved a large, blue kitchen knife. And once this happened, i took this as a cue to leave – and to leave with my son. Quickly.
Things did not go so well after this.
I am, by His Grace, a warrior. But the warrior is a man (or woman) who seeks the peace of deep agreement on central issues. And the true warrior does not escalate to violence, unless the breaking of things and injuring of people has the potential of bringing about a much greater good and freedom for those who could not find it for themselves.
This guy was not a warrior. Rather, the fact that he was not getting his way was his permission to raise the stakes to life or death violence. It was definitely this kind of violence. And here i was in a knife fight right outside the front gate of my house, in the dark – without a knife. Definitely a problem.
And while there was the impulse of fear, what became very real to me was that i was alive – and wanted to stay that way. It was more of a grim but celebratory moment for me as the G_d-given responses of adrenaline and lightning-quick thinking quickly kick in.
There was a further problem though. My youngest son was in range of the situation, and my wife was panicking and screaming and inserting herself directly into the danger zone of the swinging arms and blade of the fight. And thankfully, i was able to keep the man off of me, and get the other two to a safer location.
Then, i turned to face him. Blue blade flying. He did not really know what to do with the tool, but the velocity of his swinging was lethal, and i had nothing but my hands and wits at the moment. So, being the fool that i am, i moved in close and attempted to beat the man hard enough that he would no longer want to do what he was doing.
It worked. He put the knife down, but then came after me with his fists. And these, he knew how to use. He was much faster than a drunk man seemed he should be, and while most of my wounds are bruises on my arms from blocking the blows, he was able to land enough to make me incredibly sore the next day.
OK. Now i was mad. And this goofball did not want to stop. All i was wanting to do was to walk away from the house with my son and a couple of bags. We were going to a place that was going to be quiet and safe – but now the path through to this place seemed to be more than a gauntlet.
i went back onto my porch and grabbed an umbrella… it really was all i could find in the moment… And returned back outside the gate to meet this wild-eyed guy. Whereupon, i proceeded to use the umbrella in a way that was definitely outside of its documented use. i actually ruined my favorite umbrella on this guy trying to convince him to quit.
He slowed down for a bit, but then wanted to started up again, so i moved in closely and pushed him pretty hard, and warned him away. And now, i was really angry, and starting to think that i might just take this guy down and bash his head against some garden pavers until I was finished.
Then, Holy Spirit spoke to me through my red-hot emotions and the gallons of adrenaline going through my system. “Don’t. He is your brother.”
I continued walking toward him, and by now this drunk guy had run out of a little gas. He had no weapon anymore, and realized that he might have bit off a little bit more than he could chew. I walked right at him and he backed away. I took his punching hand and put it into a pressure grip. i wanted him to stop, or i was going to break his thumb.
“Stop” The Spirit commanded. And the man wrenched his hand out of mine.
“You will only make things worse. There will be retribution and wounds to the family that will not heal.”
And so, i backed off, and waited for the police to show up.
It turns out that the Negrenese culture i moved into, sees violence as a relatively normal way to solve problems, and so the police took things pretty lightly, and asked me if i wanted to press charges. i declined. But as things were winding down, my assailant was standing with the cops, joking and laughing and seemingly mocking me.
Something in me just came undone. Here i was, trying to do the right thing, and nearly getting killed for doing it, and then being mocked by my attacker. The bruises and cuts and broken things seemed to remind me that no good deed goes unpunished. The bruises felt like a symbolic payback for all the good I had brought to my wife, our adopted son and her family. I had saved my son’s life, and to a lesser extent, my wife’s as well… Further, I had also brought great good to many relationships in this family…. My own enormous failures with alcohol in the past, enlightened my hatred of how alcohol messes with family as well.
i felt hurt. i felt angry. It felt both violated and futile.
Then, the next day, i got a good word from a beloved friend and pastor in country far away… It is really helping me reframe the issue. This man went through the nitty-gritty with me as I worked to love a hurting wife back to freedom. He said, “Mak, Maybe not ‘no good deed goes unpunished’ but ‘the thief comes but to kill, steal and destroy’. God looked for a man to stand in the gap for his wife and son and you were that man. The bruises and pain are symbols of your Christian manhood. Bear them well, as did Jesus… Loving you closely from afar.”
Then, Jesus spoke to me this morning. “Well done brother. You loved well. I know exactly what you are feeling. And I AM here with you.”
My answers attempted to talk about all the failings during the past 48 hours, and every time i attempted to talk about my weaknesses, He flooded my mind with how i relied on HIS strength to get through a very tough few minutes. He reminded me of how i was even really trying to Love my brother, even as i had to fight him away, and nearly beat him into stopping. He reminded me of how much clarity i had during the fight, and how i willingly put myself between my wife and son, and the danger that we all were facing.
And mostly, He reminded me that He was there. He was walking through every step with me, just as He always has.
Quite a night. So good to know that He is with us everywhere we are.
