Day 2837 of the 7 day Bible verse challenge.

Isaiah 6:5 NIV

"I stand in front of the mirror, and I don't like who's looking back at me." That opening line to Ben Fuller's song Who I Am hits pretty close to home. As we began discussing yesterday, I think it's something that hits home for a lot of us. We see the flaws. We notice the weaknesses. We remember all the mistakes. We look into the mirror and see nothing but a reflection of a person we never thought we'd become.

Even though we've heard of this freedom built within salvation bought by the precious blood of Christ, we still carry the scars of our mistakes and, like it or not, we've sadly learned to listen to the reminders of who we've been rather than learning to tune our ears to the cross telling us who we are now.

I'm afraid that the diagnosis just isn't good my friends. Looks like we've all got Stockholm syndrome. We've formed a bond with our captor. We've built a relationship with the wickedness that has held us captive. We've allowed ourselves to begin to see the darkness we've always known as the home in which we belong. Sin has, and get this, become a friend. We've grown fond of the illusions of freedom and the pleasures we've found, no matter how fleeting they may be. And as that camaraderie has grown deeper through our continued stumbling, our ability to see how forgiveness can be possible grows more obscure.

We've learned to see sin as our comrade, our cohort, our companion, our constant chaperone who is always looking over our shoulder and making sure we don't wander off too far from the shadows in which we've long existed. And when sin becomes our friend, well, it's just hard to let it go. We can't imagine life without it. We can't picture who we'll be without being who we've always been. That uncertainty found within the radical change bought by Christ through the cross is terrifying because we know it means everything will be different.

But still, even when we finally hit rock bottom and get tired of looking in the mirror and hating who we've become and finally send up that lonesome yet hopeful prayer for something better, we find that the radical change we feared doesn't happen right away. We find ourselves still much the same person we were the day before. Still the same scars. Still the same memories. Still the same weight of guilt. Still the same realization that we're in the same lives in the same place as the same people with the same struggles leading to the same weaknesses and the same doubts and the same fears that we've always known.

It takes a lot for us to even find a hint of willingness to look past what the mirror shows. It takes a lot for us to consider the possibility of a different kind of life. It takes a lot to believe that we can truly be something different, something better, something new. And considering it takes so much and so long, it's basically only natural, and I would venture to say expected, that we'll find ourselves leaning into doubt as to whether or not it's worth it, or that we'll make it, or that this whole salvation thing is even real.

As we've discussed several times in the past, we're a very impatient bunch. We've grown accustomed to this drive-thru world where instant gratification is expected and anything that takes time is highly suspect. And that truth poses a very real problem when it comes to our faith and the process of sanctification which it begins in us. This journey takes time. It's a massive learning curve. It's literally learning an entirely new way to live, to think, to speak, to act, all while forgetting all that we've ever known of all the above.

When we step into our faith expecting radical changes that take place over night, then we're going to be left dazed and confused when we awaken to a face that looks the same, and a heart that feels the same, and a world that works the same as they did when we went to sleep. If we expect to just suddenly have no recollection of the past then we're in for trouble. If we expect the world to be more loving and peaceful, we're in for trouble.

If we expect that simply asking for help in moving out of the darkness into light means that all darkness ceases to exist in both the world around us and the rearview mirror then we're in for trouble.

What makes all of this so incredibly difficult is that Stockholm syndrome I mentioned. We read stories about people who have been delivered from addiction and anger and arrogance and all manner of alike debauchery and yet we still see some excitement and enjoyment in all the above. We see the cross and hear the story about what love accomplished for us up there, but we also still see our sins that caused it. We close our eyes and open our hearts and catch a glimpse of the God who made us and loves us and sent His Son to die for us, and yet we still look in the mirror and see reasons why that kind of love shouldn't exist for us.

For so long we've built our identity upon the world in which we live and the way of life that we've learned within it. We've grown to see ourselves as nothing more than what we've been, and capable of nothing more than what we've done. We've allowed ourselves to be defined by our past, completely missing the message telling us that Christ carried our past to the cross and then left it buried in the tomb. We sadly only know what we've been, and looking back at those reminders is easier than looking ahead into a great fog of unknowns and distant hopes.

As I went back and re-read yesterday's post, there was a line in there that actually stopped me in my tracks. "We cling to our death because we've proven countless times that we can't do anything of value with life." It's a really strange feeling when you write something that somehow makes you stop and wonder where it came from!

But there's a truth in that line that I think all of us can feel. Our lives have been nothing at all to be proud of. We've made so many mistakes and gotten so many things wrong that there's obviously little if anything decent left from what God initially designed within us. We've grown up in this world that's falling down, and so the destruction and demise and division and darkness is all we've known. And our lives are loaded with evidence of how we've learned to be just like all that's around us.

Then we look at the cross. We see this impossible miracle that shatters our perception of reality. We feel this rattling in our bones as they start to waken from a slumber we didn't know we were taking. We feel our hearts beat a little differently, a little deeper as they catch sight of a love that shouldn't be possible. We suddenly realize that all we've ever known isn't all there is to know. We learn that something big was truly done by a King who gave His life, and in doing something that big, something big must have been accomplished

We learn that our pasts no longer get to define us because we're now defined by the love of our Savior. We learn that the mirror doesn't always tell the whole story. We learn that looking back can turn us into pillars of salt that fail to move forward in life. We learn that letting go of who we've been is the only real way to make enough room to take hold of who Jesus says we can be. We learn that this isn't our home, these lives are only temporary, and somehow we've been handed a second chance to spend the rest of them living like our home is truly elsewhere.

Friends, our sins will be more than happy to tell us who we are by reminding us of who we've been. The devil wants nothing more than to use our past failures, prior weaknesses, and present fears to keep us from believing the Christ and therefore moving ahead to a better and brighter future. But it only works if we listen. It only works if we keep looking back. It only works if we foolishly continue to buy this lie that we're defined by who we've always been, because who we've always been was baptized into Christ's death and also into His new life.

The old is gone, but we have to let it go. The past is atoned for, but we have to forgive ourselves. The world is still broken and breaking people down, but we're citizens of another place who are simply passing through here on our way home. We are not defined by the mistakes we've made or the world that helped us learn how to make them. We're defined by the love of our Father who sent the Son to bring the Spirit to lead us back to where we always belonged.

We may have gotten lost along the way and sadly made some strange and dangerous friends in all our wandering. But, it can all be washed away. May not happen immediately. May not mean we see a different world when we look out the window or a different reflection when we look in the mirror. But Christ's salvation doesn't necessarily change what we see but how we see. And that's a seemingly small yet altogether massive difference that just takes some time to understand.

The bottom line is that God wouldn't have sent Jesus to save us if He didn't want us to be saved. He wouldn't offer forgiveness if He was unwilling to forgive. We don't have to understand it, and in many ways we likely never will on this side of eternity. But the whole point of redemption and renewal is the opportunity to let go of what's behind so we can strive for what's ahead. Yeah, our pasts are jacked up, but all those mistakes helped us learn what not to do with this new chance we've been given.

We don't have to live with this fear that our past transgressions have rendered us unworthy of God's love because if that were truly the case, then the Gospel wouldn’t be true. If we were unworthy of love then Christ wouldn't have died to show us how much He loves us. And while our sins have claimed to be a friend along this journey so far, all they've ever given us was death. Christ gave us His death so that we might have life, and have it abundantly.

So stop listening to the past tell you who you are. That's only who you were. And the cross says you can be something entirely different because God apparently sees more in us than who we've been so far.

#LeaveNoSoulUntold