Say Never

Justin Bieber sang a song, and in fact even his film about his life and career was called Never Say Never.

And for the most part I do agree: never is a very strong word that should be used lightly.

However, this week I read this in Hebrews:
"Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”

This 'God has said' quote comes from Deuteronomy 31:6 in which Moses charges Joshua with the words from God:
"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you."

God, the One who inherently cannot lie, the One who's promises are always true, uses the word 'never'.

Do we take it as never? Do we believe this never? Or do we hear Bieber singing in our ear: "never say never". A voice in your head saying "this sin is too big for God's never", "this brokenness is too much for God to never forsake you", "the never of God can't handle this failure of yours".

But when we remember that Jesus said on the cross "it is finished", that never becomes forever true. Because through dying on the cross, Jesus paid the price for every past, present and future sin and failure that caused the great divide. He was forsaken that we would never be (Forsaken Friday).

In Jesus, in His death and resurrection, we will never be left or forsaken and that never is indeed an absolute never.

Forsaken Friday

Sometimes I wonder why God sticks around with me. When I see the depths of my own brokenness and and the dumb things I do. When I once again give in to temptation and for the hundredth time drop the ball. How could He still love me? Why does He still care?

And then there are those times when, for whatever reason, He just feels far away. Doubt and despair knocking on the doors of our hearts. What do we hold onto then?

Psalm 37:28 gives us the anchor of hope to hold onto: "For the LORD loves the just and will not forsake his faithful ones. Wrongdoers will be completely destroyed; the offspring of the wicked will perish."

So there it is: God will never, ever forsake his faithful ones. Hallelujah!

But wait. The ones not forsaken are the “faithful ones.” Other versions refer to saints or godly ones. That's a problem, because if I'm to be honest, in and of myself, I am nowhere near godly or faithful or saint-like. And even worse, there is nothing I can do to qualify as godly. I can't buy or earn or trick my way into 'sainthood'.

Romans 7 says "I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?" Oh boy!

But it is in the next verse that my hope is found: "Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!"

The darkest hour in the history of the world was two thousand and some years ago. It was literally dark—the sun went black for three hours. Creation cried out at the horror of its Creator dying as a man.

The beloved Son of God, perfect in love and harmony with the Father from eternity past, was forsaken. Cut off. Cursed.

“Cursed be everyone who does not abide by all things written in the Book of the Law, and do them." (Galatians 3:10).

Cursed because of me. Because I fell short. Because I could not keep His commands or live in His ways.

“Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us.” (Galatians 3:13).

The punishment for my sins, the perfectly just wrath of God, the curse, the cutting off and separation from God that I deserved, in that moment all fell on Christ Jesus, the Son of God. He was forsaken, so that I wouldn’t have to be.

Even more than that: Not only did he take my curse; He put on me His perfection.

Jesus was the only person who ever kept that perfect Law. The only one who never fell short. The only one who ever measured up to the standard of God’s character. Only he could.

But what is near unbelievable is that the Father credits that perfect, stainless record—the unblemished righteousness of Jesus—to broken, blemished, stained me when I trusted in Him for my salvation.

"This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus." (Romans 3:22-24)

“For all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.” (Galatians 3:27)

When I trusted in Christ, I was made one with Him. When God looks at me, He sees His perfect, beloved Son. So the faithful godly ones of Psalm 37? In Jesus, that is me. That is you.

And as the Father loves His Son, He loves us too. With a love that will never forsake, never cast us off. We are his godly ones, his sons and daughters, beloved children. He will never forsake us or let us go.

That’s what we hold on to, even when God seems far. Even when doubt hovers and defeat threatens, we hold on to the gospel and the truth of what Christ has done.

The darkest hour in history is our hope. As we celebrate Easter, we remember the Friday that our Saviour was forsaken, the overwhelming horror of the High King's death.

We remember that it was God’s wrath for our sin that poured out on Him on the cross.

We remember this overwhelming love, and the unimaginable amazing grace of a God who would love this drastically, not needing us, but simply out of the fullness of his love, for the purpose of his glory.

But we can't stop there.

On forsaken Friday, remember that Sunday is coming. That there was, indeed a resurrection.

Our Saviour conquered death itself. He was restored to the right hand of His Father. And because of Him, we will never ever be separated from our God.

Piercing The Darkness

Anyone who has read the news lately would surely agree that our world is broken.

Bombings. Plane crashes. Earthquakes. Poverty. War. Suicide. Racism. Corruption. Sexual abuse.

It’s everywhere, this darkness.

We see it on our Facebook feeds. Voices subconsciously crying out for change, for relief. Desperate to live in freedom, not fear. Desperate for peace in a world that was born chaotic.

I think all will agree that our world is broken, but no one is quite sure how to fix it. How do you save a world that thrives off of the same poison that’s killing it? How do you fix a fractured society that’s made up of broken people?

We want to fight for the light to pierce the darkness. For love, truth, justice, (and the American way). For hope and restoration.

But our world is more than just broken; it is deeply, inherently flawed. We will never have perfect justice, a perfect government or a perfect world. Because our world is made up of painfully imperfect people (i.e. me)—and we live every day in the consequence of that.

Our world was originally created perfect. It was created in wholeness, but broken by us. By our selfishness. By us wanting what we wanted, not what was God's best.

And try as hard as we might, no matter how loudly we yell or what law we pass or how many guns are confiscated—we can’t change that. We can’t heal a world that was broken long before any of us was born.

But one by one, the broken people of this broken world can be healed. Our shattered souls can be stitched back together by a God who is Wholeness itself. The God who has seen us at our worst, has looked into our broken hearts—and loves us fully. Who chooses to save us.

So, yes, we fight for things to be made right. But more than that, we fight for wholeness.

Let us look past ourselves to the billions of souls who are searching for the light. Searching for the answer to their scars and anger and pain. Trying to find a way to be whole.

Because in Jesus we have the answer. We have the only light that can pierce the oppressive darkness of our shattered world. This God who can mend the hurting, wipe away tears, turn fear into joy and peace— He is within us.

We won’t have all the answers for all the broken things in our world, but this I do know:

If we reach out to the forgotten ones, to those living in darkness, and bring a message of hope that can heal and truth that can save, then maybe we will start to see a healing far beyond anything we could dream.

Maybe then we would see hurting hearts begin to heal. Broken souls made whole. God restoring and renewing and reviving in the way that only he can.

Yes, we live in a shattered world, but it’s in the darkest night that the light will shine the brightest. And as broken people begin to find wholeness in Christ, then maybe our broken world will begin to find healing too.

Vulnerable

Vulnerability can be terrifying. We're petrified of letting people see the real person inside—fears, scars, insecurities, weakness, and all. We've been hurt and rejected, so we hide our hearts away for fear others would hurt and reject us as well. We build up walls like a scab over a healing wound, a tough exterior protecting and hiding a still-bleeding hurt. But scabs are not supposed to last forever. Wounds are meant to heal and scabs to eventually fall off. Too often, however, the wounds of our hearts are not so simply mended.

Personally, I’ve always been the strong one. Always tried to have it all together—my actions, attitudes, emotions, circumstances, everything. People need me to be strong, I tell myself. I’ve even sometimes bought into the lie that I need to appear strong before God, forgetting he already knows my every weakness -- see the I Can Do This post from last month for more on that.

In this day and age, sharing our hearts is risky. Our culture of self-focus and every man for himself makes vulnerability a landmine of potential hurt. It seems safer and easier to shut ourselves away, because we don’t know who will throw us under the bus without a care.

Not to say that we have to be vulnerable with everyone. But God created us for community and vulnerability. There are those He has put in our lives who are worthy of our trust, who long to go to a deeper level of relationship with us, if only we’d let down the Great Walls Of Fear surrounding our souls. 

God has crafted our hearts to need each other, but more importantly to need him. Which is why community and relationships are always so fiercely under attack, so harshly distorted. Ever since Adam and Eve first hid from God, we’ve hidden and doubted, avoiding intimacy and running from the One who already knows us better than we know ourselves.

We second guess God's unconditional love and acceptance. Can he really look at my scars, my failures, my short-comings and still love? Will he not quickly abandon this ship when he sees the fullness and extent of my brokenness?

Here’s truth: God says, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you." (Hebrews 13:5)

My scars, failures, short-comings and brokenness—i.e. sin— was placed on Jesus. He already shouldered the greatest vulnerability on the cross —  weak, pierced, forsaken, rejected, for my sake. Because Jesus was forsaken, I am forever accepted in Christ by God. Because he was weakened, I now find strength. Not my version, but his. True humble, vulnerable strength.

We were created to accept and be accepted. By God first, embracing his gift of unconditional love purchased for us on the cross. Then by others, knowing we’re all together on this journey of salvation and sanctification–riddled with weaknesses, but covered with amazing grace.

In this knowledge, my silly façade of strength can do nothing but crumble. In this place I remember that it’s okay to be vulnerable, that perhaps vulnerability is a good, God-ordained thing. No, it’ll never be safe. But it’s where my weakness displayed in humanity can be turned into strength for God.

This doesn’t mean always making myself the focus, or always having to make my every thought known. It means honest and sincere sharing and listening. Accepting and being accepted. Living in true relationship and community.

Sometimes vulnerability can be the hardest thing we do. And sometimes weakness is the most powerful picture of strength.

Because my security, identity and self-worth aren't found in human acceptance, but in Christ alone, I can dare to share my weaknesses with those around me. In Him, I can let go of counterfeit strength, embrace vulnerability and be real.