This morning I was reading "Come, Lord Jesus" by Thomas a Kempis, a devotional that our church is using during Lent. Chapter 35, entitled "A Little Sweetness" addresses the quiet whisper of the world saying "You need a little sweetness to help you get through this tough life." It goes on to describe how we use little rewards in our life as comforts and pleasures, when in fact we are keeping ourselves from the depths of God's presence, "the utter sweetness that comes when you are abandoned to God".
I was knocked right between the eyes as I saw a core root of my sin and pride in black and white. If you know me personally, you know that my love language is "gifts" and that my experience and expression of love often best resonates with me when it is in the form of some gift or token or display of affection. I experience people's love for me best when they present me with some tangible item showing they were thinking of me and moved to give me something as an expression of their affection. It could be flowers or chocolates or socks - it really doesn't matter what the item is. Gifts say to me "I saw this, thought of you, and wanted you to have it." I express my love for others this way as well. It may be cooking my kids favorite meal, bringing my mom her favorite Starbucks coffee or buying my husband tickets to the cubs game. Gifts are my way of saying, "I know what you enjoy and I want to increase your pleasure by giving you this." (If you don't know much about the love languages idea, go to: http://www.5lovelanguages.com)
The problem is, this idea of "self-gifting". I am a HUGE self-gifter. I will celebrate myself and comfort myself in disappointment. Actually, I pretty much go through my life asking myself "how can I make this better?". If things have been difficult or stressful, I look to cheer myself up. If things are going well, I see if I can make them even better. My husband and I sit down to a relaxing evening watching a movie together and I say "I have an idea". I jump off the couch, run to the kitchen, whip up a treat and now we have a movie AND a treat. Or I've had a horrible day, so on my way home I console myself by picking up something - maybe a magazine or a movie for distraction, maybe a bottle of wine to share with David over dinner, maybe I get home and make cookies with the kids. Gary Chapman says that the person who thrives on gifts is being shown through gifts "that they are known, cared for and prized above whatever was sacrificed to bring the gift to you." This self gifting is my deeply rooted pride, loving myself, caring for myself and prizing my own comfort.
In the person of Jesus, the sacrifice of His death on the cross said that we were "known and cared for and prized" beyond His own life. This is the gift we truly long for. This is the expression of love that I need to fill the emptiness of my heart. Everyone and everything in life around me will disappoint. My husband, my kids, my family and friends can never love me perfectly. This world cannot ever satisfy my longings, because I was made for heaven and the presence of God.
My "self-gifting" has been an invisible wall between me and a deeper relationship with the Lord. Whether celebrating the good or consoling the bad, my self gifting rejects the perfect gift God has given me in His presence. I am fostering a posture of self-reliance and discontent. I am saying to the Lord "I am not satisfied with what You have given me. I know better." And I am rejecting His plan for my life, measuring the distance between the expectation of my plan and the reality in which I live.
Thomas a Kempis was right on - this small voice is almost too quiet to hear, but it's presence is devastating to cultivating true awareness of God's presence, submission to His will and thankfulness for all He has done. These little gifts, meaningless distractions, continually turn my eyes from God and towards the fleeting treasures of this world.
About a year ago, I was diagnosed with depression and worked really hard to break my negative thought patterns. For this past year, I have been striving to experience God's presence and joy in my life. Despite some really great quiet times and conversations with others, I still felt like I kept hitting a wall in my experience of God. I knew I wasn't joyful. I knew I was wrestling with true submission to His will and with my pride. I just couldn't put my finger on the root of the problem. I tried to deal with the issues I saw in my life, but I couldn't identify the source. After reading this truth, I felt like the scales fell from my eyes and I could truly see the spiritual battle I was facing. I am no longer blind to my enemy, just reacting to his attack. Now, I am on guard and on the offensive - reaching out to destroy all that stands between me and the Lord.
When Jacob wrestled with God, he was blessed. He was made into a great nation and he was blessed with a limp. A permanent reminder to hold onto God and cling to Him. This revelation of my sin is like my own personal limp - a call to remember my frailty and His provision. A call to remember that I am fighting a battle and my own comfort and desires are counted among my enemies.
It is not wrong to make things fun or to enjoy gifts. The sin came from my proud heart, defining what was right for me and making my own adjustments to God's perfect provision. I was telling Him that He wasn't enough. His will wasn't good. I didn't trust Him to satisfy. I wanted to take care of myself. No wonder I felt empty of His presence - I've been turning Him away.
No more....no more settling with temporary trinkets at the cost of eternal glory. No more ungrateful heart to the life He has given me. No more turning my nose down at His gifts, looking for something shiny instead. No more ending each day with my little self-gifts to combat the tough world we live in, choosing small comfort instead of perfect peace.
Instead - I claim the gift of Jesus Christ as my full satisfaction - the perfect solution to this sin-sick world. I claim each day and each breath His good and perfect plan for me, thankful for what has been given. I claim my future to be the road to glory, not just a good-enough tomorrow. And I choose to see my temporary toil in light of the cross at Calvary. The external changes may seem small at first - intentionally closing each day in thanksgiving; stopping myself from those little comforts or rewards - so that I can find my comfort and reward in Him; celebrating Him, instead of me. But I will be running the race set before me with a limp - a limp of dependence. A limp that keeps me clinging and recognizes the blessing and joy from the presence of God.
What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear;
What a privilege to carry, everything to God in prayer.
O what peace we often forfeit, o what needless pain we bear;
All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.
