grace obsessed

When Phil Wickham’s “The Jesus Way” first hit the radio airwaves, it wasn’t my favorite song. I wasn’t listening to the lyrics. Clearly.

I’ll be back to those lyrics by the end, but for now, I’m thinking about Pastor Chris’ message this morning. Jesus arrived in a manger bed. It was meager not majestic. Jesus, who possessed through His father all power and authority, willingly CHOSE the cross, ending His earthly life as He began it. It wasn’t fancy. It was hard. Terribly hard. It wasn’t powerful by the world’s standards. Remember how they shouted, “If you’re really the Son of God, come down from that cross?” How tempting must that have been?

The older I get, the more I desire to be like Jesus. Not that I’ll ever get there. But I’m changing for the better. There was a time in my life when I always had to win an argument. There was a time in my life when I said mean things to people. Namely, my mother-in-law. That’s the truth. Hurt by the ways in which I perceived her actions, I refused to give up. I refused to give in. I did not forgive. I did not show grace. I thought that made me tough.

One night my husband and I were at Bible study at our old church, and Pastor Ken was speaking on the power of the Lord’s constraint. I’m not going to lie, I needed to google that word on my phone as he spoke. And I did. The Lord’s constraint compels, motivates, binds one, even, to desire to live the way God intended. If you listen and act upon this compulsion, you do so not out of reluctant obligation; much to the contrary. You willingly, voluntarily, happily, even, move in the direction the Lord desires you to go.

Well, I walked out of that study and told my husband we had to visit his parents. I had to speak with his mom. And that night, for the first time, I wasn’t interested in besting her in an argument. Being well-spoken and persuasive and impressive. Making sure she said what I needed to hear before forgiving her. I simply said, “I’m so sorry.”

Now I’m not suggesting that you go around apologizing for actions you never committed, things you never thought. I told her I was sorry for having a hard heart. For always needing to be right. For not showing grace. The Lord had put it on my heart that if I wanted to be more like Him, I would seek reconciliation with my mother-in-law, even though for human April, the very thought of that, previously, had been excruciating. So much so, I fought against it for literally years. You better believe my OCD kept encouraging me to never give in until I got the apology I thought I deserved. Talk about compulsion? I’m familiar with compulsion. That irresistible urge to behave in a way you likely know to be wrong. I have OCD. But I experienced it in a new way. God constrained me that night.

I picture Jesus in that cradle, I picture Him on that cross, and I think if Jesus could come into this world like that and leave it in the way that He did, who the heck am I to be hanging onto non-sense? Sure, it feels enormous when it’s happening to you. It felt enormous for me, I promise you that. But that’s the thing about God. After he constrained me, it felt like a must. It was easy. It felt so good.

To be honest with you, NOTHING (NO THING AT ALL) feels better to me than allowing myself to forgive. To humble myself, even when it’s hard for human me. But, like, God will meet you there. Right when you think you can’t do it. I used to think I looked WEAK if I didn’t battle. I had no clue. To be vulnerable, to show kindness to those who have hurt you, forgotten you, left you, whatever… To do that is to show the greatest strength there is.

Phil writes, “If you curse me, then I will bless you / If you hurt me, I will forgive / And if you hate me, then I will love you / I choose the Jesus way. Man, it is nearly impossible to do all of that if you’re looking to your own strength to make it happen. I know that because I spent years going about certain challenging relationships all the wrong ways. If someone hurt me, I could write them off. If someone had the wrong idea about me, I’d be sure to show them the error of their ways. If someone disliked me, I disliked them. And now, not because I’ve become perfect or faultless, but because Jesus continues to constrain me, I just want to be more like Him. If that means humbling myself to lift up someone else, to give another chance, to offer grace, I do it, and it’s become the healthiest obsession I remember having. I don’t always get it right, and I won’t, I know that. But I do choose the Jesus way.