Validation and the freeing Gospel of Grace
I’m honored today to introduce you to Christine Hoover, a dear sister-in-Christ and fellow church-planting wife. I’ve been so encouraged by Christine’s words over the past few years. I also appreciate this specific article highlighting the freedom that comes with the true gospel of Grace. Christine lives, eats, breathes, and practices GRACE. I pray her words encourage you today. Thanks for reading!
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A well-meaning person in our church once openly questioned why my husband and I would choose to put our children in school rather than homeschooling them.
This question came at a time when we were the only non-homeschooling family in our small group, and I had been privately wrestling with our choices as compared to theirs. I was wrestling, not because I felt convicted by the Lord, but because I longed for validation from people that I greatly respected.
Admitting that we desire validation from others is difficult, but recognizing it in ourselves is even more difficult because it is a subtle, ever-lurking temptation. It tends to package itself together with pride, self-condemnation, or a desire for encouragement and approval.
But when we attach things like our education choices to the gospel? That’s when it gets ugly, divisive, and dysfunctional.
Because don’t we do this? Whether we voice them or not, we choose man-made regulations according to what we value most (often personal convictions that are right and good) and evaluate ourselves and other people according to them: appearance, education, food, parenting, work choices, giftings, behaviors.
We’d never say it out loud, but in our minds we categorize ourselves and others according to our standards: “She is a good Christian because . . .” or “She is not a good Christian because . . .” Worse, we turn it around on ourselves: “I’m a good Christian because . . .” or “I’m not a good Christian because . . .”
And there the need for validation is birthed.
When we seek validation, we evaluate ourselves and others based upon external behaviors and choices, not on what Christ has done. And the Holy Spirit (God-within-us) who counsels, leads, and personally convicts us–is completely removed from the equation. We stand as our own counselor, leader, judge, and convict-er, thank you very much. And we’re happy to take on that role for everyone else too, offering validation to those who choose what we choose and quietly dividing from those who don’t.
This isn’t the gospel, and this isn’t the Christian life. I call this different gospel the “goodness gospel”: my goodness, my life, my spiritual growth is up to me and I’ll know how I’m doing based upon the specific things that I value or think make me a good Christian.
Aside from living in a self-selected huddle, living by the goodness gospel doesn’t bother us much. The rub comes when we start questioning ourselves, like I did about our education choices. Of course, we must take into account that God may be leading us to make a change, but what I’m referring to is when we feel not “good enough” in comparison to others and desire their validation.
The goodness gospel tells me that I must earn that validation, make up for my weaknesses or cover them over, and do better next time. I vow to try harder. And sometimes I do actually do better next time, but then I fail and the cycle begins again. The Bible says the goodness gospel is a ministry of condemnation, always reminding me that I am weak and unableto be perfect but never providing a solution other than “try harder”.
This only results in cycles of pride and self-condemnation toward ourselves and in relation to others, those two fraternal twin sins that invite us to seek validation from others and grow depressed or angry when we can’t seem to get it.
Where is the true gospel in all this and what does it say about validation? Second Corinthians tell us,
“For the love of Christ compels us . . . and He died for all, that those who live should live no longer for themselves, but for Him who died for them and rose again” (5:14-15).
We are loved by Christ, as shown in His death and resurrection, therefore we have been given the ultimate validation. This is the only true validation we need, and we have it.
God’s validation teaches us how to relate to our fellow believers. Paul continues the previous thought in 2 Corinthians 5:16-17:
“Therefore, from now on, we regard no one according to the flesh. . . if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.”
We regard no believer according to their spiritual gift, their personality, their likeability factor, their racial or cultural background, or, yes, even their choices on open-ended issues.
We regard them according to Christ’s validation of them.
When we regard each other according to Christ’s validation, we then are able to see the beauty of a diverse Church and the beauty of different gifts, different ministries, and different choices. We are able to champion one another and pray for one another, precisely because we aren’t looking for validation from one another.
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Christine Hoover (@christinehoover) is the author of The Church Planting Wife. She is a recovering perfectionist, the wife of a pastor, and a mom of three boys. You can find her online at her blog, Grace Covers Me. Her newest book, From Good to Grace: Letting Go of the Goodness Gospel, offers women biblical freedom from trying to “be good enough”, what she terms the goodness gospel. Get your copy today and discover the gospel’s reach in your own life.
Throne of Grace
“Gah! I’m such a stinkin’ SINNER.”
Quoted by yours truly, to my housemate, on Friday.
On the one hand, God is doing tremendous work in my heart and life. His Word is coming alive. He’s giving me faith to trust Him more. Prayer is becoming an adventure. I see God moving miraculously.
He’s awesome!
But then, there’s me.
I am not awesome. I can’t look anywhere, it seems, but that I see some unpleasant reflection of myself, my pride and selfish ambition, my imperfect relationships, my daily failures, my lack.
So as I sat in prayer and poured this all out to Him, this one sentence echoed back in my heart:
You’re becoming impressed with Me and not you.
You know that strange way that God crumples you and encourages you all at once? Yeah, that. My verse-theme for 2015 was John the Baptist’s matter-of-fact declaration:
He must increase, but I must decrease. (John 3:30)
[bctt tweet=”He must increase, but I must decrease. (John 3:30)”]
Oh. Ok. So I guess this is an answer to prayer. *sigh*
But friends, here’s the thing: What I am discovering in the gospels, all over again, is that Jesus is more glorious, more beautiful, more powerful, for gracious, more awesome and mighty and holy and good, than I had ever realized. I had known it in my head, I am beginning to be convinced. He is the answer for every need, the nourishment for every hunger.
But to come into His presence and discover Him for who He is: we all cry out like Peter:
“Depart from me; for I am a sinful man!” (Luke 5:8)
When Jesus displays His power and glory, Peter sees himself as he truly is.
It’s not elating, it’s disturbing.
Peter falls on his face, overwhelmed by His utter lack.
Isaiah did the same. In the presence of God’s holiness, the only thing he could mutter was:
“Woe is me! I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips.” (Is. 6:5)
So much for seeking God’s presence to get a little lift; God-encounters usually leave us lower.
So then, how can we live? How can we go on? We must change diapers and do dishes and go through these ordinary days–how can we cope once we’ve seen His profound greatness and our profound emptiness? One word.
Grace.
Grace isn’t a blind eye turned to our naughtiness. Grace is the wondrous fact that we can, fallen and frail as we are, with “confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Heb. 4:16)
His holy throne? The one that puts us on our face? It is a throne …
of grace.
For those facedown, there is grace.
[bctt tweet=”For those facedown, there is grace. (James 4:6)”]
For those facedown there is confidence, there is joy, there is freedom and love to cover a multitude of sins. There is power to forgive others, there is faith for moving mountains, there is all that we need for life and godliness, found in the knowledge of HIM. At His throne. At His feet.
He is holy, and kind. He is awesome, and gracious. His throne of grace draws us in because despite our despicable nature, petty and fickle as we are, there is mercy and grace in time of need.
“Time of need”?
Yes please, that would be today. And tomorrow, and every day after that.
God’s stream of grace, from the throne of grace, never ends.
{In my utter lostness, I’m finding His greatness. May you drawn near to His throne of grace this week. Thank you so much for reading.}
Blindfold Dancing
Another game? I was kind of anxious for this thing to just be over with.
It’s a terrible thing for the retreat speaker to say, I adore these ladies and we’d had a fabulous time, but it was late Saturday night, I had one more session and a long drive home ahead, and I’d just heard some disturbing news and was eager to get back home and deal with it. (You know, since it all depends on me. *smile*)
Instead, while I inwardly wrangled that worry down like a wild crocodile … they were going to play a dancing version of musical chairs.
Really? I have a thousand worries tossing to and fro inside, this crazy storm brewing in my soul and I’m sitting here watching musical chairs? Deep breath.
Ok, Lord, I trust You, I’ll look for you here.
These precious ladies situated themselves in a large circle. The leader began explaining the rules, and I was struck afresh by her joviality and joy, her easy-going attitude about everything, especially since she’s got seven kids at home including a 16-year-old daughter with Downs Syndrome.
The “chairs” for this game were the 5-gallon bean-buckets from her pantry. Someone sits on pinto, another on Great Northern. This lady knows mundane faith.
But as the five chosen contestants situated themselves around the musical buckets, she interrupts my daydreaming admiration by mentioning the final detail:
“Oh, and you’ll be dancing blindfolded.”
My interest piques every so slightly. Blindfold dancing? I’ve seen this before, at a college retreat, and can attest to the fact that it is, perhaps, the funniest thing on the planet.
But this was even better.
This was a group, not of college students who are used to being footloose and free, this was a group of middle-aged women. This was a group wearing color-coordinating eternity-scarves and neat strands of pearls. These were Bible-carrying, verse-referencing, polite, respectable women.
I watched their faces as they were handed blindfolds: Not thrilled.
But then something happened. With the blindfolds secure and the sight of all of the rest of us completely removed from their vision, the music started, and lo and behold …
These girls could dance.
“Because I’m happy! Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof…”
Pretty soon our amusement turned to chuckles turned to laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. Tears spilling over. I had watched these ladies all weekend long; this was not their norm.
Ever-careful, ever-measured movements gone. They were free.
Something in that room transformed. It was beautiful. They were beautiful. Joyful, unhindered exuberant dancing. I watched them and couldn’t help but pray, Lord let me live like that.
No, not making a fool of myself. *smile*
I mean, it is a ridiculous comedic version of Peter walking on water. Right?
“‘Lord! If it is you, command me to come to You on the water.’ And Jesus said, ‘Come!'” (Matt. 14:28)
As soon as Peter heard that beautiful music, the voice of Jesus calling, Come, Peter became blessedly blind to the crashing, wild, deadly waves assaulting his senses. [bctt tweet=”When Peter heard Jesus calling, he became blessedly blind to the waves. “]
The miracle of pure faith: Walking on water, doing what Jesus did, defying physical laws, living by the greater, spiritual ones instead.
But as soon as Peter took that blessed blindfold off, when he looked back down at the waves which rose, incessant, threatening … as soon as he looked back down at this and away from Jesus, he sank.
Jesus is perfect theology. Jesus is truth. Jesus is life.
The fight of faith for me is to blindfold myself to the crashing, wild, deadly waves that assault my senses each day. To refuse to fix my gaze on all that is unanswered and unclear in this messy sea of life and to fix my soul’s gaze on the face of Jesus, bringing Him my honest questions from a pure heart of faith.
Questions clarify truth and bring life, doubt discourages and brings death.
Jesus, let me hear the music of Your voice, through Your Word. Let me walk based on Your beautiful beckoning, Come!, blindfolded to the onslaught of anti-faith that threatens my senses each day.
Though I may look a little foolish to the world, I know I’ll find an inner victory — faith.
{Dance! Thanks for reading.}
Nothing short of total transformation
I wish I could send a copy of A Praying Life to every single one of you.
This book is resonating with the deepest part of my Spirit. You know the feeling, right? That internal Yes! that makes all those loose fragments come into focus and your heart “gets it.” I don’t mean we understand prayer in the sense that we dissect how it works, but we “get it” in the sense that it’s made accessible. There is still profound mystery (and, inevitably at times, profound frustration!) but we’ve waded into the waters of effective prayer and we’re learning to dive down deeper and deeper into its glorious depths. That’s what this book has been for me.
What’s struck me again and again is the fresh awareness that through prayer, God is seeking nothing short of total transformation.[bctt tweet=”Through prayer, God is seeking nothing short of total transformation.”]
While we may be tempted to believe that we’re asking God for “too big,” the truth is that God is always doing something so much bigger than I can even imagine. He’s changing me in the process. So the last few weeks I’ve been considering: What are the characteristics of prayers that I’m most often seeing answered, in the Scriptures and in my life? So far I’d say …
1. Faith. Scripture is crystal clear on this—if we ask with doubt, we cannot assume we will receive anything. Faith is the key that unlocks miraculous and astounding “results” in prayer. There is just no getting around this. Faith comes by hearing and hearing by the Word of God. The more than we drench our lives in the truth and promises of God’s Word, the more we will believe He is who He says He is, we will know His heart and His will, and we will ask in accordance with it, for His glory. Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!
2. Repentance. Probably the most significant answer to prayer I have seen recently is in direct response to repentance. God showed me a clear area of sin in which He wanted to me to practice repentance—daily bringing this area to God, acknowledging my “bent” toward it, and asking Him to forgive me and deliver me from evil. To my everlasting amazement, He has! He is, and even did some other awesome things like removing the behavior in another person (i.e. a child of mine!) that was triggering that sin issue. A huge praise, and it all started with repentance.
3. Requests firmly rooted in Scripture. As we saw in Jesus’ radical promises regarding prayer, if we are Christ’s Ambassadors, performing His work for His sake, we need to know clearly what He wants us to do. I’m finding that unless I’m convinced this is the kind of thing my Master would want, my prayers are weak because I lack confidence of His will. Studying the Scriptures helps clarify the Stuff Jesus Does, and gives us greater confidence for praying prayers of faith.
4. Honesty. God sees what I really want, not just what I say I want, so it does no good to doll up my requests with Scriptur-y language if I don’t really mean what I say. We don’t let God work in the real part of us until the real part of us is exposed and laid bare to God during prayer. Whenever we are hiding the “real us” behind churchy language, we forfeit the real transformation that God can work through our honest pleas.
5. Heart. I do not mean mere emotionalism; we don’t have to muster up tears or put on a show. But Jesus was moved with compassion during His days walking this earth, healing people and performing miracles. Again, we can’t fake this or conjure it up on our own, but we can humbly ask God to break our hearts for the things that break His. The more we seek His kingdom during our day, with our time and energy and money, the more our hearts will be turned toward the things of Him.
{Ready to dive deeper? Whether you’ve been praying for five minutes or 50 years, let’s continue to grow in our pursuit of prayer. Thanks so much for reading.}