I am so quick to think it's all about me.
Multiple times this week, I have talked with friends about how I feel unworthy of being at seminary or of my call to ministry. In these conversations, I have also shared how I cannot convince my heart to follow my mind, nor to believe the Gospel even matters. (More on that another day...)
These struggles are real, and on some levels they are serious issues that I need to deal with. But more importantly, I am not that important. In reality, what matters is God's grace and not whether I think I can manage my heart, get it to follow my mind, or keep it from getting lost on the trails of life. It matters that He condescends to communicate to me and call me to this journey, not whether I have the skill to hear Him or keep my heart going in the right direction.
I have taught the story of the Loving Father (more often called the story of the Prodigal Son) before. I have led others in discussions of how both of the sons sought to come to the Father based on something in themselves: the younger son sought to come to the Father based on his own brokenness and his own ability to make it right. The older son sought to come to the Father based on his righteousness and was blind to any need for the Father to bear the cost of reconciliation. (Hopefully, more on this some other day as well... In the mean time, read Luke 15:11-32.)
But I have forgotten that these truths pertain to my story right now. Maybe it's not about my ability to get my heart in line.
In my time with Jesus lately, I have been reading Jerry Bridges' Discipline of Grace. Some days I feel guilty because my time in prayer and my time in my Bible don't feel too connected to Jesus. He is the one to whom I owe my all and I cannot conjure up emotions that would indicate my nearness to Him. However, the pages I read today in Discipline of Grace included this quote,
Let us then turn our attention from our own performance, whether it seems good or bad to us, and look to the gospel of Jesus Christ, which is God's provision for our sin, not only on the day we trusted Christ for our salvation but every day of our Christian lives. (p. 43)
Over and over, Bridges asks me to remember that I cannot do it on my own and that God's grace is not given on the basis of my abilities or merit, or ability to convince my heart of what it should feel. I no more deserve God's grace on a day when I feel I have this "Christian thing" down than on a day when I feel I don't. In another place, Bridges said,
We have moved away from the gospel of God's grace and have begun to try to relate to God directly on the basis of our performance rather than through Christ. [But] God never intended that we relate to Him directly. (p. 22)
Last night, as I shared with a friend, she called me out. "This is a pattern I have seen in your life. You feel unqualified, and that is a lie." I want to believe her. I want to believe that I am a super-woman who is qualified to do ministry because I can keep both my heart and my head going in the right direction, but I can't. I want to believe that I am qualified because I have walked through this valley and have found a secret path out, but I haven't.
Still, though, she's right. I am called to ministry and seminary, and I am qualified - not through keeping a tighter reign on my heart, nor through never needing to wrestle with my heart (nor even through winning a wrestling match with my heart!), but because it was never about me. I am qualified through God's grace and Jesus' sacrifice.
The younger son was invited to the party but not because he was made worthy by fixing his own mistakes. (He tried to do just that when he asked to be as a servant.) The older son was invited to the party but not because he was worthy based on his performance all along. (In fact, the Father bore cultural shame just as much through his pursuit of the older son.) Both sons were welcomed in, and both were pursued by the Father, but both sons could only attend the celebration based on their worth as given to them by their Father.
Today, I choose to study my Greek and ask the Father to use me because He is worthy. He invites me in - even when my heart has taken a weird side trail.