FACING OUR INSECURITIES

 

It is quite the paradox—I preach about the grace and mercy of God and yet am often haunted by my sin. I glowingly speak of enjoying the presence of God from the pulpit, yet am fearful as a sinful man before a holy God as I lie in bed.  I quote, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” (Phil. 4:13), while despairing that I am a total failure!  Can you identify?  

Scott Sauls can. Here is what he wrote in “From Weakness to Strength: 8 Vulnerabilities That Can Bring Out the Best in Your Leadership”:

For me, the presence of God is most palpable when the world is quiet. But the presence of God is not always comforting to me. Sometimes being in the presence of God, or just thinking about God in the middle of the night, is disorienting and disruptive. There are few things like the presence of God that remind me that I am not yet what I am meant to be; that I fall short of the mark; that I am more small than I am significant; that, one hundred years from now, my name will be forgotten by the weary world in which I now live. I will die, and the world will move on. Even in my own church, a hundred years from now, its members will have never heard of me. It is quite possible that not even my own great-great-grandchildren will know my name or care what I accomplished. 

Yes, my heart makes noise. My inner life is a paradox of comfort and accusation, inner rest and inner restlessness, enjoyment of God’s grace and despair at my own lack of grace, awareness of my completion in Christ and knowledge of feeling incomplete. Added to this, and related to my calling to lead, you’ll find a feeling of simultaneous momentum and failure. In the middle of the night especially, God is my refuge on one hand, and the darkness is my companion on the other. In the presence of God and in the quiet, most of my anxieties and worries and self-loathing and guilt rise to the surface. And, if I’m being honest, in the middle of the night, the words of Jesus often fail me. Or, more accurately said, my heart fails the words of Jesus: 

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28–30) 

For me, the yoke sometimes feels hard, and the burden sometimes feels heavy. And the single thing that comes between my heart and the easy yoke and the light burden … is me. (p. 80, Kindle edition).

Surely, this is akin to what Asaph experienced and expressed in Psalm 77.  Read it and reflect on it. He states, “My hand was stretched out in the night without ceasing; My soul refused to be comforted. I remembered God, and was troubled,” (vv. 2b-3a). 

But, the psalmist does not stop there. He remembers more.  He not only remembers his own worthlessness in light of God’s worthiness, but the Lord’s work and wonders on behalf of His people of old. “You have with Your arm redeemed Your people, The sons of Jacob and Joseph,” (v. 15).

Has there ever been a people so unworthy of the grace of God as the children of Israel? Still, God miraculously brought them out of bondage. They were descendants of the scoundrel Jacob, and still God came to him by night as insecurity drove away sleep for fear of his brother Esau. Still Jacob fought against God!  But, God broke him and then blessed him!  Sauls highlights this in that chapter of his book. 

When you wrestle with God, it is a fight you cannot win. But, if we will confess we are “Jacob,” the rascal, and cling to the Lord as we surrender, He will cripple us, but then crown us as “Israel,” a prince with power with God. If God so loved Jacob, then surely He loves me! If God used that man, then surely He will use me.