Artist Retreat 2006 Part 2 or I need proof.

Today was the second and final day of the retreat. There were three more sessions, with a break after the second for some incredible burritos from Nashville favorite Baja Burrito (not to be confused with the inferior Baja Fresh). Brennan told many stories of people, including himself, who had encountered the compassionate heart of Jesus. He reminded me that to affirm someone is to see the good in them that they can't see in themselves, and to continue despite the difficulties. A word, a look, a glance, a touch. This is so hard for me, and so important.

It was a restful time, a time to sit and listen. And though I rested, I couldn't quite connect with most of what Brennan said. I've thought about it quite a bit, and have realized that talking about how God loves me is just not enough for me to feel it.

I need proof.

***

All my life, I've heard that God loves me, that he's crazy about me, that he forgives me. I've always believed it. But there's always this nagging feeling; if he forgives me, why do I feel so guilty, like I need to be punished? If he loves me unconditionally, why do I feel like I need to work, not only to feel approval from him, but to feel like I'm worth something in my own eyes?

Brennan addressed these questions, but his answers left me cold. Repeating to myself over and over that God loves me just doesn't do it. Does it do it for anyone?

I need proof.

***

When I went to college, I started attending a Bible study called RUF. There, I learned through hymns and sermons that Jesus not only died for me, but that everything wrong I've ever done was done perfectly by him. Jesus freely gives me his record, his perfection is credited to me. God loves me because of what Jesus did. God's law demanded a punishment; justice cried out for both perfection and blood, and Jesus fulfilled that law. All of it. It is finished.

Let us wonder grace and justice join and point to mercy’s store
When through grace in Christ our trust is, justice smiles and asks no more
He Who washed us with His blood
He Who washed us with His blood
He Who washed us with His blood
Has secured our way to God

***

God hasn't arbitrarily decided to love me (though there is a deep mystery to his love). He doesn't see my sin as the actions of a victim (though I've been sinned against). He hasn't winked at my sin, pretending not to see it (though he no longer holds my sin against me).

Jesus' work is my proof. When I am anxious, insecure, self-righteous, angry, afraid-- mostly all at the same time-- I look to the work that Jesus did. What I do wrong, he did right. My wrong thinking is covered by his right thinking. My inability to even feel emotions correctly, to weep with those who weep and rejoice with those who rejoice, is substituted for his perfect emotional life.

To see the Law by Christ fulfilled, to hear His pardoning voice,
Changes a slave into a child and duty into choice.

I forget this every day, and need to remember it every minute.

***

I can't convince myself of God's love as just a spiritual concept. I need proof. And that proof is appearing before the throne on my behalf; a real, physical Jesus whose body still bears the marks of what he has done.

Arise, my soul, arise, shake off your guilty fears;
The bleeding sacrifice, in my behalf appears;
Before the throne my Surety stands, Before the throne my Surety stands,
My name is written on His hands.