Admitting I Need Jesus

When I was in the sixth grade, a friend invited me to her church. My parents didn’t go to church, but said I could go with Clarissa if I wanted to. Before long, I was spending at least three days a week with my church friends. I learned who Jesus was and that if I believed in Him I would be saved.

I believed, though I didn’t fully understand my need for a Savior.

It would be many years and much wayward living later before I would realize the importance of the Apostle Paul’s words to the church in Rome. “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith to faith; as it is written, ‘But the righteous man shall live by faith.’” (Romans 1:16–17 NASB).

It’s easy to think “of course I’m not ashamed of the gospel.” Why would anyone be ashamed of the good news that Jesus died for our sins so that we might be reconciled to Him?

But at its core, faith in the gospel requires the believer to say “I can’t do this myself.”

Well, let me tell you a little secret that believers and nonbelievers often forget. We humans, with all our self-importance, like to think we’re the kings and queens of the universe. We strut around like peacocks, patting ourselves on the back for our so-called brilliance. And you know what? We even pass that audacity onto our poor children, encouraging them to be little independent dynamos. But hey, who needs divine intervention when we’ve got our fabulous human ego, right? wink

I remember a time when my son was in high school and because of a snow day his class schedule was changed. As a result, he took the wrong books. He called to ask me to bring the right books to the school office on my way to work, which I happily agreed to do. When I got to the office to drop them off, the school secretary chided me for bailing him out. “These kids need to learn to be responsible or suffer the consequences,” she said.

I’ve thought of that encounter often, being thankful that Jesus didn’t say the same to the Father when the plan of salvation was put into place. What if Jesus had said, “You know Dad, these humans need to be more responsible or suffer the consequences.” We’d all be doomed.

And so, although it requires me to admit I can’t do it alone, I choose to live by faith in the One who gives me His righteousness.

For the broken believer (which is all of us, if we’re honest), it is all the more important to be okay with something less than full independence. We were created to be dependent on God and on one another. We were created to live in community and relationship with others.

Note: A version of this article was originally published in the January 2020 issue of The Christian Journal, a publication I highly recommend, and not just because they publish some of my writing.

Grasping Grace, an Excerpt

I was seventeen when I faced the most difficult decision of my life. At the time, I justified it as my only option.

Curled up on my bed, in what had once been my safe haven, I squeezed my eyes tight, holding back a flood of tears. I gasped for air and shuddered at the thought of telling my parents.

The scene played out in my mind over and over. Shaking and trembling, unable to look either of them in the eye, I would force the words “Mom, Dad, I was raped and I’m pregnant.” Dad’s cheerful grin would disappear. Mom would give me the silent stare that said it was all my fault.

Escape plan

With each passing day, I wasn’t getting any less pregnant. I had to do something. But what? I had my whole life ahead of me. I had college plans and a career, which didn’t mesh with becoming a teenage mom. College was going to be my escape from my crummy hometown.

Getting pregnant was a bit like the run on the Bailey Savings and Loan that kept poor George Bailey from getting out of Bedford Falls in It’s a Wonderful Life. Only I didn’t stay and save the town from Potter. I took the money and ran.


The Rest of the Story

This is my story. Well, one of my stories. I, just like you, am made up of many stories. To read the rest of this story, see the full article “Grasping Grace” on Now What?, the online magazine of Bible Advocate Magazine.

anotherfearlessyear.net

Losing the Glimmer of Hope

In my deepest depression, I thought often how much easier it would be if I was dead. The unbearable pain never seemed to let up. But I didn’t consider suicide. Instead I slept. If I didn’t have to be anywhere in the morning, I slept until 11:00, getting twelve or thirteen hours of sleep. I’d nap if I got the chance, even after a long night’s sleep. Sleep was my escape.

Each night before I went to sleep, I held onto a glimmer of hope that when I awoke, everything would be better. It was a tiny glimmer, but a glimmer nonetheless.

As surely as one can move mountains with faith the size of a mustard seed, one can stay alive with the tiniest glimmer of hope. Because hope is a powerful commodity. Just as a nanogram of a deadly toxin holds the power to kill, a glimmer of hope has the power to give life.

So I held onto my glimmer of hope with all I had. Until one day when I awoke and the glimmer was gone. Hopelessness threatened to strangle me. That was the day I planned my demise, my exit from this cruel world, in a most calculating way. My plan involved mentally counting all the pills I had in the medicine cabinet.

Truth be told, hope remained in that dark place even though I couldn’t see it and felt certain it no longer existed. Hope didn’t depend on me. It came from a place greater than I and it kept me alive even when I desired more than anything else to leave this life of pain and suffering behind.

Hope found me, held me tight, and kept me alive.

If you are in that dark place of deep despair and depression, feeling all hope has been snuffed out, cling to the truth that hope never dies. Hope never lies and never lets go.

If you have a friend or loved one who is struggling with depression, realize you might be the hope they need. They might need you to find them, hold them tight, and keep them alive, until they can see the glimmer of hope they need to hold onto themselves.

You can read more of my posts at AnotherFearlessYear.net.

My Valley of Tears

He Sees Every Tear

Psalm 84:6 (NIV).

Psalm 84:6, (NLT).

In Hebrew, the word “baka” means tears.

In Psalm 84, the sons of Korah write their praises of God and note that those whose strength is in the Lord will travel through the Valley of Baka and find His peace there. For some of us that Valley of Tears seems never-ending, but we must remember we are not alone in it.

I wrote this poem to remind myself of that truth. I hope it blesses you as you pass through the valley of tears, too.

My Valley of Tears

My Savior will dry all my tears
The Lord God knows all my fears
As I trudge onward many years
I pass through the Valley of Baka

Great pain and agony oppress
I feel heavy weights of duress
Praying for dear Jesus to bless
I pass through the Valley of Baka

I see that this valley is long
I need You to make my faith strong
That Lord I might sing a praise song
As I pass through the Valley of Baka

D