Like a Lake
INTRODUCTION
Articles like this are easy to write, but difficult to share. There is always danger in writing from the heart, “which is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick” (Jer 17:9 ESV). But there can also be great value in it, not only for the writer, but also for the readers, who may be experiencing similar deceits and sicknesses of the heart. Even in spiritual matters, there is no great reward without great risk (Matt 16:25).
Three years ago, a friend exhorted me, “You’ve just got to read some of Paul David Tripp’s work!” Of course, book recommendations are nothing new to me, so I filed it away with all the other ones I would eventually read when I finally had time. But this one wouldn’t go away. It was repeatedly brought to my attention. At last, another friend pulled me aside last fall and said, “I would really like you to read ‘Dangerous Calling,’ and I will read it with you.” So we did. Over the next 6 months, as we worked our way, slowly and methodically, through Tripp’s book, I experienced what I can only describe as open heart surgery without anesthesia. God’s Spirit was the surgeon, “Dangerous Calling” was the scalpel, and my friend was the nurse holding my hand and assuring me that all of this pain would be good for me in the end.
Given that most of my insights in this article come from Tripp’s book, if you are interested in in reading it, you can find it here:
But before I begin in earnest, please let me clarify — this is NOT a book review! Though I have nothing but glowing things to say about Tripp’s work, my goal in this article is not merely to suggest one more book for you to read. Instead, I want to take you with me on a journey of sanctification, one that continues to this day, in the hopes that it may encourage you to continue receiving the cleansing and purifying work of the Holy Spirit in your own heart, even (and especially) when it hurts.
SPIRITUAL BLIND SPOTS
Tripp’s book begins with a very simple instruction: “Deactivate your inner lawyer.” If you’re not sure what that means, think about the last time someone accused you of something. What was your gut-level reaction? Even if you had the discipline not to say it out loud (praise God if so!), how did you initially feel? If you’re like me, your first instinct was to justify yourself. “No I didn’t!” “No I’m not!” “That’s not true!” etc. We all have an inner lawyer. And if you just thought to yourself, “No I don’t,” thank you for proving my point. Ever since our ancestors Adam and Eve started playing the Blame Game (Gen 3:12-13), we have been playing it too. Our sinful nature, although dead to rights in believers, persists in seeking to do what only the atoning death of Jesus Christ can do: justify us.
As I began my journey through the book, little did I know just how loud my “inner lawyer” had become. Despite having believed the gospel for decades, over time I had begun to love a works-based self-righteousness that I had accumulated over years of faithful labor as a Christian, a church member, and a pastor. There are many tear stains on my copy of “Dangerous Calling,”, and some of the first of those tears came at the end of the very first chapter, where I wrote in the margin, “I compete for righteousness through theological and Biblical literacy and accuracy.” Hold on, how can gifts as wonderful as theological and Biblical literacy and accuracy go bad? They seem like such holy pursuits! And yet they had clearly been corrupted by my pride and self-adulation.
It might seem strange to hear a Christian (let alone a pastor!) confessing such a blatant rejection of the gospel. But it’s more common than you may realize. Thankfully, God’s Spirit protected me from falling so deeply into my sin that I might begin to seek eternal justification in anything that I do. But if I’m totally honest, I wasn’t that far from it. One of the major themes in Tripp’s book is spiritual blindness. You can’t see what you can’t see. Worse yet, if your vision is further impaired by the responsibilities and expectations and reputation of pastoral ministry, you REALLY can’t see what you can’t see! I’ll discuss that more toward the end of the article, but first I would like to share some of the questions that I was compelled to ask myself as I read and processed Tripp’s writing, questions which helped me to see some of my own spiritual blind spots.
DIFFICULT QUESTIONS
-Do I love the Bible more than the God it reveals?
-Has my concern for the sins of others exceeded my concern for my own?
-Am I being shepherded in the ways that I exhort everyone else in my church to be?
-Is my process of sanctification a private project or a community one?
-When is the last time I read my Bible and felt genuine awe of God?
-Do I take my role as a husband and father as seriously as my role as a pastor?
-Do I have a healthy fear of my own capacity for self-deception?
-How often do I speak up or remain silent to bolster or protect my reputation?
I could list dozens more. Though I have neither the time nor the space to do so here, I assure you that I explored these and many other questions very deeply with the help of my friend. As we did so together, I frequently experienced outbursts of anger and despair, snorts of derision, and the sudden welling up of tears. Occasionally, I even sobbed like a baby.
If there is anything you remember from this article, I pray that it would be this: WE CANNOT GUARD OUR HEARTS BY OURSELVES! If I had simply read this book on my own, I suspect that I would have seen, in its exhortations, the sins of everyone but me. But God was gracious to me, and He sent me my own personal Nathan (2 Samuel 12:1-15). To be clear, I had not yet fallen as far as King David did (also, to be clear, my friends’ name is NOT Nathan). But looking back now on the state of my heart, I can see nothing in myself that would have kept me out of any number of heinous sins, given how self-deceived I had become.
You see, confessing our sins to God can be difficult (1 John 1:9), but in my personal experience, it’s nowhere near as hard as confessing them to others (James 5:16). Nevertheless, it’s what we are called to do. But when you’ve spent years seeing yourself in the carnival mirror reflection of your own self-perception, confessing your sins to others is exactly what you most need to do.
Doing this requires the right kind of friend. They must be trustworthy, kind, honest, humble, caring, and experienced in the art of confession themselves. God, in His grace, sent me someone like that. And as I began to confess the deepest and darkest sins of my heart to this person, something amazing began to happen. I began to change!
ALREADY, BUT ALWAYS NOT YET (UNTIL IT IS)
Please let me emphasize a keyword in that last sentence: I began to change. This article is not my opportunity to announce my moment of spiritual arrival, and to beckon the rest of you up to the mountaintop with me. I, like you, live every day reenacting the final scenes of “The Return of the King,” clawing my way up a steep and rocky slope with an almost unbearable weight on my shoulders. Nevertheless, we do God no favors by false humility, because he deserves our praise when he showers us with His goodness. I can testify with all my heart that God has been very good to me over the last year. I am not the person I once was, and He deserves a metric ton of glory for that fact, plus whatever extra ounces of glory I can muster.
But that’s kind of the point. The One Who has justified is also the One Who is sanctifying. Unlike us, God will never leave a project half-finished (Phil 1:6). Consider, for a moment, the assurance of the gospel. Because Jesus died in my place, I no longer have to strive to meet the impossible standard of God’s perfect holiness. The condemnation and wrath that once rested upon me has been lifted, by His grace. What liberation and joy this new reality brings to the heart of the believer! Yet, on this side of Christ’s return (Maranatha, come quickly!), there is also plenty of pain to accompany all those warm, fuzzy feelings. “For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives” (Heb 12:6). Being conformed to the image of Christ is both a wonderful privilege and a real pain in the neck..
Oftentimes, we choose to experience that pain privately. For most of my life, that was how I experienced it. But more and more, I have succumbed to allowing others into that painful process, and I must confess to you: it has made a difference! A renowned Christian author from an earlier century (I will give no further details, as what I have to say next will be highly critical) encouraged his readers “not to become overly familiar with other people, because our faults are liable to be all too evident, and those close to us will despise us for them.” Many Christians I know — including me until 5 minutes ago — seem to live their lives that way. With all due respect to that unnamed author, who is an otherwise excellent devotional writer, what a bunch of baloney! It’s true that there are people in your life who will respond to your sin that way; I know it all too well from both sides of the equation, both the judge and the judged. But if you choose your confidantes wisely, I have found that you can and should share a lot more than is comfortable to share, and that you will find gobs and heaps and loads of the grace of God in the correction, encouragement, and gospel proclamation of those trusted friends.
LAY YOUR HEART WIDE OPEN
Growing up, one of my favorite Christian songwriters was Sara Groves. One of her songs, “Like a Lake,” beautifully describes the kind of attitude that God has spent the last year oh so patiently teaching me (https://www.saragroves.com/song-lyrics/like-a-lake).
So much hurt and preservation
like a tendril round my soul
so much painful information
no clear way on how to hold it
Standing at this waters edge
looking in at God's own heart
I've no idea where to begin
to swallow up the way things are
Everything in me is drawing in
closing in around this pain
I will lay my heart wide open
like the surface of a lake
wide open like a lake
Bring the wind and bring the thunder
bring the rain till I am tried
when it's over bring me stillness
let my face reflect the sky
and all the grace and all the wonder
of a peace that I can't fake
wide open like a lake
Everything in me is tightening
curling in around this ache
I am fighting to stay open
I am fighting to stay open . . .
Me too, Sara. I am fighting to stay open, and I know that the Lord fights with and for and within me (Phil 4:13). One way I try to do so is by writing and disseminating material like this. Though it is not for you to know all the deepest and darkest crevices of my heart, I at least want it to be known just how deep and dark they are, in the hopes that my listeners might be inspired to take an honest look at their own. This is no fruitless introspection, but rather a ripe opportunity to renew the saving faith and repentance which Jesus promises to preserve until He comes (John 10:28).
Allow me to close with my last handwritten note in my copy of Tripp’s book:
“Accusation, rejection, and humiliation are tools of God employed to rescue my ministry and recapture my heart.”
Maybe you’re in a season of life in which you feel surrounded, mistreated, misrepresented, falsely accused, hurt, confused, or just plain mad at God for putting you in such a tough spot. Good! For the Christian suffering is joy (Rom 5:3; Jas 1:2), not in and of itself, but because of God’s holy purposes for it (Rom 8:28). I do not say this as yet another tired Christian cliche, or to dismiss your discomfort and disappointment; I’ve been there. In many ways, I remain there. But our God, Who is rich in mercy, is teaching me a genuine gratitude for that place of trial and testing, a gratitude which I have never known before.
I am grateful for the accusation, rejection, and humiliation that have haunted me these last few years, because without them I shudder to think how far from the Lord I may have strayed, how delusional about myself I may have become, and how much much gospel peace I may have missed out on because of my stubborn self-reliance. My suffering has driven me into the arms of my spiritual brothers, where I should have been all along. I couldn’t see what I couldn’t see; neither can you. But God has given us the eyes of others to see what we can’t, the mouths of others to say what we won’t, and the hands of others to tightly grasp ours when we’re lying on the operating table and the Master Surgeon is elbow deep in our chests.
One final time, I encourage you: lay your heart wide open. Lay it before the Lord first, for none of it will surprise Him. But don’t stop there. Find someone you can really, truly, deeply trust, and lay your heart open to them, too. “Deactivate your inner lawyer.” If you have trusted Jesus for forgiveness and new life, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Let reputation and self-preservation be anathema, for only the truth can set us free!
Only the Truth can sanctify us.