The inspiration for this post comes from a song we sang at NavNight tonight. I'd never heard it before, and I don't remember much of it, only that one line of the song makes the claim to God that, essentially, "Here I am, offering what only I can offer you." What is being offered isn't specified, though. That set me thinking: what is it that I have that only I can offer God. I have always known He wants something of me, He has some interest to be met. I've never understood why He doesn't just go someplace else for whatever it is: I mean, there has to be a source out there that's less difficult to live with than I am. But He doesn't. He sticks with me, and that makes sense if He's after something only I can offer Him.
But what is that? Everything in the world, everything in the universe, and everyone rightfully belongs to God. If He wanted a great evangelist, He has Billy Graham and many others like him. They could satisfy such a need much better than I could. If He wanted a great student of His Word, He has whole armies of men and women in seminaries who study it night and day. If He wanted the biggest and strongest, He has teams of Olympic athletes. If He wanted the best writers, He has every author, journalist, essayist, and blogger on the planet to choose from, and there are a great many, I'm sure, who outshine me in every way. If He wanted righteousness, some outward standard of moral purity, He has churches filled to bursting with such people, whose outward goodness surpasses my own. In any of these cases, there is no need for Him to turn to me--as I am nowhere near the top of the list in any of these qualifications. If these things satisfy Him, He will find meager satisfaction in me, if He finds any at all.
But God is not interested in me for my personal qualifications. The Bible makes it clear that these things are not a factor in His choosing and calling (1 Corinthians 1:26). They do not play a role in His persistent love. Even in their total absence, He does not abandon me. He does not lose interest. He is after something more.
But what can I offer Him? I could offer Him money--of which I have little--but He owns every speck of gold on the planet (and off the planet for that matter). If it suited Him, He could snap His fingers and make a million tons more. He doesn't even need the stuff anyway, not really. It's not like they have vending machines in Heaven and God's all out of quarters.
I could offer Him my labor, my blood, sweat, and tears. But what could I accomplish with my labor, next to Him? In six days, I could write a persuasive essay or maybe (big maybe here) build a piece of furniture. In six days, God created the universe, including all language and marvels of engineering that put any common little nightstand to everlasting shame. If God doesn't need my help doing anything. If He wanted to just accomplish some result, He wouldn't talk to me about it. He'd do it Himself and have it done before I even knew about it.
I could offer Him my good works, my righteous deeds, caring for others, spreading the gospel, and defending the faith. But God is not impressed with any of these things. He was here as the man Jesus the Christ, and while here He clearly outperformed me in terms of any righteous deed. His good works fulfilled the highest laws ever given (His own). His righteousness was without flaw or compare. He cared for others in ways I cannot even begin to comprehend and ultimately gave His life for those who hated Him, but needed His salvation. He invented the gospel and the faith, and if either needed protecting or spreading, He could quite easily do the work Himself, much better than I could. He is God after all. God needs no one to run His errands and deliver His messages: He is omnipresent and omnipotent to accomplish these tasks and deliver any messages Himself. He further needs no one to defend Him on any field--whether scholarly or warlike. Any challenger to His sovereignty can no more threaten Him than a speck of dust can threaten a man. He does not need us to fight His battles for Him: He's perfectly capable of handling them Himself.
Please understand, I'm not saying that any of these are bad things to do. I don't think that at all! They are all very good. It is good to give generously, to work diligently, and to pursue righteousness. But I do not think that these things are the reason why God not only gives us the time of day, but seems very much fixated on us. We have something He wants, which only we can give Him.
I would say that this something is love, but it is much more than that--or at least, more than that statement sounds on its own. There are nearly 7 billion people in this world who could all love God. Many are much better at it than I am. And if love were all He were after, my not make a race of fawning little creatures who would never rebel or turn away from God. They may not have the capacity for free will, but they could at least do a better job at trying to give God warm feelings. True love, though, isn't a feeling, it's a choice. That's the nature of it, I think. Love is a choice, not a feeling. It's a choice, not an action or a result--though, being a choice, it tends to create both as byproducts. Love is a choice, an individual choice, moment by moment, minute by minute, day by day, to invest of yourself and give your heart to something or someone. No one else can make that choice for you. You must give your heart away yourself. I must give my heart away myself. My heart is the one thing in all this universe that no one can ever offer but me, that no one can take without my permission, that no one can receive without my giving. My heart is the one thing that I can truly offer to God. It's the thing He's really interested in.
It's a realization that changes things for me. All my life, I've been driven so hard by perfectionism. Lately things have come to a head. I know that perfectionism is an unhealthy way to live. I know that my constant failure to live up to my own impossible expectations has burdened me with tons of unnecessary guilt and shame, crippling my real potential and making me susceptible to the whims of others: anyone who knows how to make me feel guilty by pointing out my failure to perfectly preform can control me. It's slow suicide, really. I've been working for a long time now, trying to dismantle it in my life. Yet here, in my spiritual life, it has retained much of its influence. Even dethroned, it has been a constant source of trouble and dismay to me. I keep trying to find a way to please God, to give Him what He wants. He has made it clear that perfect performance isn't His aim, so I have searched for His true aim these past weeks. Maybe all He wants is for me to do this thing right, or that thing? Nothing seems to fit though. At least until now. At last, I can give up the search and the striving to perfectly fulfill some grocery list of spiritual demands. God isn't really after any of those things. They're just byproducts. He's after my heart, and when I give it to Him, He's completely satisfied.
But what is that? Everything in the world, everything in the universe, and everyone rightfully belongs to God. If He wanted a great evangelist, He has Billy Graham and many others like him. They could satisfy such a need much better than I could. If He wanted a great student of His Word, He has whole armies of men and women in seminaries who study it night and day. If He wanted the biggest and strongest, He has teams of Olympic athletes. If He wanted the best writers, He has every author, journalist, essayist, and blogger on the planet to choose from, and there are a great many, I'm sure, who outshine me in every way. If He wanted righteousness, some outward standard of moral purity, He has churches filled to bursting with such people, whose outward goodness surpasses my own. In any of these cases, there is no need for Him to turn to me--as I am nowhere near the top of the list in any of these qualifications. If these things satisfy Him, He will find meager satisfaction in me, if He finds any at all.
But God is not interested in me for my personal qualifications. The Bible makes it clear that these things are not a factor in His choosing and calling (1 Corinthians 1:26). They do not play a role in His persistent love. Even in their total absence, He does not abandon me. He does not lose interest. He is after something more.
But what can I offer Him? I could offer Him money--of which I have little--but He owns every speck of gold on the planet (and off the planet for that matter). If it suited Him, He could snap His fingers and make a million tons more. He doesn't even need the stuff anyway, not really. It's not like they have vending machines in Heaven and God's all out of quarters.
I could offer Him my labor, my blood, sweat, and tears. But what could I accomplish with my labor, next to Him? In six days, I could write a persuasive essay or maybe (big maybe here) build a piece of furniture. In six days, God created the universe, including all language and marvels of engineering that put any common little nightstand to everlasting shame. If God doesn't need my help doing anything. If He wanted to just accomplish some result, He wouldn't talk to me about it. He'd do it Himself and have it done before I even knew about it.
I could offer Him my good works, my righteous deeds, caring for others, spreading the gospel, and defending the faith. But God is not impressed with any of these things. He was here as the man Jesus the Christ, and while here He clearly outperformed me in terms of any righteous deed. His good works fulfilled the highest laws ever given (His own). His righteousness was without flaw or compare. He cared for others in ways I cannot even begin to comprehend and ultimately gave His life for those who hated Him, but needed His salvation. He invented the gospel and the faith, and if either needed protecting or spreading, He could quite easily do the work Himself, much better than I could. He is God after all. God needs no one to run His errands and deliver His messages: He is omnipresent and omnipotent to accomplish these tasks and deliver any messages Himself. He further needs no one to defend Him on any field--whether scholarly or warlike. Any challenger to His sovereignty can no more threaten Him than a speck of dust can threaten a man. He does not need us to fight His battles for Him: He's perfectly capable of handling them Himself.
Please understand, I'm not saying that any of these are bad things to do. I don't think that at all! They are all very good. It is good to give generously, to work diligently, and to pursue righteousness. But I do not think that these things are the reason why God not only gives us the time of day, but seems very much fixated on us. We have something He wants, which only we can give Him.
I would say that this something is love, but it is much more than that--or at least, more than that statement sounds on its own. There are nearly 7 billion people in this world who could all love God. Many are much better at it than I am. And if love were all He were after, my not make a race of fawning little creatures who would never rebel or turn away from God. They may not have the capacity for free will, but they could at least do a better job at trying to give God warm feelings. True love, though, isn't a feeling, it's a choice. That's the nature of it, I think. Love is a choice, not a feeling. It's a choice, not an action or a result--though, being a choice, it tends to create both as byproducts. Love is a choice, an individual choice, moment by moment, minute by minute, day by day, to invest of yourself and give your heart to something or someone. No one else can make that choice for you. You must give your heart away yourself. I must give my heart away myself. My heart is the one thing in all this universe that no one can ever offer but me, that no one can take without my permission, that no one can receive without my giving. My heart is the one thing that I can truly offer to God. It's the thing He's really interested in.
It's a realization that changes things for me. All my life, I've been driven so hard by perfectionism. Lately things have come to a head. I know that perfectionism is an unhealthy way to live. I know that my constant failure to live up to my own impossible expectations has burdened me with tons of unnecessary guilt and shame, crippling my real potential and making me susceptible to the whims of others: anyone who knows how to make me feel guilty by pointing out my failure to perfectly preform can control me. It's slow suicide, really. I've been working for a long time now, trying to dismantle it in my life. Yet here, in my spiritual life, it has retained much of its influence. Even dethroned, it has been a constant source of trouble and dismay to me. I keep trying to find a way to please God, to give Him what He wants. He has made it clear that perfect performance isn't His aim, so I have searched for His true aim these past weeks. Maybe all He wants is for me to do this thing right, or that thing? Nothing seems to fit though. At least until now. At last, I can give up the search and the striving to perfectly fulfill some grocery list of spiritual demands. God isn't really after any of those things. They're just byproducts. He's after my heart, and when I give it to Him, He's completely satisfied.
True that. I can be like, "Well, on the grading scale I do about 60% of this particular thing - oh dang, I'd get a D! aaaah!" but God's not grading me :) He just wants to hear from little me! Good reminders!
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