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Rubber Bands

I was raised in church. Ever since I was a teenager, if you’d asked me what the gospel is, I’d have given you an accurate recitation of protestant doctrine about “salvation by faith in Christ alone, not based on any works I do or don’t do.” 

 

But I lived for decades of my Christian life chained to an invisible rubber band. Picture a giant stake drilled into the ground and attached to it is an enormous rubber band, or bungee cord kind of thing, the opposite end of which is attached to a harness around my whole body. On a regular basis I would pray and ask God for my “mission” or “calling.” Then I’d get a great idea, build up a big head of steam and then run as hard as I could toward the horizon in what seemed like the right direction at the time. But no matter which direction I picked or how hard I ran, eventually, inevitably, the rubber band would get so tight, so hard to pull, that sooner or later, it would snap me back. I’d find myself sitting on my wounded backside, and my deflated pride, wondering why I was still so lonely, such a failure at anything that really mattered. Had I misunderstood God? Did I not pick the right direction? Was He not happy with me? Did He think I was hopeless, too!? 

 

All around me I heard stories of the ones He had picked. The ones who got to be there when the miracle happened!

 

Every time I hit this place, I went back to my prayer closet and cried out to God for guidance and direction, and every time He said, “Be still, and know that I AM God.” I thought I understood. I thought what He wanted was more time with me. He would bless my efforts if I was rooted and grounded enough in my time with Him. So I started getting up at 4am to spend hours in prayer before my day started. 

 

It seemed very biblical. Keep the first thing first, and God will bless everything you do. Jesus spent hours alone with God. So as long as I kept an eye on my priorities, didn’t lose sight of my relationship with God in the serving then surely He would make my life successful and meaningful, right? Isn’t that a promise in the Bible somewhere?

 

Actually, no. 

 

I clearly remember the day my rubber band broke. It was the best, worst day I could have had. I was already very discouraged and stretched very thin by my perceived failures, and need for validation, but I was on a mission trip to a summer camp for inner city kids that I didn’t actually want to go on in the first place, but I couldn’t say “No,” because “What would Jesus do?” He wouldn’t say no to poor children, would He? 

 

Anyway, one kid had an argument with another and ran back to the cabin to hide. I went to try to talk the child into coming out and rejoining the group. I had been trying to coax the child out for a while and doing ok building rapport, but she didn’t want to see the other camper ever again, so someone asked another counsellor to give it a try. This young 19 year old girl comes in, talks to our camper for 3 minutes and then they walk off hand and hand to rejoin the group. My rubber band broke.

 

It may sound silly and even childish that that was the straw that broke this camel, but after years of running myself ragged trying to earn enough brownie points to convince God to pick me for His kickball team, striking out again was the day I quit the game.

 

Something in me literally broke. The will to try again died that day, and as painful as it was to feel that sense of uselessness and failure, it was the beginning of my greatest freedom and success.

 

See, Jesus did spend hours alone with God, but not because He had to, but because God is delightful! Jesus wasn’t successful in His “kingdom work” because He spent enough time with God to make Him powerful and blessed. His time with God was His time in the kingdom. His time at home. Because He had it and felt the peace of it, He was free to love us enough to leave it for hours at a time, so we could get a taste of it. We taste the kingdom when we’re with Him, because He’s so steeped in it that we smell it on His clothes and in His hair!

 

I don’t have anything driving me to my quiet times in the morning any more. And sometimes, I sleep. After my rubber bands broke, I slept a lot! I needed it. I also don’t have guilt standing over me about all the people I’m not serving either. For the first time, I’m free. I still ask God sometimes, what He wants me to do, but I also “hear” Him when He says, “What would you like to do?”

 

It’s a little scary. I can decide who I love, what my passions are, where I want to invest my time. He loves me. He wants me to be me. I don’t have to do anything, I can choose to follow Jesus into loving and serving others. But I can also choose to watch tv, or read a book, or do nothing.

 

After my rubber bands broke,  I realized a lot of what I was doing before, hoping God was keeping good records, wasn’t really done in love or out of service. It was done for me. When I didn’t need those things any more, I saw how little I really love, and how immature and undisciplined I can be. For a while I didn’t do much of anything, and I thought a lot about myself. But it was the beginning.

 

We have come to know and have believed the love which God has for us. God is love, and the one who remains in love remains in God, and God remains in him. 17 By this, love is perfected with us, so that we may have confidence in the day of judgment; because as He is, we also are in this world. 18 There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love. 19 We love, because He first loved us. (1 John 4:16-19)

 

God’s love was always with me, but I did not have “ears to hear it,” because of my own flawed understanding of love, but once my rubber bands broke, then I could hear and see and taste and smell His love for me! It’s His love that set me free. Then, from that freedom- with no fear of disapproval or punishment for failing to love, I was finally free to choose to love, or to not love someone else. 

 

First comes freedom. Then, if we choose it, comes the growth that leads to spiritual maturity. But we never really begin to live, until we’re free!

svg10 min read

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