Deb's brother Levi spoke at our last Men's Koinonia. He came into the rather warm room bundled up in a wool coat, scarf, and woodsman's floppy-eared fur hat, and carrying a snow shovel. He spoke of attending as a kid the Ivory Baptist church about a mile from his home, and the warmth he felt there. Then his best friend was killed by a drunk driver, and Levi said he felt the cold enveloping him till his heart was hard to God. He lived that way a good many years, but all the while, Nate and Deb and their girls were praying nightly for him. Through a series of difficult circumstances, Levi began to listen to God, and finally, to receive Christ, and was baptized last summer in the pool at the base of the waterfall in our creek. There was still much growing to do, but grow he did, and as he related it, his heart began to warm. Suiting action to words, he shed the hat, scarf, and coat, grabbed the shovel and told the men, "It's time to shovel the snow and cold from your heart." It was far and away one of the best talks of the weekend.
I've thought of his analogy of cold for the condition of his heart, and have concluded that it is the best description of how I often feel. For the past three or four weeks, as I close my Bible at the conclusion of my daily reading, I try to figure out what God might be saying to me, and I keep coming up blank. It's like my heart is cold and dry, unyielding to the work of the Holy Spirit. I'm not sure why, and so I don't know what to do about it except keep reading, praying, and waiting it out. The strange part of it all is that I'm not feeling depressed about it the way I used to. I think it's because I've learned a bit more about the always present, never ending grace of God.
If my salvation were dependent upon my feelings, I'd be in a real stew most of the time. The Good News is I am saved because of what God in Christ did for us all in his death on the Cross. The full work of atonement was accomplished there. The only thing left is for me to receive that salvation and forgiveness by faith.
At that same Koinonia weekend, I shared with the men my reinterpretation of Romans 5:1-2. All the translations interpret this sentence the same way: "Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand." I think the translators have misplaced a comma, which changes the entire meaning of this text. I think it should read, "Being justified, by faith we have peace with God..." I'm not justified by faith. I am justified by the work of Christ on the Cross. Faith is how I appropriate that justification, giving me peace with God. If I don't believe, I lose the peace. God's work in Christ isn't affected by whether or not I believe, but my enjoyment of the benefits of that work is dependent on my faith.
I am more aware than ever before of my daily need of grace, and I am choosing more than ever before to simply believe that what God says is true: I am justified. And because I believe that, even when my devotional life feels as dry and dusty as the desert, I have peace. And for that peace, I am very grateful tonight.
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