Now and then we hear a person described as righteous because they do good things. They might be Christian; they might not. But righteous in the sight of people and righteous in the sight of God are two different things. In Genesis, Abram believed what the Lord had told him and God credited that to Abram as righteousness. The action of Abram was to believe that God could and would do what he said he would do; it was not based on the abilities of Abram but of God. When we believe what God says about his only begotten son (as opposed to his adopted children), he credits us with righteousness too – the righteousness of Jesus. He lived a life untouched by sin which we cannot do. When he took on our sin, he allowed us to take on his righteousness ‘like a robe’ according to Isaiah. We are covered. We are covered by Christ for the glory of God.
It is only by taking on his nature through submission to his Lordship that brings real transformation. The prize is not the experience of encounters; it’s not even the changes that happen. It’s certainly not a trophy for trouncing others in the Competitive Christian events. The prize is God. We get more of him. And at the end of the race, we get to live with him. God is the prize, our ‘exceeding great reward’.
He does not take this lightly. It’s not just our inheritance, endowment or privilege, it’s part of our agreement. If we choose to belong to him, we also agree to represent him by virtue of our taking on his name and living as his beloved child. We are obligated to reflect who He is, not who we are. We serve his wishes, just as his begotten son Jesus always did, always does. When we agree to take on the righteousness of Christ, God heads for the back of our closet. By that I mean, he gets out ALL the junk in any given situation. It’s not punishment; he’s just thorough.
It’s the WAYS he finds to do it that are so surprising, Lilyan! And so incredibly tender! I never know what to expect, though I have learned that more often than not, he meets me in a place of emotion.
Remember last Christmas when Grandpa was in the hospital? We didn’t tell you or the other grandkids just how serious it was, but there was a series of events that went from bad to worse. Initially, it had become apparent that Grandpa needed an aortic heart valve replacement, and in preparing for that, a bit of cancer was found in a lobe of his lungs. He was willing to go for the valve replacement, but was so tired after the ordeal that he wanted to postpone the lobectomy. The doctor had not wanted to wait too long because at some point, chemotherapy would be required, but would not be used if the cancer was still in stage one. Fearing the spread of cancer, I began to push Grandpa and his doctor for the lobectomy. I did not want more time spent in recuperation, potentially making the situation worse. My motives may have been good, but the outcome was horrendous.
The lobectomy had gone well, but there had apparently been a place that continued to bleed after the surgery which was overlooked because the doctor sent him home the very next day. He had been home for nearly a week, in serious pain the entire time. We would call the doctor’s office only to be reassured that pain was to be expected, especially after having TWO surgeries in the space of six weeks. Then one day, Grandpa collapsed. The bleeding had taken a toll and the hemorrhage was substantial; we were told that he lost about 60% of his blood. Luckily, even with covid patients filling up the hospitals, he was able to have emergency surgery. He was in the hospital for nearly two weeks, with the first week being days of uncertainty as to whether or not he would survive. Because of covid isolation protocols, he was alone in the hospital room. And I was unable to go to him; even getting information about him was challenging.
It was so very hard on Grandpa, and very hard on me. I felt the fear, the helplessness, and the frustration, but when I slipped into a sense of guilt, my world crashed in on me. I was remembering how I had pushed him to go see a doctor, how I had gone so far as to email the doctor to get the lobectomy scheduled, how I had pushed for surgery before Grandpa was ready, having just gone through aortic valve replacement surgery. I had done all this, and had driven him to the hospital and dropped him off at the door, since only patients were allowed in the hospital due to covid. I had set the whole scenario in motion and now here he was, fighting for his life, alone and scared in the hospital, and at Christmas! I have never cried so hard or so long.
Unable to catch my breath at one point, I threw myself on the floor and cried out for Jesus. As I became aware of His presence, I pulled myself up into a kneeling position, and sat back on my feet. I felt hollow. Numb. Guilty of bringing about Grandpa’s physical pain and emotional suffering. I poured out all my guilt to Jesus and then sat quietly waiting. I thought he would forgive me, though I did not want to hear anything that would confirm my actual guilt. Incredibly, what he said was, “Mary felt that way too.”
Lilyan, you could have knocked me over with a feather. The mother of Jesus does not stay on my radar; in fact, had it not been Christmas, I might not have known who it was he had referenced. I was stunned and confused, so I asked him what he meant. Gently, I began to see the story of the wedding feast at Cana. It was recorded as the first public miracle Jesus performed and Mary, his mother, had pushed him to do it. He had said it wasn’t time to get started, but she had pushed past that, telling the servants to do whatever Jesus told them to do. Then his public ministry began to roll out and the opposition began to grow. Within a few years, he was severely beaten, mercilessly scourged and nailed to a cross to die a horrible death. Mary had been there, thinking that she had set the whole scenario in motion at Cana. Thinking that perhaps if she had been patient, none of those horrible things would be happening. According to the Lord, she had felt a sense of guilt like I was experiencing, the heart cry of “If only I hadn’t pushed him!!! Maybe it would not have come to this!!!”
The Lord’s compassionate comment made a huge difference in me; let me explain. Early in marriage, I attended the church in which Grandpa was raised. For many years I went to Catholic mass with him and while I enjoyed and appreciated much of it, I developed a few issues. I am not a creature of dogmatic paradigms, nor am I inclined to debate them outside of what is stated in the Apostle’s Creed, so admittedly, most of my issues were personal responses to the general atmosphere. For example, I felt restricted in worship by the structure of the mass, and I felt shunned by some of the traditions of the church. Also, I sometimes felt jealous of Mary because, at times, I witnessed what I felt was excessive veneration for her and I, though living in entirely different circumstances from her, wanted a tiny bit of respect for myself. That is not to equate myself with Mary in any way, I just perceived a lack of respect for me, magnified in the veneration of her, and eventually I came to resent her for it.
When I stopped attending mass I thought the issue had disappeared but It hadn’t. I had felt that way toward Mary for so long that resentment had become a part of me, even though I had forgotten about it. God had not forgotten. My bitterness may have developed out of a seemingly harmless and trivial emotion, but bitterness is not trivial. It is the fruit that grows from that little seed in the packet of lies labeled ‘Nobody Loves Me’. God did not deem trivial the resentment that had nestled into a corner of my heart and grown into a bitter bush. He chose to deal with it in this perfect opportunity. In his caring comment, he had allowed me to share something precious with the mother of Jesus, and my attitude toward her changed in that shared pain. Bitterness was transformed into compassion. In one short statement, God had tenderly wiped away my perception of guilt over Grandpa’s situation, my sense of isolation in it, and decades of resentment that had dropped out of conscious thought. How magnificent is that!
One other healing touch came with God’s comment – the assurance of his sovereignty. While I was feeling ‘linked’ to Mary through shared pain, I realized that the things that had happened to Jesus were a matter of prophetic fulfillment and part of the process of our redemption. While Grandpa’s situation had nothing to do with those things, I felt certain that the circumstances of my husband’s life were just as surely under the watchful eye of the Father as the events of the life of Jesus had been. I felt the strength of God’s hands and the compassion of his heart – that’s what it’s like to know God’s love. He kindly removed the lies of guilt and isolation from my closet, and while he was at it, he reached to the back and cleaned up a spot of resentful bitterness that I had allowed to fester. I praise him for how perfectly he knows us and for how perfectly he cares about every detail of righteousness in our lives.
—- Taken from “The Courtship of Christ”