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This entry is part 4 of 10 in the series humility

Just in case I was uncertain about focusing on humility right now, the Holy Spirit provided ample confirmation Thursday afternoon. I was a little discouraged and decided to read Oswald Chambers’ Utmost and Martin Luther’s By Faith Alone. Here’s what I found–

Luther, writing about Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac, says, “Of all the sacrifices we can make, the one most acceptable to God is this: getting rid of sin, living a holy life, obeying God, and killing our corrupt nature.” I love how Luther finishes: “This is very painful and unpleasant for us to do.”

Chambers writes,

The joy of Jesus was His absolute self-surrender and self-sacrifice to His Father–the joy of doing that which the Father sent Him to do– “who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross.”… Jesus prayed that our joy might continue fulfilling itself until it becomes the same joy as His.

Chambers finished with this: “But the first thing that will hinder this joy is the subtle irritability caused by giving too much thought to our circumstances.”

Here’s what got me: I was discouraged because I realized that walking in humility–total dependence on God–requires death to self. And as Luther noted, this death is painful and unpleasant. Luther and Chambers didn’t provide quite the encouragement I was looking for–that’s why I went from one to the other; I was hoping for something along the lines of, “Worry not! God loves you just as you are.” In other words, no need to work on this humility thing right now.

I already know that God loves me just as I am; and I also know He loves me too much to allow me to stay that way. Apparently this is a season in which I am to grow in humility. I embrace that.

I did get my encouragement that night as I was reading the evening prayer. The gospel selection was John 11, the resurrection of Lazarus. I had a wonderful revelation from this. I thought, “I’m dying here. But one day, Jesus will say to me, ‘Dan, come forth!’” And at that moment, I will come out, the grave clothes of my pride will be stripped away, and I will be new. I don’t believe I have to wait until heaven for this; God certainly desires us to find newness of life and humility here. This excited me, because I realized that dying to self and to pride doesn’t have to take forever: I can coöperate with the work of the Spirit and get it over with.

Another picture came to mind as well. Some of us get the resurrection of Lazarus confused with Night of the Living Dead. We’re out of the tomb and running around alright, but death is all over us, and we terrorize rather than bless. Those putrid zombies walking with single-minded focus, arms outstretched, seem to me the epitome of pride and selfishness: they want what they want and nothing better get in the way.

So far, I have found that the key to becoming Lazarus rather than a zombie is in two things: keeping my mouth shut and spending a lot of time in prayer. Yesterday, someone said something that really ticked me off, and I started to reply. But I knew if I spoke I would regret it. I said nothing, and immediately I heard the Spirit say, “you’re one step closer.” And it’s true. Each time I refrain, the next time is easier.

But not speaking didn’t solve the whole problem. I had put an end to potential conflict, but I was still angry. That’s where the prayer came in. I had to stop, breathe deeply, and say the Lord’s Prayer (that was the only thing that came to mind as I was trying to calm myself). After that, I was able to speak forgiveness: “Father, I forgive him. I release him; he owes me nothing.” Actually, I had to pray that several times–it can be a challenge to convince myself to let go of an offense.

But the zombie started up for just a moment a little later. I thought, “Good job, Dan. You’re more spiritual than he is. You can keep your mouth shut.” That, of course, is pride. The Holy Spirit put this in perspective for me. Rather than taking so-called joy in my apparent superiority, I need to take joy in the surrender. After all, it was only because the Spirit was there to guide me (“don’t speak, Dan”; “pray, Dan”; “Dan, you need to forgive”) that I was able to handle the situation as I did.

Silence and prayer deal with the immediate; Jesus provides another key that addresses the long-term: “For the joy set before Him.” As Chambers notes, we can give “too much thought to our circumstances.” That’s what the enemy tempts us to do: focus on the here and now and the immediate pleasure of engaging in conflict. A perspective that sees the big picture, focuses on the real goal, makes a different choice. As James notes, our anger doesn’t produce righteousness. Nor does it produce joy. Reading about Lazarus showed me the joy ahead of me in dying to self and learning humility. I want that joy, and I’m going to have it, even if it kills me.

I’ve been in a rather negative frame of mind for the past week, which is one reason why I haven’t posted much; I couldn’t think of anything good to say. This morning, I started off writing about making excuses, but I quickly realized that I couldn’t think of a way to bring life to the subject, and I stopped.

Then I remembered verse 4 of 2 Corinthians 5, which I noticed when I was reading the entire chapter for yesterday's post. Here’s what it says:

For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.

Ignore the tent and clothing for a moment and focus on that last phrase: so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.

Selah. Pause and calmly think of that.

I know this passage is talking about eternity, but given what follows in this chapter–that anyone who is in Christ is a new creation–I can’t help but believe that this concept applies now as well as later. Think of it: what is mortal–given to death–is swallowed up by life.

My negative outlook–definitely “deathly”–can be swallowed up by life. This excites me!

Paul uses such a vivid image here, though the picture I imagine is not a giant mouth swallowing something; rather, I see darkness disappear as bright light floods a room. The word translated “swallowed up” is translated “overwhelmed” earlier in the letter, which fits with my picture of light. So I imagine negative attitudes overwhelmed by zoe, the life of God.

This has definitely helped me. What mortal thing do you need to see swallowed up by life?

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