I spent several days flat on my back after my back went out last week. I’ve seen vast improvements every day. I can’t believe the mobility I’ve recovered. I can’t believe the ingrained independence I’ve discovered.
My mom suggested that God had something for me in my “confinement.” Knowing she was right, I asked God what He wanted to give me during this time: what lesson to learn or what to observe about Him or me.
My independence is nothing new to those who know me well. But the depth of it is what surprises me. As soon as I was able to get around the apartment on my own, I made dinner (a homemade black bean soup, and it was wonderful, thank you. Get the recipe here.) Nothing wrong with cooking, but the heart behind the culinary artistry surfaced something to consider.
Here are a few of the observations I’ve made from the sofa:
- I fear being a burden to others.
- It is hard for me to receive from others. I feel compelled to “repay.”
- I feel like I have to prove myself.
- I feel like I have to defend myself.
- I need to have something to show for my time to justify my existence.
I think these are signs or evidence of my inability to rest in God’s mercy and grace. Could self-righteousness be at the root of my independence? I didn’t make that connection until reading Whiter Than Snow by Paul Tripp. Here’s an excerpt from page 28:
…Why are you and I devastated when our weakness, sin, and failure are pointed out? Why do we find confrontation and rebuke painful even when they are done in love? … Why do we find comfort in pointing to people who appear to be worse sinners than we are? Why do we make up self-atoning revisions of our own history? Why do we erect self-justifying arguments for what we have said or done? Why do we turn the tables when someone points out a wrong, making sure that they know that we know that we’re not the only sinner in the room? Why do we line up all the good things we’ve done as a counter-balance for the wrong that is being highlighted? Why is this all so hard to accept?
There’s only one answer to all of these questions. There’s only one conclusion that fits. We find this all so hard to accept because we studiously hold onto the possibility that we’re more righteous than the Bible describes us to be. When we look in the mirror of self-appraisal, the person we tend to see is a person who is more righteous than any of us actually is!
OK, that was a long quote, but so are the comments in my journal! I might be stretching on some of these connections, but it is all very logical in my head.
Having Mike serve me was hard. Being humble enough to ask for help, to wait for him to help get me out of bed and “dance” me into the living room, or the bathroom, was humiliating. Seriously, he waited on me hand and foot. Did Mike complain about it? No. But I imagined him complaining. I feared my requests would become burdensome and he would resent me. I hate to think of myself as helpless and dependent.
But I am. We all are in a way, aren’t we? We need other people in healthy ways, but many of us resist reaching out and asking for it. We polish our reputations so that we appear great and self-sufficient to others. Reading Whiter Than Snow and the readings for my daily-Bible-reading-in-a-year online community helped to surface my determination to pull myself up by the bootstraps and make something of myself.
But that nullifies the good gifts of God’s grace and mercy which tell me that I am not good enough on my own, nor can I make something out of myself, but God loves me anyway, forgives me anyway, gives me good gifts anyway. While I know I need grace and mercy, they are can be hard to accept. But aren’t grace and mercy the pathway to freedom? Aren’t they the pathway to resting? When you know you are loved, forgiven and safe regardless of your ability to impress anyone or prove yourself, or make yourself invaluable, then you can really rest, relax and enjoy life. Then you are safe. And the pressure is off.
I don’t know if this makes much sense to anyone else (or if anyone else is reading this), but I think I’m starting to work it out. When I look in the mirror of self-appraisal, I don’t want to justify myself and list out my strengths or value-added contributions. I want to fully embrace these gifts of grace and mercy and find freedom.
This is author Paul Tripp talking about his book, Whiter Than Snow: