Desperate for My Savior

There are parts of Christianity that can be described in words and metaphors; but then there is the overwhelming desperation and love for Christ – developed on the Christian walk – that cannot be described in words.

Just this morning, as my friends and I and my youth pastor met to pray over and plan for our youth group, we talked about how the Gospel is both logical and mysterious. Much of the Gospel makes sense; how God is perfect, that man's sin deserves punishment, that it took a God to save us, and that we now live in new life because our debt has been paid.

But then there's the mystery of our Savior. Why would He die for us? Why would He care for our lives? Why wouldn't He call out to the angel armies, anxiously awaiting His command, as He hung on that tree and died? These questions are what we talked about this morning, and they put pain and desire in my heart.

But I find even more mystery. These past two weeks have been incredibly difficult for me. The exhaustion continues, and though I go to bed early, and I don't let my homework overwhelm me, I'm beat down and made low every day. Many evenings, I feel like I cannot go on — but then my God rescues me.

My faith is the hardest thing I've done. Staying faithful to God in the struggle is so difficult. I am brought low and humbled every day. If anyone saw my heart, and didn't understand the person of Christ, they would ask me why I continue in the faith, because it's killing me. Every day, my flesh is being put to death. God is tearing and ripping away anything of the past and building a new foundation in me; a sanctuary for His Spirit. And it hurts. And it's a death of my flesh.

But I try not to question my God's methods. Instead, I try to worship Him with all that I do. It's difficult. It's so funny, because many would look at my heart, if they could see it, and wonder why I pursue something that is killing me. But despite the pain, I wouldn't want to do anything BESIDES pursue Jesus Christ. It's insane. That's a mystery to me. That broken and laid low, I would cry out for more of Him; that I would want something so badly and desperately that I would allow myself, surrendered, to be put to death – in the most painful way, for I am stubborn – and pursue Jesus, the One who ruins me.

"Though You slay me, yet I will praise You!

Though You take from me, I will bless Your name!

Though You ruin me, still I will worship,

and sing a song to the One

who's all I need." - Shane & Shane

I guess you've got to be careful about what you pray, because recently, I've been praying fervently that God would show me a part of Him I've never seen before; something I could hold onto, and love Him with. It never occurred to me that what He might show me is just a fraction of what He went through as He walked the earth.

He was rejected and despised by men, but I am not. He was whipped and beaten and spit upon, but I am not. He suffered, and I am too, but nowhere even close to the way He did. He sweat BLOOD as He prayed to His Father that He might accomplish God's will, no matter what — and that's incredible humility. Instead of saving Himself, He chose to DIE for us all; beaten and bloodied on that cross, He bore our sin on His shoulders, and we mocked Him for the entire six hours that He hung on that cross.

He came alive again, and showed us His scars. He showed us where our sin had pierced His hands and His feet. He showed us where our sin had stabbed Him in the side, and where the life-blood and water spilt to be received on the cold, uncaring ground. He looked us in the eye with soft, compassionate love, not a hint of hatred in His face, but only love; an unconditional, inexpressible, ocean of overwhelming love from within His heart.

He extends to us a chance to enjoy that relationship with Him, and I am so glad I have taken Him up on His free gift. But He demands that He is allowed to take over in our lives. For us to lay down control. This will allow Him to utterly destroy the sin – already forgiven – inside of us, so that we will be shining reflections of Himself.

In John 17, Jesus prays, "May they also be one in Us, so the world may believe You sent Me," (John 17:21b). As Jesus prayed for future believers, He prayed that they would be integrated into the Holy Trinity. Since God is righteous, the only way for us to enjoy a union-relationship with Him is to be righteous ourselves, which is impossible, except through Jesus's sacrifice. He must cover us.

He doesn't just want us to enjoy a union-relationship with Him, though, because His grace and His blood allow that without any work besides accepting His gift. Salvation is free. Sanctification takes effort and perseverance. He desires that we pursue Him. That we take up our cross DAILY, just like He did, die to ourselves, and follow Him wherever He may lead.

I think back to this morning and remember all of my friends as they shared about what God is doing in their lives; incredible, wonderful things. People younger than me that God is working POWERFULLY in; I desire their faith.

I desire God more than my words could say. I want to see Him at work in my life too. I want to know that I am becoming more like Him every day. I want to be shameless about my faith, to not be afraid of those around me, to be sharing Christ through my actions and words every day. This desperation to be closer to God causes me to cry out to Him in my prayers; I've had a taste of Him, and I cannot go back to the grey and the dull; so even if it kills me, I will pursue Jesus.

Where is the desperation in the American church? If a group of 20 or so teenagers can be so desperate for Jesus that we would suffer the attacks of the enemy and the world – for it is not just I who am encountering obstacles and tests of my faith; the entire group these past two weeks have been struggling – why haven't the churches nationwide caught on? The persecuted church has it, my friends and I are discovering it; why is America slumbering? Why haven't they discovered the greatest mystery of all? Why don't they all choose Jesus over complacency?

Because it's inconvenient. And it's hard. And it's incredibly difficult. You know, it's a cliché to say to die to yourself; but it's so uncommon to find people actually doing it. More painful than anything else, but more worth it than all the treasure in the world. This is what it is to #LiveItLikeJesus.