Broken.
"We must never bypass the law and come straight to the gospel. To do so is to contradict the plan of God in biblical history. Is this not why the gospel is unappreciated today? Some ignore it, others ridicule it. So in our modern evangelism we cast our pearls (the costliest pearl being the gospel) before swine. People cannot see the beauty of the pearl, because they have no conception of the filth of the pigsty. No man has ever appreciated the gospel until the law has first revealed him to himself. It is only against the inky blackness of the night sky that the stars begin to appear, and it is only against the dark background of sin that the gospel shines forth. Not until the law has bruised and smitten us will we admit our need of the gospel to bind up our wounds. Not until the law has arrested and imprisoned us will we pine for Christ to set us free. Not until the law has condemned and killed us will we call upon Christ for justification and life. Not until the law has driven us to despair of ourselves will we ever believe in Jesus. Not until the law has humbled us even to hell will we turn to the gospel to raise us to heaven."
-John Stott
When Jesus was on earth he performed miracles. He healed disease, infirmity, and death. He attracted broken people like magnets, and they followed him through winding streets, across bodies of water, or down through roofs. He healed them because he's a healer, and because he loved them. He healed to show spiritual realities through physical ones, to point us to deeper truths about our souls which parallel the ones about our bodies. He healed because he was in love with the faith of the broken ones. Because he was moved to tears by their suffering and need. Because they asked him to and believed he would.
And I think he healed because those broken, dying people were the only ones who could receive him in his glory.
They knew something the religious, pretty, healthy, self-relient people didn't. They knew they had really devastating needs nothing on earth could fill, and pain no one could remedy. They were condemned, arrested, imprisoned, bruised, smitten, outcast. They were driven to the brink of death by their own inadequacies and failings, or those of life itself. They stood with no bandage on their wounds, no mirage or distraction from the situations in which they found themselves. They were emotionally, spiritually, and physically broken. And they were the only ones who were in a position to receive the glory of Christ in their bodies and souls.
Maybe it's the melancholy side of me, the realist, or maybe it's the way I read Scripture, but I've always been a fan of putting the bad news first. No one cares about good news until there is worse news. No one wants water until they're thirsty. I didn't want Jesus until I knew I was dead without him. And when I say dead, I don't mean in a future sense, and not just in reference to heaven. I mean now. I mean every day. When I wake up and I'm alone, when I chase happiness and lose it. When I leave who I am to gain someone I don't need. When security and affirmation are stripped from me and I learn again what it means to stand bare.
There are many different senses in which we can love God. We go through seasons. It's not bad. But I've been loving him from my happy, whole places for a while now, and it's time to relearn what it means to love him in the stripped place. To stand bare and know what it feels like to receive glory into my broken soul. To be ripped apart by the law and by life and to stay that way. He won't leave me here for long. But he knows this about us: it's only against the inky blackness of the night sky that the stars begin to appear.
-John Stott
When Jesus was on earth he performed miracles. He healed disease, infirmity, and death. He attracted broken people like magnets, and they followed him through winding streets, across bodies of water, or down through roofs. He healed them because he's a healer, and because he loved them. He healed to show spiritual realities through physical ones, to point us to deeper truths about our souls which parallel the ones about our bodies. He healed because he was in love with the faith of the broken ones. Because he was moved to tears by their suffering and need. Because they asked him to and believed he would.
And I think he healed because those broken, dying people were the only ones who could receive him in his glory.
They knew something the religious, pretty, healthy, self-relient people didn't. They knew they had really devastating needs nothing on earth could fill, and pain no one could remedy. They were condemned, arrested, imprisoned, bruised, smitten, outcast. They were driven to the brink of death by their own inadequacies and failings, or those of life itself. They stood with no bandage on their wounds, no mirage or distraction from the situations in which they found themselves. They were emotionally, spiritually, and physically broken. And they were the only ones who were in a position to receive the glory of Christ in their bodies and souls.
Maybe it's the melancholy side of me, the realist, or maybe it's the way I read Scripture, but I've always been a fan of putting the bad news first. No one cares about good news until there is worse news. No one wants water until they're thirsty. I didn't want Jesus until I knew I was dead without him. And when I say dead, I don't mean in a future sense, and not just in reference to heaven. I mean now. I mean every day. When I wake up and I'm alone, when I chase happiness and lose it. When I leave who I am to gain someone I don't need. When security and affirmation are stripped from me and I learn again what it means to stand bare.
There are many different senses in which we can love God. We go through seasons. It's not bad. But I've been loving him from my happy, whole places for a while now, and it's time to relearn what it means to love him in the stripped place. To stand bare and know what it feels like to receive glory into my broken soul. To be ripped apart by the law and by life and to stay that way. He won't leave me here for long. But he knows this about us: it's only against the inky blackness of the night sky that the stars begin to appear.
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