On the Steps of 247

She sat all alone on the steps of 247, with earbuds in to keep the world out. Her face was expressionless, her body motionless, her eyes fixated on something far beyond the student center across the street. 

She barely turned when my friend Katelyn and I sat down to strike up a conversation.

"Can we ask you a few questions?" 

She raised her eyebrows. 

In Setswana, that's a half-hearted yes.

We chatted a bit about Tswana culture and traditions and university life before the conversation turned to spiritual matters. 

"What makes someone a Christian?" I asked, searching her face. 

For the first time she met my gaze. "Keeping the law, I guess. Not breaking any of the Ten Commandments."

"Do you know anyone who has done that? Is there anyone who has perfectly kept the Ten Commandments?" Katelyn gently prodded.

An icy blast of air conditioning gave momentary relief from the suffocating heat as the doors of the building behind us opened to let out a crowd of students. She shifted away slightly as she thought about the question. 

"Yes," she finally answered.

I'm sure I did not hide my surprise. "Who? Who do you know that has never sinned?"

"The people at my church. There are men and women-- they say they've kept the whole law. And I… well, I've tried but I'm not perfect like them."

We shared with her that despite what her fellow church members might claim, "no one will be declared righteous in [God's] sight by observing the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of sin." (Romans 3:20) The good news is that being right with God doesn't depend on our keeping the law (vs 21-22).

Grace.

That's what her name meant in Setswana. 

And it's the answer to the questions she kept bottled inside. 

This conversation took place over eight months ago while I was still in Botswana. Something I read today in Acts brought it back to my memory…  "through [Jesus] forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you, and by him everyone who believes is freed from everything from which you could not be freed from by the law of Moses." (Acts 13:38b-39)

We are freed from everything the law fails to free us from. 

That is good news for me, a doer. 

And that is good news for Grace, a seeker. 

I don't know what happened to her; we shared the gospel with her a couple more times in the following weeks but never saw her make a decision. I pray that she discovered the Ultimate Grace. 

My Most Ironic Resolution

Every December 27th or so, when Christmas carols fade from the radio waves, I find myself enticed by a different siren-song, try as I might to escape it: The New Year's Resolution. Recently there seems to be a lot of backlash against making resolutions, but personally I accept the challenge with all the zeal of Jonathan Edwards. (If it is true he had 70 resolutions he reviewed and evaluated himself on every week, that must prove we're related.)

In addition, the past few years I've asked the Lord to give me a theme for year. 2012: Choose Joy, and 2013: Love Without Reserve.

Oh, it sounds cute, until my discovery that my "theme" is something that will be particularly difficult for me with the circumstances the year will hold. He's so clever the way he does that.

Choosing joy was not my first instinct as a new new nurse, driving to my third night shift in a row, bawling my eyes out because I knew which patients were waiting there for me. And loving without reserve did not seem very practical when I was living out of a suitcase in a foreign country where I was only supposed to stay for 10 weeks.

But oh, the things I resisted were the things I needed so desperately.

2014 is no exception.

This year I found myself presenting my 47ish-point list of resolutions to the Lord, and he gave me a theme for 2014: Strivings Cease.

But Lord, you don't understand... that kind of clashes with all my resolutions.  Here, I have a better one: "Try harder, try harder, try harder." How about that?

But he was unrelentingly, unmistakably writing those words on my heart.

Strivings Cease.

Through verses, through songs, through wise counsel, through the very breath of His Spirit.

"God will speak to this people, to whom he said,

'This is the resting place, let the weary rest,' and

'This is the place of repose'--

but they would not listen.

So then, the word of the Lord to them will become:

Do and do, do and do

Rule on rule, rule on rule

A little here, a little there-- 

So that they will go and fall backward …" 

(Isaiah 28:11b-13)

Those verses are unsettlingly descriptive of my life at times. I can become so consumed with trying to serve God better, that all joy is lost and I forget the reason I'm doing it in the first place. Please tell me I'm not the only one who has been there.

Growing up, well-intentioned church people used to tell me: "we can't earn our salvation, but we should live as if we're trying to."

So I did.

Do and do.

Rule on rule.

And there was never rest.

Now I am convinced that there is nothing further from the truth. In fact, Galatians confirms it by saying "Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?"(3:3)

Rather, when we readily recognize our shortcomings and utter hopelessness apart from Christ, the covering of his righteousness becomes infinitely more precious. It does away with the guilt and striving and disappointment that crop up in the wake of my failed resolutions. The mark of legalism is restless striving. The fruit of love is joyful service.

So what happened to my resolutions, the infinite list of do-more's and try-harder's? They are still tucked away somewhere. It doesn't mean I won't make an effort to be more faithful in certain areas. 

It means that in 2014, I will be compelled not by the strivings of guilt, but by the sufficiency of grace.