Grace: The Bounty is Great

I always get nervous when my calendar reminder application goes off; I get the feeling that I have forgotten to prepare myself for something important. I got up this morning fairly well. I had an odd dream that I was at a royal conference. I'm not sure what the subject matter was about but there was some odd imagery. There is definitely something eerie about dreams. I suppose the whole idea that in a dream I can stand and sit in the presence of the weirdest situations, realities, and people without saying to myself "Well, something about today is different."

I made a hardy breakfast of Frosted Flakes for myself and then remembered that I had a meeting with Dale Young in about an hour's time. I love Dale. Since the day I met him, in my head I have always referred to him as the "Sanest Christian I know." He just knows and understand things and isn't too preachy or overexcited about his knowledge and experiences, but at the same time isn't reserved and silent when things need to be said. He will not pressure, but at the same time he will not settle for complacency. He's a thinker like me. I enjoy his company greatly and when he offered to meet up once a week and have something like a spiritual mentor type deal, I was all over it. We've talked about quite a bit these past few weeks. This time we decided to add some structure to our conversations by following through in a book of some sort. I decided that I wanted to read The Discipline of Grace by Jerry Bridges. I saw the book on a shelf at the Westminster Theological Seminary bookstore and was pretty intrigued by the title; it sounded contradictory. I judge books by their titles and covers, I've noticed. So I bought it.

I started crying halfway through the first chapter.

Yeah, that has never happened to me. Not while reading words. Sometimes I'm about to cry, or my eyeballs feel a little tight, but it never goes the entire way. I realized all that was wrong in my routine quiet times and my expectations of spiritual growth. I told God, "I try so hard to be perfect." That was my problem. I love the bible so much and when I read it I feel healed, I feel so close to God. It makes me thirst for more of it and when I don't get a chance to go through it, I say to myself "Self, how could you not read this today? You've gotta get to know more about God. Don't you see how selfless and aware it is making you? Read it and like it." I see my self-interrogations in two lights. One light that cares, and one black light that condemns. Wow, it took too long to admit that. In my graphic design class last night, I wrote my confusion down in my journal. It reads:

"I feel so weird...It's like...reading the bible heals me, and it makes me want more of it. And when I'm without it, I say to myself "How can you not be reading the bible right now? You can't fix your condition without reading as much of it as you can." I desperately hunger a breath of air and a belonging to God as I open up the book. I feel as if I won't be healed unless I read it. In a way it's saying that God won't reach out His arm unless I "do this"...which almost neglects the fact that Jesus paid it all on the cross for me. But we need the bible. I do need to "do this." Do I feel closer to God when I read it? Yeah. Is that unhealthy because bible-reading can become a work? Yes it can, but how do I know that I don't feel closer to God because I know more about Him? I'm determined for transformation, and that requires God's truth. So should I refrain from---whatever."

At that point I immediately get tired of hearing myself question and play mind-gymnastics. The truth that realized this morning was that I had been making my bible reading a work. Some nights I couldn't even read properly. I would condemn myself for not feeling moved about specific passages. Someone once told me "You're supposed to read the gospel daily." Let me tell you. Every day that I don't read the gospel I feel so guilty. I'm reading through Psalms and I enjoy reading that book, but I can't fully enjoy it because I'm saying to myself that it's not a real book like a gospel and that I'm running from God's call or something. I can't have devotional readings in any sort of peace or comfort and I'm by myself. Who am I fooling?

At the end of my prayer to You, I said "I don't know." and I don't. I just don't know what to do anymore. My head hurts. And to somewhat continue what I couldn't finish this morning, I think I like it that way. I think I'm even more free in not trying to figure out how I can make you change what I want to be changed. I chained myself as I innocently walked down the wrong path of sanctification. You've set me free by telling me that I can't do it. Back to the drawing board for my sinful hands.