Begin with two minutes of stillness and silence.
If you know me well, you know that I am the most classic case of a “9” on the enneagram that there could ever be. I am a peacekeeper at heart and want everyone to be happy. As a child, this intrinsic need to please others often made me that “good kid” who always followed the rules and never tried anything that might be frowned upon.
Growing up in a home that highly prioritized church, I attended every Sunday and Wednesday and made it to every church event. I knew the Bible stories by heart. I knew the expectations. I had all the right answers, but I had no peace. For years, I served heavily at each church that I was a part of, believing that “the more I do, the better I am.” This wasn’t something I said aloud, but it was a narrative I had convinced myself was true. I made it through my teen and young adult years struggling to feel worthy, loved, or at peace. All the while, I was as plugged in as one could be in the church setting and even served on staff as a children’s minister at two locations.
I vividly remember taking the kids to camp one summer while I was in my early 20s. After weeks of listening to his questions and chatting with his parents, I sat with a young boy and walked him through what salvation means. I watched as he so vulnerably and fully received Christ, and I immediately felt so much sadness. Not for him, but for me. I was in awe of how he instantly began to be filled with such joy and contentment. I realized then that I wasn’t sure if I had ever really felt that way. Many similar scenarios took place over those years for me. I always just pushed back those uneasy feelings and piled on more service and “good things” to make myself feel better about it.
Then one night at 24 years old, I had just arrived home from an event at church. It was the day before Easter Sunday, and I don’t think I have ever felt so overwhelmed and heavy in all of my life. I opened my Bible and began reading the chapters that had been used that night, just trying to make sense of what I was feeling. I came to a set of verses that I had read many times before, but suddenly, I was reading them with fresh eyes.
Ephesians 2:8-9: “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is a gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast.”
I fully believe that I read those two verses at least 100 times that night. It was that night that I realized my works, though good, would never be enough to save me. In reality, if you looked at the whole picture, my works had become my bondage. I had allowed them to keep me in the same place that I had been in for years, never fully relying on God, because I thought that they would be enough to give me the fulfillment that I longed for. As a peacekeeper and people-pleaser, the idea of being good enough seemed to be all that mattered to me, and I had somehow never even realized it.
Isn’t it funny? My long list of good works is what kept me from the Lord for years. I know this because they never came from the outpouring of my love and faith in Jesus. They were just what I thought I should be doing. Those works never required me to fully trust in Him and to lean on Him. They were simply a way for me to feel as if I was good enough while still holding onto the things that the Lord was calling me to let go of.
Maybe you have found yourself in a similar place, relying on your own works. In verse 4 of today’s passage, we are told that we are estranged from Christ when we attempt to be justified by the law and that faith working through love is what truly wins in the end.
I have found this to be true in my own life. I invite you to get curious about the ways that you may find it to be true for you, as well.
Take two minutes to reflect in silence before God.