Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it. 1 Thess. 5:23-24
Holy and loving Father, it’s portions of your Word like this one that make me want to weep and dance at the same time. I feel like weeping over the years I spent in gospel-ignorance—a stranger to the ways of transforming grace. For years I was clueless about how you actually change your sons and daughters—how you make us more like Jesus. I suffered much under the hands of bad theologies, man-centered remedies, and Christ-less formulas. I was certain that life in Christ began by grace alone, but from that point on, things God confusing.
But this one passage, alone, affirms that you’re not only the God who called us to life in Jesus, you are also the One who is transforming us. You will keep all of your children blameless until the day you send Jesus back to finish making all things new—including me. No wonder Paul calls you the God of peace, for where else can we find such peace, joy, and assurance? We can no more finish the good work of our redemption than we could begin it. How freeing it is to really believe that “salvation is of the Lord”!
How did I miss the really good news of the gospel for so long? Why was I such an easy target for performance-based spirituality? Why wasn’t I able to recognize corruptions of the gospel sooner?
I lament the years I spent in seeing Jesus more as my perfect model than as my perfect Righteousness. I grieve putting confidence in rededicating my life to Jesus, instead of focusing on Jesus’ dedication to us in the gospel. How arrogant I was trying to “make Jesus Lord of all things”, as though I could ever “make” Jesus Lord of anything. O the unnecessary striving and effort I invested, holding out for a second, third, ninth and seventeenth “baptism in the Spirit”, instead of savoring a life of union and communion with Jesus. How did I miss so much of the gospel for so very long? Why couldn’t I see I was acting like my own savior?
Enough of looking back in sadness, I choose to look up in gladness, for you’ve turned my mourning into dancing, Father. You’ve removed the sackcloth of my self-righteousness and have clothed me with the wedding garments of the Lamb. With the music of the Wedding banquet already emanating from heaven, my prayer is simply this: dear Father, more and more, and through and through, make me like Jesus. By the grace of the gospel and the work of your Spirit, make me like Jesus. You alone are faithful and you will surely do this very thing for your glory. So very Amen I pray, in Jesus’ holy and loving name.
