I used to think growth was like toughness. The longer I walk with the Lord, the tougher I will become—stronger, stouter, firmer. And I guess in some ways there’s truth in that. My grip on Scripture is firmer than it’s ever been, and my conviction that Jesus is the only way, truth, and life runs like blood in my veins. There’s no life in me apart from it.
But overall, growth hasn’t made me tougher. It’s made me softer. More conscious of error or its potential. More fearful of straying or sending someone else down a crooked path. More aware of my weaknesses.
I was cavalier in my younger years, convinced of a certain level of spiritual invincibility. I questioned God’s love for me daily, sure I was the strong one in the relationship. Decades later, what I see is weakness in me but steadfast love in the Lord. He was only ever the strong one, and I was only ever trying to live like everything rested on my shoulders. So sure of myself, I was unsure of his love. When I prayed for him to love me, I thought I had to perform to bring about that love.
Growth has helped me see him differently. I’ve tasted—really, really tasted—and seen that he is so good. I will never understand the kind of love he has for me, but these days when I pray for his steadfast love to come to me, it’s not because I think his love is missing but rather that I can’t see it as I should. I need to wipe the world from my eyes for what I am really praying for is faith to see his love that’s already there.
The answer to that prayer will always lie in the pages of the Bible. When I open it, I remember how much he loves me. And when I meditate on that, I crumble beneath the weight of steadfast love. I will always be his. And my life, all my life, could sing with proof of his love.
Once I asked the teenaged girls that I teach at church how they express love to their parents. I expected them to talk about hugs or saying “I love you,” but the first answer surprised me. “I obey them,” said the fourteen-year-old. I prodded her to say more, and she did. “If I want them to know that I love them, I do what they say. It’s like honoring them.” And it is. In John 15, Jesus talked about abiding in the Father’s love through obedience. We obey God not to be love but because we are loved. To demonstrate our love for him, we obey his commands. And the longer I know him, the more I see the wisdom there. There’s a level of belonging that comes alongside obedience. My heart is his, so I do what he says. And in that, you’ll know I’m his. Or, at least I hope you will.
Obedience to God’s commands is an expression of love to him. But when I obey the words of the Lord, somehow I am surer of his love for me. Not because I’m earning it, because I could never (you could never, we could never), but because obedience from a true heart means abiding, living, remaining, staying in him. That’s where you learn that his commands aren’t a burden but rather a path of faithfulness. God has always had good will towards his people. His yoke is easy, his burden light, his rest the sweetest and best kind.
I learn new things about the Lord all the time. And sometimes I relearn old things about the Lord that I once knew but forgot. But here’s what I haven’t forgotten: I love him, I love his word, and I love to obey him because there is so much more joy in the center of obedience than on the fringes of disobedience. In my twenties, I liked to see how far I could step away from him and still be near him. The edges were attractive. In my forties, I just want to walk in lockstep with the Lord. Closer, tighter. Hem me in, Lord. The edges scare me because I know myself better. I know I am not invincible. One step too far, and down she goes, dropping away from the one whose love never disappoints or shames.
The edges of disobedience are steep cliffs. But obedience puts us on the middle of a wide path. I can see his steadfast love from there.
Waw
Let your steadfast love come to me, O LORD,
your salvation according to your promise;
then shall I have an answer for him who taunts me,
for I trust in your word.
And take not the word of truth utterly out of my mouth,
for my hope is in your rules.
I will keep your law continually,
forever and ever,
and I shall walk in a wide place,
for I have sought your precepts.
I will also speak of your testimonies before kings
and shall not be put to shame,
for I find my delight in your commandments, which I love>
I will lift up my hands toward your commandments, which I love,
and I will meditate on your statutes.
Psalm 119: 41-48
Author’s note:
This is the sixth essay in a series of reflections on Psalm 119. Each article bears the title of the stanza of the psalm from which it draws inspiration. This is 6 of 22.
