Is it possible to use our thoughts about God’s nature to neutralize
Him in our life? I think so.
Sometimes we build a wall around our life. Every brick has
“God is love” written on it and we place each brick facing outward so that if
God comes around, He will see “God is love” and remember not to interfere in
the affairs of our little castle. Each God-is-love brick really says, “God
would be rude to come in and try to rearrange our furniture. We like things pretty
much as they are, and God loves us too much to be a nuisance or an irritant.”
That soft little lie is a subtle and effective tranquilizer we
may use against the “still small voice.” We may have felt the Lord’s prompting
and decided to make a change in our life. But then it happens; we come face to
face with the very thing, and we delay. Our habits, those practiced patterns
that free us from the work of conscious thought, push hard for our traditional
response. Change is hard. We feel pain and unrest when we use our conscious
mind to interrupt a well-drilled habit. So we drag our feet and question our
commitment. A wordless tussle of pure appetite or impulse ensues, and too often
our conscious mind steps in to end the battle with that comfortable twisting of
the truth: “God loves me too much to throw me out for one broken promise.” So
we end the struggle, give into the old way, and salve our conscience with songs
of praise for His never-ending love.
In that moment—that moment of declaring His love—the battle
is lost. We have used “God’s love” to
deafen our ears and to fend Him off. We do the very thing His Spirit has been
prodding us not to do. We have
resisted the renewing of our mind which could have transformed us.
It is true that He readily and lavishly forgives. And it is often—though
not always—true that one failure will not alter the course of our life. But how
often can we claim “His love” as an excuse for our non-responsiveness? How many
times can we break a commitment before that commitment exists only in our mind
and in utter contrast to our behavior? How long can we use “His love” to continue
our life of self-deception and incongruence?
Certainly God still loves us when we fail. We never have to
fear when we limp back asking for mercy; the prodigal’s father made that very
clear. But we should fear, we should quake and tremble, at the thought of using
“His love” as a sedative to avoid the pain of change. We should be terrified of
picking up the brick of “His love” and throwing it in His teeth.
Solomon said, “His banner over me is love.” But that is a
banner of ownership. When we raise a national flag, it means we accept
responsibility to that flag. If we slip on a wedding ring, it means we accept
all the “burdens” of faithfulness along with all of its delights. If “I am the
Lord’s and He is mine,” then we will claim His love as being more potent and
more tasty than the other “lover” that we need to dismiss. If He is “the desire
of my heart” then we will allow that desire to overshadow all lesser desires.
“God’s love” must be a banner, not a brick.
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