A View From the Pews

Every Sunday I am part of and witness a picture of the Gospel.  And, sometimes, it is hard to bear. 

Each week, as Michael and I take our seat in church, a kind figure appears behind us – an interpreter.  We sit and listen as they softly translate the announcements, prayer requests and lessons.  Without this person, Michael and I cannot comprehend 'Church'.  We cannot take part.  We depend completely on another person.  We have little to offer in exchange. 

Like a ticker tape running across the bottom of a screen, this thought runs through my mind; I am a burden.    

Someone else must choose to serve me, and I can give nothing in return.  Someone else must put themselves aside to help me understand.  Someone else must give me ears to hear.  And, someone else must give up something to meet my need.  Be it, a mother who cannot worship alongside her children or a young woman/man whose mental attentions must be divided.  There is a cost, and I watch those around me graciously pay it. 
   
In return, I can only offer my gratitude.

That is difficult.  I want to do more. 

Yet, I cannot. 

In this constant state of need, I find I feel more tender, almost raw.  Tears of sorrow and gratefulness flow quickly and often.  Not just on Sunday.  For example, I recently bought my friend’s new album (Say It Now by Julianna Zobrist, available on iTunes), and listened to the first half at home -- rocking out in my kitchen with my kiddos.  The second half I started listening to while running on the treadmill at the gym.  At the last song, tears filled my eyes.  Only You, Lord…you are all I need.  I could not hold back.  Tears rolled down my cheeks.  I raised my hands.  And, I ran.  Thankfully, I look fairly similar when I sweat or cry – red and drippy. 

I am fragile and weak.  I am dependent.  

I live in a place that I cannot fully understand.  I hear a language that is foreign to my ears.  And, no matter how I long to make sense of things, I cannot.  I want to know.  Yet, on my own, it is impossible.              

I am stripped of abilities I thought I possessed.  (I mean, I can barely put together a full sentence in Russian.)  I cannot trust in my own capacities to survive here.  I must rely on someone else.

Michael and I discussed this on Sunday...and, I continue to ponder it...Isn’t that the crux of the Gospel message?!  Isn't this situation a piercingly clear illustration of God's saving truth?
 
I am in need.  I cannot make it on my own.  I am unable. This world cannot do it. All my efforts have failed.  I am desperate.  So, God, in His rich mercy and great love, sends His Son on a rescue mission – for me.  The Son of God, Jesus Christ, will bridge the gap.  He will make a way.  The cost though, is high.  Not for me…but, for Him.  Christ must lay aside His deity and glory to put on flesh; he must live and walk among those He created.  And, all the while, He will live in perfect obedience to God’s holy standard – an impossible task for the likes of me.  Yet, what is most unbelievable is the next step in His plan.  Jesus Christ takes all the punishment my sin and disobedience deserve.  His death on the Cross frees me.  His life for mine.  I am saved from my empty, blind and dark state.  Suddenly, I can see.  I hear.  I understand.

He does all the work.

In return, I can only offer my gratitude.

So, while I am here, in this place, I trust these words,

“But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place.  For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing; to the one an aroma from death to death, to the other from life to life.” (2 Cor. 14-16)

Thank you, Lord.  I am crushed by Your service to Your people -- to me.  May the fragrance of YOUR WORK permeate my life.  Those around me may not know me by my words, but let them know me by Your love...