Steer clear of the barking dogs,
those religious busybodies,
all bark and no bite.
All they're interested in is
appearances—knife-happy circumcisers,
I call them.
~ Philippians 3:2
Something that I've learned over the past several years is that you cannot have enough self-control to perfect your Christianity. The realization is heart breaking, at first.
Every once in a while, I get asked to prove my worth. To list the steps I've taken and provide evidence of God's grace and restoration. There is a pressure to refine my appearance so that others can say, 'She's doing this or that.' 'God has obviously blessed her here. Look at these credentials...'
One thing that I am most thankful for is the realization that destroyed my sense of self-accomplishment. I learned that I cannot do this on my own and, in trying I was trying to gain independence from a God I was not made to be emancipated from. He gifts me with what I was reaching for all along and He did it when I realized I couldn't. You don't realize you can't until you are at your worst and are incapable of making it right.
Until I came to that point, I had no idea that I had deep roots of selfishness and conceit. I had been able to keep that part of me under control and dress in the cheap fabric of self-righteousness. When those roots surfaced in my life, I had no choice but to accept the damaged appearance and spend time watching Jesus clean out the depths of my heart.
My life, whether seen or not, is the healing dance of a crippled child. He holds my twisted legs straight and lets me dance on His toes. His feet moving me about. His spin catching my hair. He sings to me and I sing along. I worship Him from my depths. The depths I hid with my self-control. I give Him my worst and He shows me how to worship Him there.
The real believers are the ones
the Spirit of God leads to work
away at this ministry, filling
the air with Christ's praise
as we do it.
~ Philippians 3:3
Every once in a while, I get praised for my heart. They see me dancing and hear my song and they remark at the beauty. I'm telling you, it's not me you are seeing. It's my Father. I'm dancing on His toes, remember. I'm singing a song He taught me. It's not me. The sin you saw was me, the dance you see is Him.
Compared to the high privilege of
knowing Christ Jesus as my Master,
firsthand, everything I once thought
I had going for me is insignificant—dog dung.
I've dumped it all in the trash so that
I could embrace Christ and be embraced
by him. I didn't want some petty,
inferior brand of righteousness that
comes from keeping a list of rules when
I could get the robust kind that comes
from trusting Christ—God's righteousness.
~ Philippians 3:8-9
There will always be those who want something more than the dance of praise. They won't accept you unless you've earned a diploma from their school. But, I'm saying, forget about the way you look to others. Feel His feet under yours, His grip on your hands. Lean back, shut your eyes and let Him spin you around in a song of praise. Think about what that must look like to Him...
Serena Woods, author of Grace is For Sinners
Scripture taken from The Message Translation of the Bible
About the Author, Serena Woods
There are certain things from which a human cannot recover. Grace is one of those things. Serena's experience with God's grace has taken her over and is holding her hostage. She's adored by a husband who holds her together with the look in his eyes. Her four daughters fill their house with infectious giggles and chaotic glitter. She rests in the love of a Father who refused to give up on her and she positions her naked heart to catch the reflection of God's grace so someone else can see it.If you have any questions or comments, you can contact Serena through her website, Grace is for Sinners.
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