Others came to a faith in Jesus during some sort of crisis in their life. Life, for whatever reason, became overwhelming, and Jesus seemed to provide a way out. If that is you, there is a chance that during that time of turmoil in your life you realized that you needed a savior, but did not realize what you needed to be saved from.
As I was thinking about the first two Beatitudes this afternoon I had a rather disturbing thought. I wondered how many people come to Jesus to be saved from their circumstances instead of to be saved from their sin? I wondered how many people claim Jesus as their savior who have never repented of their sin.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
You have probably heard people say from time to time something like "you can't know you are in need of a savior until you know that you need to be saved." Although its a bit of Christianese, it also happens to be true. Recognizing our spiritual poverty -- that we need to be saved and can do nothing to save ourselves -- is the first step toward salvation.
As we talked about last week, though, remembering our spiritual poverty doesn't just lead us to salvation -- it opens the door to real victory in life. It is one of the many paradoxes of the Christian life that in order to find real power in our lives we must come to the realization that we ourselves are powerless. Pride and self sufficiency will destroy us, but humility and utter dependence will give us life. Indeed, humility and utter dependence are necessary to open our eyes to the reality of Jesus, and to open the very gates of heaven.
If we want to live in victory, we need to remember that our strength comes from Jesus alone and not from ourselves. Indeed, we need to remember that apart from Jesus we can do nothing. John 15:5-8.
"Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted."
Like recognizing our spiritual poverty, spiritual mourning is a critical step toward salvation. Spiritual mourning is first about recognizing our sin -- our separation from God -- and then mourning because of it.
Truly recognizing our sin and mourning over it is a gut wrenching experience. When the "Old Testament" was first translated into Greek in what is known as the Septuagint, the translators used the same word for mourn (πενθέω [pentheō]) that we see in Matthew Chapter 5 to describe Jacob's emotional state when he believed his favorite son Joseph had been killed by a wild animal:
Then they got Joseph’s robe, slaughtered a goat and dipped the robe in the blood. They took the ornate robe back to their father and said, “We found this. Examine it to see whether it is your son’s robe.”
He recognized it and said, “It is my son’s robe! Some ferocious animal has devoured him. Joseph has surely been torn to pieces.”
Then Jacob tore his clothes, put on sackcloth and mourned for his son many days. All his sons and daughters came to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted. “No,” he said, “I will continue to mourn until I join my son in the grave.” So his father wept for him.
Genesis 37:31-35.
Most of you have never lost a child, and I pray that you never experience mourning of that magnitude in your life. I will also say this though -- if the emotional turmoil you experienced mourning over sin even remotely approached the grief one experiences when losing a child none of us would sin again. The brief pleasure of sin would never be worth the price of grieving over it to us. The temptations of this world would never be enticing enough to make us willing to go through that kind of suffering again.
Spiritual mourning, of course, is not the end in and of itself. No, spiritual mourning is a blessing because it leads to repentance, and ultimately to freedom and joy. "Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done." 2 Corinthians 7:10-11.
Like recognizing our spiritual poverty, the need for spiritual mourning does not end at the point of salvation. We will make mistakes along the way, and we will need to mourn over our sin again to come to a new place of repentance. But I am also convinced that more and more we will find victory over sin. We are more than conquerors -- as we are being conformed to the very image of Jesus. Romans 8:28-39. It is not without reason that Jesus tells us to "be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." Matthew 5:48. Perfection is impossible for man, but a defining characteristic of the Spirit of God that lives within us.
I am also convinced that as we continue on our journey our spiritual mourning becomes less self-focused. The more we ourselves are conformed to the image of Jesus, the more our mourning is for others. It is a mourning in the truest sense -- not flowing from a place of pride or spiritual superiority, but from a place of heartbreak. We are nothing but poor beggars who have stumbled on the "bread of life" and desperately want to share what we have found with a world that is hungry and thirsty -- a world that is starving but does not understand why it is hungry. It is a world that devourers anything and everything that it thinks will bring joy and happiness, but a world that can never be satisfied.
People who mourn this way share the gospel with others. They must. It is a moral imperative.
Since my people are crushed, I am crushed;
I mourn, and horror grips me.
Is there no balm in Gilead?
Is there no physician there?
Why then is there no healing
for the wound of my people?
Oh, that my head were a spring of water
and my eyes a fountain of tears!
I would weep day and night
for the slain of my people.
Jeremiah 8:21-9:1.
1 comment:
John, as you know, I have known the anguish of losing a son. But I experienced mourning twice during Jonothon's short life. The first was when he was 5 days old and he was transferred to Parkland neonatal care. The doctors said he probably would not make it through the night. This was my first child, my redemption, the proof that God was no longer angry with me. ( I was not saved and was living with guilt of a sinful past). That night I cried out to God to save my son, but I had no hope, no faith, so I sobbed in anguish as if Jonothon had already died. Then, in an experience I can only describe as an out of body experience, I found myself at the foot of the cross on my knees before His bleeding feet, and I was bowed over in grief seeing large tears drop on the dry dirt already stained with blood. I cried as a mother watching her son die, not at the cruelty of others, but for me; because I put Him there. I recognized at that moment that it was my sinfulness that put Him on that cross, and I sobbed with a deeper sorrow; an unfathomable sorrow that came from deep within my soul. I acknowledged and confessed and repented of my sins to God and asked Him to forgive me. It was then that He told me to raise my head and I gazed upon the bleeding feet of my Savior, and I knew without a doubt, that I was forgiven.
I gave my son back to God, recognizing His sovereignty, and asked for His mercy. He allowed me 3 1/2 years with Jonothon before He made me mourn again, but this time the grieving was not without hope, and He had built in me a foundation of faith during those 31/2 years of trial that I knew would carry me to the day when I would see him again.
Thank you for your lesson, John. It has allowed me to put into words the feelings that always surface around this time of year, but I have kept hidden just for myself. I know others are suffering their own sorrows and times of mourning, and need to know God's outstanding gift of hope and salvation through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
Thanks for letting me share.
Darlene Gloria Seguin
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