Norman the Slave

"These inward trials I employ
From self and pride to set thee free
And break thy schemes of earthly joy
That thou mayest seek thy all in me,
That thou mayest seek thy all in me."

Those words are from a hymn that was sort of a theme last semester, I Asked the Lord. I'm always wary of putting words in God's mouth, but I certainly think those words are a big part of what God has been teaching me in the last few month. This time last year I was worried about where I would go to grad school, and soon found out that my options were not nearly as good as I had hoped. But as it came to decision time, I found myself being ok with not getting into the grad school I wanted (at least not right away). At the end of last semester I learned that I basically don't have what it takes to get into another grad school, and might not even be able to finish here at OU. One of the things this song captures so very well is not only the fact that God delights in breaking my schemes of earthly joy, but that it truly hurts when he does. Does anyone remember "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader," where Aslan has to tear the dragon scales from Eustace with his terrible claws? God has been tearing the scales of ambition and pride from me recently, and it bears a mighty sting.

Out of my shameful failure and loss,
Jesus, I come; Jesus, I come.
Into the glorious gain of Thy cross,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

Doug talked about slavery this week. I am beginning to realize that my failures to do as well in school as I like and my failures to meet my obligations for my boss all point out the fact that I have made myself a slave. So much of who I am and who I want to be is bound up in being one of the smart people, one of the wise people, top of my class. Being near the bottom of my class for the first time in my life makes me ashamed. On top of all this, I am married. Having a wife ever shows me that even what I thought was selflessness before is really brokenness, failure and loss.

Out of unrest and arrogant pride,
Jesus, I come; Jesus, I come.
Into Thy blessed will to abide,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of myself to dwell in Thy love,
Out of despair into raptures above,
Upward forever on wings like a dove,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

For God to release me from my shame, he has to pour light on not only how my education (and even my loving parents) has screwed me up. I am a willing slave, shackling my own arms with arrogance and covering my eyes with self-esteem. I should be at the top of my class because I am a hard, intelligent worker; my giving is good because I am a loving husband. Even what I think are my positive attributes are shoddy workmanship, half-hearted efforts at real righteousness. I have looked at myself this week, and realized that I am like Ebenezer Scrooge, bearing more chains in life than Marley in death, but too blind to see them until God reveals them to me in my pain. Despair seems so much more accessible than raptures above.

The mantra for RUF this semester is "From slavery to worship by a redeemer." I am hoping we will sing Jesus, I Come quite a bit this semester, because that's essentially what this song means. The only one with the strength to break our chains is Jesus Christ, and it will not be painless as he does so. If he ripped them from me all at once, I would surely die from the torture. There is a lifetime of work for Christ to do in redeeming me from slavery to worship, but as he does he will bring me "upward forever, on wings like a dove."

If I finish my grad school here instead of at another school, that's ok. And if I only finish my masters, that's ok. And if I get kicked out of school, that's ok too. My wife doesn't need me to do the same things my parents did, she needs me to love her with my own passion, a passion that knows her deeply and truly. And thanks be to God for her, when I don't, that's ok too.

From slavery to worship by a redeemer. What a freedom that is!

There goes my pain
There goes my chains
Did you see them fall
There goes this feeling that has no meaning
There goes the world
Off of my shoulders
There goes the world
Off of my back
There it goes
-- Quasimodo, Lifehouse