Post by Cindy on Dec 17, 2015 12:04:43 GMT -5
I want to share something with you from one of my books that really got to me because it described exactly what happened to me. It says the same thing the Lord showed me shortly after I'd become disabled. I'd begun to experience the change immediately after my salvation, but after my accident, because I could literally spend all day with the Lord, He taught me a lot about what he'd already changed in me and what He was doing right then too. The accident was my "crisis" which really highlighted the changes He'd made in me. This is something that's true for everyone who's saved and the author does such a good job of explaining it that I thought you'd like it.
Salvation and life with Jesus lead to a core change in who you are—a complete redefinition of your identity. That's why Jesus' command to the rich, young ruler was out of love. Jesus wanted to strip this man from all the things in his life that defined him so that he could be redefined as Jesus wanted. The man knew how people defined him. People defined him the same way we define him today—as rich, as young, and as a ruler. Jesus wanted more for him. He wanted to get to this man's core, to his real self. Selling his possessions would strip this man of his marks of identity. Only by stripping those things away, in that moment of crisis, could he define himself the way Jesus wanted—by his faith.
But the question of identity can really only be answered in a moment of crisis. In other words, it can only be answered when something attached to our core is taken out of our control: health, achievements, career, family life, and so forth. Who are you when those things are altered or threatened? Who would the rich, young ruler be if he sold his possessions? He would not be rich or a ruler; he would have nothing external left to define himself. He would be poor. A nobody. That poverty opens the door for Jesus to say, "Let me tell you who you really are."
So who are we? When we are stripped of those marks of self-identification we hold so dear and left confused and dejected about our identities, what does Jesus say? When we, either willingly or unwillingly, sell our marks of self-identification and become nobodies, how does He respond? Jesus redefines us as something else. He might define us as forgiven people. He might define us as accepted people. But He actually goes further than that. We have been moved, as Christians, well beyond being "just" forgiven and accepted. We've been moved all the way to children. We have been moved to adoption, and this adoption is important for us to understand and embrace.
In Jesus' day adoption was at the same time an entrance and an exit. A child was brought into a new family relationship where he now had new privileges and responsibilities as a member of the family. But at the same time there was a complete and total break from all previous rights and duties of his former family. In a Roman context a father could extend the privilege of adoption based on his pleasure and affection, and the new relationship was absolutely and severely binding. It was, indeed, a change of kingdoms. Because of the power structure of the Roman family, the adopted child was absolutely bound, as a slave was bound, to his new family. That kid was transferred from the power of his natural father to the power of his new one. And there was a price to be paid. The child was "bought," in a sense. This is what God has done for us. He has not only brought us out of one environment of sin and death; He has brought us into a new environment, one in which Jesus Christ is our brother as well as the ransom paid. And we are coheirs of the kingdom of God. It's staggering—we are children of God.
Most of us live our entire lives without even beginning to grasp the immensity of what God has done for us in Christ. We pile job titles, degrees, and accolades on ourselves; and, even if we are Christians, we begin to define ourselves by those things. But when we suddenly become poor—well, poverty opens the door for Jesus to remind us who we really are in Him.
Slowly, with much reminding from the Holy Spirit, I began to see my worth and identity not defined by whether I wore jeans or khakis. Not whether I wrote books. Not whether I sat in an office or traveled on an airplane. I began slowly to embrace the fact that leukemia had stripped me of my former identity, but Jesus had stepped in to remind me that at my core, regardless of anything else, I am and will always be His brother. Armed with that knowledge, I can better face the challenges of this life, the tears of loss, and the inevitable circumstances that will again and again take me back to the base level of poverty.
And at the base level I will find Jesus still loving me, reminding me once again that I'm defined by Him and not by my external circumstances. By the grace of God that strips me of self-definition, I'll be able to stand and introduce myself like this: "My name is Michael. I'm a brother of Jesus. I'm a child of God."
Kelley, M. (2012). Wednesdays were pretty normal: A boy, cancer, and god.
Salvation and life with Jesus lead to a core change in who you are—a complete redefinition of your identity. That's why Jesus' command to the rich, young ruler was out of love. Jesus wanted to strip this man from all the things in his life that defined him so that he could be redefined as Jesus wanted. The man knew how people defined him. People defined him the same way we define him today—as rich, as young, and as a ruler. Jesus wanted more for him. He wanted to get to this man's core, to his real self. Selling his possessions would strip this man of his marks of identity. Only by stripping those things away, in that moment of crisis, could he define himself the way Jesus wanted—by his faith.
But the question of identity can really only be answered in a moment of crisis. In other words, it can only be answered when something attached to our core is taken out of our control: health, achievements, career, family life, and so forth. Who are you when those things are altered or threatened? Who would the rich, young ruler be if he sold his possessions? He would not be rich or a ruler; he would have nothing external left to define himself. He would be poor. A nobody. That poverty opens the door for Jesus to say, "Let me tell you who you really are."
So who are we? When we are stripped of those marks of self-identification we hold so dear and left confused and dejected about our identities, what does Jesus say? When we, either willingly or unwillingly, sell our marks of self-identification and become nobodies, how does He respond? Jesus redefines us as something else. He might define us as forgiven people. He might define us as accepted people. But He actually goes further than that. We have been moved, as Christians, well beyond being "just" forgiven and accepted. We've been moved all the way to children. We have been moved to adoption, and this adoption is important for us to understand and embrace.
In Jesus' day adoption was at the same time an entrance and an exit. A child was brought into a new family relationship where he now had new privileges and responsibilities as a member of the family. But at the same time there was a complete and total break from all previous rights and duties of his former family. In a Roman context a father could extend the privilege of adoption based on his pleasure and affection, and the new relationship was absolutely and severely binding. It was, indeed, a change of kingdoms. Because of the power structure of the Roman family, the adopted child was absolutely bound, as a slave was bound, to his new family. That kid was transferred from the power of his natural father to the power of his new one. And there was a price to be paid. The child was "bought," in a sense. This is what God has done for us. He has not only brought us out of one environment of sin and death; He has brought us into a new environment, one in which Jesus Christ is our brother as well as the ransom paid. And we are coheirs of the kingdom of God. It's staggering—we are children of God.
Most of us live our entire lives without even beginning to grasp the immensity of what God has done for us in Christ. We pile job titles, degrees, and accolades on ourselves; and, even if we are Christians, we begin to define ourselves by those things. But when we suddenly become poor—well, poverty opens the door for Jesus to remind us who we really are in Him.
Slowly, with much reminding from the Holy Spirit, I began to see my worth and identity not defined by whether I wore jeans or khakis. Not whether I wrote books. Not whether I sat in an office or traveled on an airplane. I began slowly to embrace the fact that leukemia had stripped me of my former identity, but Jesus had stepped in to remind me that at my core, regardless of anything else, I am and will always be His brother. Armed with that knowledge, I can better face the challenges of this life, the tears of loss, and the inevitable circumstances that will again and again take me back to the base level of poverty.
And at the base level I will find Jesus still loving me, reminding me once again that I'm defined by Him and not by my external circumstances. By the grace of God that strips me of self-definition, I'll be able to stand and introduce myself like this: "My name is Michael. I'm a brother of Jesus. I'm a child of God."
Kelley, M. (2012). Wednesdays were pretty normal: A boy, cancer, and god.
!!
