another law

Paul said:

But whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ. More than that, I consider all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Jesus Christ my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ, and may be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own derived from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith, that I may know Him and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death; in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead. (Phil. 3:7-11)

I believe that I want this, and my actions dictate that I want this. My works, while done unto the Lord, are garbage compared to the faith I have in Christ. Everything I've lost is worthless for the sake of knowing Him and becoming like Him in His death.

So why am I digging through the trash bin?

It isn't for Jesus. I know my filthy rags are worthless in light of His righteousness. I do not aim to impress Him with that. However, a part of me thinks remaining silent about my dumpster diving will keep my envy from becoming a hindrance. My salvation can still be attained in His grace, and I won't flaunt my earthly spoils for His sake.

Like Achan's exposure before God, my heart is scoured and my envy revealed. Unlike Achan, I am not jealous for the things of others. I creep in the dark to occupy my own transferred possessions: those already placed before Him. For my flesh, I consider it borrowing with a noble purpose. I will allow these former gods to fulfill their earthly use to attain something of purer value.

They are the simple things -- not sinful in themselves. I dig up my ability to make conversation or initiate laughter. I brush the slime off my barista cool or stylish quill and scroll. Anything discarded that once offered a semblance of normality -- I polish these trophies. They stink of the less savory waste, but I wisely keep the "real sin" in the heap.

They serve a law of mankind. The words of Christ that make me awkward, intimidating, or set apart...I'll speak of His riches once the door is open. If I borrow my quick humor, taste in entertainment, or aloof and mysterious persona, people will welcome anything I share. We can work our way into my actual concerns; we can later commune in the depth of God. It's the classic bait and switch, but at what expense?

God tells me I don't need a hook to fish men. He says, "If you know my fullness, share me. Forget the other junk!"

"But God! I've forgotten their language! To them, you may be a compartment: welcome when useful, but otherwise intrusive. To my future beloved, I'm a one-trick pony, incapable of meeting anything but her spiritual needs."

He gazes into my eyes with a blazing love and inquires: "Isn't that enough?"

It's more than enough, but it's unacceptable. They do not operate under the same grace as He. I believe I must earn the right to sit at the cool kids' table.

Oh Father, this is high school all over, save the knowledge of Your suffering. I've long chosen You, but I fail to enjoy You. My heart must leap at Your presence, lest I tempt their hearts to leap at mine.