I had a discussion with a very sweet friend this week that involved what I hope was a very gentle rebuke. Without getting into details, we were talking about a current workplace conflict and temporary employee that seems to be in the midst of a personal battle that threatens everyone, and everything, in its reach. She, with good reason, was upset about the impact his meltdown was having on her team and she was concerned that his return would mean more hostility in an already tense environment. As we continued to talk, she started to express fears that he would never change, that his progress wasn't enough, and that her boss might let him back on the team before he had made enough progress to fit her requirements. It was at this point in the discussion that I felt a prompting to intercede for the person in question. I heard my friend tell me how she had been down the same path, and the she "knew" him and could tell where he was mentally and emotionally. But, the thing is, we never really know another person's heart. And sometimes our assumptions and our perception of their change (or lack thereof) cause us to appear hostile to someone who truly wants to change but needs help. And as I came to the defense of a person I barely even know, I flashed back to a path I walked a while back.
Image by zebble via FlickrI was trying to change my life. I didn't want to sleep around anymore, I didn't want to drink or smoke, and I really wanted to reconnect with God and the church. I thought my friends and family would be supportive of my desire, and a few were. But the majority of the people that claimed to "know me" told me that I couldn't change. They doubted me at every turn. When I quit drinking, they said it wouldn't last...and they said it just loud enough that I could hear. When I had a good day, no one noticed. When I slipped, the people who said they loved me were so quick to point it out. And I began to believe that I was the cheap, promiscuous, deviant that they all said I was destined to be. When the first church I tried to attend found out about my recent past, it was as if a wall came down between us...the veil had been sewn back together by a few pious and apathetic religious people. And I was crushed.
Image by Terry Bain via Flickr
Fast forward a few years, one child, and just a bit shy of the birth of the second. I hadn't been a model wife. I hadn't been a model mother. But I wanted to be. I wanted to change. And I wanted to be around people who believed that I could. I had finally figured it out.
When people say "he/she will never change," or "he/she can't change," they are partially right, but missing three little words: "on their own."
Alone, we can't make these major transitions and make them stick. We cannot, as our current pastor is so fond of saying, pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps and transform ourselves into model anythings.
Image by Craft*ology via FlickrNonbelievers, require the support of people who will support them and encourage them without fail. Problem is, humans are fallible. Change for a nonbeliever is possible, but it can be an arduous journey that ends far short of the goal. It is difficult to find people who truly believe a sinner can change his stripes without believing that there is a Savior to take those stripes and wear them for us.
Believers, on the other hand, have the benefit of a loving King who never grows weary of picking us up and dusting us off. We have the King of second chances. And third chances. And more chances. He knows us more intimately than we know ourselves, and yet never do we hear Him say "she'll never change," only "not yet." Because of our King's unfailing love and grace, we can come to him and cry out:
"Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me."
Psalm 51:10-12
And we know He answers that cry with love and redemption.
If our King is so willing to forgive and wash away our past mistakes, shouldn't we be the same? Can we really see someone in a downward spiral and presume that they can't be redeemed? Can we ever "know" that someone will not, by the grace of God, be forever changed and washed clean?
Image by Bagunçêiro via Flickr Be aware, sweet friends, that there are people who truly want to change but feel completely helpless to do so. And wherever they turn, they seen scorn, disgust, disbelief, and doubt. Ask yourself this, would you feel empowered to change by the apathy or anger in those around you? Would you want every failure to result in someone pushing your face in it rather than helping to pull you out of it? Is that what God would do to you, knowing your past and every evil thought since? The obvious and emphatic answer to all of these questions is no.
Please understand, this message convicts me as much - if not more - than it convicts the reader. Writing this not only brought up the sadness of my past, but it also brings forth the lack of support I've shown some of these very suffering people. So, as you read the following prayer, know that I am praying it with you.
Father, thank you for allowing us this opportunity to see another area of sin in our lives. We have tried to sit in your judgment seat and tried to condemn those we do not understand. We have taken it upon ourselves to decide when those who have visible struggles are destined for defeat. But none of that is ours to call. You alone are sovereign. You alone know the hearts of your children. You call us to love others, and if we are to do so then we need to make sure that the hand we reach out to those in the struggle is a hand to lift them up and not one to keep them down. Father, open our hearts to those around us. Help us to focus on trusting you when we feel we can't trust others. Help us to do what's right in you eyes, regardless of how it looks in our own. We love you, God. And we thank you that You can change even the hardest of hearts. It is in the name of your merciful and matchless son, Jesus Christ, that we pray. Amen.
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