Learning to Love Jesus

The Sunday activities have come and gone for this week. I have gone to the Divine Service, Bible study, even partook of the ever needful coffee hour without feeling too uncomfortable about being in my own skin. This morning, there was a helicopter crash not to far away from our pastor's house. The family in the house was saved, but the passengers in the chopper were killed. What a tragic way to begin a Sunday, I thought to myself. I wasn't the only one. Another member asked Pastor during Bible class, "I know that there is sin in the world which is the cause of the horrible things that happen, but why does God allow it in the first place?"

When I ask Tim this, sometimes I get a long answer. One that causes me to think deeply but I usually arrive at the same place that he does in the end through his gentle guiding. Pastor wasn't so kind. His response: "So you can learn to love Jesus." Honestly, (sorry, Pastor, if you are reading this!) I had a hard time listening to the rest of the response as he explained this. My first thought was, "What type of a God do we have that makes us struggle and bleed and hurt to make us love Him? Surely Pastor couldn't have meant that!" What about my anxiety disorder? The one that causes me to doubt Him so severely it makes me tremble with panic; the one that causes me to doubt my own salvation- can that be the cross I bear that causes me to love Him more? My fears make me feel like I love Him less than others because I can't simply trust him unwavering like the Bible states!

Writing this blog has caused me to speak more boldly about my disorder in the context of church. I asked very point blankly how God could use my disorder to cause me to love him more, when the fears and doubts don't just annoy me, at times they consume me. Pastor guided me (yes, I paid more attention this time) to remember something that I had either forgotten or never learned completely. All to often, Christians forget their relationship to God. It's more like, "Let's Make a Deal". "Well, God, I know I have messed up and stuff, but if you will just save me, I promise I'll do better." Figuring that we have to give something to get something, we try to barter our way into God's good graces. The bartering also has our best interest at heart. What is the minimum we can do that will allow us to be in God's graces and still allow us to retain some dignity? After all, we don't want to come out as beggars.

That is all I am, though. A beggar. If I ever try to forget that, my anxiety disorder will bring it to the front of my mind. I can just hear the thoughts now. "Do better, you said? Yeah. That pet sin right there, if you were going to do better, it wouldn't be an issue. Look at you! In that muck again! Yeah, see if God will save you now after that. You thought you were really smart making that deal. You couldn't hold up your end of the bargain if your life depended on it. Oh, wait, it does! Game over, you're damned."

I got nothing to offer God. I can't stop sinning, no matter how much I want to. I've tried. I failed. It was not a pretty sight. Even if I did have something to offer God, it would be worthless. The moment I offered it to God, I'd be putting myself before God, which then breaks the First Commandment, and there I go again, not upholding my end of the bargain. Game over.

In the midst of a panic attack or even an anxiety attack, when I just cannot calm down, I have this cute little pill. It's maybe a millimeter across. Swallowing that will calm me down in twenty to thirty minutes. How interesting that it takes something outside of myself to calm me down. In the middle of the attack, I can do nothing. Sometimes I cannot even get my own medication! I become a beggar. Looking to my husband to give me what I need, something outside of myself has to swoop down to my rescue. I have got nothing to offer.

In the muck of my sin, there is nothing that I can do to make me holy. In the fullness of time, Christ died on the cross for me for the forgiveness of my sins. When there was nothing I could do, Christ came down and did it for me. I look to Christ for what I need and He provides it; the Body and Blood in, with, and under the bread and wine, the washing and rebirth in my Baptism back in June of 1980, the forgiveness of sins through my pastor speaking the words of Absolution. These aren't things I do! These are things that are outside of myself being given to me just like those times when I need the medication for my anxiety.

I guess Pastor was right. God gave me personally a picture of how Christ moves to save His creation in my disorder- tailor made for me while I bear the cross given to me in this veil of tears that points me back to Word and Sacrament. My disorder helps me learn to love Jesus even more.