Now Playing: Beethoven, Symphony No. 6 "Pastorale".

For the Christian Reformation Fellowship Bible study, we've been reading Jerry Bridges's book Transforming Grace. It's a good study--I highly recommend it--but it would be even better if I could actually understand the truths that are being said.

Over the last month-and-a-half or so, I've realized just how little I understand the truths of God's grace, justification and sanctification in particular. Those two big words sound dreadfully scholarly. Though I've grown up with them, I've discovered that the common malady which afflicts most born-in-a-Christian-home people has crept insidiously into my life. The big words are just big words.

What do justification and sanctification really mean? Not just as esoteric words that form the basis for countless controversies, but as lived realities? Will it ever be possible for me to live them not just "the way I should" but even a little bit more authentically than I do now?

What does justification itself mean? I could rattle off the catechism answer, but a wise person I've been talking to recently has given me an even simpler idea. Justification means that the sins I have committed, those failures and acts of rebellion that I have performed, are forgiven in the present. They are swept away, are blotted out, are erased by God.

This means that when I feel as though I need to plunge myself into guilt before God will forgive me, I am not understanding this reality. Instead of begging and pleading, I can hold onto the promise that those who confess their sins are forgiven. Justification is thus a completed act in the past that reverberates into the present.

How does the fact that my sins are forgiven change my life in the present? By the power of God's Spirit, I should obey God out of freedom and thankfulness. I have been bought with a price; I belong to God. Redemption is a solemn fact that should encourage me to appreciate what Christ has done by obeying Him.

The "should" there can be treacherous, though, because I can turn "freedom and thankfulness" into duty, too. I can say that because I am not living life freely and thankfully, rejoicing in what God has done, therefore God does not love me.

Thankfully, no matter what I do or what my motives are, God will always continue to love me because of who He is. If I could only see myself from His perspective, maybe I would understand that better. Instead of seeing a failure, He sees Christ in all His delightfulness and vigor.

As I've written these words, I've come face-to-face again with the disturbing fact that these are just words. They flicker on the screen without efficacy to change the way I think, feel, and behave. Every time I sit down to read Bridges's book, I am confronted by my inability and unwillingness to absorb the immense truths he discusses.

Sheer unwillingness, in fact, is part of the problem. Partly I enjoy playing the martyr and being miserable. Partly I am unwilling to let go of what I perceive as being my role in salvation. I am clinging with whitening fingers to "my sanctification", to the "shoulds" and "oughts" and "have tos". I am downright afraid to let go, afraid that if I do let go, I will never even try to obey God again.

Why? Because that obedience has defined my personality, defined my appearance, defined my existence both in my own head and to everyone else around me--Christian and non-Christian alike. Expectations, demands. My mind is full of all the things I ought to do and should be doing and failed to do. Having my definition of Paul's command to "work out your salvation with fear and trembling" suddenly ripped away is a terrifying thing, for I am afraid that I will cease to be myself.

If I were honest, I would realize that "myself" isn't really a very pleasant person to be after all. Altogether too proud, too self-absorbed, too restricted, too afraid. Currently, I'm too hard-headed to act in the reality that would release me from this. When the Psalmist says, "I have been like a beast before You," I sympathize. Except that in my case, "have been" should be in present tense.

During a highschool flute lesson, my teacher was showing me new breathing exercises. Coaching me toward  a fuller sound, she was having me breathe more deeply with a different embouchure. Since it was the first time I'd tried this, I was failing. I started to panic, which resulted in cracked notes. My teacher laughed and said, "You're like the two-year-old who is learning how to walk. You're frustrated because you see how it's done, but you can't do it yet yourself."

Mercifully, God doesn't leave anyone to figure this sort of thing out themselves. Understanding grace in sanctification must be part of the process of sanctification. Christ is my wisdom as well as my salvation.