“If we say, 'I believe in Jesus,' but it doesn't affect the way we live, the answer is not that now we need to add hard work to our faith so much as that we haven't truly understood or believed in Jesus at all.”
JOURNAL
Reading my journal entry from nine years ago this morning, especially after remembering yesterday the letter I wrote about pounding the rock eight years ago, feels like God bringing two old lessons back together at exactly the right time. I am so glad I preserved these thoughts because I don't think I fully appreciated how important they would become as references for my life today.
Nine years ago I wrote:
“Yesterday I had a definite aha moment. I was in a private plane flying back from a meeting and was discussing with the pilot the problems of flying at night. So apparently every human being has a tendency to feel that they are falling left of center. Supposedly anyone can stand in a dark room and close their eyes and invariably will begin to feel that they are leaning to the left. Because of this feeling, the response will be to overcorrect to the right.
This creates a big problem if flying at night with cloud cover over terrain with no visible lights. When this happens a pilot has to trust his instruments, however what gets them in trouble is when they choose their feelings over their instruments. If they refuse to trust their instruments then they will continue to try and correct by turning right and eventually they will turn right into a spin and then turn right into the earth.
Wow...is this not the dilemma I face every day of my life? When things get cloudy and dark I tend to trust my feelings more than God. When that happens I turn myself right into bigger problems. God loves us and created us to rely on him...he is our instrument, he is our trusted source for direction, for safety in order to arrive at our ultimate destination. We were created with a tendency to feel as if we are left of center. We need God to keep us from panicking in order to stay the course. It makes so much sense that God created us to need him...it's not a shameful thing...it is a wonderful thing because it forces us to rely on him and when we rely on him we live as he intended.”
What strikes me today is the necessity of having both a reference and a recheck. It isn't enough to have once known what was true. Without continually checking myself against something outside of myself, I will eventually begin trusting my own perception of where “level” is.
That is such an amazing picture of life. A disoriented pilot can genuinely feel something that isn't true. If he trusts those sensations instead of the instruments, he begins correcting something that doesn't need correcting. Then he corrects the correction. Eventually the very actions he believes are saving him can drive him toward the ground.
How often do I do the same thing? Fear, rejection, inadequacy or uncertainty make me feel off-center, so I start correcting. One correction leads to another until I can become exhausted and disoriented while believing I am simply trying to get myself back to level.
That is the spiral. Left unchecked, it leads toward death. Maybe not physical death, but the slow death of peace, joy, purpose and the ability to experience the life God has placed in front of me.
That is why I need a reference. “For the word of the Lord is right and true; he is faithful in all he does.” There is the instrument. Then Psalm 147 says, “His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of the warrior; the Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.” There is center.
God isn't telling me not to work hard or pursue excellence. He is reminding me that none of it can become the instrument by which I determine my worth, security or direction. His unfailing love is the reference.
That makes Keller's quote incredibly important this morning. If my belief in Jesus doesn't change the way I live, perhaps the answer isn't simply to try harder. Perhaps I need to look again at Jesus and recheck the instrument. Even good things become distorted when I lose my reference. Discipline becomes control. Excellence becomes validation. Responsibility becomes anxiety. Even Deserve Victory can become another attempt to prove that I am enough.
And that connects perfectly with remembering the letter I wrote eight years ago about pounding the rock. Yesterday it reminded me that I still have a hammer in my hand. Fatigue had caused me to stop swinging with the conviction I once had, and I felt inspired again to pick it up and give myself fully to the life God has placed in front of me.
But this nine-year-old journal adds something essential to that eight-year-old letter: before I swing the hammer, I need to check the instruments.
Why am I swinging? Is it coming from love or fear? Am I serving or proving? Am I faithfully living today or trying to control tomorrow? The hammer reminds me to keep swinging. The instruments make sure I am swinging in the right direction. I need both.
Maybe that is the most important part of this entire analogy: the turn can feel level. Without a fixed reference outside myself, I can convince myself that something distorted is actually right. That is why Scripture, prayer and surrender aren't simply religious obligations. They are instruments. They continually bring me back to what is true when my internal senses become unreliable.
Perhaps that is also one of the greatest gifts of preserving these old writings. Nine years later, a younger version of myself reminds me to trust the instruments. Eight years later, an old letter reminds me to keep swinging the hammer. The circumstances have changed, but the reference hasn't.
So the lessons come together perfectly: pick up the hammer and swing, but keep checking the instruments.
When the clouds come, check again. When I feel myself drifting, check again. When fatigue sets in, check again. God is faithful. His unfailing love is center.
Trust the instruments. Trust God. Stay the course.
Then swing the hammer with everything I have.
