It’s so convenient for us, isn’t
it, to stand for love in a way that lets us off the hook of having to deal with
truth? We distance ourselves from
the more difficult conversations because of the sharp edges that truth often
bears. I’m not talking about
meanness here; truth doesn’t have to wield its sword in a decapitating manner
and seek to increase the damage.
It’s just that Christians too often don’t seen to know how to deal with
truth (unless it is the cake and icing variety), because it doesn’t seem to
match with the expectation we have of what we think love sounds like. The problem with that is that the Bible
tells us that Jesus was the glory of the only begotten of the father, full of
grace and truth. (John 1:14) And the thing about grace is that it can’t be present
without truth. Grace cannot even exist
when the truth has not been acknowledged.
I mentioned here the other day
the siblings of Love, so let’s talk a little more about this sister of hers
called Grace. She is a beautiful
but undeniably strong part of the family.
She and Truth came as twins, and though Truth is her brother and the
more outwardly muscular, Grace has a power that is huge and never shows up
where Truth isn’t already standing strong. They do their best work together.
Grace cannot be somewhere
unless Truth has been recognized. Grace has no purpose if there has been
no wrongdoing. Grace has no role unless some other response would be
rightly just. She cannot function if there is no identification of a
problem, because her presence MEANS that there has been a wrong and someone is
now offered a good they haven’t deserved.
Do you want Grace to live
where you are? Then be sure that
Truth is present there. She cannot
come first. She has no reason to
show up if Truth hasn’t been a guest
already welcomed there. But
ask him in and she will be right on his heels. She loves to come in to an atmosphere and drape her
beautiful work over what could have looked like a staunch courtroom trial.
We miss out on so much grace
by avoiding truth. We miss the
golden edged opportunities for something exquisite to be grafted into the
reality of who we are. We miss the
song of heaven if we try to hide our sin behind the leaves of the tree of
denial.
The cross was the full
evidence of the truth of our condition.
That was me that killed God.
My sin. My darkness. And there He was, hanging the
invitation of grace out to me if I would take my own blood onto my hands for
just a minute to receive His gift and be washed.
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