Rachel’s Story:
“What comes to mind when you think about God?”
I sat across from my boss in his office, my back firmly planted against my cushioned chair, nervous to share. What if my answer sounded immature or wrong? He had just stepped in as lead pastor at our church as I finished my third year as children’s director.
“Up until a couple months ago, I saw God as Judge,” I said, feeling tears fill my eyes. “As someone who condemned me for falling short. Each night before bed I met with God in prayer. I would close my eyes and see Jesus with crossed arms and a forlorn face. He always came to review my list of sins.”
My boss’ posture shifted. He leaned in, putting his elbows on his knees and looking at me as if feeling the pain and shame I had felt.
“Jesus would look at the list and back at me,” I continued. “He would say, ‘You knew better. Why did you do this?’ I always imagined him disappointed.” Feeling the tears sliding down my cheeks, I finished with, “I often fell asleep thinking, He should give up on me. I would.”
Then I saw tears on my pastor’s face, too. Encouraged by his compassion, I decided to share more.
At age six, I began to understand that doing bad things separated me from God, but that Jesus died and rose again to forgive me. As I grew up, I thought that living the Christian life meant managing and getting rid of bad behavior, so my focus shifted to score keeping for God the Judge. As long as my actions, thoughts, and reputation were “perfect,” I felt safe in my relationship with God. But when I messed up, I felt insecure in my relationship with God.
Because I believed God disapproved of me, I looked elsewhere for acceptance and approval. I needed everyone to like me. And I needed a perfect reputation—no mistakes and no rebellion. Since I couldn’t change God’s disapproval, I worked hard for others to see me just as I wanted. This effort kept me busy. And exhausted. These controlling behaviors took shape in adolescence, followed me into college, and later, into my marriage.
To maintain my hard-earned reputation, I expected my husband to act perfectly too. If he did not engage in our small group or spend time with God as I thought he should, I judged him. If he did not parent our son as I thought he should, I would criticize him. I not only kept score of my shortcomings, but his too.
In ministry, I took everything personally. Criticism from leadership was devastating. And when people left the church, I thought it was because of my failure as a leader.
The Bible brought no reprieve. Reading it through my moralistic lens reminded me only of my inadequacies. I saw everything as an order, not an inner transformation: “I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received” (Eph. 4:1); “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths” (Eph. 4:29); “Do not conform to the pattern of this world” (Rom. 12:2). The more I failed to manage my sinful behavior, the wearier I grew.
But then, in God’s divine timing, he rescued me.
While in a women’s small group at church, I read a book called Hinds Feet on High Places. This book depicts a girl on a journey with Jesus. But the Jesus she journeys with differs from the Jesus I knew. In the book, Jesus greets her with gentleness, kindness, and patience. What a stark contrast to the Jesus who daily greeted me! I often found myself thinking, I wish this Jesus were real.
I read and re-read this book, eyes laser-focused on its portrayal of Jesus. I wondered, What if this Jesus really does exist? Needing proof, I searched the Bible and met with my mentor and small group, intentionally searching for this kindhearted Jesus. After about a year of searching, I began to see that this Jesus is real! The mud of my misunderstanding fell away, and I could see.
I had to start over in my Christian life. My misunderstanding had tarnished my view of God, my view of myself, and how I read His Word. So I got a new Bible and began reading it through the lens of God’s delight in me and the riches of my status as an uncondemned daughter of God.
Slowly, God’s truths sunk in. As Paul writes to his protégé Titus: “But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy” (Titus 3:4-5, NIV, emphasis mine). For the first time, words like kindness, love, and mercy leapt off the pages, refreshing my weary soul.
Knowing God delights in me has allowed me to let go of managing my reputation and my husband. Instead of criticizing his walk with God, I listen to the ways he communes with God and try to learn from them. Instead of criticizing his relationship with our son, I more often extend gratitude for the balance his unhurried demeanor brings into our family.
For 20 years I tried to live the Christian life in my own strength. I believed I was under a cloud of God’s disappointment. But now, I joyfully look forward to meeting with Jesus. I often still get it wrong, wandering into the familiar territory of scorekeeping. But most days I realize I am free. I now know God delights in me.
After I shared my story with my boss, I saw a huge smile across his face. He leaned forward and said, “Rachel, it seems as though you have been broken and made whole by the gospel of Jesus. How beautiful.”
He was right. And I am so grateful.
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