I think one of the hardest lessons that walking this earth for 81 years teaches us is that the only person we can really attempt to change is ourselves. And the mere fact that changing ourselves can be so difficult is, in itself, a testimony to something most of us have in common.
But even that statement needs a qualification. Because, as I have gradually learned, changing ourselves is not something we can accomplish through our own determination and strength alone. We all need God’s help.
I initially believed in and trusted in Jesus when I was in my mid-twenties. I use the word initially because what began that night, when I got down on my knees, confessed the folly of my own ways, and placed my faith and trust in Jesus, was merely the beginning of a long journey.
It has been a journey in which I have repeatedly had to return to that same place of belief and trust, recognizing things within myself that I had frequently, and almost habitually, failed to see. Time and time again.
When you reach my age, there is a certain grace in looking back and recognizing just how long, and sometimes how difficult, that journey has been. There is also a growing awareness of one’s own shortcomings, our dependence upon God, and our continuing need for forgiveness.
And strangely enough, the closer we draw to Jesus, the more clearly we begin to recognize just how much we need Him.
We who believe and trust in Jesus know that He was without sin. That is a small sentence, but the difference between Jesus and ourselves is light years apart.
Jesus is the only begotten Son of God, while we become children of God through faith in Him. He perfectly reveals the Father, whose holiness, wisdom, and ways are infinitely beyond our own. And it is through the indwelling Holy Spirit that God begins to transform us into the likeness of His Son.
There are many passages of Scripture that speak of the difference between God’s thoughts and ways and our own. Isaiah 55:8–9 immediately comes to mind.
But one of the simplest examples of how our thinking and motives can differ from God’s is our tendency to operate with two sets of rules.
One set applies to ourselves. The other applies to everyone else.
We seek forgiveness, understanding, and compassion when considering our own shortcomings, but can be remarkably quick to demand strict justice when considering the shortcomings of others.
We want mercy for ourselves and accountability for everyone else.
Yet God shows no partiality. His standards of righteousness do not change according to whom He is dealing with. And when Jesus walked among us, He perfectly demonstrated the righteousness, mercy, truth, and love of His Father.
I can only speak for myself, but if I were to give an honest assessment of how consistently I have demonstrated that same impartiality throughout my Christian journey, my answer would be:
Not so much.
We are called to forgive others because God, through Christ, has forgiven us.
We are called not to hold the sins of others continually against them because God, in His mercy, no longer holds our forgiven sins against us. That does not mean we lose our memory of what happened, or that wisdom and appropriate boundaries are no longer necessary.
We are called to love because God first loved us, even while we were yet sinners.
And we are called to surrender our will to the will of our heavenly Father, just as Jesus perfectly submitted Himself to His Father’s will.
These are not merely admirable principles. They are expressions of the life to which Jesus calls those who follow Him.
If I look back honestly over my own Christian journey, the scales of impartiality that I have exercised are not in my favor. Far too many times, I have failed to forgive as I ought to have forgiven. I have failed to extend the compassion I myself have needed. And I have failed to love as I ought to have loved.
I see that now.
I did not always see it.
And even recognizing those failures is, I believe, evidence of the grace of God at work within me. When I consider the scales of God’s perfect righteousness, I know that my own efforts could never balance them. It is only because of what Jesus accomplished on my behalf that I can stand forgiven before God. The weight that changes everything is not the weight of my accomplishments, but the sufficiency of His.
We are indebted to God because we have been forgiven, not because of what we have accomplished, but because of what Jesus accomplished for us. What we could never accomplish for ourselves, He has provided through His life, death, and resurrection.
And that brings me to the Kingdom of God.
The Kingdom of God, ruled by our King, calls us to an entirely different way of thinking and living.
It is the Kingdom revealed in those remarkable words of Jesus:
“But I say to you…”
Love your enemies.
Do good to those who hate you.
Bless those who curse you.
Turn the other cheek.
Walk the extra mile.
These are not the natural inclinations of the human heart. They reflect the character of our King and the radically different way of life to which He calls us.
This is the Kingdom that Jesus came proclaiming, calling us to repent, believe the Gospel, and follow Him.
And it is a Kingdom whose ways we cannot faithfully live out through human determination alone.
I have tried the approach of banging my head against a brick wall in attempting to change others. I have used logic. I have reasoned. I have spoken what I believed to be the truth, only to discover that my words frequently fell on deaf ears.
And sometimes, if I am being fair, perhaps I was the one who needed to listen.
The more I reflect upon it, the more I recognize the difference between attempting to accomplish God’s purposes through my own reasoning, strength, and determination, and trusting Him to accomplish what only He can do.
That does not mean we stop speaking the truth, offering correction when appropriate, or lovingly encouraging one another. But it does mean recognizing that we cannot force another person to see what we see, believe what we believe, or become what we think they ought to become.
Only God can truly transform the human heart.
And that includes mine.
Light years.
I see it.
And increasingly, I recognize the necessity of yielding to it.
Because when all is said and done, God’s thoughts and ways are infinitely higher than mine. And I am still learning, sometimes slowly and sometimes painfully, that trusting Him is far better than trusting myself.
From one sheep in God’s flock to another,
Respectfully submitted for your consideration.
Worthy is the Lamb!
Blessings!
Bruce Cooper is a disciple of Jesus, married to Peggy, with 5 grown up children, 7 grandchildren. He is retired from the Canadian Armed Forces and resides in beautiful Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. a.k.a. “Papa.” To read more of Bruce’s work visit Reasoned Cases For Christ.
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