“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that I may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
I have access to all hope, yet I feel hopeless. I have access to all power and strength, yet I feel weak. I have access to grace, mercy, and forgiveness, yet I choose to wallow in self pity. I have the God of all comfort, yet I walk through life feeling utterly alone. It really doesn’t make sense. If Jesus were to ask me who I say that He is, I would tell Him that He is the Son of God, my Savior, my friend, the one who can do all things. And as much as my mouth would speak it, I am not so sure that my heart always believes it. I have a Father, a Savior, a Mighty God, a friend, and a High Priest who is not unable. I have access to a God who is able to do all things, who is not bound by the limits of human weakness, but I often am the one who sticks Him in a box and tells Him what He can or cannot do. Why? Why don’t I believe that God is who He says He is? That if I would only draw near to Him, than He would do the same to me. I guess I have a fear of coming to His throne of grace (as ridiculous as that sounds!). For as long as I can remember, I have been independent. I don’t like to be helped, and I really don’t like to tell people my problems. I want to do things on my own, but I am learning that I can’t. I can’t bear the weight of my sin, and I can’t hold onto everything I think or feel, all by myself. God did not create me, or any of us, to live this way. He created communion with Himself and each other. He says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). “Cast your cares on me, for I care for you” (1 Peter 5:7). And He also says, “bear one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2). It is only in this coming step, that I begin to discover who I am not, and who God is. It is only in drawing near to Him, that His character is more deeply and intimately revealed to me. He might have to tear me open a little bit. He might have to break me apart. He even might have to take things from my grasp that I have been holding onto for so long. But the pain of pruning means healing and new life in the end. It’s grace that draws us near, it’s grace that breaks our hearts, it’s grace that healing comes. Father, break me to heal me. Help my flesh to die, so that your spirit might live in and through me. May I not forget who you are—holy, able, loving, gracious, and mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Draw me in, Lord, and let me not be afraid.
Application: I have spent a lot of time with Jesus this week, writing down all the things that are in my head, but I am not really good at telling people my struggles. When something pops up, I will tell Autumn what is on my mind, this week.