Dusty Paths to Glory V

Dust of ten days, ten weeks, ten months, ten years—we all have sins and suffering and stains from walking this weary world that are not easily washed away.

To the Samaritan woman’s dust of shame, Jesus pointed to himself.

To the mourning Mary and Martha, Jesus pointed to himself.

Our premise is that joy in Jesus, that glory light of Son’s rays, will cleanse us from the dust as we journey toward him. Thomas Chalmers the Puritan held that only one deep love or affection will cast another out. Only love and joy, no amount of should and guilt and law and ought to or pull-myself-up-by-my-own-bootstraps-self-control, can replace our misplaced loves that result in sins.

Behind this premise is the idea that all sin is thus ultimately an expression of unbelief and/or pride and ultimately each sin is a rejection of Christ. Dust of shame may cling because we love the opinion of others more than the acceptance of Christ—we don’t believe his love is enough and we reject his love for others’. The dust of sexual addiction may cling because we love that endorphin ridden feeling of pleasure, the intimacy we feel, more than Christ—we don’t believe his path to pleasure is best and we reject his wisdom for ours. The dust of worry may blanket us because we don’t believe he will take care of us—we reject him for our own means of providing security.

We’ve explored three simple schemas to help us expose the gospel gaps—the areas we know but don’t live out, the areas where we want to love Jesus more than ___, but struggle to do so.

Heat/thorns/cross/fruit

Who is God? What has he done? Who am I? What is my response?

Creation/Fall/Redemption/Restoration

Yet…. What about those times when we’ve done it all and the dust still clings? When we long to be rid of it? I have wrestled, prayed about, preached the gospel to myself every morning, done each of the three things above in regards to a certain pride and self-glory and I long to be rid of it, I cry out to Jesus…. And it is still there. I’ve asked the Spirit, “I don’t know what to do with this. I’ve tried. Please help.”

Then—he is still there. He still loves you. His grace is still sufficient.

“Now the law came in to increase the trespass, but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more” (Romans 5:20).

“’My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (2 Cor. 12:9-10).

Keep seeking, keep pleading—but perhaps (and this is a mystery I am still am treading softly with, gingerly putting one foot forward on my own dusty journey), perhaps it is allowed to learn grace.

Grace.

Perhaps there are depths of his grace that I would not understand without the pain. Perhaps there is a strength to his wild, lavish grace I will never grasp if I would not be so weak against this besetting pride. Perhaps I will see him ever more clearly as my Joy, find his grace more sweet, with that stone in my shoe as I continue my dusty journey.

The grace that doesn’t relieve, doesn’t take it away instantly, but the grace that is still poured out on me in love even as I struggle. The grace that still loves me in my known imperfection. The grace that still loves me even as I cry as my heart wanders. The grace that still loves even when dust still clings.

It is grace when he washes the dust of our sins, suffering, and stains away.

It is grace when he still loves us in our dustiness.

Grace. He is grace.

“Twas grace that brought me safe this far, and grace will bring me home.”