The Guardian of My Soul

GuardianAngel1It was one of those pinched, lightless mornings when I was up for no other reason than because it wasn’t an option to remain in bed. I had an urgent need to hear from God, particularly since I don’t seem to hear His voice as well as I might. I’ve often taken others’ advice and, after praying, remained in the posture of prayer and simply “listened.” But at these times I rarely hear anything with clarity. So it is a pleasant surprise to me when God speaks.

I was bothered as I approached my devotions that morning. The day before, I had begun to experience slippage in my relationship with God. I felt my heart beginning to pull away from Him. In spite of the desolate feeling that came with it, I was experiencing a surge of self will stronger than anything I had felt for a long time. I wanted more than anything to go somewhere else, anywhere else, and do my own thing. The scary part is that often in the past such slippage has been essentially impervious to all my efforts to halt it and renew my resolve to pursue Christ. The result has, on occasion, been a season in flight from God.

I had no intention that morning of changing course, but I was disturbed by some difficult questions: Why isn’t my devotion to God stronger? Where is all the gratitude I should be experiencing, my desire to serve, to be a part of what God is doing in the world? I never seem to have these sentiments in the appropriate measure in spite of my fervent prayers. I have tried to bend my thoughts, speech and behavior to the godly standard, as Scripture instructs. And while there has certainly been progress over the course of my Christian walk, it still often seems so tentative and inadequate for all the nurturance I have received from God.

As these concerns began to surface in my mind, God reminded me of the day He taught me that He is in charge of my life and sanctification. That was a day of suffering when God took pains to show me the futility of my many painful attempts to purify myself and produce Christian maturity in my own life. I had attempted to do this over and over again through great personal effort and the application of spiritual disciplines. (It had never occurred to me that self-control is a fruit of the Spirit and not itself a spiritual discipline.)

Discipline is good and necessary, but the problem for me was that Christian growth isn’t a mathematical formula. I learned that as well as a person can learn it, through fasting, flawless church attendance, marathon sessions in the Word, painful material sacrifices, vehement prayers and white-knuckled attempts to be obedient in everything. (I could recount ludicrous tales here.) I’ve read dozens of Christian books and have a thousand thundering sermons in my head. None of it could ever accomplish the kind of heart change that would permit me to go after Jesus with the kind of grateful, hungry heart I had wanted ever since I started reading the great Christian biographies.

Steps of DespairHow can the truth of God’s grace be concealed for so long from one who has so longed for it? I have no idea. But finally, after countless thrashings, I was in a position to hear from God on the subject. It was a hideous day, and I was only halfway through it but already bone-tired, burnt to a crisp, exasperated beyond words. I was volunteering that day at the Portland Teen Challenge thrift store. I was walking back and forth along the sidewalk in front of the store waving a sign to advertise the day’s sale. There was a warm Portland breeze blowing over me, but I wasn’t enjoying it much. All day long I had been battling unsuccessfully with profoundly negative thoughts and feelings of bitterness. Through it all, my self-control had been getting obliterated in key areas, and I felt the weight of many struggling years. I was exhausted and I was angry. I scarcely believed in the existence of God.

I could think of a hundred things I ought to be doing to fight on—quoting Scripture aloud, praying for others, praise and thanksgiving, positive self-talk, etc. But as I strode up and down the storefront that afternoon, I told God calmly, “I’m not going to do all that stuff. It’s not accomplishing anything. I’m going to do as much as I can manage. If you want me to be some kind of super Christian, you’re going to have to do something. I’m done.” And just after I told Him that, God said to me quietly, “It is done.” I felt an electric charge go through my insides, and I knew that the living God had just spoken to me, as if He was standing next to me on the sidewalk. It was instantly clear to me that God had made a reference to the crucifixion of Christ (i.e., “it is finished.”).

Something mind-blowing happens when Almighty God talks to you about the Crucifixion. After that happens, the blessed event is irrevocably changed in one’s perception from a bit of folklore to something palpably real. But most of this came to me upon later reflection. Right afterward, as I was still asking myself, “What just happened?” I began praying in a relaxed, conversational tone, lifting up some of my Teen Challenge brothers. Now that I had laid aside the crushing laundry list of Christian duties, I found prayer soothing. I discovered that a tremendous peace and joy was welling up inside me. In a way that transcended language and rationality, God was holding me and promising to never let me go no matter what I did.

How does a mere man tell the Most High God what he’s going to do and then receive comfort and assurance from on high? I don’t know, but when it happened, I knew that I was loved with an immense and magnificent love and that I was perfectly safe. All I had to do was trust God.

Of course, my obligation to live a godly life wasn’t done away with that day, but since then I have paradoxically found myself with an increased desire and ability to obey and please God. I take a great and mysterious pleasure in saying to God and to myself, “I belong to Christ Jesus, body and soul, head to toe.” My heart swells with an otherworldly comfort because my God and Savior is greater than all, and according to His pleasure He moves the contents of the universe around as though they were toys, and yet He is good and gentle and kind, and He watches over me.

God reminded me of all this on that recent morning as I grappled in prayer. Once He had spoken, it all came back in a moment, and then it was remarkably easy to trust Him again. In a language and style quite uncharacteristic of me, I prayed silently, “Lord, I’m not going security-by-david-bowman-8-options-available-6to fret about all the ways my Christian life might go wrong. You are the guardian of my soul.” As soon as the thought had gone through my head, I wondered where it had come from. Then, just a few minutes later, I was reading a chapter out of 1 Peter in a version I had never read before (TLB). I came across this Scripture:

“Like sheep you wandered away from God, but now you have returned to your Shepherd, the Guardian of your souls who keeps you safe from all attacks” (1 Peter 2:25).

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About Douglas Abbott

I am a freelance writer by trade, philosopher and comedian by accident of birth. I am an assiduous observer of humanity and endlessly fascinated with people, the common elements that make us human, what motivates people and the fingerprint of God in all of us. I enjoy exploring the universe in my search for meaning, beauty and friendship. My writing is an extension of all these things and something I did for fun long before I ever got paid. My hope is that the reader will find in this portfolio a pleasing and inspiring literary hodgepodge. Good reading!
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2 Responses to The Guardian of My Soul

  1. Sarah Willems says:

    I love it Doug! And I’m sorry that I have missed your last few entries, thinking you were not able to get on here to write. Now I have some catching up to do! Your journey is of great, great interest to us, & we intend to continue standing in the gap for you.

  2. Paul Johnson says:

    Well written and explained my friend. I have struggled with the type of Christian I once was rather than looking forward to who He is forming me to be. I typically tell people that “I used to…”. I feel that I am trying to start a car but just cant seem to get it to fire no matter how much I pump the peddle. Even now I struggle with the words to type. …funny how when we are asked for advice we can look into the problem and give healthy words of encouragement but when (I) try to lets say “run a diagnostic test” of my own i come up empty. *sigh* *laugh* I trust Him. not to much more to say than that.

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