Useless Faith

Posted on: September 22, 2010, by :

The sharpness of an individual is based on his or her knowledge of the scriptures and there applicability to life’s struggles.  But can a person apply scripture to life without being aware of life’s struggles?  Does a tool or instrument of the Lord need to have experienced the world in order that it be able to withstand the world?

As a home schooled child growing up in a godly household, I was well versed in the scriptures and in its theological application.  I entered public school in the 7th grade and found my faith to be useless.  Some may cringe when they hear me say that, but I mean it.  My issue arose from the fact that my faith was built on everything but Jesus’ redemption.  I had never really had to run to Him, never had to hope on him, never had to feel the guilt of my transgression be swallowed up in to the great abyss of His forgiveness.  Sure I did stuff wrong, but I had never tasted the blood spatter of the lamb who was slain by my sin.  All my words made no difference to my peers, because my life was lived in the body and not the spirit. 

A darkness began to build in my heart and all my knowledge was not enough to shed light on the shadows inside of me.  Forgiveness was a foreign concept because of my unwillingness to accept it.  I failed to understand the “sinner’s” aversion to the church and her message of forgiveness, but had never offered forgiveness to anyone.  I refused to allow my heart to be consumed by Him.  Moments of great revival found my heart, but it seemed as though the world would grant me that excuse to neglect Him again.

Entering my first year of college I found myself searching for value.  Seeking and finding pleasure in the world; but for all my seeking and finding, I never felt the satisfaction I remembered from simple moments of closeness to Him.  Conspiring for my destruction, prayers of saints found the ear of the Spirit, and my masquerade found its humiliating end.

Seeing the sickness of my lifestyle laid open for the world to mock, and smelling the gangrenous decay of ministry and message, my ability to withstand the weight of condemnation was cut incredibly short by the broken fragments of my own faith.  The knowledge that my actions were finally meeting the perfect justice of the Father was greater than my experience of the forgiveness of the Son.

Guilt welled up in by heart and eclipsed whatever darkness had remained, and I wrestled with the idea that I had nothing more to offer the Father for payment for my sins.  But it was not the church that displayed openness to the prodigal.  Nor did they convince me of the fact that indeed Jesus’ death was enough.  It was instead my earthly father and mother that displayed the grace and mercy of the Son as they reflected the embrace of the Father.

The sharpness of a blade is irrelevant if it cannot withstand the force with which it is applied… tempered steel, that has been folded a hundred times by the spirit makes for a far more reliable weapon with which we strike the sickness of the evil one than does the stained glass standard which crumbles under the weight of both reality and eternity.