In recent weeks, several people have shared with me how God is dealing with them on something and how they feel downhearted because of it. Several others have shared how they are going through suffering or tough times and how they feel discouraged—even depressed—because of it. They each expressed in their own way a perspective that they must have "fallen out of favor" with God. Or that he feels far away.
The favor of God, as it is currently taught in Christian circles, is a disturbing common fallacy that I have watched destroy more than one walk with God.
First, if God isn't dealing with you on something then you are dead—physically or spiritually. A walk with God where he isn't putting his finger on something in your life that he wants to remove or change or have you surrender isn't a sign of maturity...it's a sign of death.
The early church fathers promoted a way of walking with God that used the term "tending the garden of the soul." The concept has been hijacked a bit by New Agers, but it's a fitting metaphor.
Initially, when we are rescued, Christ helps clean off the obvious signs of the previous life of sin and changes our status from enemy to family. In gardening, we clean up the obvious trash and remove the wayward trees and rocks. Then, Christ begins to pull up the stubborn "weeds" of sin habits and attitudes. He prunes back what needs to be kept but modified by the Holy Spirit so new fruit and growth can come. Later, Christ conditions the soil with time in his presence. He spends years digging up the hidden rocks, roots of weeds, and rotten things—things we didn't even know were under the surface. All the while planting and re-planting (even transplanting) what he will oversee as it brings fruit.
Even if you're not any kind of gardener, you know that what I'm talking about takes time and could only be done by the hand of someone who cares for the garden obsessively.
This brings me to my second point: If you thought that the crazy, obsessive, "reckless" love of God was going to dissipate into sunshine and butterflies the moment he made you his, think again. Here's where quite a few Christians get stuck. I am convinced we have a shallow, Disney-influenced view of God's love for us.
Mark Buchanan says it best:
"...the love of God...is never kitschy or sentimental. His love is tenacious as oak roots, potent as a typhoon. It is abrasive as much as it is soothing. It scours and breaks us before it sets us right—in order to set us right. It never lets us alone. It is so fierce, the love of God, that many choose to be condemned rather than to step into the light of it." (The Holy Wild)
The next time we sing a song, share our testimony, or preach a sermon about God's obsessive love rescuing us or saving us, we need to remind ourselves and each other that his love doesn't stop once he justified us, he's going to REFINE us as well. And the refining fire of sanctification is painful.
I believe a wrong perspective of the love of God and his pursuit to refine us stems from our pride.
It stems from our prideful internal perspective that we are actually basically good. I mean, we were bad, but he saved us from all that wickedness stuff, and now look at us—we're basically good church-going Christians, right? Wrong.
Returning to the garden metaphor, there are layers upon layers upon layers of thoughts, motives, and attitudes for God to sift through, bringing to light. There are things rooted and rotten so far beneath the surface that if we only knew, I think we'd despair. That doesn't even include the sheer daily vigilance it takes to keep up the garden of our soul! And before that makes you think you have work to do, hear me clearly, you are not the gardener of your soul. He is. We're just supposed to be vigilant to respond to him with surrender whenever he turns something over, exposing it to the fire of his love.
This proper perspective on the God who pursues us single-mindedly as we are remade into the image of Christ will change our entire perspective on what it looks like to walk intimately with God, altering a few cherished sacred cows—er, teachings.
The main teaching it should alter is what it means to be in the favor of God. Too often I've heard sermons that implied or outright declared that 1) if you are experiencing hardship, you need to repent and get back in the favor of God; 2) that if one is in God's favor, life will be full of blessings (read: ease and wealth).
The two fallacies listed above are exactly what Job's story addresses: He was innocent—God said so himself. When he lost everything, his friends encouraged him to repent so he could get back in God's favor (defined by all the health and wealth he previously had). God rebuked the friends because they were wrong. (He also rebuked Job for questioning him, but that's to be expected and I've certainly found myself there as well). Job was never out from under the favor of God.
In summary, favor does not equal wealth. Favor does not equal health. Suffering does not equal "out of favor" with God. Discipline does not equal "out of favor" with God either—we know he disciplines those he loves. And while the covenant we live under certainly contains ample provision, favor equals nothing less than God dwelling with us.
So, if you're suffering or going through a hard time, he promises to be with you. If you're experiencing hardship as a consequence of sin, of course, repent and throw yourself on the mercy of God. It may or may not get better, but you'll have him—which is more than enough. (It also doesn't hurt to let hardship be a "check," just in case we've brought it on by holding to sin.)
When God does discipline us, we should receive it as love. Receiving discipline or "learning a lesson" doesn't always immediately end the painful procedure but there is an end to it eventually.
While we do learn deep life-giving lessons while suffering, that is not the point of suffering (and it is important not to conflate suffering and discipline). Suffering and hardship just come as a result of living in this broken world. When life brings suffering and hardship, the pressure will always bring up things God wants to remove or prune. Let him. It won't end the suffering but it helps make the suffering meaningful and a humble heart grateful.
If you're not suffering or going through a hard time, take the opportunity to thank him. Then lean in, diligently surrendering whatever he gently puts his finger on so that when suffering or hard times come, you've developed a habit of surrender.
This brings me to my last point: Jesus rather clearly outlined we'd experience suffering. But he also promised his love would sustain us.
God's love is extravagant to the point of obsession. Sacrificial not enabling. Heartbreaking and remaking. Breathtaking. Sustaining.
Grace keeps the garden of our soul.