The “I Have’s” of the Gospel
In his book, Deeper, Dane Ortlund says, “Reflection on the wonder of the gospel… [is what] softens our hearts.” It’s what makes us new.
As I read that, I thought about the many times I’ve heard Pastors say that seeing the wonder of the gospel is what changes us. I realized, though, that I’m not sure I’ve taken the time to really reflect on the wonder of the gospel. I realized I needed to dive deeper. I needed to try to really see what the wonder is — to get to the farthest depths I could of it’s beauty. So, I sat down and tried for a while.
This isn’t by any means the full sweep of what we have in Christ and in the gospel, but it was as far as I got for that day. And it’s become a list — these “I have’s,” as I call them — that I keep coming back to when I get anxious, angry, afraid, lonely, frustrated, etc. It’s become a small treasure for me. So, for what it’s worth, I share it with you. Read it slowly and let it sink in. Create your own list too. Dig into the depths of the wonder. There’s plenty there.
The wonder of the gospel is…
That I now have enough in him. That I am enough in him.
I have forgiveness in him. I have the deepest approval and boundless love in him. I have unmatched strength and support in him. I have true friendship and companionship in him. I have what I need to get through what I’m facing. I have real rest from and for the pain I’m in. I have actual peace for my conflict.
I have the provision and plan of God in him for all the ways my wisdom and planning fall short — for the way my foresight is shortsighted and incomplete. I have his perfection for my almost or my not even close.
I have his kindness for my coldness, bitterness and indignant anger. I have his gentleness for my harshness. I have his joy for my sorrow. I have his gratitude for my dissatisfaction. I have his humility for my pride. I have his holiness, purity and righteousness for my lust, envy and self-absorption. I have his constancy and eternality for my uncertainty and transitoriness. I have his embrace for my loneliness and rejection. I have his beauty for my ugliness. I have his compassion for my self-loathing. I have his curiosity and understanding for my contempt.
I have his generosity for my poverty and greed. I have his courage for my timidity. I have his meekness for my stubbornness. I have his illuminating light for my deep darkness. I have his self-sacrifice for my self-centeredness. I have his mercy for my grudges. I have his clear- minded sobriety for my addictive self-deception. I have his magnificence for my emptiness and despair.
I have his calmness for my anxiety. I have his endurance for my giving up. I have his going to prepare a place for me for my continual longing for a home. I have his healing for my agonizing wounds. I have his comfort for my heartache. I have his redemption for my checkered past. I have his victory for my failures and defeat. I have his commitment for my unfaithfulness. I have the height and length and breadth and depth of his glory for my guilt.
I have his enlivening Spirit for my tired and weary soul. I have his baptism for my welcoming in. I have his body and blood for my pressing on. I have his taking on flesh for my sympathy and mediation. I have his resurrection for my sting of death. I have his making all things new for my wearing all things out. I have his coming again on the clouds, with his holy angels for my “Come, quickly Lord.” I have his alpha and omega — his beginning and the end — for my never starting or never quite finishing. I have his authoring and perfecting for my not even knowing where to begin.
I have his perfect comprehension for all my being misunderstood and misunderstanding others. I have his restraint for all my impulsiveness. I have his surety for all my hesitancy. I have his intentionality for my indecisive being tossed by the waves. I have his vulnerability for my hiding my true self. I have his being a servant for my demanding to be served. I have his seventy times seven for my never speaking to you again.
I have his fullness and sweetness for my longing and desire. I have his steadfastness and immovability for my relentless temptation. I have the towering elevation of his salvation for my bottomless void of sin. I have his never leaving or forsaking for my opting out at any time. I have his stoping to help the enemy for my indifferent passing by on the other side. I have his tenderness toward little ones for my dismissiveness of their requests. I have his brotherhood for my leaving the family or being left. I have his bearing my cross and taking my beatings for my persecutions and trials. I have his determination to save for my worry that he won’t.
I have his keeping no record of wrongs for my long memory of personal slights. I have his freedom and liberty for my inescapable captivity. I have his well of living water for my ever thirsty soul. I have his tree of life for my sustaining, despite my eating the forbidden fruit. I have his river of life flowing out for me, despite my wandering in the desert. I have his book of life where my name is written down for all time, despite my rarely speaking his. I have his constant prayers of intercession for my occasional thoughts of him. I have his knowing the hairs on my head — my going out and my lying down — for my wondering if he even remembers my name.
I have the God who made all things thinking of me despite my being the withering grass and the flower that fades. I have his calling me worth so much more than the birds of the air and flowers of the field even though they obey him and I do not. I have him as repairer of breaches in the wall, for the injustices I have both given and received. I have his remaking me in his image for my trying to remake him in mine. I have the scars in his hands and his feet, the hole in his side, to forever know that he is my Savior and he will not abandon me to the grave.