Don't Pick up that Rock

Friends! 

Thank you for reading OR you can listen to me read this post to you. 

Thoughtless. Uncaring. Failure. 

These are the rocks I put in my backpack often. There's usually a lost, dirty sock in there too belonging to one of my children. But that’s another story for another day. You have yours too, I would imagine. Rocks, I mean. Rocks? You say. Yes, rocks.

Let me explain:

Imagine with me: you are running a race (if that’s too much of a stretch imagine you’re going on a long hike). This race/hike is long. It’s hard. The peak is high and the valleys are so low light cannot be see. It’s bright in some spots but darker than you could have ever imagined in places. All you know is, once you start you have to keep going. Forward. That’s the way. Forward. That’s what you know because there is no going back. 

Not far into your journey, you stumble...you fall. You trip over rocks jutting out of the path. This happens again and again. At some point along the race you decide you like the look of the rocks along the road. "Maybe I'll start picking them up and this will help me not to trip so often," you think.  You like the look of those rocks and yeah, it makes the journey harder but what’s a little pain when you’re climbing to the summit? You “own” those heavy laden rocks. 

If your mind is recalling John Bunyon’s classic Pilgrim’s Progress, you would be right. Except for this one difference: Christian starts out with a heavy laden pack and losses it along the way as a beautiful picture of the freedom from sin that believers attain in Christ. 

Once that heavy pack is loosed though, Christian never starts picking up rocks and putting them back into his pack. His trouble is great during the journey, to be sure but the pack stays light. 

American Christians forget this.

At least I do. 

A dear friend recently encouraged me to stop running the race with rocks in your pack! What she meant is this: I cannot own every perceived “failure” I (or others) place on me. If I forget something (which I often do) I will pick up the rock of “forgetfulness” and let it own me. If I don’t know something, like how to answer the residency question on some important form, (yes, this is actually a confusing problem for military families) I then pick up the “stupid” rock. I have lots of pet rocks. Sadly, they’re not even very pretty. 

Instead, of just looking at it for what it is: just a rock that I sometimes stumble over, (which can and does always remind me of my need for Jesus) I see it and agree, shaking my head like an obedient puppy. Then I pick it up, give it a good, solid pet and load myself down with an unbearable weight. A weight I was not meant to carry. I will often forget things, events etc. but that isn’t a lack of thought, or preparedness or unkindness or moral failure.  

In the bright and shiny world of American  Christendom where we put on our Sunday best and try to wear it all week long... we often tie how clean our house is, how much debt we have or don’t have, how good or bad our marriage is, how well our children behave and turn out (that’s a BIG one right?)...basically everything the world can actually see on the outside...we, tie this with a big, bright, shiny, red bow to who we actually are in Christ: beloved, forgiven, children of God.   

The two are unrelated.

Your perceived failures never will change your position in Christ. 

Ever.

Jesus says in Matthew, “Come to me all who are labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me for I am gentle and lowly on heart and you will find rest for your souls.”

Maybe the reason life feels so heavy isn’t because it actually heavy but because I have loaded my pack with a load I was never mean to carry. Even when I do sin...when I'm uncaring, unloving and selfish (there are many times I am), still I don't have to pick up that rock. Sin is no longer what defines me. According to 2 Corinthians I'm a new creation in Christ. This isn't an excuse to sin, rather a reason to keep myself from sin. So grateful am I to be chosen and loved, to be right with God and to be called Beloved. To walk in this way...to allow this to define me, to shape and mold me... is to walk or run, rather this weary race in the freedom of Christ.