Losing and Finding

 

Jesus said that if we save our lives we lose them, and if we lose them for Him we find them (Matthew 16:25). I remember trying to read the Bible before I was a Christian and how upside down it all seemed. "That's just the opposite of how things work," I'd think when I read one passage or another. Of course, this was because I was reading with an unsaved, untransformed, worldly mind. Jesus does stand the world system on its head (and when I began to read the Bible as a saved person, I found that all those contradictions had mysteriously disappeared, because I'd been transformed by a renewing of my mind), and the verse in Matthew is one good example. What we think is preserving our lives--finding ourselves, pursuing our desires, doing as we wish, making our mark--becomes of no value beyond our death if it's self-driven, and will burn at the judgment seat (1 Corinthians 3:13-15; 2 Corinthians 5:10). But if we set our desires aside and pursue the desires God has for us (usually discerned by some combination of Scripture, Holy Spirit's still small voice, "knowing that you know that you know," an aligning of circumstances, and input by trusted people), suddenly your life can spring to life. 

I've lived an example of this. For years, I had a modest measure of success writing faith-based fiction for traditional, commercial publishers. But the writing and publishing industry is an extremely hard pursuit, on par in difficulty, it is said, with acting and professional sports. Recessions made it harder, an explosion in the numbers of people trying their hand at it harder still, and COVID pret' near killed it, as a childhood colloquialism from these parts might have put it. Not to mention that people aren't reading much anymore, even if you count audiobooks (which I do when the goal is taking in story, but not otherwise, as reading and listening are different skills and have different effects in the brain). As perseverance is one of my strong suits, and writers get better and better the more they write, I kept going a long time after it stopped bearing fruit. I snagged a wonderful literary agent. I made wonderful writer friends. I became a better writer than I'd ever been. But none of that makes up for the fact that when God closes a door, no man can open it. 

Five or six years ago, I began praying that if I should stop, God would take away the desire. I had pretty much realized the joy had gone some time before that, but it was still hard to imagine the desire fading. To make a go of that business/calling/craft in the midst of constant discouragement and setbacks and just grindingly hard work, you have to want it with a white hot desire, and I did. Or I had: God answered my prayer. Over about a two-year period He took away the desire, and for the last 3+ years I honestly and without any kind of bitterness or rancor simply do not care to write a novel ever again. I just have peace knowing a season has ended. And, interestingly, I cherish the value of that season more now than I did when I was trying to prolong its life. There is nothing better than God's peace. 

Instead, I am a Bible college student. I didn't expect this. I didn't expect anything except retirement. I tell you, you don't realize you aren't really alive until Jesus gives you life. It's not that I'm not a writer anymore; I certainly am. I'm a scribe. But scribehood has varied aspects, now He wants me pursuing the scholarly aspect, and I couldn't be more excited. And whatever His plan is for that--bring it on. 

No matter what success we may experience, small or bigger, there's always a God principle overarching it, often one that stands the world system on its head. If we humble ourselves, we are exalted. If we lose our lives, we find them. And the peace and aliveness God gives when we're in the center of His will can't be matched by anything born of our own desires or our own way.