A Promise

Your work is his work. Your burden is his burden. Your victory is his victory.

Lately I’ve been struggling with my own personality—that is, I’ve been struggling with the manner in which I process a thing.

If something really incredible happens, I latch on to it with seemingly every nerve of my being. This is a great joy to me: it means that my faith is greatly increased and my trust is greatly encouraged; it also means that I can hold fast to the promises (and commands) of the Father with greater zeal and fervor. In short, when he shows up, it energizes me like nothing else can.

If something really hard happens, however, I latch on to it with seemingly every nerve of my being. This is a great detriment to me: it means that my faith is greatly challenged and my trust is greatly discouraged; it also means I loosen my grip on the promises (and commands) of the Father, and thus lose my fervor and zeal. In short, when bad shows up, it deflates me like nothing else does.

The incredible or hard things don’t have to be direct. Often they are events taking place in other people’s lives. This is a great gift, but my natural self can often turn it into something terrible. If something good happens to another, I am given greater faith, greater trust, and greater zeal. If something bad happens to another, I lose my faith, my trust, and my zeal.

All this proves two things to me: first, it proves that my natural self is still at war with the One who now lives in me. Second, it proves to me that he is most certainly in me, for without him I would surely despair and, having no faith and no trust, lose the war against my own self.

So here’s what I’ve heard most recently from the Father’s voice to the ears of my heart:

My work is his work. My burdens are his burdens. And my victories are his victories.

I suspect many of us have this problem: when we experience a success in our labors, we beam with praise and pride. We certainly give thanks for the Father’s work, but we also congratulate ourselves for our own part. The problem I have with this is that when my labors continue to fail, or when events around me in others’ lives continue to deteriorate, I put the blame on myself more often than on him.

I put it that way because I think self-blame is really an indication of self-centeredness. If I feel my work is unproductive, and I blame my failings, who am I really focused on? If I am bearing the full weight of my own burdens, and, additionally, the burdens of others, and I cry out that I cannot carry them, then who am I trying to be?

Essentially, I am living as if my work is more apt to succeed than his work.

What I’ve been hearing lately has been an incredible fulfillment of the promise that his kindness leads us to repentance. In reminding me of his work, his burden, and his victory, he has convicted me of self-love and self-sufficiency; in reminding me of his work, his burden, and his victory, he has lifted me up into a place of greater trust and dependence upon him.

So, here’s my conclusion and, I hope, challenge to you:

If it is true that any work, any mission, any task, any success, and any victory is from him, through him, and to him, then it stands to reason that any burden, any trial, any loss, and any sacrifice is from him, through him, and to him. He does not take glory for our work without carrying its burdens; that would be the action of a cruel, narcissistic, and authoritarian king. No—he carries each burden, bears each cross, and dies each death: and so he has all glory over and in and through all things.

Your work is his work. Your burden is his burden. Your victory is his victory.

Promise.

-Ryan