“I Am Making All Things New” by David Powlison
More than restored Jesus is in the rehab business. When he takes a broken thing into his hands, it begins to work again. That’s so of an individual. It’s so of a relationship. It’s so of a church. Obviously this does not mean instant, complete change right now, in the twinkling of an eye. It’s a lifelong process—until the day when we see Jesus. Then he will wrap it all up in a twinkling (1 John 3:1–3; Rev. 20–21). It’s less obvious that we don’t become as good as new. We don’t go back to just the way things were before. Instead, we are qualitatively changed in this process of repair. We are not ‘restored’, brought back to a previous condition. We are ‘redeemed’, turned into something new, something better and different than we ever were. What strikes you? _______________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________
Marked for good The breaking and remaking leave marks on us—just as scars remain on Jesus’ hands, just as Jesus never loses fundamental sympathy for the human plight with all its weakness. You come out different in the process. You are marked—and so become able to comfort others whatever their troubles, as you have been comforted in your troubles. Your sins and sufferings leave their mark forever, but not as marks of dirtiness and doom. These are doors through which Jesus enters your plight and remakes you. Your entire experience of receiving forgiveness and mercy from Jesus arises in the context of dire need. You struggle (evils from within). You face trouble (evils from
without). “Call on me in the day of trouble. I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me” (Psalm 50:15). In knowing the taste of bitter, you come to love the taste of sweet. For example, it is hard to learn to freely forgive another. It means being wronged. You only learn mercy for another by being sinned against. To be sinned against means pain, disappointment, frustration. It means experiencing temptations to retaliation, withdrawal, bitterness, fear, despair, escapism. But our Lord is merciful and gracious to you. He is patient, overflowing with lovingkindness and faithfulness. He forgives iniquity, transgression and sin: the things in you that are perverse, that cross the line, that fall short of what ought to be. (And, lest we turn this into sentimentality, the holy God of fire is utterly realistic, not naïve. He remembers and reckons with intransigence.) He is merciful to your wrong. This is his goodness and glory (Ex. 33:18–19; 34:6–7). This is who Jesus is and how he lived—at great personal cost. He became the burnt offering, consumed in the fire, the fragrant, soothing aroma that brings you peace and not woe (Eph. 5:2). Jesus purposes to make you as he is. He works that you will come to consider the interests of others, imitating his incarnation (Phil. 2:1–10). He works that you will come to deal mercifully with people who sin, imitating his atonement (Eph. 5:2). In so doing, you come to incarnate something of his goodness and glory. Such actual transformation comes only through suffering wrong. This does not mean brute suffering, raw suffering, suffering all alone. Suffering per se, does no one any good; it is mere harm. Jesus means that when you walk through flood and fire, you are not alone—“I will be with you” (Isa. 43:1–3). The one who walks with you is purposeful. He purposes to make you into a person who will handle wrongdoing in the only constructive way: merciful and gracious, patient, dealing in lovingkindness and faithfulness, able to forgive. (And, of course, your mercies are realistic not naïve, trusting that God will in fact deal justly, making right all that is wrong: Romans 12:17–21 and Revelation 21:4). As you are forgiven, you learn to forgive. As you learn to forgive, you become able to help others forgive. It is hard to become merciful when others do wrong. It is also hard to comfort those in any affliction. Mercy for others in their sufferings, and pursuing justice on their behalf, also arises from the context of your own afflictions. Affliction means pain, disappointment, frustration. It brings temptations. Again, this does not mean brute affliction. It means going through affliction in the only way that finds true, indestructible
comfort. Our Lord is your refuge. Refugees find their way to home and safety. Those who find their way to safety learn to become something of a refuge to others, even as they show the way to the Lord, the only safe place and only safe person. You become safer to others, more of a protector, defender, and provider for those in need, when you are finding help in your own need. The very best gifts arise against the backdrop of darkest need. Jesus says, “I am making all things new,” and his words are trustworthy and true (Rev. 21:4–5). He does what he says. And he means you. You are one of those things he is talking about, and he is doing something about it. In the Lifegiver’s hands, this remaking bears fruit in living faith: “Hear my cries of need…. Hear my songs of joy…. Hear our cries and our songs….” In the Lifegiver’s hands, this remaking bears fruit in a sympathetic identification with others, a compassionate care. Consider this carefully. The evils that marked you deeply become channels of mercy from God. They are doors through which Christ comes to you, through which you come to him. Through him you become tenderhearted to others, because your troubles and mine, and my struggles and yours, are common. You learn consideration: feeling for another’s struggle, an ability to thoughtfully consider another’s wellbeing. You grow in patience, in kindness, in clarity. This remaking of what is marked forever also creates bedrock gratitude to God. What you have been given—the inexpressible gift—is far better than anything you could ever lose or ever not get. And when the re-creation of all things is complete, then your joy inexpressible will be fully conscious and articulate. What strikes you? _______________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________
Self-ignorance This remaking is a fine, fine thing, the essence of our redemption and our discipleship. But diagnosis precedes cure. You’ve got to be willing to look at what’s gone wrong in order to size up what still needs to be made right. That demands taking a look at
yourself. Change calls for self-knowledge. But we humankind have a hard time with self-knowledge. Here are four tendencies that sabotage this process. First, pride spins webs of self-delusion. We usually put the best spin on ourselves. My opinions, my perspective, and my way of doing things seem intuitively plausible—if not the sum of all righteousness! Even when we get down on ourselves, we reserve the right of judgment. Have you ever noticed how a person with ‘low self-esteem’ reacts when someone else does the criticizing? Have you noticed how self-hatred so often correlates to failure to measure up to pride-generated standards for oneself? Self-pity is then a most delicious narcotic: It feels so good to feel so bad, because it’s all about me. Self-absorption erects an impenetrable barrier to self-knowledge. To know myself as I truly am, I must come to know myself through the eyes of someone outside of myself— the God who searches and weighs every heart. Second, we busy ourselves and distract ourselves. As individuals, as dyads in relationship, as groups of people, as churches, we often don’t take the time to stop, look, listen, and consider. Instead, it’s off to the races. Our responsibilities and worries offer us a wide choice of stimulants. Entertainment offers us a wide choice of narcotics. Both are habit-forming, and either way we live mindlessly. We’re either too numb or too wired to live an examined life. To slow down while at the same time becoming more wakeful is difficult. It’s easier simply to turn off, or to turn on, or to simply do what we’ve always done, or to do what everybody does. Third, some of us are activistic. We live mindfully—but what’s on our minds is the compelling press of opportunities, needs, problems to solve. There is so much to be done! “Day-Timer people” are good at keeping schedules, setting goals, tackling problems, and checking off items on the to-do list. But knowing-yourself-that-you-mightchange has a hard time making it onto the list, unless it’s simply some self-improvement goal: Read one book a week, lose fifteen pounds, start a new small-group program…. Restless activism gets a lot done, but it never produces the candid need and joy that one hears in the Psalms. It never produces heartfelt patience or the ability to wisely enter another person’s struggles. Fourth, some of us are introspective. We live mindfully—but what’s on our minds
is the fascinating flood of experiences, feelings, insights, moods, interactions, connections. There’s so much to think about! “Diary people” are good at keeping a journal. But actually changing into someone who gets out of yourself? The insights are mostly self-referential. Morbid introspection does not lead you out of yourself into faith and love. What strikes you? _______________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________
Extraspective So what’s the alternative to these forms of self-ignorance? You awaken—to God, to yourself, to your world. Biblical change makes you over into a man or woman who sparkles with candor and clarity, with patience and kindness. You’re not self-deluded and self-absorbed. You’re not strung out or strung along. You’re both active and selfknowing, but neither activistic nor introspective. How do we come to this? How can you stop to take a good hard look at yourself, yet not become introspective? How can you get about the business of living, yet not be busy or a busybody? Let me describe it this way: True self-knowledge makes you radically extraspective towards God and others. You understand your outer troubles and inner struggles vis-à-vis your redeeming God. You see Christ as he actually is in relation to you and your world. Wise, accurate self-knowledge corresponds to knowing God. You come to see your identity, experiences, emotions, thoughts, actions, and memories with respect to God. This most honest knowing of yourself leads you out of yourself, into ‘extraspection’ and action. When you truly know yourself (and your relationships, and your church), you are drawn outside of yourself in two ways: faith and love. As you know yourself truly in the sight of God, as you learn to need the many mercies of God, as you breathe this air, then faith works through love. A biblically-informed understanding gives you a true estimation of yourself. It is produced by the fear of the Lord. It is formed by God’s self-revelation. What does he see in me (and in this relationship, and in our church)? What does he think
about what he sees? True self-knowledge is insightful about yourself in ways that are ultimately God-referential. You see a pattern—and it goes somewhere, rather than curving in on yourself. You orient outside yourself, so you go somewhere outside yourself: radically extraspective. You seek, you turn, you trust, you love, you take refuge, you hope, you obey. Action is not an end in itself. Restless activism doubly errs, in not stopping for self-knowledge, and in not framing actions according to God’s supreme purposes. Activism never leads you to patience, kindness, and sympathy towards others. It doesn’t take the time to know how you are being treated in just these ways by God. Similarly, self-knowledge is not an end in itself. Morbid introspection doubly errs, in that self-awareness is self-referential, hence distorted, and in that it remains selfpreoccupied. Introspection never leads you to love others well. It doesn’t pay attention to how you are well-loved by Jesus. Biblical change is radical. True self-knowledge makes you radically extraspective: towards God in faith, towards others in love. What strikes you? _______________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________
‘Counseling’? Counseling becomes true and good when this is what it is about. Forms of counseling that do not awaken just such purposeful extraspection fall short of true selfknowledge and loving action. Does the counsel you give and receive move in these directions? What strikes you? _______________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________