One Way Love: Inexhaustible Grace for an Exhausted World by Tullian Tchividjian Read Free Book Online Page A

deepest of all fears, creates much of the stress and depression of everyday life. And it derives a great deal of its power from the fact that, deep down, we all know we don’t measure up and are, therefore, deserving of a guilty verdict. We are aware that we fail, that our best is never good enough, that we’ve been weighed in the balance and found wanting. One young mother recently put it as honestly as anyone can:
    Deep down, I know I should be perfect and I’m not. I feel it when someone comes into my house unannounced and there’s a mess in every corner. I know it when my children misbehave in public and I just want to hide. I can tell it when that empty feeling rises after I’ve spoken in haste, said too much, or raised my voice. There’s the feeling in my stomach that I just can’t shake when I know I’ve missed the mark of perfection.
    The judgment of others—social law, if you will—is a surface echo of a judgment that lies beneath. We are ultimately afraid of the judgment that the law wields. We instinctually know that if we don’t measure up, the judge will punish us. When we feel this weight of judgment against us, we all tend to slip into the slavery of self-salvation: trying to appease the judge (friends, parents, spouse, ourselves) with hard work, good behavior, getting better, achievement, losing weight, and so on. We conclude, “If I can just stay out of trouble and get good grades, maybe my mom and dad will finally approve of me.” “If I can overcome this addiction, then I’ll be able to accept myself.” “If I can get thin, maybe my husband will finally think I’m beautiful.” “If I can make a name for myself and be successful, maybe I’ll get the respect I long for.” There are other responses to judgment that we will look at in the next chapter. Suffice it to say, if there is an element of fear behind our everyday afflictions—workaholism, people pleasing, self-loathing, etc.—then the law is probably not far behind.
    MIGHT AS WELL FACE IT, YOU’RE ADDICTED TO LAW
    If it sounds like our relationship with the law is one-dimensional, let me assure you: it is not. The truth is, we are very conflicted. We may dislike being told what to do, we may hate being judged, but as we learned in the last chapter, we love being in control. And the law, at least on the surface, assures us that we determine our own destiny. As the great Scottish churchman Ralph Erskine so beautifully wrote, “The law could promise life to me, if my obedience perfect be.” 6
    This we understand. This we like. The outcome of our lives remains firmly in our hands. “Give me five principles for raising exemplary children, and I can guarantee myself a happy family if I just obey those five principles.” If we can do certain things, meet certain standards (whether God’s, our own, our parents’, our spouse’s, society’s, whomever’s), and become a certain way, then we’ll make it. It feels like it works—at least that’s what we’ve been told. Conditionality lets us feel safe, because it breeds a sense of manageability. The equation “ If I do this, then you are obligated to do that” keeps life formulaic and predictable, and more important, it keeps the earning power in our camp.
    People who are addicted to control are addicted to the law as a means of control. And this sadly applies to Christians as well as non-Christians. In fact, far too many churches are completely in thrall to the law, so much so that most of the non-Christians you meet will describe Christianity as a religion of law. They may not use those terms, but listen closely, and what you’ll hear, almost without fail, has to do with rules and judgment. As Walter Marshall says in his book The Gospel Mystery of Sanctification , “By nature, you are completely addicted to a legal method of salvation. Even after you become a Christian by believing the Gospel, your heart is still addicted to salvation by works … You find it hard to believe