There has always been something about Jars of Clay that has appealed to me. Maybe it’s the somewhat ambiguous poetry they write that you can sing and feel like you’re expressing your heart. Maybe it’s the way their songs can be sung to people as well as to the Lord. Maybe it’s because they’re honest about how weak they are. Maybe it’s just because their music is just plain cool. They’ve come along way from their first album (their latest is fantastic). I seem to recall someone saying that they spent some time with the church in China, and they realized their music meant nothing to these people. They’ve shifted a bit in how explicit they are about biblical imagery and terms, which I’m thrilled to see.
I recently got two of their albums, completing my collection. The Eleventh Hour and Furthermore. There’s a song in the latter that I found some great comfort in.
Redemption
by Jars of Clay from their album Furthermore
We made it to a strange town,
Going down the wrong road.
Like any story retold,
Couldn’t find a common ending.
We’re way gone, beyond, looking for our own way…
We needed a distraction;
You said You were redemption.
We knew it as a wrong turn,
We couldn’t know the things we’d gain
When we reached the other border.
We look out, way down, past the road we’ve come from:
We’re looking at redemption.
It was hidden in the landscape
Of loss and love and fire and rain.
Never would have come this way
Looking for redemption.
We were looking out past the road we came from:
Looking at redemption
Hidden in the landscape
Of loss and love and fire and rain
Never would have come this way,
Looking for redemption
In the eyes of sorrow, eyes of rage…
What sordid histories they played.
The drama of redemption.
Redemption.
While perhaps this song spoke differently to you than it did to me the first time I heard it, I look back on 2004 as a year of loss and love and fire and rain, of eyes filled with sorrow and rage. And examining what led up to 2004, it’s definitely a sordid history of my life.
But when I examine it all, as if looking back down a road I traveled, I can see that the entire landscape is a portrait of redemption. All the loss, all the love, all the fire and rain… it was redemption. It is redemption. It is God pruning me of my indwelling sin, of my unbelief, of my lack of genuine love for others, of my dependence on myself or who I wish I was instead of being who I am in Him and not fearing what others think. I don’t know, I feel like I grew up in 2004.
The song says “Never would have come this way.” That’s true. I wouldn’t have chosen this road (though in some sense, I did through what I was sowing). And part of me wishes I could go back and change some things that happened last year, some wrong decisions I made, some awful attitudes I had, some unloving and selfish expressions I made…. But 2004 remains and it cannot be changed. It is forever etched into the history of Rob Hulson and those whose lives he shared his with.
And with all the warts, all the blemishes, all the ugliness, God’s hand is still seen through it. I don’t see all the ends, as the song says, “We couldn’t know the things we’d gain / When we reached the other border.” There have been things I have gained through 2004 that God, for His wise purposes, knew I needed to learn. And I guess I’m to the point where I’d say I’d go through it again if I was able to see Jesus as He has shown Himself to this blind, wretched, and miserable beggar. Piper expresses this beautifully in his poem on Job:
There are no words
To speak the substance of my soul
And joy to God, nor yet extol
His worth above the vast rebirth
Of all my dreams. No dancing mirth
Can suit or satisfy the kind
Of tearful pleasure that I find
When I recall what I have lost
By his decree, and what it cost
to see my God.
One thing I still struggle with is how it wasn’t like I was innocently and blamelessly walking down the road and God did all this to me. I was sowing to the flesh and I reaped what I sowed. Yet the sweet good news, the Gospel truth, is that God does not declare me to be righteous based on my righteousness, but on Christ’s. This was most clearly revealed to me on October 19th while reading John Piper’s When I Don’t Desire God. He pointed out Micah 7:8-9.
8 Rejoice not over me, O my enemy;
when I fall, I shall rise;
when I sit in darkness,
the Lord will be a light to me.
9 I will bear the indignation of the Lord
because I have sinned against him,
until he pleads my cause
and executes judgment for me.
He will bring me out to the light;
I shall look upon his vindication.
Piper said of this:
Micah is ashamed and accepts God’s anger. “I sit in darkness.” He puts his hand on his mouth and accepts the sorrow and gloom that hang over him. No quick fix here. There are many times in the Christian life like this. It is foolish of us to make light of them, or trivialize them, or try to deny that they exist. God is holy, and he disciplines the children whom he loves. There is a fatherly anger that is no longer the wrath of a judge (Heb. 12:5-11). (Piper 87)
I sat there for several days like that.
Astonishingly, in all his contrition and gloom under God’s anger, Micah gets in the face of his enemy and says, “Rejoice not over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise.” The enemy is rubbing it in. The enemy is saying that the sin of Micah cuts him off from his God. The enemy is lying and trying to make Micah hopeless. (Piper 88)
I was definitely hopeless. I was suicidal on multiple occasions last year, thinking that no one could ever love me because of how sinful I was and how much indwelling sin remains in me. I still have my doubts on that, that my past is insurmountably difficult for a woman to embrace me if she really knew how sinful I was and am apart from Christ. Seriously, reader, if you knew my past you might wonder how I can sit here and type thoughts about the God I’ve so often despised in my thoughts & actions (then again, if you’ve ever been broken over your sin, maybe you can relate). But regardless of that horizontal future imperiled, it was the vertical reality that came crashing in.
He says, “When I sit in darkness, the LORD will be a light to me.” Remember, this darkness is the Lord’s discipline. God’s indignation burns. And in the midst of the darkness imposed by God, Micah says, “God will be my light.” He counts on God’s light in the darkness that God himself has sent. That is gutsy. That is what we must learn to do in our darkness — even the darkness we have brought on ourselves because of our sin. Yes, I am under the gloom of failure. Yes, God has put me here in his displeasure. But no, I am not abandoned, and God is not against me. He is for me. Even in the darkness that he imposes, he will sustain me. He will not let me go. Though he slay me, he will save me. We must learn to preach to ourselves like this in our fight for joy. (Piper 88-89)
That, to me, was revolutionary and the most freeing truth my heart needed to hear. My righteousness is in heaven; God does not look at me tomorrow based on today’s obedience and say “You are more righteous than you were yesterday.” Nor does He look at my past and say, “You were less righteous then.” The reason is because when He looks at me, He doesn’t see me, He sees Christ.
And the good news gets better. It doesn’t just leave me in my current state and simply cover me (which is very good news indeed!). My covering, my justification, is very, very good news. But He does not let me continue with the same sinful desires and actions; He works to change me as well. This is where the good news keeps getting better. We have joy they we’re justified, but we’re still rotten, and that ought to break us.
A powerless gospel is not good news. A gospel that only wins lip service is not different than any of the other philosophies of the world. Such a gospel produces a Christianity that is a game of words…. [The true Gospel is] good news because it creates a flavor for eternity in all we do. It’s good news because it militates against religious gamesmanship which the world knows is just a game of words. It’s good news because it honors the purpose of God in Christ to destroy the works of the devil and not just put a new name on the works of the devil, namely, “justification.”
John Piper, Let Us Walk in the Light of God
That’s great news! That’s wonderful news! That’s true redemption! If all that God does is say, “Okay, Rob. You’ve really done a lot of awful things, but I’ll not take them into account,” but still leaves my heart unchanged, that’s not good news because is is from my heart that all those awful things came forth.
Has my heart changed? Yes. Is it where it ought to be? No. Is it different than it was six months ago? YES. And that is good news! Not only is His wrath against my sin removed, but He is working so that, little by little, I become more like Him in my desires and actions. I don’t want forgiveness for my sins so that I can continue in them, but I want to be freed from the desires and deeds of my flesh.
And God, through 2004, set me upon that with a blood-earnestness that cost a great deal. But, in the end, it will not be a loss. All of my discipline is bought by the blood of Christ and is a mercy. Yes, even His discipline for the sin in my life. I do not deserve the comfort His loving rod and staff give.
Behold the mercy of our King
Who takes from death its bitter sting
And by His blood, and often ours,
Brings triumph out of hostile pow’rs
And paints with crimson earth and soul
Until the bloody work is whole.
What we have lost, God will restore:
That, and Himself, forevermore.
When He is finished with His art:
The quiet worship of our heart.
When God creates a humble hush
And makes Leviathan His brush,
It won’t be long before the rod
Becomes the tender kiss of God.
(Piper’s Misery of Job and the Mercy of God)
Wow, that was a lot more than I had intended on writing. But redemption is too good to be quiet about.
WORKS CITED
- Piper, John. *The Misery of Job and the Mercy of God*. (free to read online @ www.desiringgod.org)
- Piper, John. *When I Don’t Desire God: How to Fight for Joy*. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2004.