a disproportionate love

I recently read a book which helped me see and understand God afresh. 

In Gentle and Lowly, Dane Ortlund's words ministered to me in a way unexpected. Written with such wisdom and pastoral gentleness, this devotional opened my eyes to the beauty of Christ. Rooted in biblical doctrine and informed by the Puritan tradition, Ortlund deftly captures the gracious and loving heart of Jesus for sinners and sufferers in these pages. It is a wondrous read. 

His main thesis is wrapped up in Christ's own description of Himself in Matthew 11: He is gentle and lowly in heart. But we are all too quick to overlook this. Our conception of Him is limited by human understanding, and we idly accept an impoverished view of His goodness. 

Ortlund argues we ought to position Christ's grace, meekness and gentleness as the very central theme of His person. The book traces moments in Jesus' life and words He spoke, alongside other Scripture, that testify to this exactly: Christ longs to give rest to those who are burdened and weary. His affection and love for sinners and sufferers are abundant, unending. And our brokenness does not make Him pull away, but in fact draw nearer. The God of the universe is rich in mercy and compassion, so much so that He confounds our predilections. 

"You might know that Christ died and rose again on your behalf to rinse you clean of all your sin; but do you know his deepest heart for you? Do you live with an awareness not only of his atoning work for your sinfulness but also of his longing heart amid your sinfulness?" What a grace!

What struck me most in Gentle and Lowly was Ortlund's invitation to quit minimizing Christ's outrageously generous mercy. He does maintain the biblical idea that God is wrathful, righteous and sovereign, but he simultaneously encourages the reader to behold the Savior's life and character—and let them speak for themselves. In so doing, we would come to realize that gentle lowliness and lavish grace is God's foremost posture toward broken humanity. 

Prone to legalistic thinking as I am, this read has solaced me. There have been times that, upon hearing preachers or fellow Christians wax eloquent about Christ's love and grace, I've been all too eager to quip, "But He's a God of justice and wrath, too!" As if the mere assertion—or recognition—of His mercy and hospitality toward sinners somehow diminished His great power. 

My tendency to pacify descriptions of God's love was, I reasoned, purely resultant of a desire to maintain a "balanced" view of God. One that recognized He was equal parts Lion and Lamb. Righteous and forgiving. Wrathful and merciful. 

Ortlund reminded me my balance should reflect that of Scripture, and the biblical witness of Jesus. He writes: 

"[...] if there appears to be some sense of disproportion in the Bible's portrait of Christ, then let us be accordingly disproportionate. Better to be biblical than artificially 'balanced.' "

I found this to be a particularly compelling challenge. I tend to want to tie things up neatly in the name of balance. This proclivity, I realize, offsets the abundant flow of Christ's love, and trivializes how very mercy-rich our God is. 

I wonder why I do this. Is it by fear of being doctrinally imbalanced? Too emotionally-driven? Is my rule-following nature somehow drawn to God's harsher, just and all-powerful side? 

I don't know. Perhaps you struggle with this, too. Regardless of the "why" behind this gnawing temptation, I think it important to set such preconceptions aside and simply ponder Christ, and allow myself to be showered by His lavish, overflowing love. A disproportionate love. 

As we look to the Gospels and study His actions and words, may they speak loudly to our wayward hearts, oft bent toward sin. May the radical nature of the Gospel jolt us. May God's disproportionately merciful nature shock us. May Christ's bottomless forgiveness leave us speechless, safe for words of awestruck praise. 

I pray these words hearten you, as they did me. 

“Out of his heart flows mercy; out of ours, reluctance to receive it. We are the cool and calculating ones, not he. He is open-armed. We stiff-arm. Our naturally decaffeinated views of God’s heart might feel right because we’re being stern with ourselves, not letting ourselves off the hook too easily. Such sternness feels appropriately morally serious. But this deflecting of God’s yearning heart does not reflect Scripture’s testimony about how God feels toward his own.”