Breaking into Eden

I have a Saviorless Complex.

No, not a Savior Complex. I never really was able to think of myself as anybody's savior. But I sure as hell have wanted to be my own. No--I've wanted to not need saving.

Every now and then I meet a girl who seems to have it all. You know, the kind who is good at cooking, interior designing, and babysitting, but also knows how to fix a car, has been skydiving, traveled on three or more continents to help construct houses for the poor and destitute, and has been in one serious relationship which she is now out of but learned a great deal from. Maybe she has a small nose piercing. The independent type who has 1000+ Facebook friends who all wish her happy birthday on her wall or via text message. She plays guitar. She has Isaiah 43 memorized and tattooed on her arm, and she knows all the moves to "Single Ladies" which she performs at slumber parties with her best girl friends. And did I mention she is 5'6" and weighs 115 pounds? Yeah. You know you've met her. (And if you're a girl, you can NOT tell me you didn't want to hate her. You did.)

Every now and then I meet more or less that kind of girl, and I want to be her. Why? Because she seems important. More than that, she doesn't seem to need anything. It seems that she has never left Eden.

She deserves to be the bride of Christ.

Somehow, after all I was taught growing up, all I saw in my parents, and all that God has ever told me, I nevertheless tell myself that I would be more secure in God's love if I could be perfect than if I just submit to never being perfect in this life and accept Christ's atonement for my imperfection. I would rather God look at me and say, "Sarah! Wonderfully done! You are deeply deserving of this reward," than, "Sarah! My Son has covered up all of your wrongs and given you His own record of right living, so here is your reward." This conviction of mine is grounded in a mix of pride and a history of listening to the lie that I'm better off finding my own perfection -- I'm better off if I can "be like God" (Satan, Gen. 3:5).

Maybe Eve thought her relationship with God would be better--maybe He would love her even more--if she could just become a little better, in her case by "gaining wisdom" (Eve, Gen. 3:6) by eating the fruit. As soon as she made her own effort to improve what God had already done in her and what their relationship already was, she realized she was naked--felt even more convinced that something was lacking--and "hid from the Lord" (Gen. 3:8). For the first time, she was separated from Him.

The more I try to do this on my own--try to put on this front of perfection--the more I internally feel the trenches widening, feel myself distant from God's love.

When I try to win God's love, I am essentially rejecting the free love. It suddenly occurs to me: I am so much more certain of the truth of a person's love if they offer it of their own accord than if I have to be a good cook, or dress well, or have good boobs, or like the Twilight series for them to be sold out with love for me.

God's like, "Hey, I'm sold out with love for you." Period. Did you hear that beautiful piece of punctuation? Period.

In Isaiah 43 (yes, the chapter that Miss Don't-You-Wish-You-Were-Her had tattooed on her arm), it says this: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have summoned you by name; you are Mine." And again, "I, even I, am the Lord, and apart from Me there is no savior."

Can I rephrase? "Don't be afraid, because I have redeemed you. Sarah, you are Mine." My favorite definition of "Redeem" from dictionary.com: "to obtain the release or restoration of, as from captivity, by paying a ransom."

Perfectionism is captivity. Redemption...freedom...love happens when I stop saving myself. The ransom was paid. "Sarah, you are Mine."

This is me, saying I will try to stop trying to clamber over the walls of Eden. Instead, I'll take the invitation to come in the front door. I'll take the invitation, with my wedding dress on and my Groom's face lighting up just inside the garden.

(I might need the Groom to come pull me down off the wall first and then drag me in through the front gate. I'm pretty hard-headed when it comes to learning this whole Grace thing. Thank God Jesus isn't looking for a bride that deserves Him, only one that loves Him.)