ust this morning, I opened an email from an online merchant. Its peppy message meant to encourage me: “We just want you know today that you’re enough. You’ve got this!”
Funny, but I didn’t feel that way when my temper flared on a busy day last week. I didn’t notice this special empowerment in my darkened mood following an argument. I wasn’t feeling “enough” when I received a rejection letter. But don’t worry— I’ve got this!
We encounter these kinds of well-meaning platitudes all the time. Most of us don’t take it too seriously; but inside, we’ve internalized their lies. In fact, these snake oils for discouraged hearts create a dangerous illusion of self-sufficiency. We are therefore talented, smart, virtuous, deserving, and fabulous—is there anything we can’t do?
Grand illusions are eventually exposed, though. We can use an example at national level: If anyone held illusions of American strength, they now know the ugly truth. As DOGE shines its light on our government’s dark and confounding places, the shocking revelations grow daily. The masses now realize that behind our leaders’ performance art—all the flashing veneers and virtue signals—evil was working its wasting mischief.
Truth be told, many of us could use a similar audit of our interior lives. We, too, could use a searching light to expose our lies, crooked schemes and shocking corruptions. Behind our admirable facade and self-delusion, we might find evils and weakness of every kind—the marks of a crumbling infrastructure.
Even a committed Christian requires a regular accounting of the inner life. None of us are immune to the corrosive effects of sin—not even pastors, worship leaders, teachers, elders, choir members, organists, or little old church ladies. In Jeremiah 17:9 we are warned, The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?
Elon can’t help us here, though. To find out what’s really going on behind our carefully-guarded personas—and for a proper accounting of our hearts—we need the searching light of the Holy Spirit. Only he can bring the receipts on our hidden reserves of pride or our fraudulent attempts at playing God. Only he can restore our accounts and put things right.
Unfortunately, most of us dread such exposure. We don’t want to dissect our embarrassing record of addictions, idolatries or grudges; we’d also rather normalize the everyday stuff like lust, anger, or anxiety. When it comes to our jobs or talents, we are perfectionists; but when it comes to sin, we’re contentedly “only human.”
In fact—if we’re being honest—we often don’t want God’s word to bring its promised light at all. Therefore, if God demands too much of our hearts, we spiritual bureaucrats protest or attempt in vain to lock them up. Exposing the deep state, by comparison, seems much more enjoyable.
So we plow ahead, hopeful that our natural gifts or past professions will carry the day. We don’t have time to get too picky about spiritual things; life is moving fast. A loving God must accept our good intentions; surely church attendance and conservative values count for something! Buoyed by such thinking, we can find ourselves lulled into dangerous self-sufficiency. We unwittingly sing Sinatra’s popular but foolish anthem: I Did It My Way.
Eventually, though, “my way” doesn’t work out very well. An embarrassing failure, some family drama, tragic news, or a dark night of the soul—one way or another, we will find that our talents and treasures are not enough. Our resolve and tough talk founder on hidden rocks. Our vaunted talents become our liabilities. Even a steely temperament sags under its own weight. When this world disappoints us—and it will—we may find ourselves exposed in our own kingdoms, emperors without clothes.
Maybe today you are feeling exposed this way; maybe you’ve reached the end of your resources. Your talents are wasted, your strengths are negligible, and your performance pitiful. You observe others doing naturally what, for you, seems a massive undertaking. You take stock of your life and hold it up against the shining record of another and feel discouraged—-or even demolished.
Maybe you’ve been a high-performer but remain unsatisfied. You’ve exceeded your civic obligations, outshone your competitors, and even found time to attend mass or church. Your social graces and material wealth have enlarged your reputation and secured some privileges. Despite all this, you have no peace.
Maybe you tried some spiritual exploit, but failed. You thought yourself a “victorious Christian” and found yourself unexpectedly defeated. You sinned conspicuously, and perhaps even confessed it and found forgiveness—but now you are immobilized and shamefully humbled.
If you’ve reached such a wilderness of shattering weakness and need, there is good news: although you are indeed not enough, God is. Your enviable resources can’t cover your deepest needs or corral unruly desires, but his can. Your good works cannot buy the righteousness God requires, but his did. Your personal treasury is bankrupt, but his is not; and he holds far more than gold.
Can you admit to such corruption and bankruptcy? Knowing we are helpless is one thing; confessing it to God and others is another. Those who confess their insufficiency and sinfulness are drawing near to God. Those who cast themselves on his mercies will find restoration. Those who trade their boasts for his abundance will find treasure. They are poor in spirit, and the kingdom of heaven will be theirs.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Matthew 5:3-6
“Every degree of apostasy from gospel truth brings in a proportionate degree of inclination unto wickedness into the hearts and minds of men.” John Owen