Friday, April 11, 2014

Becoming Like Christ Through His Death: Lent Devotional

Please Read: Philippians 3:4-14

I am what is called a “process artist.” My favorite creative outlets involve steps - image development, layered painting techniques, crafting a ceramic piece...etc. It has been four years since I’ve had my hands in clay, but when I read this passage from Philippians, I couldn’t help but think of
forming, drying, and firing it.

Isaiah 64:8 uses the analogy of a potter and clay to describe our relationship with God. We all begin as mud. It takes a death of fire to perfect us. Even if a piece looks perfect, until it’s put through the kiln, it’s extremely fragile.

It’s unfinished.

We can bear the appearance of Christ, but until we become like Him in dying to ourselves, we aren’t truly following Him. In the Philippians passage, Paul talks about counting all of his religious accomplishments as loss in comparison to his life lived in fellowship with Christ. None of it mattered until he gave up just existing for himself.

We can say the right things, and even do the right things, but it does matter what we are doing them for. The difference is between bearing the fragile appearance of Christ, or actually being like Him.

We must “forget what lies behind and reach forward to what lies ahead.” We must “press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

It’s about orientation. Rather than face the potter’s wheel where we discovered our beauty, we must face the cross of the kiln. Our beauty is still present, but now we are strong enough to be used. No longer are we just for show, we can be filled and emptied without breaking.

Holy and perfect Jesus, 
We thank you for your death. We praise you for your Spirit that enables us to die as well. We confess that we are prone to the narcissism of pride and the narcissism of self-loathing. Mold us, Heavenly Father, to be like Christ not only in appearance, but also in spirit. May we decrease that you may increase. For your Glory alone. Amen.

- Rachel Whitehurst