To Please or to Trust?
From: Truefaced
By: Bill Thrall, Bruce McNicol, and John Lynch


And so the day comes when we are forced to choose. Eventually, we each find ourselves arriving at a pivotal place on our journey with God. We stand before two roads diverging in the woods, and our choice will make all the difference. We may not even realize we are making this choice, but we all make it many times on our journey. It’s the most important ongoing decision any of us will make as Christians.

As we’re walking down life’s road, we arrive at a tall pole with signs pointing in two different directions. The marker leading to the left simply says pleasing God. The one leading to the right reads Trusting God. It’s hard to choose one over the other, because both roads have a good feel to them. We discover there is no third road and it becomes obvious that we will not be able to jump back and forth between the paths. We must choose one. Only one. It will now indelibly mark the way we live.

Pleasing God and trusting God represent the primary and ultimate motives of our hearts, the inner drives or desires that cause us to act in a certain way. These motives, in turn, produce multiple actions.

Pleasing God and Trusting God are both admirable, but since I can only have one primary motive, I ask myself, “Which of these motives best reflects the relationship I want to have with God?”

In the end, I choose the path marked Pleasing God. The Trusting God path seems too, well, passive. I want a fully alive experience with God. The Pleasing God path seems like the best way there. I think, All right then, my mind’s made up. I am determined to please God. I so long for Him to be happy with me. I’ll discipline myself to achieve this life goal. I know I can do it. Yes, I will do it this time. I will please Him and He will be so pleased with me. So we set off with confidence. We are immediately comforted to see that the path is well traveled.

In time I come to a door with a sign that reads Striving to Be All God Wants Me to Be. These words reflect the values that flow out of the motive of Pleasing God, and they describe how we believe we should act. Since my motive is a determination to please God, I will value being all God wants me to be. So, I open the door by turning the knob of Effort. The motive of Pleasing God has now produced the value of Striving to Be All God Wants Me to Be. As I enter this enormous room, a hostess with a beautiful smile greets me and says in an almost too polite tone, “Welcome to The Room of Good Intentions.”

Oh, yes. I like the ring of this name. I also like being perceived as someone who is well intended. “Well, thanks,” I answer. “I think I’ve found my home. How are you?”

The hostess pauses for a moment and then reaches into her purse to pull out a mask bearing a guarded expression and a thin smile. She puts it on and answers, “Fine. Just fine. And you?”

The entire room gets suddenly quiet, awaiting my answer. “Well, umm, thanks for asking. I’m kind of struggling with some things right now, some areas that don’t seem to be in keeping with who I know I’m supposed to be. I’m not really sure I’m doing well on a lot of—“ The hostess cuts me off, putting her finger to her lips and handing me a similar mask. I’m not quite sure what to do. I don’t really want to put it on, but others in the room are smiling and motioning for me to do so. I want so much to be accepted here that I slowly put it on.

And now everything feels different. I am quickly overcome by the realization that less self-revelation would be a smart game plan here. I realize that no one in this room wants to hear about my struggles, pain, or doubt. If I want to be welcome here, I’d better keep my cards closer to my vest and give the appearance of sufficiency. So, I slowly and carefully say the words, “Actually, I’m fine. I’m doing just fine. Thanks.” Satisfied, everyone in the room turns back to their conversations.

You see, everyone in The Room of Good Intentions has the value of Striving to Be All God Wants Them to Be. They are sincerely determined to be godly. Their value produces actions that are best summarized by an enormous banner on the back wall that reads, “Working on My Sin to Achieve an Intimate Relationship with God. They have made it their goal to be godly, and they fully expect the same of everyone else in the room.

As I read the words on the banner, I can’t help but think, Sounds a lot like, “Be holy as your heavenly Father is holy.” Yep, I’m in the right place. The people here have sincerity, perseverance, courage, diligence, full-hearted fervency, a desire to please God, and a sold-out determination to pursue excellence. Yes, this is the place I’ve been looking for. Oh, I’m going to make Him so happy. One day soon, we’ll be close. I just know it!

Yet as weeks turn into months, I can’t help but noticing that many people in this room sound a bit cynical and look pretty tired. Many of them seem alone. And if I catch them when they think no one is looking, I see incredible pain on their faces. Quite a few seem superficial—guarded. After a while I realize that my thinking has begun shifting too. I no longer feel as comfortable or relaxed here. I have this nagging anxiety that if I don’t keep behaving well—if I don’t control my sin enough—I’ll be on the outs with everyone in the room. And with God!

So, I start investing more effort into sinning less, and I feel better…for a while. But the more time I spend in The Room of Good Intentions, the more disappointment I feel. Despite all my striving, all my efforts, I keep sinning! In fact, some days I’m fixated simply on trying not to sin. I seem to never be able to get around to doing those things that displease Him! Other days I can’t seem to do enough. I never get through my list of things to work on. It feels like I am making every effort to please a God who never seems pleased enough! I carry an overwhelming sense of guilt because I have to hide my sin—from everyone in the room and from God. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the road of Pleasing God has turned into What Must I Do to Keep God Pleased with Me?

The stifling atmosphere in the room and the tightness of my mask make it hard for me to breathe. I am so tired of pretending and keeping up appearances.

As I search for the door, someone walks up to me and, looking over his shoulder, whispers, “Hey, umm, I’m going to check out that other path back at the crossroads. For the last several years I’ve given this room everything I’ve got, and something’s just not working for me. You look tired too. You want to go retrace our steps and head out for the Trusting God trail?”

So back I go to the fork in the road. Hmmm. It still feels wrong to take the road marked Trusting God—as if I’d be getting away with something. I look around for a third road, maybe some combination of the two, but no such luck. There are just the two roads. Still. The road of Trusting God sure sounds a lot less heroic than the other. A bit ethereal and vague. And it appears to give me nothing much to do other than, well…trust. All I’ve ever heard in the Room of Good Intentions was that I have to “sell out, care more, get on fire, buck up, shape up, and tighten up.” This road doesn’t seem to give me any of that. But I think, I’m only risking a little time and effort. I can always head back to the Pleasing God path if this turns out to be a dead end. Besides the cracks in my mask are getting bigger and bigger—I don’t know how long I can keep bluffing. People have got to be catching on that something’s just not right with me. I don’t know what else I can do. If this road doesn’t take me to where I want to go, I’m cooked. I’ve got no other game plan. I need answers—real answers—and quickly. I’m running out of time…and rubber cement.

So, I begin walking on life’s path with the motive of Trusting God. This road is definitely less worn than the other one. I have second thoughts every fifty yards or so. But I cannot bring myself to return to the emptiness of the alternative, so I walk on, looking for that second door. Eventually, I spot it, and as I approach it I read the words on the sign above it: Living Out of Who God Says I Am. I tilt my head to the side, thinking that the phrase might make more sense if I do. Those are certainly some words, one right after another. What in the world do they mean? It can’t mean what I think it means! When do I get to do something here? Where’s the part where I get to prove my sincerity? Where are my guidelines? When do I get to give God my best? I shake my head and stoop down to read what it says on the doorknob…Humility.

Suddenly everything snaps into focus. I’ve tried so hard, I’ve supplied all the self-effort the other room demanded, yet received nothing but insincerity and duplicity. I’ve run out of answers, run out of breath, run out of ability, and so I cry out, God, if anything good is to come out of this whole deal, you will have to do it. I’ve tried. I can’t. I’m so tired. Please God, you will have to give me the life I am dreaming of. I can’t keep doing this anymore. I’m losing confidence that this life in you is even possible. Help me. You must make it happen or I am doomed. With those words I turn the doorknob.

As I step inside, another hostess immediately approaches. She smiles kindly and, with a voice that is at once knowing and reassuring, says softly, “Welcome to The Room of Grace.” I answer tentatively, “Thank…you.”

She presses, “How are you?” The room grows quiet.

Well, I’ve been here before and so, not to be duped twice, I answer. “I’m fine. Pretty fine…Who wants to know?” And the room stays quiet. Gun-shy from the first room, I interpret their silence as judgment, and so I yell out, “All right, listen! I’m not fine. I haven’t been fine for a long time. I’m tired. I feel guilty, lonely, and depressed. I’m sad most of the time and I can’t make my life work. And if any of you knew half my daily thoughts, you’d want me out of your little club. So there. I’m doing not fine! Thanks for asking!”

I reach for the doorknob to leave and hear a voice from far back in the crowd. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? I’ll take your confusion, guilt, and bad thoughts, and I’ll raise you compulsive sin and chronic lower back pain! Oh, and I’m in debt up to my ears, and I wouldn’t know classical music from a show tune if it came up and bit me. You better have more than that puny list if you want to play in my league!”

The greeter smiles and nudges me to say, “I think he means you’re welcome here.” Emboldened, I smile, and call back, “Do you struggle with forgetting birthdays?” He walks right up to me all the way from the back, puts his hand on my shoulders and says, “Birthdays? I can’t remember my own!” Everyone in the room laughs the warm laughter of understanding, and I am ushered into the fold of a sweet family of kind and painfully real people. There is not a mask to be seen anywhere.

As I walk further into the room, I notice a huge banner on the back wall. This one reads: Standing with God, with My Sin in Front of Me, Working on It Together. I think, Wait, this can’t be right. How can this be? It sounds presumptuous, careless. Imagining God with His arm around me as we view my sin together? Come on! Surely they’ve written it down wrong. I’ve always been told that my sin is still a barrier between God and me. If it could be true that God actually stands with me, in front of my sin, well, that would change everything. If it were true, God has never moved away from me no matter what I’ve done! Oh my gosh, I’d have to rethink everything.

Despite my doubts, I can’t help but notice that in this room, The Room of Grace, everyone seems vitally alive. The people are obviously imperfect, full of compromise and struggle, but they’re authentic enough to talk about it and ask for help. Many have a level of integrity, maturity, love, laughter, freedom, and vitality that I don’t recall seeing in the people in the other room. I feel the start of something I haven’t felt in…well, as long as I can remember. It’s safety or something like it. Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.


------------------------------------


In review:

If my life motive is an unwavering determination to Please God,
Then my value will be Striving to Be All God Wants Me to Be,
And my action will be Working on My Sin to Achieve an Intimate Relationship with God.


When we embrace the motive of pleasing God and live in The Room of Good Intentions, we reduce godliness to this formula:

More right behavior + Less wrong behavior = Godliness

This theology comes with a significant problem: It sets us up to fail and to live in hiddenness. It disregards the godliness—righteousness—that God has already placed in us, at infinite cost, and will sabotage our journey. Once we choose the path of pleasing God, the bondage of performance persistently badgers us. Our determination to please God traps us in a formula that affixes our masks so tightly we’ll need jackhammers to get them off!

…

God paid an infinite price to buy us back, to redeem us, and to give us a new identity. So, he gets deeply disappointed when we choose not to believe what He says is true about us. He values our high-priced identity, and He wants us to do the same. How can we show that we value our identity? Please read these words slowly: By trusting what He says is true about us.

If my motive is Trusting God,
Then my value will be Living Out of Who God Says I Am,
And my action will be Standing with God, with My Sind in Front of Us, Working on It Together.

…

We discover in The Room of Grace that the almost unthinkable has happened. God has shown all of His cards. He reveals a breathtaking protection that brings us out of hiding. In essence, God says, “What if I tell them who they are? What if I take away any element of fear in condemnation, judgment, or rejection? What if I tell them I love them, will always love them? That I love them right now, no matter what they’ve done, as much as I love my only son? That there’s nothing they can do to make my love go away?

“What if I tell them there are no lists? What if I tell them I don’t keep a log of past offences, of how little they pray, how often they’ve let me down, made promises they don’t keep? What if I tell them they are righteous, with my righteousness, right now? What if I tell them they can stop beating themselves up? That they can stop being so formal, stiff, and jumpy around me? What if I tell them I’m crazy about them? What if I tell them, even if they run to the ends of the earth and do the most horrible, unthinkable things, that when they come back, I’d receive them with tears and a party?

“What if I tell them that if I am their Savior, they’re going to heaven no matter what—it’s a done deal? What if I tell them they have a new nature—saints, not saved sinners who should now ‘buck-up and be better if they were any kind of Christians, after all He’s done for you!’ What if I tell them that I actually live in them now? That I’ve put my love, power, and nature inside of them, at their disposal? What if I tell them that they don’t have to put on a mask? That it is ok to be who they are at this moment, with all their junk. That they don’t need to pretend about how close we are, how much they pray or don’t, how much Bible they read or don’t. What if they knew they don’t have to look over their shoulder for fear if things get too good, the other shoe’s gonna drop?

“What if they knew I will never, ever use the word punish in relation to them? What if they knew that when they mess up, I will never ‘get back at them’? What if they were convinced that bad circumstances aren’t my way of evening the score for taking advantage of me? What if they knew the basis for our friendship isn’t how little they sin, but how much they let me love them? What if I tell them they can hurt my heart, but I never hurt theirs? What if I tell them I like Eric Clapton’s music too? What if I tell them I never liked the Christmas handbells deal with the white gloves? What if I tell them they can open their eyes when they pray and still go to heaven? What if I tell them there is no secret agenda, no trapdoor? What if I tell them it isn’t about their self-effort, but about allowing me to live my life through them?”

When you come to the crossroads, you decide which road to choose largely upon how you see God’s “gamble.” Do I really believe this stuff will hold up—for me? This is the way of life in The Room of Grace. It is the way home to healing, joy, peace, fulfillment, contentment, and release into God’s dreams for us. It almost feels like we’re stealing silverware from the king’s house, doesn’t it? Truth is, the king paid a lot so that you wouldn’t have to try to steal any silverware. He gets to give it to you; and some other stuff so big and good and beautiful that we couldn’t even begin to stuff it into our bag of loot. Wow! It takes the eyes some adjustment to look into such light, huh?

If we refuse to enter The Room of Grace, we will constantly be striving in The Room of Good Intentions. We will strive to change into something we are not yet: godly. In The Room of Grace we grow up and mature into something that is already true about us: godly. The first room creates a works-based, performance-driven relationship with God and puts the responsibility on our resources. The second room places the responsibility on the resources of God.

God is not interested in changing you. He already has. The new DNA is set. God wants you to believe that He has already changed you so that He can get on with the process of maturing you into who you already are.