Further along the way: self-control, grace, silence and trust

After he had said this, Jesus was troubled in spirit and testified, "I tell you the truth, one of you is going to betray me."

His disciples stared at one another, at a loss to know which of them he meant. One of them, the disciple whom Jesus loved, was reclining next to him. Simon Peter motioned to this disciple and said, "Ask him which one he means."

Leaning back against Jesus, he asked him, "Lord, who is it?"

Jesus answered, "It is the one to whom I will give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish." Then, dipping the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas Iscariot, son of Simon.

--John 13:21-26 (NIV)


The symbol of dipping a piece of bread was first recorded in the identification of Judas as Jesus' traitor.

As we celebrated the Eucharist in church this morning, two thoughts came to me:


First, how can I overcome sin in the flesh if I cannot even control the time I sleep? I shall be making it a point to head to bed by 11 p.m. daily this month, not because I think extra sleep will save me from sin, but because I believe (as Pastor Vincent preached this morning on the revival that followed the appointment of waiters - Acts 6) there is a correlation of sorts between being able to control one area of my body and another.

As I held the bread in my hand, I remembered that Jesus submitted His body to His Father.


Second, it was to the traitor that the symbol of the ultimate miracle was instituted. Perhaps it was because he, of all people, needed it most then. "But where sin increased, grace increased all the more..." (Romans 5:20).

Whether it was because of his need or not. I know I need it. I need the reminder of Christ's sacrifice no less than I need the forgiveness which comes from it.

* * * * *

I found myself encouraged yesterday by the writings of one d'NAer and a conversation I had with another d'NAer over two years ago.


While packing the tall cabinet downstairs, I stumbled upon Yen's Asian Beacon article, 'The Woman Who Would Not Give Up' (which I printed out from some online source). I haven't told many people about it, but lately I have felt what might best be described as 'moulting pains' concerning my photography and, to a lesser degree, my writing.

It's as if the last few months have shown me that my art is taking me somewhere; in fact, prior to the last semester in university, I never really considered my photography as art. Now I am inclined to think it is more art than photography. Whatever.

But I don't really know where it's taking me, or how to get there. But I know God is faithful, and Yen's article reminded me of a word first drummed into me by Frederick Buechner in his essay 'The Road Goes On': T-R-U-S-T.

Yen wrote;

What I am learning is that we should not turn to God only when we have exhausted all human means, for if we trust in God only as a last resort we might now know how to trust Him even as a last resort.

I couldn't agree more, and I think this is the lesson I, too, am learning.


The other d'NAer is Joan. In January 2006, I had a conversation with her over MSN, and we talked about hearing God among other things. She was taking a break from blogging then, and I was still coming to terms with my new job as Editor-in-Chief of the Victorian Editorial Board.

It occurred to me at church this morning that the things I said to Joan might cause some people to assume I believe that God always speaks in some fluttering, still, small voice accompanied by a sudden warming of the heart and an overwhelmingly benevolent peace of the soul. That would be untrue.

Rather, the silence Joan and I realised was so necessary is the silence needed to truly hear ('akouo'), not so much the peaceful, calming voice of God (although our God is a God of peace), but the hard-hitting voice of God.

When I think about it, God's voice is very hard-hitting in its simplicity; often the voice brings to us a realisation of what we are doing wrong or what we ought to be doing. And it can be very hard to accept what the voice says.

As C.S. Lewis recalls in his essay, 'A Slip of the Tongue';

A good author... asks somewhere, "Have we never risen from our knees in haste for fear God's will should become too unmistakable if we prayed longer?"

Silence is difficult for noisy people like myself. But I believe it is, along with trust, something I need especially in this season of metamorphosis. I need to avail myself to the word of God, to the will of God, to the wisdom of God, to the way of God. And I cannot get there unless I prepare myself through the discipline of silence, and through it cultivate trust in the Leader.