The following is my final e-mail to CrossBridge Church:
It’s generally a good thing to get a taste of your own medicine. If it’s real medicine, anyway.
Sunday, in between cups of coffee and bouts with my flesh, I offered the goodness of Jesus Christ as the purpose for living, as the thing that should drive us and motivate us and satisfy us and cause us to give thanks. Fast forward 24 hours and I’m struggling to believe that very thing in the deep parts; not in the part of your heart where you know something is true, but in the part where you know that it’s enough.
God is sovereign, and He had me write this last of our weekly CrossBridge e-mails to you on a bad day for a reason. I’m going to take a shot at it: I think it was so that you would know I’m serious. Jesus is enough for busted, self-loathing, wrestling-with-his-anger me. And He is enough for despairing, can’t-seem-to-beat-his-lust you, or fearful, not-sure-about-her-kids you, or hardened, bitter, critical-and-can’t-change-it you.
A Jesus as good and as real as the One in the Bible, as the One who’s standing at the right hand of the Almighty Father interceding for the people He treasures, is enough for you and for me. He just is.
If this e-mail finds you unbelieving, or unsure of whether you’ve ever believed, I’m inviting you to the Cross of Jesus of Nazareth. Come. Your knees and pride get broken, but the rest of you gets fixed. If you’ve heard of Him all your life, including in this last year of e-mails, but haven’t truly trusted in Him yet, I beg of you: Come to Jesus with empty hands and inherit everything worth having. Call out His Name right now and ask Him to rescue you. Ask knowing that He’s good for His word, because this is a God who keeps all of His promises, and who delivers on every hope He offers.
To all of us who are of the common faith and saying goodbye to CrossBridge on Sunday, I offer you the warmest comforts of our Savior’s very Good News: He came, and He is coming.
Where do we go from here?
Heaven, man. The other side of the river. And even if we arrive separately, we’ll get there together. Remember what I said about the promises.
Busted, believing, and always yours,