“I commit to…”

“I commit to…”

A commitment is only as good as the person making it.

Since nearly half of the marriage commitments that have been made in our recent past have ended in divorce, it would seem that commitments don’t really seem to mean much. It’d be like tossing a coin. Sure we can make a commitment. It’s easy. Just say the words “I commit to…” and then add words to the end of that sentence…

“…going to the gym everyday.”

“…eating healthy.”

“…being there for you anytime you need help.”

“…staying with my spouse and never leaving them.”

And then we stop going to the gym. Our old eating habits return after a week or a month or a year. We divorce our spouse after a few years.

For awhile, I refused making commitments. I’d broken enough commitments to realize that they didn’t mean much. Maybe I will (see how committed I am) or maybe I won’t (just ignore that one). But why make flimsy commitments? I don’t know if I’m actually going to be able to follow through, so it feels much more truthful and honest to not commit in the first place. Are commitment-phobes really just being more truthful and honest with themselves and the people around them?

So add it to the list:

I’ve given up on my own ability to be a good person.

I’ve given up on my own ability to be acceptable.

I’ve given up on my own ability to be loved.

And now I’ve given up on my own ability to keep commitments.

In the past I’ve gritted my teeth and spent a fair amount of time trying, but with these things I’ve found that they always leads to pride or shame. Either I’m failing and filled with shame or I’m succeeding and full of pride, looking down on those less committed and upright than I.

I just got married a couple of months ago to my lovely wife Sarah(!).

I made a huge commitment. Why did I do it? Why would I think I could commit to something like a marriage when I fail to keep even the smallest of commitments like “I’ll be there by 2:00”?

The way I was able to do it was by realizing that I couldn’t do it…

It’s a funny paradox along the lines of “blessed are the poor in spirit” or “whoever loses their life will find it”. When I finally saw the strength (read: flimsy or 50/50) of my commitments and came to the end of having faith in my own efforts to commit, I was opened up to a new way. A way of faith.

“I can do all things by trying real hard to be a good, committed person”. No!

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me”.

I’ve learned that I can make truthful and honest commitments, and big ones, so long as I have a strong enough foundation and track record to support it. I won’t find that track record by looking back into my past, rather I’ll find it looking into the person of Jesus. I can’t quite explain how faith works, but I know that as I identify my old self as dead and my new and true self as risen with Christ…suddenly I can do all things. Things that were inaccessible to me before.

And with that, I’ll leave Oswald Chambers to finish this post for me:

“A decision cannot hold forever, because a person is the same after making it as before, and there will be a reaction sooner or later. Whenever a man or woman fails in personal experience, it is because he or she has never received anything. There is always a positive difference when something has been received – new powers begin to manifest themselves. Nothing has any power to alter a person save the incoming of the life of Jesus, and that is the only sign that the person is born again.

The bedrock in Jesus Christ’s kingdom is not sincerity, not deciding for Christ, not a determination to serve Him, but a complete and entire recognition that we cannot begin to do it. Then, says Jesus, “Blessed are you.” Jesus Christ can do wonderful things for the person who enters into HIs kingdom through the moral frontier of need. Decisions for Christ fail not because men are not in earnest, but because the bedrock of Christianity is ignored. The bedrock of Christianity does not lie in vowing or in strength of will. To begin with, it is not ethical at all, but simply the recognition of the fact that I have not the power within me to do what my spirit longs to do. “Come unto me,” said Jesus, not “Decide for me.” When I realize my inability to be what the New Testament tells me I should be, I have to come to Jesus “just as I am.” I realize that I am an abject pauper, morally and spiritually; if ever I am going to be what Jesus wants me to be, He must come in and do it. Jesus Christ claims, on the basis of His redemption, that He can put His own disposition into anyone who is consciously poor enough to receive it; that is, the ability not only to will but to do. The knowledge of our own poverty brings us to the moral frontier where Jesus Christ works.” – Oswald Chambers in “The Love of God”

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