Maybe you’ve been going to church for a long time. Maybe you’ve been faithfully reading your Bible and praying, maybe even serving in ministry. But you still feel a hardness and distance between you and God. Why is it?
Maybe David Brainerd’s story will help:
When I was about twenty years of age I was engaged more than ever in the duties of religion. I became strict, and watchful over my thoughts, words, and actions; and thought I must be very seriously religious, because I considered entering the ministry. I spent much time every day reading my Bible and praying, and I gave great attention to Sunday sermons. In short, I had a very good outside, and trusted entirely in my religious duties, though I was not then aware of what I was doing wrong.
Though I often confessed to God that I, of course, deserved nothing, yet still I harbored a secret hope of recommending myself to God by all these duties and all this morality. When I prayed affectionately, and felt some melting of my heart in love to him, I hoped God would thereby be moved to care for me. So I thought that through my repenting and praising him and seeking him, I could make good steps toward heaven. When my heart seemed full of love and faith, I felt that God would be affected by that, and would hear my prayers for their sincerity. In other words, I healed myself with my duties. I told myself, “God must accept you, because look at how whole-heartedly you serve and seek him.”
Now here was the problem. The more I tried to love God with all my soul, the more I saw how little I really loved him. The more I sought a soft heart, the more I felt how hard my heart was, and I supposed it must be softened before Christ would accept me. One night I remember in particular, when I was walking alone, and I had opened such a view of my sin that I feared the ground would cleave asunder under my feet and become my grave. I saw it was impossible for me, after the utmost pains, to answer the demands of God’s law. I saw it condemned me for selfish and angry and fearful and envious and lustful thoughts, which I could not possibly prevent.
Then, after a considerable time spent in such distresses, one morning I was alone and I saw that all my contrivances and projects to effect or procure salvation were utterly in vain. I had thought many times that the difficulties were very great, but now I saw them in a different light — that it was totally impossible to do anything toward delivering myself. The tumult that had been in my mind now quieted. I saw that all my prayers and repentances and feelings and obediences had not laid the least obligation upon God to bestow his salvation on me.
Then I realized why they were of no avail. When I had been fasting, praying, obeying, I thought I was aiming at the glory of God, but I was doing it all for my own glory — to feel I was worthy. As long as I was doing all this to earn my salvation, I was doing nothing for God, all for me! I realized that all my struggling to become worthy was an exercise in self-worship. I was actually trying to avoid God as saviour, and to be my own saviour. i.e. I was not worshipping him, but using him.
Then, at that time, the true way of salvation opened to my mind. I saw so much of its wisdom and suitableness and excellence that I wondered how I ever was blind to it. I wondered why everyone did not see this way of salvation — not by my own contrivances, but entirely by the righteousness of Christ. I felt myself in a new world, and every thing about me appeared with a different aspect from before. — From David Brainerd’s Diary (paraphrased and abridged by Tim Keller)
Want to learn how to experience God the way David Brainerd did? Join us on Sunday mornings for our new sermon series, Encounter.