what I'm reading: untameable love

It's all very well knowing that God is in control when you're going through a hard time. Well, actually, it's more than "very well" - it's hugely comforting, because he's our loving, wise Father. But at the same time, it's scary, because he's in control and we're not.

Tim Keller captures this tension perfectly as he reflects on the disciples' reaction to Jesus calming the storm:

Why were they more terrified in the calm than they were in the storm? Because Jesus was as unmanageable as the storm itself.

The storm had immense power - they couldn't control it. Jesus had infinitely more power, so they had even less control over him.

But there's a huge difference. A storm doesn't love you. ... Nature is violent and overwhelming - it's unmanageable power, and it's going to get you sooner or later.

You may say, that's true, but if I go to Jesus, he’s not under my control either. He lets things happen that I don’t understand. He doesn’t do things according to my plan, or in a way that makes sense to me.

But if Jesus is God, then he’s got to be great enough to have some reasons to let you go through things you can’t understand. His power is unbounded, but so are his wisdom and his love. ...

Jesus is filled with untameable love for you. ... He can love somebody and still let bad things happen to them, because He is God – because he knows better than they do. ...

If you have a God great enough and powerful enough to be mad at because he doesn't stop your suffering, you also have a God who's great enough and powerful enough to have reasons that you can't understand. ...

Is he safe? "Of course he's not safe. Who said anything about being safe? But he's good. He's the King."

Tim Keller's King's Cross, 54-55; quote at the end is by CS Lewis.

Charles Spurgeon on depression

Wise words on depression from Charles Spurgeon, who knew what he was talking about:

The strong are not always vigorous, the wise not always ready, the brave not always courageous, and the joyous not always happy.

Such humbling but salutary messages our depressions whisper in our ears; they tell us that we are but men, frail, feeble, apt to faint.

Is any man altogether sane? Are we not all a little off the balance?

Some minds appear to have a gloomy tinge essential to their very individuality. There are precious fruits put forth by the moon as well as by the sun.

Grace has its triumphs still, and patience has its martyrs; martyrs none the less to be honoured because the flames kindle about their spirits rather than their bodies, and their burning is unseen of human eyes.

Be not dismayed by soul-trouble.

Should the power of depression be more than ordinary, think not that all is over with your usefulness.

Cast the burden of the present, along with the sin of the past and the fear of the future, upon the Lord, who forsakes not his saints.

Live by the day—ay, by the hour. Care more for a grain of faith than a ton of excitement.

Trust in God alone, and lean not on the reeds of human help.

Be not surprised when friends fail you: it is a failing world.

Serve God with all your might while the candle is burning, and then when it goes out for a season, you will have the less to regret.

Be content to be nothing, for that is what you are.

When your own emptiness is painfully forced upon your consciousness, chide yourself that you ever dreamed of being full, except in the Lord.

Set small store by present rewards; be grateful for earnests by the way, but look for the recompensing joy hereafter.

Continue, with double earnestness to serve your Lord when no visible result is before you.

Any simpleton can follow the narrow path in the light: faith’s rare wisdom enables us to march on in the dark with infallible accuracy, since she places her hand in that of her Great Guide.

You can read the rest here.

a messy life

I love this (heavily edited for the bits I like best ;) ). It's by Lizzie Jank:

When talking about homemaking, Christian women often refer to the fact that God loves order. But then I look outside my house and laugh – because God also created places where you have a storm of natural messes. My yard is strangely prolific in falling items. We have a huge oak tree, and the squirrels party on down in that thing like a bunch of wood chippers. There are shards of acorns everywhere. And then the tree itself doesn’t lose its leaves until after the snow has fallen. So we can’t rake it really, we just keep the leaves primarily in our gutters. Then there is a beech tree that drops a bazillion leaves that we can rake if we are fast, and then there’s a bunch of nut-like products that make walking on our driveway sound like walking on shells. And in the backyard we have a cherry tree that takes a turn pelting the world with tasty blood-red staining agents. We have a black locust tree that throws huge black pods all over the house like confetti. The squirrels also love that, and they merrily transport them to a picnicking location right outside the living room window where they peel and shred pods until their pants are too tight, and they decide to go nap. And then there is an old apple tree that needs some sort of help to make useable apples on a level we could access, but instead makes a bountiful crop way up high and releases them all at once to rot quickly on the ground. And this fits my life. Because inside my house we work in a similar style.

Have you ever seen some of those breathtakingly serene pictures of Swedish interiors? A home made up of sleek surfaces and rustic counterpoints? Quiet colors and surprisingly modern touches next to acres of plain empty space? I can look at that kind of thing and be filled with a real longing. Longing for a place that does not get messed up like this place. A place that stays beautiful, a place that looks the same in the evening as it did in the morning. I am confident that in that place there are not plasma cars wheeling around the kitchen in tight circles to the soundtrack of hilarity. I am pretty sure that no one got all the washcloths out and into the tub, and I am sure that if you decided to turn on the sink, or begin to bake something, that there would not instantly be three children on chairs behind you asking you to move over so they could get on with their plans. I bet that in that home when I put a stack of clean clothes on the bed in my room, toddlers would not lay siege to it and throw it back in the dirty clothes.  Because in that life, there would not be the unsavory mess of my life. There wouldn’t be all the dishes and all the wet rags. There wouldn’t be the crayon wrappers or the stickers that somehow only stick permanently to the wrong surfaces. There wouldn’t be misused sharpies, or coats that got dragged through the mud outside by a misbehaving puppy. In that life, there would not be the mess of my life.

But you know what else there could not be? The fruit of my life. Resenting the mess in the barn is resenting the crop in the field. The only way to honor God is to embrace with thanksgiving the life that He has put before you. The mess in this barn is a mess of plenty, it is the mess of the gift He is giving us.

You can read the rest here.

we were made for this

Christine Hoover:

Life is a difficult hike, isn't it? Sometimes the path is smooth and we're bouncing merrily along, but most of the time it's slippery and treacherous, and we wonder if it will all be worth it in the end.

We've heard of what's to come, and we're told the views will be glorious, but we haven't seen it for ourselves and it's difficult to imagine.

All we see are the things in front of us: the trees, the stumbling blocks, the gnats flying around our face. And we feel things too: the pain, the exertion, the complaints rising up in us. It's a matter of faith that the views are ahead and a matter of endurance, and no one can do the work for us.

We were made for this--for faith. We were made to hope that the end and the views are a reality and to anticipate what we'll find at the top.

So let's keep walking, keep pushing, keep believing. Because these light and momentary afflictions will give way to rest and warmth and joy. They will give way to Him. Where we once could only imagine and hope, we will see clearly.

And we will look back at the trail on which we've come and, with great satisfaction, know that it was worth it in the end.

Read the rest here.

online meanderings

Christianity, the world's most falsifiable religion

Learning to be content and Greed and contentment

In the heat of the moment - When emotions get the better of you.

Please don't make my funeral all about me - Nancy Guthrie.

The power of a story - Honest reflections on same-sex attraction.

11 things never to say to parents of a child with autism - and 11 things to say.

marriage and divorce:
When marriage is hard - "Very few married couples get very far into their marriage before reality sets in and these vows demand something from them ..."

Supporting friends through divorce

for parents:
Why motherhood is only for the faint of heart - How burnout becomes blessing.

What to do when your kids are looking at porn and How to protect them - Some of the best resources I've seen on this.

Renewal is not the result of introspection but theospection. In theospection, we gaze at God – and as a result are changed, renewed, refreshed. Kyle Johnston

Rather than trying to figure out why I don’t read my Bible more, why don’t I just pick it up and read it right now? - Nancy Ann

The curtain is torn in two.
The cross and the tomb are empty.
The cup of wrath is drained.
The victory is won.
The serpent is crushed.
The new creation is dawning.
The throne is occupied.
It is finished (τετέλεσται).
He is risen!
He is risen indeed!
Justin Taylor

To see more links and quotes, click here (Facebook) or here (Twitter).   

what I'm reading: women, work, and the home

I couldn't wait for The measure of success to come out. Carolyn McCulley is a thoughtful, entertaining writer, and in this book she tackles the controversial topic of women, work and the home.

The first few chapters - a potted history of work - kept me glued to the page. They made me ask the question: How are our views on women, work and the home shaped by our culture as well as by the Bible? 

What did Paul mean when he encouraged young married women to "manage their households" (1 Tim 5:14) and to "work at home" (Titus 2:5)? Did he mean women with children shouldn't do paid work? Or that our homes should be beautiful? I don't think so. The reason we sometimes conclude these things is because of a post-industrial view of work and the home.

Carolyn McCulley says,

With the dozens and dozens of magazines, cable shows, and Pinterest boards, it's no surprise if you think about your home as an expression of your identity. ...

That's not the concept of the home that most people have had throughout history. The home was a center of productivity. If we don't know that history, then we will read the biblical verses about the home only through the lens of our current experience - and potentially misunderstand the intent of these passages ...

Over the last several centuries, Christians have engaged in this debate about where women should be productive. When mainstream culture devalued marriage and motherhood, Christians (and those from some other faith traditions) rightly upheld these important roles. When mainstream culture overvalued the workplace, they also rightly upheld the value of the home.

The only problem is that our modern concept of the home is not the same as the biblical concept. ... For most of human history, the home was the original small business unit, the building block of a community's economic vitality. It was only after the upheaval of the Industrial Revolution that the home moved from being a place of productivity to a place of consumption.

Did you catch that? For most of history, the home was a "place of productivity". Work was done in and from the home. Farming and manufacture were home businesses, led by mums and dads, their kids underfoot and working alongside them. Like everyone else, women worked in and from the home, in roles that earned money and roles that didn't.

What does this mean for the verses about women and work in the Bible? I'll be honest: I'm not sure. For a start, I haven't finished the book yet. But also, I don't think the answers are simple. This is going to take some time to process.

I still believe it's ideal for young kids to be cared for by a parent as much as possible. I think women will generally be the ones who do this, not just because of cultural norms, but also because that's the way God made us (Gen 2-3; Prov. 31:10-31; 1 Tim. 5:14; Tit. 2:3-5). We only see this as a problem because our society teaches us to idolize "career". Managing a home and raising kids is work, and it's meaningful, hard, skillful work.

But I am coming to see that there is flexibility and freedom in the way this might happen. It won't look the same for everyone. I have friends I greatly respect who made the decision - one that I think was wise for them - to do paid work a few days a week early in their children's lives because it helped keep them sane.* And we don't all have the choice: I have a friend who's a single mum and has to work in a thankless job so she can support her family.

I also know women who stayed home full-time with their kids until they reached school age, then took on some work outside the home; and women who stayed home with their kids, pretty much full time, into the teen years (hey, wait a minute, that's me - and my son's chronic illness has made me very grateful I have this option). Not so they can devote themselves to the "home beautiful" (an idol just as potent as "career"), but so they can love and serve those around them, and those God has entrusted to them.

Jesus doesn't want us to store up treasure on earth: sanded floorboards, a successful career, or perfectly behaved children (Matt 6:19-24). He wants us to work hard at the tasks he's given us; and he want us to work, not for ourselves, but for him (Eph 2:10; Col 3:23). He wants us to live for our true home.

You might also enjoy:

• these posts on biblical womanhood
• these posts on homemaking.

* Two had depression; one is an extrovert, with outgoing kids who enjoyed childcare, who found she was much more cheerful and productive at home while working a few days a week.


Quote is from Carolyn McCulley's The measure of success, 46-47, italics mine.

online meanderings

“I’ll never make it to the end of the day ..." - Learn to talk back to yourself. Great stuff.

10 lessons from a hospital bed - Wonderful, and worth reading before this becomes a reality for you. John Piper.

Going for blood - The gospel's solution to self-harm.

For pastors' wives (and others) - "The Lord has helped me recognize that my greatest insecurity, fed by the enemy's accusation, is that I am a disappointment..."

Why am I struggling when my suffering seems so small? - Jenny brings us back to the gospel.

for parents:
A big family is (painfully) changing me - A fantastic post for anyone with 3 or more children.

Why your kids NOT being 'the best they can be' might be good for your family

Comparison is the thief of joy.

"I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." It is almost impossible to reproduce in English the emphasis of the original, in which no less than five negatives are used to increase the strength of the negation, according to the Greek idiom. Perhaps the nearest approximation is to render it, "I will never, no, never leave thee, nor ever forsake thee." In view of such assurance we should fear no want, dread no distress, nor have any trepidation about the future. At no time, under any circumstances conceivable or inconceivable, for any possible cause, will God utterly and finally forsake one of His own. Then how safe they are! how impossible for one of them to eternally perish! God has here graciously condescended to give the utmost security to the faith of believers in all their difficulties and trials. The continued presence of God with us ensures the continued supply of every need. AW Pink

To see more links and quotes, click here (Facebook) or here (Twitter).    

what I'm reading: anxiety and the Burden Bearer

Prayer is God's great antidote to worry (Phil 4:6). But so often, we turn from prayer to something else. Ed Welch could be describing me here:

Too often I will begin to pray, then gravitate to the things that worry me, start trying to solve them, realize I am not really praying, and then decide to attend to the urgent matters and pray later.

Does that sound familiar? There are lots of ways I turn prayer into a personal fix-it session:

• I spend the time thinking through my worries, trying to find solutions
• I turn prayer into self-talk about my fears
• I try and get myself into the right frame of mind before I pray
• I stop praying so I can get on with my to-do list
• I think God won't listen to me unless I get things right first.

But that's not really prayer. Prayer means we give up control, stop trying to fix things, and hand them over to God instead. And this doesn't come naturally, especially to us worriers, who are used to using our minds to imagine and head off every possible catastrophe:

Prayer is harder than we think ... To actually stop and pray is contrary to our sense that we must do something - and do it quickly ... Prayer is counterintuitive. It is the opposite of what we would normally think or do.

God doesn't just tell us to stop worrying and get on with praying. He reminds us that he is the great Burden Bearer:

"Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you" (1 Peter 5:6-7) ...

We are carrying burdens we were never intended to carry alone ...

In an act that could never have been conceived by a human being, the King comes and beseeches us to lay our burden on him. ... He invites us to cast our burdens on him as we would cast burdens on an ox. ...

In one of the amazing paradoxes of the kingdom, when God takes our burdens and takes the position of a servant, he reveals our inability and his sufficiency. As such, he is exalted as the God of the mighty hand.

Prayer isn't about me trying to get my attitudes right, or talking myself out of my worries. It isn't, ultimately, about me at all: it's about God, my Father, the great Burden Bearer.

Prayer is coming to God, just as I am, and talking to him about where I'm at, right now. It's saying to God, "I'm worried, and I can't fix this. Please help me!". It's refusing to try and solve my fears, and giving them to him to carry instead.

I've got a long way to go, but I'm learning to do this. Will you join me?

God's answer to anxiety from Psalm 131

Simone Richardson on Psalm 131:

A little child rests against his mother and doesn’t bother himself with big and difficult things. He doesn’t worry about how the mortgage is to be repaid. He isn’t thinking about where the next meal’s coming from. He’s not worried about the war in the middle east - or even the war next door. He doesn’t have to. Mum’s got those things sorted. He’s with her and that’s enough. The weaned child knows his place in the world. Nestled in to mum! Mum will sort things out. ...

We can be like kids who grew up in neglectful or abusive homes, who weren’t looked after properly. Kids like that, even after they’re put in safe and caring homes, they still find trust really hard. They can know in their heads that they’ll be looked after, but underneath there’s still this instinct to depend only on themselves. So they’ll steal food from the pantry and hide it under their beds. Just in case.

For many of us here who are Christians, that’s what we can be like. We know in our heads that Jesus reliable. That we can trust him. And we’ve decided to. But our hearts haven’t caught up yet, so we don’t rest against him. We nurture our worries - like a kid stashes food under her bed - imagining that we can stay in control of things that way.

One great theologian said that Psalm 131 takes the shortest time to read but the longest time to learn ...

You can read the rest here.

online meanderings

If I wrote the Bible

Things unseen - "How can a mother bear the loss of a child?"

The trap of doubt - Ed Welch on suffering and trust.

The widow's first laugh - It's true: happiness can be a balm in sorrow.

The fight against sadness - I have found many of these suggestions to be helpful.

Helping people to pray out loud - A wealth of practical tips from Carmelina Read.

for parents
I'm done making my kid's childhood magical and A mother's guide to raising pharisees

books
The best sex for life - Wendy recommends reading this 6 months into marriage.

Treasuring Christ when your hands are full - A book for mums by Gloria Furman.

The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant. - Dr. Who

Memorising Philippians is going slowly. I am eleven verses in and that little amount is pretty shaky. I have an appalling memory but I am not discouraged. When I do a bit of work on this it is pure joy and I'm not working to a deadline. - Meredith

To see more links and quotes, click here (Facebook) or here (Twitter).   

psalm for the downcast (3)

Have you ever been burdened with sorrow or fear? You move through the world in a fog, and others' voices come to you as if from a distance. You wonder how they can be so carefree.

Sometimes, there's no lonelier place than a crowd.

I escape to solitude, grass below and a gum tree above. Twigs and bits of bark poke my legs. I stare at trees drawing lines on a slope striped with sun and shadow, a sky so lovely it hurts. I scribble words in my journal: "Oh, Father ...". It's good to write, but I want more.

How do you pray when your heart is heavy? Words seem inadequate. Hurt edges into bitterness. Perhaps the only word you can think of is "Help!" - and there are few better prayers. But you want more. You need, not your own words, but God's word. It has never felt so necessary.

I pull the Bible from my bag and open it to the psalms. I turn, not quite at random, to psalm 63 (someone once said it was helpful in times like this). I start reading a little earlier - psalm 61 will do. It astonishes me, as always, how the words give perfect shape to my need. I write them in my journal:

Hear my cry, O God.

From the ends of the earth I call to you.
I call as my heart grows faint.
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

How long will you assault me?
Would all of you throw me down—
this leaning wall, this tottering fence?

Find rest, O my soul, in God alone.
He is my fortress, I will not be shaken.

On my bed I remember you;
I think of you through the watches of the night.
I sing in the shadow of your wings.

One thing God has spoken,
two things I have heard:
that you, O God, are strong,
and that you, O lord, are loving.

Two dot points form themselves in my mind:

• he is strong
• he is loving.

Those two things are all I need to know.



If you enjoyed this post, you might also enjoy:

• psalm for the downcast (1)
• psalm for the downcast (2)
• a cry of hopelessness
• praying your tears.

(Excerpts are from Psalms 61-63.)

God’s gifts in suffering (8) Suffering teaches us to number our days

All our days pass away under your wrath;
we bring our years to an end like a sigh.
The years of our life are seventy,
or even by reason of strength eighty;
yet their span is but toil and trouble;
they are soon gone, and we fly away…
So teach us to number our days
that we may get a heart of wisdom. (Ps 90:9-10, 12)

When you’re young, life seems long and full of promise. A young woman told me she hopes Jesus doesn’t come back till she’s experienced career, marriage, children. I remember thinking the same when I was eighteen. Life stretched ahead, and I wanted to see and do it all. Can you recall it? Standing at the brink, ready to plunge in?

As you get older, life sometimes seems very sharp and short. Family members become ill. Friends get divorced. Parents age. We go to more funerals. We grow weary of the long battle with sin. On the bad days, when another burden is added, we wonder if we can bear any more. The years that once seemed endless now speed past, and they are often full of pain.

Who is to say that we do not now see things more clearly? Like a flower of the field, we flourish and are quickly gone (Psalm 103:15-16). Life is vanity; it passes like a shadow; generations comes and go, and we are forgotten (Ecc 1:1-4; 6:12). Our days are filled with toil and trouble; they are soon ended, and we fly away (Psalm 90:10).

One of the great blessings of suffering – though perhaps not the most welcome – is that we come to see this more clearly. We’d rather be comfortable in this world, but suffering, mercifully, doesn’t allow it. We share this world’s groaning, and realize what has been clear to most people throughout history. Our hearts as well as our heads now know the truth: in the light of eternity, this life is a blip and a shadow.

This whispers to us of another truth: we are not made for this world. If we were, CS Lewis asked, would we not feel at home?1 Yet we don’t, except perhaps on the most sunshiny days, and even then we are haunted by incompleteness. Always, there is the longing for something more. We feel this acutely, for God has placed eternity in our hearts (Ecc 3:11).

Suffering fuels this longing. It takes us by the hand and says, “Look! There is something better!”. We hold so tightly to this world, but suffering loosens our grip. It reminds us that we’d better not store our treasures here, for they can and will be taken from us. It weans us from this life, and sets our hope on the life to come. And this hope will not disappoint us (Rom 5:5). We will open our eyes on a new creation. The morning is coming.

Have you seen it? Can you picture it? There it is: a golden city, so bright it would hurt your eyes if they, like the rest of your body, weren’t strong and new (Phil 3:21). In the heart of this city, God and the Lamb – the one we love, the one who died for us – sit on the throne. A river runs from the throne, its waters giving life. And look! There’s the tree of life, heavy with new fruit each month, its leaves healing hurts (Rev 22:1-5). Once more, God walks with us in the cool of the day; and this time we have no need to hide (Gen 3:8). Seeing him with open faces, we are at last like him (1 Cor 13:12; 1 John 3:2). Here there is no hint of sorrow, no mark of pain:

Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. (Rev 21:3-4).

It’s better than we knew it could be. We are home.

I read the words, “There will be no more tears…”, and tears run down my face. For this is our waiting time, our season of groaning, our period of exile (Rom 8:18-27; Phil 3:20; 1 Pet 2:11). We long for the day of Christ’s appearing (2 Tim 4:8). We yearn for our true country (Heb 11:16). We seek the things that are above (Col 3:1-4).

The other day, I was standing at the kitchen bench, cutting vegetables, when I noticed my hands were trembling. It was one of those times when the weight of a long struggle presses down, and you know your strength is not enough to carry you. In that moment, as he has so often before, the Spirit brought these verses to mind:

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Cor 4:16-18)

If there’s one thing suffering has taught me, it’s that we don’t really belong here. It has taught me to fix my eyes on the unseen. It has taught me to long and live for our true home.

Come, Lord Jesus. (Rev 22:20)


1. “If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” CS Lewis, Mere Christianity ↩

online meanderings

7 ways God uses depression in the life of the pastor - Helpful for the rest of us too.

8 causes of spiritual dryness and discouragement 

Praise God for older women in the church

Is the age of the pastoral visit over? - Food for thought for those of us in pastoral leadership.

For dads
How pastors can care for their own children and 7 things a good dad says

For mums
The lie of a productive day


How to get good at something:

Don’t aim at success — the more you aim at it and make it a target, the more you are going to miss it. For success, like happiness, cannot be pursued; it must ensue, and it only does so as the unintended side-effect of one’s dedication to a cause greater than oneself or as the by-product of one’s surrender to a person other than oneself. Viktor Frankl

“Inspiration is for amateurs — the rest of us just show up and get to work,” Chuck Close scoffed. “A self-respecting artist must not fold his hands on the pretext that he is not in the mood,” Tchaikovsky admonished. “Show up, show up, show up, and after a while the muse shows up, too,” Isabel Allende urged. “You have to finish things,” Neil Gaiman advised aspiring writers. Grit and the secret of success

Something experts in all fields tend to do when they’re practicing is to operate outside of their comfort zone and study themselves failing. Joshua Foer

To see more links and quotes, click here (Facebook) or here (Twitter).  

what I'm reading: "If condemnation and fears of judgement haunt you ..."

"If condemnation and fears of judgement haunt you ..." Do those words describe you? They describe me.

I often feel like I'm being judged by God, other people, or myself. But who is really accusing me? Ed Welch writes,

How can you discern the difference between the Devil's condemnation and the Spirit's conviction? How can you determine if you are in the bogus courtroom or the real one?

In the real courtroom:

• you know your good deeds are not enough
• your hope is in Christ alone for your deliverance
• when convicted of sins, you are pointed past your sins and on to Christ
• the last word is always hope.

In the Devil's counterfeit:

• the attention is all on your sins
• you stand and fall on your own behaviour
• you are alone without an advocate
• questions are raised about the extent of God's forgiveness...

Keep the basic rhythm of Scripture in mind: for every one look at your own sins, take ten looks at Christ.

Ed Welch Running Scared 220-223, bold type mine.