Gentle and Lowly, Chapter 5 - “He Can Deal Gently”

This reflection is by Visio Dei member Brianna Boes.

I didn’t view myself as truly sinful until at least my mid-twenties. If someone had asked, I would have admitted readily to being a sinner, but I was prideful. I could easily accept that because I was born into a corrupted world, I could not escape that universal sinful nature. Everyone was tainted by it; I didn’t have a choice. I was blinded to my personal sin, to my personal contributions to the fallen state of the world.

But by my mid-twenties, not only had I been married for several years but I had become a mother twice over. I had lost all sense of who I thought I was. I had no professional pursuits, which played into plenty of insecurities. Post-partum depression had buried my self-worth beneath a mountain of lies. At the same time, my physical health had seemed to completely deteriorate.  

I lost control of my time, my worldly passions, my physical health, and my emotional stability. When I came to grips with the fact that I would never get it back because I never had control to start, I spiraled.

Anger tempted me, and I embraced it.

Bitterness called my name, and I answered gladly.

My pride was not broken; I doubled down and pushed on in my own strength.

Selfishness promised to shield me from losing even more control, so I made up a bed in the corner of my heart and let it live there.

Of course, these sins were lurking around my whole life, but I hadn’t been tested. They seemed so small, so insignificant, and eventually they became familiar. So, when life got hard, they were nurtured, and they grew, and I barely noticed.

But my Savior wasn’t going to allow me to wallow in that pit, even if I didn’t recognize how dirty I was, how badly I needed his gentle, cleansing hand.

I thought God had abandoned me, or at least, I thought He was withholding his fullness from me. There was a time in my teens when I knew His presence, when I’d basked in the truth of his Word. I remembered that time during my hardships, and I was angry and bitter that it felt so far away. I didn’t see the truth: the enemy, the world, and I had worked together to tear down the flimsy house built by the faith of an untested youth.

Thank God there was a foundation that could not be destroyed.

I lived in a strange dichotomy for a long time. I despaired while believing hope was within my grasp. I clawed desperately for control while praying God would take control of my life. I was stuck in a cycle of self-loathing while knowing it was God who defined my worth, God who loved me and assigned to me immeasurable value.

In short, that foundation took a beating, but it didn’t crumble.

Over time, through many trials and blessings, as Jesus dealt gently with my “ignorant and wayward” heart, I learned to let go. I wearily waved that white flag; at first, I did it for the sake of my marriage and my children because I could see how my mess of sin affected them, but I continued doing it because surrendering to Jesus is not humiliating as one might expect, but rather it is an experience of sweet relief. He slowly, gently restored the ruins of my faith, the ruins of me.

His peace drove away anger.

 A grateful heart rebuked bitterness.

 Jesus revealed the integral cracks in my pride and showed me that in my weakness, He was made strong.

 I laid down the paper-thin shield of selfishness, and He gave me the sturdy shield of faith.

 It turned out He’d never abandoned me. He was just waiting patiently, nudging me gently, and protecting me faithfully until I was ready to accept not only His Word but the application of it, until I was ready to let go and let Him have everything. In exchange, He’s given me Himself. He’s given me everything.

“Look to Christ,” says Ortlund. “He deals gently with you. It’s the only way he knows how to be.”

I am so thankful I know this to be true. I shudder to think where I’d be if it wasn’t.

Hallelujah! There is no one like our gentle and lowly Jesus.