What 15 years of following Jesus has taught me
Photo by Ylanite Koppens
It was a Thursday night 15 years ago when I first turned to Christ. It was not on a pinnacle night of a conference or the conclusion of an evangelistic series. No grand alter call. It was a cry of desperation. I was an unhappy 15-year-old, wrestling deeply with anxiety, depression, and anger. My family was concerned about me. I have a distinct memory of my sister throwing wrapped sandwiches through my bedroom window (I’d barred the door) to make sure I had food to eat.
“I knew the content of the gospel, but I did not know the person who is the gospel.”
I was alone in my room, vividly aware that my life was not ok. The ‘good years’ were not that good. I had envisioned a teenage life of freedom, but my reality was that I couldn't escape my own thoughts of discontent. What I wanted I could not get; I’m not even sure I knew what I wanted. But what I had was not what I needed.
This is not to paint a picture that I was living in poverty; on the contrary. I was living in the Upper North Shore, I’d just moved from an elite private school, I always had food, clean clothes without holes (except the skinny ripped jeans that were in fashion), and the internet on my own custom-built computer was stable. I had it good. But it was not enough, and internally, I was in turmoil.
Having been around church since I was young, part of a youth group - in a non-committed way, gone to Christian schools and now enrolled in the scripture class at the high school I was attending. God had been dripping the gospel into my life for most of my life. I knew the content of the gospel, but I did not know the person who is the gospel.
So on Thursday, the 16th of September 2010, the anxious, depressed, angry and discontent Toby wept. With tears on my face, leaning on my bed, I whispered urgently to God ‘God, I don’t know if you’re real, but if you are, help me out, because nothing else is working.’
Hardly a testimony of love and captivated awe. Yet it was that night that my life changed. 15 years on, I spend my days engaged in helping young people come to know the great refuge, hope and certainty that I have come to treasure in the gospel of Christ Jesus.
An anchor in uncertainty
In the years following my cohort's graduation from school, there was a recurring conversation. What is your five-year plan? In it, we would share the aspirations and hopes that we had for the near future. For most, it was a conversation about finishing uni and landing a stable job in a field we were interested in. For some, it was to have some sort of investment to help ensure financial security. Some had dreams of marriage and maybe even kids within the next five years.
None of us knew what lay ahead. Since 2012, the world has changed radically. Jobs that seemed certain have been automated, and jobs that were not even on the horizon are commonplace. Technology has advanced at an increasing pace for both better and worse. The housing market that seemed expensive now feels impossible. Friends have gotten jobs, lost jobs, some have gotten married and had kids, some have miscarried multiple times, and others have remained single. Some have gone to sleep.
I am immensely thankful for the blessings God has been kind enough to give me. The life I live now is not the life I thought I would have, nor is it the one I had hoped to have 15 years ago (I wouldn’t change it though!). Yet despite all the changes in my life - career, study, churches, family and friends. There has been one thing that has not changed. It is the gospel of Jesus Christ. I have come to understand it more and more, but it is not a different picture. I have just come to see the detailed beauty that I had barely glimpsed 15 years ago, and even now, I know I have only just begun to enjoy the gospel of Jesus Christ.
In its simplest form, the gospel is that Jesus is the Christ (saviour) and Lord (king). The response is equally simple: to live with Christ as king and entrust yourself into his care. Or to repent and believe as the opening declaration of Jesus’ ministry in the book of Mark says (Mk. 1:15). This is what I discovered to be true 15 years ago, and it remains the foundation of faith for me today.
“The gospel that has him at its centre remains unchanged and has no need for change.”
The anchor of my life is the unchanging Christ Jesus. He has proven to be consistently reliable and sustaining. The gospel that has him at its centre remains unchanged and has no need for change.
I still live with anxiety, but having turned to Christ in desperation, he has been kind to me and led me to have a peace that is greater than the turmoil, and one that often co-exists alongside my anxiousness. He has always been faithful, and so I can have confidence that he will continue to be.
A compass when I’m adrift
It does not take much effort to recognise that this world, for all its beauty, also isn’t that great. Just turn the news on for a night, and you will be presented with international wars, our leaders’ immorality being exposed, natural disasters, and new laws that serve those already significantly privileged. This is because, as people, we are sinful by nature (Rom. 7:18); our natural disposition is to grasp the good gifts of God and corrupt them. If this is as good as it gets, we’re in serious trouble.
Thankfully, that is not the case. The gospel gives us something to look forward to. A time when the news will not have corrupt politicians, environmental disasters, war or famine. The news will be a wonderful, triumphant declaration of God’s goodness in a perfected creation. There is a day to look forward to, the day when Christ returns (Acts. 1:11).
It is this day I look forward to. The day when Christ returns is the day when tears will be wiped away, brokenness will be completely mended, and I will stand face to face with my Lord and brother, Jesus. I will see his glory unrestrained, and the full majesty of God will be the light I see by. I will hear God use my name. I cannot wait for that day, and yet there is beauty in this world to enjoy until then. There is work I can do now that would bring him glory (Phil. 1:23-25).
As Christ is my anchor keeping me grounded in his faithfulness, so too is he the compass that points me towards the day of his return. In this, Christ is the thread that runs through life. He is who I look back to for certainty and forward to with eagerness.
As we navigate a life that is constantly changing, with new challenges presenting themselves and unconsidered experiences emerging, it is Christ who gives us the means to navigate them well. He does through his Spirit who brings the scriptures to life (Jn. 16:13, Eph. 6:17).
Sustained Hope
I turned to Christ in a hopeless state, so perhaps it is not surprising that one of my greatest comforts is the hope that Christ provides. There is a depth and richness to the hope found in Jesus. It is not the pipedream of world peace at a beauty pagent. It is because of God’s faithfulness (anchor) and certainty of the day of Christ (compass) that the hope of the gospel is sustaining.
The hope of the gospel is sustaining because the person who is the gospel is living. Every other source of hope is temporary and will fade, and therefore, the hope placed in those things will fade as well. However, Jesus is the resurrection (Jn. 11:25). He is seated at the right hand of God the Father in honour (1 Pt. 3:22). It is because of his resurrection and ascension that we have a hope that is not temporary; our hope is living because Jesus is living (1 Pt. 1:3).
This is not a hope that we will only take hold of on the day of Christ, but is a hope that is ours today to enjoy. This hope gives us cause to rejoice greatly in all things, even while we go through hardships (Phil. 4:4). The richness of hope in Jesus is why it can coexist with genuine grief and sorrow. And it is the richness of hope in Jesus that sustains us through those moments.
There is no sorrow that the hope of Christ does not soften. There is no grief of yours that Jesus does not grieve alongside you. He is the voice that reminds us that a day is coming without sorrow, pain or tears (Rev. 21:4). It is his day.
