What to Do When We Find Ourselves Working for God’s Approval

Approval: the belief that something or someone is good and acceptable. 

Don’t we all want this in our relationship with God? Theologically speaking, we know that He loves us. That’s what He does. That’s who He is. But does He approve of us? Does he find us good and acceptable? Do we have His approval? 

Most of us probably answer those questions with a “sometimes.” And that “sometimes” is probably grounded upon our obedience. Did I have a good quiet time? Am I witnessing? Am I minimizing personal sin? Have I been praying? 

Let’s pause for a second and look underneath these questions. What kind of relationship is this? Could I, with straight face, say to my children, “I find you acceptable only when you do your chores”? Could I expect to have a growing relationship with my wife if I said, “I find you acceptable when you do the things I want”? Of course not. We instinctively know that a relationship isn’t healthy when one party is consistently seeking approval. 

Why do we think it’s different with God? 

Yet, so many of us continue to struggle with working for God’s approval, rather than living in it. 

Are We Accepted?

Do you remember that scene in “National Treasure” when Nicolas Cage finds the ocular device built by Benjamin Franklin? In the world of this movie, Franklin had created these glasses to help read the treasure map on the back of the Declaration of Independence. If you looked through one set of lenses the map appeared one way, flip the lens and the treasure map reveals new things. 

It's not a perfect analogy, but I think the Scriptures are bit like that. There is one lens through which you might read the Scriptures that would yield the viewpoint that our acceptance is based upon our obedience. The blessings and curses of Deuteronomy paint this picture (Deut. 28-29). And this plays out throughout the prophets. Consider this from Isaiah 1:16-17

“Wash and make yourselves clean.
Take your evil deeds out of my sight;
stop doing wrong.
Learn to do right; seek justice.
Defend the oppressed.
Take up the cause of the fatherless;
plead the case of the widow.”

This comes on the heels of God essentially saying to the Israelites that He hates their worship services. “I am weary of bearing them,” He says. In other words, they are not acceptable. God is not accepting the worship or the worshippers. So how will they become acceptable? Isaiah 1:16-17 gives the answer. This is the refrain throughout the Old Testament.  

But it’s not only in the Old Testament. Jesus seems to say something similar in Matthew 7. "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven." Jesus also said things like, “If you obey my teaching, you are really my disciples.” Again, through that one particular lens, it seems as if obedience is a prerequisite to acceptance. 

Look at It through a Gospel Lens

But when you flip the lens and see things through the gospel — we begin to see the treasure map. You can see this beautifully play out in the story of the Prodigal Son. The prodigal squandered all of his inheritance and ended up in pig slop. He tries to come back into the family as a servant. But the father will have none of it. He accepts him back into the family and celebrates his return. 

There isn’t an ounce of obedience on the prodigal’s part. Just desperation and a desire to be back in the family. And yet he is accepted. It’s as if the acceptance is predicated on something other than the prodigal’s behavior. This, of course, makes the elder brother hopping mad. He’s viewing the entire story through the one lens. And because of this he misses the treasure. 

This is really the point of the parable. It’s about the elder brother more than it’s about the prodigal. The religious leaders and many of the people in Jesus’ day couldn’t see through the other lens. They were attempting to fit this “new wine” of the gospel into the old wineskin of the law. An impossibility. 

The gospel is found in a place like Romans 15:7. “Accept one another, as Christ has accepted you.” Our acceptance of one another — being drawn into community with one another — isn’t determined by our obedience but our shared acceptance. Christ has drawn us into fellowship with Himself. He has given His perfect record to us. 

Jesus fulfilled the Law perfectly. He, and He alone, inherits the blessings of Law through His obedience. And yet He willingly endured the curse of the Law in our place. The great exchange, then, is that Christ paid the penalty for our disobedience and gives us the blessing of His obedience. Our acceptance isn’t from our obedience but the obedience of Christ. 

Is obedience required for fellowship with God? Yes. (That’s one lens) 

Is it our obedience that grants us fellowship? No. It is the obedience of Christ in our place. (That’s the gospel lens). 

This is why Tim Keller can say, “The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.”

In Christ, we are accepted. Period. Now, what do we do when we try to flip this and once again find our approval through our own efforts? 

When You Try to Earn It

One of the richest books on living the Christian life was written by Richard Lovelace many years ago, Dynamics of Spiritual Life. Lovelace had this to say about our propensity to go back to seeking approval through our performance: 

“We all automatically gravitate toward the assumption that we are justified by our level of sanctification, and when this posture is adopted it inevitably focuses our attention not on Christ but on the adequacy of our own obedience. We start each day with our personal security resting not on the accepting love of God and the sacrifice of Christ but on our present feelings or recent achievements in the Christian life. Since these arguments will not quiet the human conscience, we are inevitably moved either to discouragement and apathy or to a self-righteousness which falsifies the record to achieve a sense of peace.” (Lovelace, Dynamics of Spiritual Life, 211)

Our solution is woven into Lovelace’s words here. We redirect our focus from our own performance and settle it upon the finished work of Christ. That is the answer. Simple as it sounds, we go through the practice of preaching the gospel to ourselves. 

I’ll show you what this looks like practically. 

Let’s say that I’m struggling with being impatient with my kids. What does this look like if I am trying to earn God’s approval in this area? I read the Bible through the lens of obedience for acceptance, and thus I know that so long as I have impatience with my kids, I’m not accepted. My only recourse is to find a way to become less impatient. 

Now, hopefully we know from experience that we cannot truly obey the law. I cannot conquer impatience from my own self effort. I’ll either lower the standard into faux patience or try to hide and minimize my guilt. Or I’ll throw myself into behavioral modification. And I might even conquer impatience — through sheer grit and focus on the problem. But as I do this, I’ll find myself harming in other ways. 

As I set about this reform I’ll either “be moved to discouragement and apathy or to a self-righteousness”. It’s a sick cycle — a never ending treadmill of performance. 

Contrast this with the gospel. I tend to share the gospel in two main ways. First, is the God-man-Christ-response story. God created us, we blew it, Christ fixes it, what is my fitting response. Secondly, Creation, Fall, Redemption, Glory. Things were beautiful, now they are messed up, Jesus is restoring things, some day it will be entirely fixed.

To preach the gospel to myself in this area means to come to grips with the reality of my sinful impatience. I meditate on the reality that God is ever patient with me and the rest of humanity. He is slow to anger. I’m not, apparently. And so, as I compare myself to God’s character I fall under conviction. I confess my sin.

But as I do this, I know the source from which true patience comes — the person and work of Christ. I acknowledge that in Christ, I have everything I need for life and godliness. The gospel gives me the humility to confess my impatience to my children. No hiding or minimizing the painful reality that my impatience has hurt them. But I do not stay there. I believe the gospel enough to know that I’m still deeply loved and accepted. This does not define me — Christ does. 

I draw from the perfect record of Jesus. And where there once could have been shame there is now delight. I am free. I am forgiven. And somehow through this process I am being ever-transformed into Christ’s likeness. 

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Conclusion

To put it simply, whenever I find myself trying to work for God’s approval, I need to stop. And I need to proclaim the gospel to myself. I have to rehearse these grand truths to myself over and over and over again until they set deep within my soul. 

But here is the amazing thing. Even if I keep messing up in this area, it doesn’t change reality. If I’m in Christ, I’m deeply accepted. This is true even if I foolishly keep trying to earn acceptance through my performance. 

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