Where Did Religion Come From?

"Where did the first caveman or cavewoman get the idea that somebody, somewhere existed who needed to be worshiped, appeased, and followed? And how did the idea evolve that if you didn't say, do, or offer the right things, this being would be upset, agitated, or even angry with you?

Where did religion come from" - Rob Bell

(Disclaimer: Whether or not Rob Bell believes we evolved from cavemen, which I don't think he does, his questions are from the perspective of someone who believes in evolution and aimed at the natural question of where any idea of a god came from. Don't get hung up on his use of the word caveman.)

This is the exact question that sticks in my mind when I hear the argument that man invented God. I'm not trying to belittle those that use this line of thinking. I just don't understand it. I don't get how humans, if we evolved (which I don't believe we did), invented the supernatural or transcendent. When the universe is explained as a result of chance, molecules randomly colliding to create life, and that everything is knowable through science, or at least explainable through natural processes, that raises two very important questions for me.

Firstly, this line of thinking necessitates the non-existence of miracles and anything supernatural, really. There is a lot in this universe that doesn't make sense, and I'm not sure there's a very logical way for them to explain those things away in light of their science-oriented worldview.

Secondly, this poses a problem for where the idea of God came from. If, in fact, there is no God, nothing supernatural outside of the physical existence we know and sense around us, if everything is just molecules and processes and natural laws, etc., how did man make up the concept of this unseen "being" that made everything and is somehow affected by our choices (i.e. that a Being's anger would be appeased by the killing of an animal, etc.)? If reality has no supernatural in it, only natural, how did natural processes conjure up the idea of something supernatural? That's like the character in a book becoming aware of its character-hood and wondering about the author who's writing the story.

I think the Bell quote above is from an ad or description of a video series he did. I'm curious to hear where he goes with it.

On Being Fully Human

What does it mean to be fully human? I came across the phrase recently and only then did it really stick out to me, that I'd been hearing that phrase a lot lately, in video clips, sermons, books and online articles. So many sources referencing the gospel of Jesus Christ, alluding to the fact that part of the essence of the gospel, salvation or God's redemptive plan is to restore fallen humanity to the good state that God created it in.

As with most things that sound "too good to be true", it makes me want to look into it more. I have the tendency to be initially skeptical of novel or non-traditional things that might feel comforting in general. So that makes me curious about two things.

1. Is the concept Biblical in nature? Does the Bible use the phrase "fully human"? If not, is that simply semantics or interpretation, and does the Bible describe what it means to be "fully human" as we would explain that in our time? Or is that just a new phraseology to describe humanity-as-God-designed-it-to-be? I assume, based on the character and context of what people seem to mean when they use the phrase, that being fully human is, in some measure, part of what God's redemptive plan includes. I'd still like to flesh that out more. Is being "fully human" a similar phrase to Jesus' statement of His purpose, to bring us "abundant life" or life to the full? Etc...

2. To what extent can we become fully human in this life? What are the means to grow in that direction? Discipleship... Devotion... Obedience... What is God's role in the process? If it is a process, what can we legitimately expect to experience along the way?

I've been reading in Devotional Classics, and one of the classical authors referenced being fully human, which sparked this post. In my experience, we typically talk about being a good Christian versus a good human. It seems we think of Christian morality as a subset, a higher plateau, of regular morality. I don't think we equate being a good Christian with being a good human being. Like a square is a rectangle, but a rectangle is not necessarily a square, I think we think that someone might be a "good person" in a general sense, but we wouldn't call them a "good Christian" unless certain other things were true of them. Does that make sense? But from that, it seems that we have forgotten, on some level, what it means to be human, which is why the phrase "being fully human" stood out to me. Almost by implication that being human is a bad thing, stained with sin, etc. So, that's why, the news that the gospel might mean that God's plan is to redeem humanity, to restore us to His intended design for humanity, sounds like such good news.

What does it really mean to be fully human? What did God intend for us? What does God desire for us now, post-Fall and post-Christ's Incarnation? In light of the eternal salvation we believe we've received through God's grace and mercy, by faith in Jesus, how should we then live? What is the essence of what our time left here on the Earth was intended look like?

In Light of the Incarnation

As Christmas approaches, which feels crazy to acknowledge, I've been thinking about Advent. Thinking about what makes Christmas special. As my thoughts naturally turn towards Jesus' Incarnation, taking on human flesh to execute God's redemptive plan, I used the phrase "worth rescuing" in my mind and I've been stuck on that for a couple of days now.

Were we worth rescuing? Or is Jesus' Incarnation just an altruistic deed that makes Him look really selfless, though somewhat naive? Was there anything in it for Him, in that, does it just make Him look gracious and merciful or did being restored to us mean something more to Him because of who we are to Him?

Seems like an innocent enough question, but I know the theological implications run deep and in two fairly opposite directions.

One could say, no, we aren't worth rescuing, but that's what grace is. Our unworthiness, that we don't deserve to be rescued nor do we possess anything intrinsically worth rescuing, only proves to heighten and magnify God's mercy and kindness towards us. There's some truth in there...

And there's the other side of it, somewhat reactionary to the idea above, that we must have some intrinsic worth that God deemed worth rescuing. Otherwise, we should have a very low view of all humanity. Not that we can live perfectly and put God in our debt, or that God even needs us somehow. But if God chose to redeem us, to rescue us, that must say something about who we are. Doesn't it?

I'm not sure where I am on this yet. The Baptist upbringing I had leaves plenty of fodder for the "total depravity" of humanity track. Lots of Bible verses speak of an underlying fallen-ness. But something in that feels very depressing. It makes God's love seem kind of stupid. Like marrying a rapist. Or adopting a 17-year old pedophile. There might, somehow, be something noble and selfless about it, but it clashes with some deep sense of reality. The deep "unworthiness" of the rapist or pedophile receiving that love in that imaginary situation prevents any real intimacy, and selfless love doesn't change who they are... I guess on some level, this is all about unconditional love...

Do we love someone based on what they do?
That seems silly and not very much like love...

Do we love them based on who we know they truly are, an image-bearer of God?
This seems to give a reason to love, because of a deeper reality of their intrinsic worth...

Or do we love them because it's the loving thing to do, despite the fact they have no worth at all?
Which is how God's love seems when "total depravity" is pushed to its limit and our sinfulness is touted as the deepest, truest thing about us.

I don't want to push the point, because I know there's some potential for pride and self-glorification that is inherent in humanity, apparently. Part of the message of Jesus seems to be choosing others before ourselves, not fighting for our own exultation. So, I do want to be careful. But the flip-side, when our unworthiness is magnified to make much of the Cross of Jesus, it makes the implication that there's nothing about me that God values—He just is a really nice God who wants to be loving.

Yes, "God so loved the world", but the question whispers, "Yeah... but does God love ME?" Because if God views you and I just as a face in a sea of people and loves us all the same, in some group mercy project way, can we really tell people that God loves them personally? And can you really have a "relationship with God" if you don't have any worth at all? If you are a disease-carrying sewer rat, what does it change if a little girl wants you for a pet? Total depravity, when pushed too far, seems like it would turn evangelism, which is supposed to be good news, into:

"Hey man, you do realize that you're like a disease-ridden sewer rat to God, right? Or like a used tampon? You're filthy to Him. But He 'loves' you, you know?"

Something about that doesn't feel right... That, as love, doesn't make sense... Can you imagine a marriage proposal, from bended knee, "You're horribly ugly, annoying and cruel. You're an awful human being, and I'd like to spend the rest of my life with you. Not because there's some deep hidden beauty in you, nor am I psychotic, I just really want to do something selfless, because that's the kind of person I am... I don't really want to marry YOU, I just want to marry anyone that doesn't deserve to be married to me. Will you marry me?"

Should that girl think of his proposal as good news? And what if she really WAS that kind of a woman?

What are your thoughts, readers? How do you see our depravity and what do you make of Jesus' Incarnation and what it means for who you are to Him?

Learning from Toy Story

Church yesterday was really good. My friend spoke about how we tend to find our identities and value in various things—our occupation and career, a significant other, our strengths, etc. But what happens when we're laid off? Or a loved one dies? Or we lose abilities that we once had? I won't just regurgitate everything he said, but the parallel he used to finish his talk was extremely powerful.

He mentioned the scene in Toy Story (the first movie), when Buzz has that catastrophic moment when everything crumbled. Buzz thought he had been a powerful space ranger, saving the galaxy from a great evil. But it turns out he is just a toy. Despondent, numb, Buzz lost all desire to do anything. But Woody tells Buzz the profound truth, that he wasn't just a toy. He was Andy's toy. He was loved and wanted. He belonged to someone and was considered special. All he had to do was look at the name written on his foot, in permanent marker. He was Andy's.

That's a ridiculously powerful realization. I think almost all of us can understand and appreciate the idea and feeling of being loved. We give and receive that from each other in our best moments. We know that that's like, even if we've had a lot of experiences of the opposite. We just don't normally let it sink in... And life can whisper lies to us about our worth. But the reality is that we aren't "just a human". We're not nobody's. We're somebody's. We belong to God, in the best sense of the word. He loves us and has written His name on our foot, in permanent marker. For the moments we forget that, maybe we need to keep a copy of Toy Story in the DVD player. We need to be reminded, constantly, of whose we are. Everything in our culture seems to be pushing us to be independent and self-reliant and capable of doing life without needing to rely on anything or anyone, that our worth is in what we can do, or how well we can marry, or what accolades we can accomplish.

Those things can be stripped away. The Name that's been written on our feet can't be. Let's all remember who we belong to and receive that love from God. That's at the heart of what the gospel and Christianity is all about, I think. Loving God from our hearts, in light of His great love for us.

Tree of Life

The first three chapters of the first book of the Bible are hard to understand, difficult to interpret. There's mythological imagery throughout, yet later books of the Bible refer to the stories and images while drawing theologically important analogies and implications through them. I feel ill-equipped with my modern/post-modern way of thinking to understand or pull value from myths. I'm not suggesting that Genesis is just another myth of how the world began, simply acknowledging that it has a lot of same literary style and imagery that other similar how-the-world-began myths employ.

So that leads me to my current question. What was the Tree of Life that Moses mentioned in Genesis? (It's also mentioned in Revelation 2:7)

True, it's not an incredibly practical question. Maybe no deep theological issue hangs in the balance here, but it got me thinking and... well, you know what happens when I get thinking.

The Bible says there were two trees in the center of the Garden of Eden. A Tree of Life and a Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Adam and Eve were allowed to eat from any tree, but God told them not to eat from the latter tree. They disobeyed and brought death/decay/curse on the rest of humanity that followed them. Upon "learning" about what they had done, God has a conversation with Himself via the Trinity and says in the third chapter of the book, in the 22 verse, "Behold, the man has become like one of us in knowing good and evil. Now, lest he reach out his hand and take also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever—" and proceeded to banish Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden and stationed an angelic being with a flaming sword to keep them from returning.

Here are my questions as I attempt to make sense of this story.

Would Adam and Eve have lived forever before they ate from the Knowledge tree? If yes, was that because that's what humanity was designed for or was it because they were eating from the Tree of Life? If not, is that why the Tree of Life was put there, to be a source of ever-lasting life, immortality for them?

What if, after they had eaten from the Knowledge Tree, they had been allowed to eat from the Tree of Life? Or what if they had eaten from it before God kicked them out? They would have lived forever, according to God, but... in what kind of state? It seems that eating from that Tree of Life might have had the same effect as the salvation that comes to humanity through Jesus Christ?

I'm not sure there's much answer to this question. I don't get what the Tree of Life was doing prior to the Fall. I assume they hadn't eaten from it before eating from the other Tree (of Knowledge)... Otherwise, does that mean the Knowledge Tree's effect canceled the effect of eating the Tree of Life first?

Is this a literal story? Is this some kind of myth that God used to explain things to Moses and the early humans? I'm okay with saying that we won't always understand things, but I think it's valuable for us as Christians to question these things with the hope of finding answers.

Disciples vs. Christians

After reading some excerpts from Dallas Willard today, I am faced with a new question. Am I a disciple of Jesus Christ? It's extremely easy to call myself a Christian. It has become such a loosely defined term that, while it can bring up strong negative stereotypes for some, generally doesn't cause much offense or reaction. Most people would loosely consider someone a Christian if they go to church, believe in Jesus and try to be a good person. Obviously, from within the church, arguments will arise about who's really in and who's really out, but that's not exactly what has my internal wheels spinning. Willard mentioned that the word Christian is mentioned 3 times in the New Testament and the word disciple is used over 250 times (and when Christian is used, it is always referring to those disciples). Am I really a disciple of Jesus?

There's something to the word disciple, as opposed to Christian, that makes me hesitate just a bit before claiming I am one. I want to be honest with myself and have integrity between what I say and how I live, so the question becomes then, what is a true disciple of Jesus Christ? Am I really attempting to live every day, every moment to be more like Jesus? Have I really surrendered my will and dreams and reputation, to be willing and obedient to anything and everything that Jesus is asking me to do? Or is Jesus an add-on to my life? Is God and Christianity just a hobby? A lifestyle? A luxury? An emotional crutch for when life gets tough? A vending machine to dispense blessings and safety and comfort on my life?

I don't want to assume that Jesus is Lord of my life if I'm not actively seeking to be obedient in everything. It's easy for me, growing up in church for so long, to call myself a Christian and just go about doing what I've learned are "Christian things". While there are all kinds of variations on what being a "Christian" in this culture means, being a "disciple" of Jesus Christ seems to have more weight to it; it sounds more costly. Something you can't fake, something beyond a label. Maybe we don't have anything similar in our culture to draw an analogy from, but as I understand it from basic first-century Judaism, being a disciple was this immersing experience of becoming an apprentice of someone, training and learning to become just like them. Generally speaking, it's easy to become a Christian—say a prayer that acknowledges you truly believe some specific truths from the Bible, particularly that God saves us by His grace, and you can call yourself a Christian. I know that there is more to it than that, so please don't misunderstand. I'm speaking broadly across how evangelical Christianity is presented. Being a disciple, on the other hand, is hardly talked about. We tell people they can escape hell, but we don't tell them the high cost of what it means to follow Christ on a daily basis. Maybe that's because we aren't paying that high cost ourselves? Do we really know what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ?

I guess what is convicting and challenging to me is understanding that becoming a disciple is a choice and a commitment. At times in my life, I wonder if God is just another voice of authority, as opposed to THE voice of authority in my life. Have I really committed to listening to, obeying, trusting, pursuing God first? Do all my choices and actions stem from that first allegiance? Or do I only obey when it is convenient?

I don't feel guilt-ridden as I type this. This feels more like being on a wide path, and glancing to the left and seeing this really narrow path that goes off into the woods. Something in me knows that true freedom and joy and peace and a meaningful life is not found on the wide, easy road of Christianity—the version of it where you're basically just a nice person who goes to a church and believes in Jesus. I feel like I've been living that life, walking that path for most of my journey through Christianity, and I'm just beginning to wonder if the abundant life that Jesus offers requires a true dying to myself, taking up my cross and following Jesus out of the Christian bubble and into a life characterized by deep devotion to Jesus Christ, above and before anything and everything else.

Ruts, Routine and Relationship

Just read an article over on Relevant Magazine, entitled "How To Get Out of A Devotional Rut" and it was one of those moments where you have the decision to write it off as coincidence or see it as a loving God communicating to you what you needed to hear.

The article referenced Jesus' words from John 5:39, 40:

"You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you possess eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life. "

Ouch. Approaching Scripture because of what I can "get out of it". Assessing its value based on whether or not it "works" or "did anything when I read it". The whole thing is convicting, though potentially so life-giving. The ruts seem to come often for me, when I finish reading a book or some study, and then don't know where to read next. My arrogance and familiarity with the Bible leave me complaining, "I've read it all before, and it didn't...", insert whatever there. Didn't make me holy. Didn't solve my problems. Didn't heal my pain. Didn't tell me what to do in a specific situation. It's no wonder that the ruts are so hard to get out of. If I am approaching the Bible because I think I'm supposed to read it, or thinking it's a magic self-help book to spiritual enlightenment, I'm doomed to fall into the same patterns. I think I've approached the Bible much too pragmatically, as if it's the handbook for proper Christian behavior. And once you've been living in Christian circles for years, read the Bible for decades, if behavior modification was the goal, then yeah, there's no reason for continuing reading it. If I understand the rules of baseball, I don't need to keep re-reading the rulebook. I know when I don't follow the rules or make an error. But once you've read the rules, the rulebook isn't necessary, except for occasionally glancing back to when unique situations present themselves and it isn't instantly clear what the rule is. But maybe, just maybe, the Bible was never intended to be a book of rules.

All bets are off if the Bible is more than that. Relationships are unpredictable, spontaneous and require attention and care to preserve and maintain. I know there isn't a formula, or a specific set of questions to ask, but I wonder if it would be help to begin every encounter with Scripture with asking God to reveal Himself, and to end every reading with reflection and meditation on how what we've just read shapes or refines who we understand God to be. Not approaching the Bible for a new principle to apply to help us arrive spiritually, not looking for better defenses against bad theology, not looking for a spiritual pick-me-up when we've had a hard week, but instead, coming to the Bible hungry to just know a little bit more about this God who created us and loves us deeply and longs for us to be close with Him.

I know I have fallen into the routine of reading, the rut of being too familiar with the Bible and losing sight of finding Christ in it. This article was meat in due season, as a good friend says. I'm convicted, encouraging and excited to read the Bible with this renewed perspective...

The Foundations of Our Faith—Part 2: Fear of Commitment

As I've continued to read in "God in the Dark" by Os Guinness, I've become stuck. The last chapter I read, about a particular type of doubt that can creep into a believer's life, has given me some kind of epiphany and I don't feel like I can keep reading without processing and doing something with what I've read.

The chapter was about the type of doubt that arises from a lack of commitment. Guinness gave the illustration of a contract that has been drawn up, all the terms outlined and explained. Everything is ready to go, except for the one thing that makes it binding—a signature. He said that without the conviction and confidence of aligning yourself to what you believe, what you are reasonably convinced of as the truth about reality, a certain type of doubt creeps in that paralyzes you. As I thought about that more, I realized that this chapter hit the nail on the head for me. I was exposed. I've been a typically indecisive, go-with-the-flow kind of person for a long time. I thought that was merely a character trait, an aspect of my personality. But I'm realizing that it's a subtle form of fear. I've been afraid to want anything, afraid to choose, afraid to commit. The "what ifs" have controlled my life. What if she doesn't like me back? What if they think it was a dumb idea? What if no one else is on board? What if I try this and fail? What if I give it everything I have and what I have isn't enough? And so, to somehow remove myself from the responsibility of choosing, deceiving myself into thinking I'd be immune from the effects, I began to let life happen to me. I'm not sure when that happened, if it was a particular situation or a pattern that formed. Either way, I started preferring that other people make decisions for me, trusting their wisdom, their motives, their vision. Along the way, I think I lost sight of who I was, with only a vague echo of discontentment bouncing around the edges of my personality. Something's been missing...

It's been pretty eye-opening.

I see this playing out in my faith in God (as the book primarily deals with), but also in dating relationships, friendships, career choices, etc. In areas of spirituality, I've leaned heavily to the side of grace, at the expense of truth at times, because truth scared me and it's much less confrontational to be gracious. Claiming to know the truth, rather, is what scared me. There's the chance I'd be wrong. To avoid that chance, succumbing to a false sense of humility, I preferred to have an "open mind" and say, "I think" rather than "I know". Eventually, that feels wishy-washy and powerless. There's nothing solid to stand on or give to people.

In relationships, it reared its head with the ever-present question, "Is this really what I want?" and most of the time, I knew the answer was "no", but couldn't get out from under the guilt of having entered a relationship without really being able to say that I knew that I wanted to be in it and pursuing it. I'm deeply grateful to be experiencing real freedom in this area... I'd get so crippled with anxiety and fear, unable to tell where the confusion was coming from. It was because I was afraid to choose! Afraid to be rejected or dumped, or afraid to be the one to break a heart... which, turns out, you can break hearts much more deeply when you aren't internally committed to the girl you're dating. Not that I cheated on any of them ever, but the hurt that I caused when suddenly everything they thought was true about what I wanted and how I felt toward them evaporated, when my internal confusion was exposed, there's a deep betrayal there that is pretty near crushing. And I never could figure out why it happened... I'd just try harder to be a "better boyfriend" next time... when the issue was just that I wasn't allowing my heart to be open and honest with how I felt, inwardly "committing" to it by allowing myself to feel and think it, rather than trying to keep it all loose and tentative... It's really cool to be seeing God transforming this area of my life already...

I'm not going to keep going into all the various ways I can see this affecting things. I feel as though I've turned a corner. My prayers feel more intentional and dependent, asking God for the clarity and wisdom to see my options, but then have the courage and trust in His grace and love to make decisions without fear, and then see them through. Keeping an open-mind is a great thing, but in the words of... someone that Guinness quoted in the chapter, the open mind is like an open mouth and it was intended to close on something solid.

I think there's a subtle strain of divine distrust in many Christian circles. There's a fear of God that is taught and practiced that alludes to God as a vindictive judge, waiting to strike us down when we step out of line or mess up. I'm not saying God is a senile grandfather and it doesn't matter what we do, but I'm beginning to believe deeply that God is a loving Father, who desires His children to trust His love for them and wants them to play well together, create and explore the beautiful backyard—build forts, make up imaginary games, and scribble outside the lines to make refrigerator art—not cower in fear of doing the wrong thing, to the point of paralysis... If we trusted this was God's heart toward us, I think we'd spend less time wringing our hands to find "God's will for our lives" and spend more time enjoying life, loving the faces right in front of us and spend a lot more time whispering prayers of thanks for life and beauty and friendships and love. We'd be less imprisoned by people's disapproval of us, less threatened by the fear of failure and full of a freedom and courage that would seem really compelling and attractive to a world that seems to be so scared and afraid to be themselves.

I know I have a lot to learn, but I'm grateful for this realization. I'm looking forward to seeing the fruit that comes with trusting God more deeply, fearing things less and learning to live and love with freedom, confidence and the commitment of knowing what is true, to the best of my ability with the knowledge I have so far, and living from that...

The Television Commercial

From "Amusing Ourselves to Death" by Neil Postman:

"Indeed we may go this far: The television commercial is not at all about the character of products to be consumed. It is about the character of the consumers of products. Images of movie stars and famous athletes, of serene lakes and macho fishing trips, of elegant dinners and romantic interludes, of happy families packing their station wagons for a picnic in the country—these tell nothing about the products being sold. But they tell everything about the fears, fancies and dreams of those who might buy them. What the advertiser needs to know is not what is right about the product but what is wrong about the buyer. And so, the balance of business expenditures shifts from product research to market research. The television commercial has oriented business away from making products of value and toward making consumers feel valuable, which means that the business of business has now become pseudo-therapy. The consumer is a patient assured by pseudo-dramas."

Working in the graphic design/web design/marketing/advertising industry, this hits so close to home. It's an interesting point and crucial to understanding how television commercials, in particular, have reshaped the way products are advertised, the way we see ourselves and the way businesses need to operate in order to be successful. On the one hand, realizing this can make you an amazingly effective advertiser, due to the cultural landscape that TV has influenced so deeply. On the other, it is a bit discouraged to realize, how nearly irreparable the damage is to how we do business and how our view of ourselves is constantly being attacked, undermined and distorted by the proposition put forth in commercials. We're constantly being sold the reality that we aren't enough as we are, and that a particular product on the screen can make us worthwhile and happy. That seems a dangerous state of affairs...

Interesting Article on Relationships

Here's the link to the article "How to find 'The One'" on Relevant Magazine...

And the part I thought was interesting:

If you are not in a relationship ...

We feel it’s crucial to realize that no matter whom you marry, you will most likely have the same personal issues you did before marriage. It can feel like marriage is the answer to making everything in your life right, but in our experience, marriage tends to amplify problems, not solve them.

Instead of believing in this romantic fallacy, take stock of where you are personally. Consider your emotions, past, family, talents, dreams, hobbies, struggles, spirituality, sexuality and employment. Striving to make these areas healthy will not necessarily lead to finding a husband/wife. However, exerting yourself toward wholeness brings confidence, peace and contentment. These traits are very attractive and if you do find a relationship, they will go a long way in making that relationship thrive. [emphasis mine]

I thought they struck a healthy, logical balance between the "just focus on yourself" mentality versus the "gotta-find-my-soulmate!" outlook. The goal being wholeness. The article did a good job of succinctly pointing out that wholeness doesn't equal "in a relationship", which I think is a typical mindset, that if you can just fall in love, then everything else will sort itself out. It is a sobering thought, to accept the reality that marriage isn't a magic trick, a shortcut to wholeness and godliness. It turns the attention away from what falling in love and marrying someone will do for you to what you are bringing to a relationship, to offer and give and sacrifice. Francis Chan said once, paraphrasing of course, that no divorce ever happened because a spouse was serving the other too much, that they were too selfless. The problem with relationships, it seems, is that we are looking to others to be for us something we are lacking, and that instantly puts unfair expectations on them. So, I think the article above did a great job of prescribing an understanding of relationships that will hopefully allow two single people to enter into a relationship on healthy, solid footing and not the selfish sand that plunges marriages into the sea of divorce when two imperfect humans start disappointing each other's unfair and unspoken expectations.

On The Go: Christian Sentences

I've been wrestling lately with what it means to have a relationship with God. That is a phrase that gets thrown around a lot, and I find myself constantly trying flesh out what that means and looks like. I'm curious, though, if maybe that phrase is a poor one , an inadequate one, and does more to confuse, rather than support, our pursuit of God. Because don't we all have a relationship to God as His creation? Do prayers float off to space, unheard, if they fall from the lips of someone "without a relationship with Jesus"? Or is it just semantics? Have we fallen into a trap of using a kind of religious language, "Christian sentences" if you will, of explaining our faith that cheapens or distorts what's really going on? Or, am I being too hard on the phrase, missing the idea that perhaps "You need a relationship with Jesus" is just a new way of saying, "Unless you are born again, you can't enter into the kingdom"? I'm cautious to say that analogy works, because one is scripture and the other is a fairly modern idiosyncrasy of Western Christianity that I can't objectively understand, because I've grown up with this language all around me.

Any thoughts, readers?

Learning From Young Children

A short post about something I've been considering lately.

It is almost second nature to assume, when we hear "Be sure your sin will find you out" or similar mentalities, that the thing God notices the most when He sees us is our sin.

Do you tend to think that way? Do you feel most aware of what God is thinking about you in moments of sin or immediately after?

I wonder this, because as I've been around parents of young children lately, I've realized something that I never noticed before, and will probably be much more keenly aware of once or if I have children some day. Parents are constantly clapping and whooping and praising children with "Good girl!" and the like. Parents seem to take deep joy in the little accomplishments, the little victories, the new skills as they form. What if God views us this way? What if the parental love that exists towards children is only a shadow of the Original Parent? What if God is cheering for us when we grit our teeth and resist the urge to tailgate the person who just cut us off? Or when Facebook is offering one of those "Meet Hot Sexy Christian Singles" ads with a very immodestly clad Christian woman, but you refuse the temptation to click on it? Or when we sit down to pray, late at night when the day has sucked most of our energy away, or in the morning before our brains are even working, does His heart thrill that we are choosing to spend time with Him? What if God's over-arching sentiment towards us is excitement and joy and pleasure, rather than scorn, disappointment, frustration?

I think we, particularly as Christians, do a lousy job of encouraging and affirming the good qualities in each other and of drawing attention to the heart of God towards His children when it comes to good things. We're pretty quick to worry about quenching and grieving the Holy Spirit, but how much thought do we put towards making the Holy Spirit proud of us, like a father who beams at his son's home run or the way his daughter shares with a sibling when she doesn't realize she's being watched? We're extremely worried about not being prideful, we live under a false humility that refuses to acknowledge the good that God has created in us as His children or the positive reactions that God could be having the times when we aren't sinning.

I'm not talking about boasting in our own strength or thinking that we get brownie points with God for doing good things. Not at all. That's not the point and I think we know it. The point is to learn to trust God's heart towards us, and respond like children. To stop living as if God is only ever watching us with a raised whip, ready to crack us when we step out of line.

Hopefully, you don't see God this way. I'm learning not to, but I definitely picked up this mindset over the years and no one ever explicitly taught that God was like that. So, I imagine there are others of you out there that have had similar experiences and, when given the space to be honest, sometimes have a hard time really believing God likes you and doesn't think you're a big disappointment to Him.

And maybe He's smiling as we start to see the light of how He really sees us.

The Foundations of Our Faith—Part 1

I'm reading God In The Dark by Os Guinness. It's about the assurance of faith beyond a shadow of a doubt, or so the subtitle reads. It's pretty good so far. At times, it feels a little too "black and white" for my taste, but I'm working on being patient with things like that.

I'm in chapter 5, entitled "No Reason Why Not" and I had one of those moments where I couldn't keep reading. Not because of disgust or confusion, but one of those moments when you're like, "I can't keep reading without dealing with what I've just read, not if I want to claim to be a person of integrity and honesty."

Guinness made the fairly innocuous comment, that we, as Christians, should "all examine the foundations of our faith." I'm not sure why it grabbed my attention so, but it did. He went on to list questions to ask and I want to write them out here, because I think it's going to be helpful for me to embark on another little quest, another experiment. Here were the questions he rattled off:

1. Why do we believe God is there?
2. Why do we believe God is good?
3. How do we know Jesus ever lived?
4. How do we know Jesus rose from the dead?
5. Why do we trust the authority of the Bible?
6. How do we understand that the Christian faith is true?
7. How would we answer a modern philosopher, a Freudian psychologist, the follower of an Indian guru, each of whom denies the truth of the Christian faith in a different way?
   

Honestly, I wasn't very interested in number 6 or 7. I suppose Guinness was progressing along a line of progressive "knowing", layers of presuppositions that were building on each other. Maybe not though—that's not the point I'm considering here.

On some level, my faith in God is definitely my own. I do so much over-thinking, questioning and doubting that I wouldn't be hanging onto this faith if it didn't hold water, if it was just something I was raised to believe. However, on the flip-side, I am, like everyone else, an initial prisoner of my own presuppositions. What I mean by that is that I will never be able to step outside of myself and check to make sure I'm on the right track in my thinking. I will never be able to explore the what-ifs of whether I had been born into a Hindu or Muslim family, would I be simply struggling to defend those faiths and understand what I truly believe, just like I am with this Christian faith? Since there is no measuring stick, no objective litmus test or questionnaire that I can take to ensure my beliefs are correct, I can only try to have integrity between myself and this idea of God that I can't escape (and don't want to).

I think I have taken many things for granted in my life. Several of them, such as God's existence and the trustworthiness of the Bible, are ridiculously foundational to all I claim to believe. Yet, when prompted by Guinness' questions on the matter, I found that I didn't have concrete answers for myself. Why DO I believe God exists? I say I do. And I'm not just saying it to convince you or myself. I really do. But, I haven't ever really considered why. Let me clarify, I haven't ever really considered why I personally believe that. "Strong answers to such questions are no substitute for faith," Guinness said. Lots of reading and college courses have given me a lot of strong answers to that and other questions, but I don't think I've always internalized them or examined them for myself, though I feel like I'd have plenty to offer a debate on the subject when it arose. Lately, I don't feel like that counts for much in any way that matters.

Maybe this is a do-over with God. I've already wrote about re-thinking prayer. That's been incredibly helpful to me. God doesn't need my fancy words. He wants honesty, vulnerability that implies trust in Him. That really resonates with me and I want to be faithful to that. However, I can't help but consider, "why?" Why do I believe God views us this way? Am I forming God in my homemade image? Or am I anthropomorphizing Him into characteristics that are just easier for me to understand? Am I committing heresy by loosely interpreting scripture in a way that makes more sense, or am I actually internalizing truths within it and personalizing them in a way that implies real faith and understanding?

I'm not throwing out the baby with the bath water. I've just reached a point where no one else's reasons or answers count for me. I can't hide behind a system or a religion, a church or a biblical worldview. Either I am interacting with the Almighty Creator of the universe or I've deceived myself into living in a safe little bubble that I've always known, content to build walls of toothpicks to protect me from a crushing tidal wave of reality.

So, forgive me if the posts taper off for awhile. I don't want to simply hash this out on the internet. I've realized this needs to be utterly personal and real to me, or I should stop dragging God's name through the mud. I'm going to work through these questions that Guinness posed, not so that I can pat myself on the back or feel superior to others in a religious conversation, but so that I begin to gain the settled confidence and humility of someone who doesn't have to pretend, or posture, or project anything other than the integrity of someone who knows, loves and interacts with the risen Jesus Christ.

This post feels extremely melodramatic, and for that, I apologize. This whole thing could be summarized with:

I read some good thought-provoking questions about God and the Bible that I don't think I've really ever taken the time to internalize, so rather than keep going through the motions in some sense, I really want to honor God and have integrity with myself and the world by taking the time to go through these questions slowly and come to some solid, personal convictions on these things, rather than always being somewhat tossed on the waves of my emotions and sensitivities to the doubts and questions of the world around me.

Hopefully, this is what the Bible means when it talks about searching for God with my whole heart...

Prayer... Simplified

I'm doing an experiment, though not merely for curiosity's sake.

As I walk this journey of faith, I keep hitting seasons where I get stuck. "Spending time with God" feels artificial and forced, something I feel like I'm supposed to be doing, but find difficult to be consistent with. Part of that is allowing life to crowd out my awareness of God, including the sins of pride, impatience, worry, etc. But a large part of that is that I'm not coming to God honestly, as I am. There's a certain religiosity that I've been taught to approach God with. An unspoken formula that communicating with the Almighty God requires. I think I generally believe the "right" things—right doctrines have been articulated to me and reinforced for years, but the practice of communing with the Creator God has been sometimes less than experiential and even artificial.

First, there's the greeting, "Dear God," or "Dear Heavenly Father". Anything more elaborate than that feels a little showy, but anything less than that feels a little too flippant, you know? There are those who begin with "Daddy" or "Abba", exercising the liberty hinted at in Romans 8:15 and Galatians 4:6, but that can sound a bit cutesy or uncomfortable for those of us still under the thumb of spiritual propriety. Of course, the ending is crucial. Skip some variation of "in Jesus' name I pray, Amen" and it goes into God's spam folder or something. And during the pray itself can exist any number of silly phrases or anomalies that don't ever really occur when we're talking to another human. For instance, I do this all the time. "Lord, I pray for so-and-so... and ask that You would..." It just feels weird to me lately, the phrase, "I pray for" as I'm talking to God, as if God isn't aware that you are speaking to Him through prayer. And since, in reality, it's a synonym for "ask" or "want", it then seems redundant and wordy. Jesus had something to say about not making our prayers lengthy, but I do this so habitually. Another funny thing about the way I pray, and some of you might do this worse than I do, is how I keep repeating God's name while I pray, as if He's got ADD and I need to keep reminding Him that I'm still talking to Him. "God, we just ask, Lord, that You would be here with us, Father. Show us Your love, God." One concession here is that maybe I need to remind myself that I'm praying, drawing my attention back to the One I'm talking to, rather than letting my thoughts turn into a self-absorbed, spoken journal entry. It can still be a little overkill, though.

Now, I'm not judging anyone else in how they pray. If you do these things, like I have, there's nothing wrong with them at all. Everyone needs to communicate with God in way that resonates with how they're wired. I think this falls under the grace of God towards us, to come to Him as we are, without formula.

That said, I've realized I've fallen into mindless patterns of prayer that have weakened my experience of God. I say words and check off the box that I prayed for someone. So, I realized I need a change, desperately. Last night, as I went to bed, I tried to be honest with God. I thanked Him for the things I'm genuinely thankful for, the things that bring me joy without thinking about it first. I told Him that I was scared of some things and didn't exactly know what to ask for, but that He would help me experience Him more deeply and know Him better, so that I could trust Him a little more confidently, and asked Him to help me to be aware of those little things that I might normally have missed in that process. I talked to Him about some other stuff and as I got pretty tired, I said that.

"Yeah, God, I'm getting pretty tired. Thanks for listening tonight. Hopefully, it wasn't too weird for You. That's all I can think of for now. I'll talk to You in the morning. Thanks for loving me. Goodnight."

*EDIT: The main issue, I am realizing, is the sincerity and authenticity with which we approach God, more than the particular phrases we use or don't use.

What We Want

Peter La Fleur (played by Vince Vaughn in Dodgeball) stated about having goals,

"I found that if you have a goal, that you might not reach it. But if you don't have one, then you are never disappointed. And I gotta tell ya... it feels phenomenal."

On one level, the first part of his statement is true. The second part, about how it feels, is not. It wouldn't feel phenomenal, it would just not feel anything, which, to Vaughn's character, is better than feeling anything bad.

I've been realizing lately, slowly, that I have inadvertently subscribed to La Fleur's life philosophy. The pain of disappointment or rejection has slowly taught me that it's safer not to try, not to risk, not to love. It creates a numbness, something akin to anesthesia, that clouds the way I see the world. Like going to the oral surgeon and getting happy gas. In the moment, it's a relief from pain. But it would be completely impossible to live the rest of your life well under that influence, because you wouldn't be there, present, engaging in the moment by moment details. I wonder if that's why I have such a poor memory generally? Maybe I'm under my own anesthetic fear-induced fog...

I'm not going to hash through all the reasons or experiences that may have fueled this fear-induced apathy, at least not on this blog (it might be helpful to sort through on my own). But I want to re-engage. I'm starting to see that the things worth having and doing are the things, inevitably, that will require something costly from me. They will take work. They will take tears. They will take risk and there will be failure in my attempts to succeed and experience those good things. For some of you, that's basic stuff. Common sense.

All this ultimately leads to the question, "What do I want?"*

For too long, I haven't allowed myself to dream, desire, hope for good things and be willing to strive and pursue them. When you don't know what you want, all the effort and energy that you put into something only feels wasted and draining, which slowly builds up as subtle ammunition, fueling the fires of resignation. Even if the effort succeeds, if it wasn't what I wanted, there was a sense of disappointment, confusion and betrayal. I had misunderstood that merely working hard at something would not make the attaining satisfying. And I never could figure out why, until over the past year or so, I began slowly seeing a correlation. I need to figure out what I want. And if I don't know, I need to put my energy into tearing down the things that keep me from dreaming and not do anything else until I'm free to. Most of you are pretty clear on things you want, I'd imagine. Maybe not, though, and that would be comforting to know I'm not alone. However, even if I'm just really slow to this thing that should be common sense, I feel like it's good to be realizing it and I want to give it my attention, because it definitely seems to have dominated the way I've lived for... a long time.

* Some of you might argue and say, "Your question should be, 'What does God want?'" and I can appreciate that idea. I'm operating out of the mindset that God, as our Father, has created us uniquely and intentionally, and desires us to be fully alive and fully ourselves. Some of you maybe struggle with knowing your desires too intimately and fighting for those against what you know God wants for you instead. Then, yes, your question should filled with that submission and humility, "What do you want, God?" Since I spend most of my time and energy trying to please people, not fail, avoid disappointing anyone, asking God what He wants does nothing to bring back to life the person He has created me to be. I think partially, God wants us to want things and feel safe in His love to pursue them and live well and love ridiculously. Like a Father with kids in the backyard kind of thing. No good parent tries to micro-manage the way their kids are playing—they simply enjoy watching their kids play well. So, while I do think it's a crucial question to ask—what God wants—for me, right now, that would be an irrelevant, Sunday-school answer to my issue of refusing to dream or set goals or pursue things out of fear of failure or disappointment. I need to know what I want, so that I FEEL the weight of hoping for something, submitting myself and trusting God, working hard to receive the prize of what I'm desiring, wrestling with the failures and successes that will no doubt follow. I feel like as I'm realizing this, God wants me to take the time and energy to figure out what I want and stop believing that what I want doesn't matter or will only bring disappointment, etc.

Life As A Story

Do you believe your life is a story? What would your life look like on the big screen? Would people be bored by it? Would YOU be bored by it? Are you living in a way that will make for a good story?

And what is your reaction when I ask those questions? Are you defensive—do those questions seem irrelevant, naive? Too idealistic? That'd be nice if our lives were an exciting story, but let's face it, we have bills to pay, retirement to prepare for. Not everyone can have grand adventures and fun all the time.

Or is something in you stirred when you read those questions? Is there a longing, an aching for that to be true? That our lives matter and have the potential to be worth retelling?

Donald Miller, in his book, A Million Miles In A Thousand Years, said that a story is, "a character who wants something and overcomes conflict to get it." That's what makes books and movies stand out to us. Those are the ones we remember. And if you probe that idea deeper, questioning why we resonate so deeply with a good story, you see glimpses of God as the Great Story-teller. Perhaps the reason we resonate so deeply with good stories is because that's what human existence was meant for. Maybe we weren't meant to plod through life, avoiding discomfort, trying to achieve some measure of safety and happiness and make it through until the end. If that was the plot of a movie, we'd barely make it past the first 15 minutes.

I'm beginning to wonder if we really are part of a larger Story and if each of our lives are a dramatic subplot in God's great Tale. We're each the main character of our lives, within the larger plot of God's Story. Will we be courageous, or will we settle for what's safe? Will we be greedy, or will we sacrifice for love and honor?

Can we step back from our day-to-day lives and realize that each moment, each decision we are faced with has the potential to make us more like a hero or more like a villain...? Perhaps there is a whole host of heaven, watching our stories unfold, turning each page in anticipation, to see what we will do next—will we rise from our defeats? Will we shrink back in fear from situations that bested us in the past? Will we risk new adventures and pursue what's in our hearts, that which has the potential to make us truly come alive—or will succumb to the pressures around us, and live a safe, controlled life?

I don't want to just type words. I want this to be true of me. At the end of my life on this earth, will I be able to look back with fondness, with pride and gratitude for a life well-lived, spent on love and relationships, conquering challenges and embracing changes? Will my story be worth retelling?

Will yours? If you can't answer, "Yes", with confidence, what needs to change for that to be true?

Walking By the Spirit

I realize that some of these blog posts are really focused on Christian theological issues, so I hope that isn't boring or confusing to anyone not from a christian background. In any case...

As I've been wrestling with the tension of being a Christian and still sinning, I feel like I've made some internal headway. Things feel a little clearer. One of the biggest answers to my questions is the reality that God gives His Spirit to those who are His children, followers of Christ. The solution to the sin problem is not trying harder. The solution is walking by the Spirit.

That is at once comforting and daunting. The answer, the direction and clarity it brings, is a start, but it only brings the follow-up question. How do we walk by the Spirit of God? Obviously, walking is a synonym for living in this case (since there are times we must sit and lie down). So, what does it mean to live by the Spirit and how do we pursue that for our lives?

We have the verses in the book of Galatians, telling us what the fruit of the Spirit are. Fruit, in this case, is what plants produce when they are functioning properly—through good soil, water, sun, maybe fertilizer (all-natural, of course). Jesus alluded to that a lot—or at least once or twice that I remember. Good trees produce good fruit. Bad trees can only produce bad fruit. So, for us, the fruit of a life properly fed and nourished by and dependent on God's Spirit will produce:

Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.

So that makes sense—there's a litmus test, if you will. If my life isn't really exhibiting these characteristics consistently, I think it's a good sign I'm not living by the Spirit.

So, how do we live by the Spirit of God?

I don't have a solid answer for that yet. I haven't done much research beyond this, but this feels like a start. And also, as cliché as it might sound, spending time alone with God seems to be the obvious answer...

"Living by the Spirit" is such an odd concept, you know? Outside of scripture and the Christian bubble, doesn't it sound weird? The word spirit either makes you think of a ghost or our souls. And the phrase "living by..." something immediately makes me finish that with "a set of rules". I live by my convictions. You live by your principles. When we say that, we're saying, our actions are guided and constrained by some parameters... Our actions and choices are limited by something outside ourselves, even if it's just what we have determined as good and evil actions.

So, maybe living by the Spirit really implies that the Spirit of God is our constant constraining influence? An on-going, personal interaction with the Spirit of God to help guide and direct our lives, allowing the Spirit to be our limits and motivation? The Apostle Paul continually contrasts the Law and the Spirit... and if I think of it that way, it makes much more sense.

This may seem somewhat elementary, so forgive me for hashing this out on this blog. Once I get a particular question in my head, a tension that won't rest, I have to stick with it until it resolves itself. That might not mean I have a direct answer, but simply that the conflict or tension eases enough with a better understanding of why the tension was there and how I should live in light of it.

Miller On Confidence

The Real Way God Gives You Confidence

Just read that. Donald Miller speaks with deep wisdom and practicality that is freeing. I may stop blogging and just quote from his blog.

I'll add one thought, somewhat of a tangent, that is from conversations with friends in the past. If you ask God for patience, how would you know you were patience unless you were in the midst of a situation that has the deep potential to make you impatient?

If we aren't in the midst of a situation that threatens to make us afraid and anxious, how would we know whether or not we were courageous?

So, apart from experiences that typically result in insecurity and cowardice, how would we know we were confident?

Strange how certain virtues are only noticeable when contrasted with the reality of weakness. So that begs the question of whether we should continually plead with God to make our lives easier, safer and more comfortable. Those characteristics don't strengthen us, change us or make us better. Maybe we should spend more energy seeking to be made more whole in the midst of our circumstances, rather than constantly wishing our circumstances were different and better.

I'm sure there are ways to abuse that thought, or push it to an unhealthy end, but I know it is challenging for me to consider. Maybe God allows difficult things in our lives for the express, loving purpose of making us better, making us more mature, making us more confident.

(And please don't misunderstand. I'm not saying God intentionally allows someone to be raped or tortured because He's trying to teach them a lesson. Violence and evil at the hands of men, I think, is just that. It is evil, against God's will and He hates it. God may choose to bring good from it in this life, in His wisdom and mercy, but I think it is dangerous, disrespectful and wrong to incorrectly tell people that God has a reason for the tragedy forced on them. We need to be more careful when throwing our theology around insensitively. When people are hurting, suffering, they don't need doctrinal theories. They need hope and they need to hear the truth that God has not turned a blind eye to their suffering and He will make things right, if not in this life, definitely in the life to come. And only in trusting that He WILL make all things right, will our cry of "That's not fair!" be satisfied.)

So much for not posting!

Still Confused About Romans 7

The small group from my church that I go to has been studying the book of Romans. We're using a study guide by John MacArther. (You can read Romans 7 over on BibleGateway.com) I'm not a huge fan of the study guide, because MacArther is coming from a very traditional/fundamentalist view, or so it seems. Too much emphasis on our sinfulness, in my opinion.

Now, I get it. We sin. We aren't perfect. I'm not arguing that. But, in trying to have a right understanding, a correct interpretation of scripture—or at least a fairly accurate one—I am faced with a tension in Romans 7 that I am really having a hard time wrapping my mind around.

My ultimate question in all of this, instead of doing my normal rambling post, is what happens to our "sin nature" after we decide to surrender ourselves to God, trusting Him for salvation and committing to following Him? We were slaves to sin. But now... are we still? If not, why do we keep sinning? And if we're no longer slaves to sin, like Paul says, then why can't we live perfectly for the rest of our lives, leaving us free to enjoin unbroken fellowship and communion with God?

What do you guys think? I will probably post a follow-up post in the near future, but I've tried posting more here and my thoughts are very divergent and tangential. I'm not really sure those are the right adjectives... but it's fun to attempt to use big words. My thoughts feel scattered. I can't wrap my head around what's causing such angst when I read Romans 7...

Rethinking Slavery

Let me clarify. I'm not suggesting re-instituting slavery as we've known it in our country's history or anything. I'm talking about thinking biblically and taking the time to wrestle God's word out of the context we read into it.

When we think of slavery, we think of oppression. Forced labor. Ownership of human life. And something in us rightfully cries out, "That's not right!" Humans weren't meant to own each other. We were created as equals, fellow image-bearers of our all-wise, kind Creator. But our fall from grace as a human species has caused all sorts of distortions and perversions and horrors. And so, it is completely understandable that we instinctively think of slavery as a bad thing. Add to that our fierce independence as Americans, prizing liberty and personal freedom over most other pursuits, and you have a real recipe for anger and misunderstanding when you come to a passage in Romans, like chapter 6, quoted here in the English Standard Version:

^"15What then? Are we to sin because we are not under law but under grace? By no means! ¹⁶Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness? ¹⁷But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed, ¹⁸and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness. ¹⁹ I am speaking in human terms, because of your natural limitations. For just as you once presented your members as slaves to impurity and to lawlessness leading to more lawlessness, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness leading to sanctification. ²⁰ For when you were slaves of sin, you were free in regard to righteousness. ²¹ But what fruit were you getting at that time from the things of which you are now ashamed? For the end of those things is death. ²²But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the fruit you get leads to sanctification and its end, eternal life."

I think I was presented with the following interpretation of this passage, or else, it was my incorrect understanding of this passage. If you haven't viewed things this way, then you're a step ahead of me in understanding this aspect of what it means to follow Jesus Christ and become more holy, more sanctified.

Reading this, I concluded that prior to becoming a Christian, I was a slave to sin. I had no choice but to obey myself and my self-serving impulses. It didn't mean that all my actions were intrinsically sinful (despite how that can be taught at times), but simply that I was bent inward, a self-glorifying, self-relying creature, making myself the god of my life and obeying what my "sin nature" commanded. Then, I believed, through a slight ignoring of what the passage above states, that when I came to know and follow Christ in salvation, I became free from slavery! Liberated. On an unchained level, where I was now uncontrolled by my sin nature, able to decide what to do. I was free to sin or free to do good things.

The bit of revelation I've had, after a great conversation with friends last night, was that that's not what the passage teaches! My friend told me about another friend who works for and takes care of a rich dude's land and house, etc. He does whatever the landowner asks. Everything. Sometimes grocery shopping, yard work, etc. And that friend basically said, he feels like a slave. But he said it's a good thing. The landowner provides them with a house on the property, and just paid for an addition on the house after the friend had a baby. The landowner deeply cares for and greatly respects my friend and loves their family. My friend is a slave to a good master. (I'm aware that the analogy breaks down. The major difference being that the slave and master in this case are fundamentally equal in nature/essence, compared to the relationship between a created being and its Creator, etc.)

And that's when it hit me. What if we were created, as humans, for dependence, not independence? And the stark spiritual reality, deeper than our American pride in our liberty, is that we ARE dependence on a master. We ARE slaves in an objective sense. Prior to salvation and following Jesus, we are slaves to ourselves and our base desires. We have set ourselves up as the arbiter of right and wrong, the judge of worth and value, the protector of safety and comfort, and so we live small lives of petty pleasures and fearful anxiety, always trying to keep our little corner of happiness intact and not be ruled by anyone but ourselves. But we are limited. And, in our fallen state, we aren't capable of being all that we were meant to be as humans. And so we are imprisoned by sinful habits, addictions, fears, stresses, insecurities, etc. That's what it is to be a slave to sin.

So, Paul, in Romans, says, you are either a slave to sin or a slave to God. And if we can step outside of our understanding of modern slavery, and accept the idea that we were created for dependence, of reliance on another for our life and strength and care, etc., then the reality is, we can be a slave to a weak, fearful, cruel and demanding master, or we can be a slave to a loving Master, who is kind-hearted, patient, fair, etc.

And there's something insanely liberating (ironically) about being a slave to righteousness. When temptation beckons, and part of you wants to participate in that sin, you can say with confidence, "I can't do that because I'm a slave to righteousness. I have to do the right thing here, I don't have a choice." All because you are rightly appropriating the truth that Paul lays out... after salvation, we aren't just set free and put on a neutral path, free to choose good or evil. The truth of what redemption means and what salvation begins in us is that we choose to submit to God as our Master and Lord, versus submitting to our self-centered desires that rage within us, defying our Creator God. Like he says in verse 16 of chapter 6, "you are slaves to the one whom you obey—whether you are slaves to sin, which leads to death, or to obedience, which leads to righteousness" (NIV). We obey with our choices. By choosing selfishness, we are submitting to those desires, obeying them, allowing them to be our masters. By choosing righteousness, we are submitting to life, obeying God and allowing Him to be our master—all due to the spiritual reality that we are constantly submitting ourselves to someone or something, due to our human essence, created for dependence on and sustaining by God.

I'm not sure if I communicated that well. Does that make sense? I think if we can grasp that we were created for dependence as humans, and that our salvation involves changing our allegiance and submitting to a new Master, who has our best interest at heart, becoming slaves to righteousness, then we will find new strength and freedom from the effects of sin in our lives. We won't be trying to subconsciously straddle the fence, attempting to keep our "liberty" intact, implying that dependence is somehow something to be freed from, yet continually finding ourselves obeying the old patterns of sin, wondering why we can't be consistent in our walk with God, etc.

May you learn the upside-down freedom that comes with learning to embrace becoming a slave to the righteousness of Jesus Christ...

What Women Really Need From Men

Thanks, Donald Miller.

http://donmilleris.com/2010/04/07/what-women-really-need-from-men/

I know he is speaking in generalizations, but it really hits home. I've been wrestling with the idea of confidence, and why on some level, I lack it. I know that this is something God is currently bringing to the forefront of my mind and heart, and I think if I had to describe this season of my life, I believe that God is freeing me from fear and teaching me how to be confident and have courage. I know it's a process and I have a lot of bad, fear-based habits to break. Well worth the struggle and journey, though.

For those of you who are women, do you feel like Miller is accurate (at least generally—allowing that all of us are different and need different things at different times in our lives)?

Happy Easter

Easter has become more synonymous with a rabbit and colored eggs than with its original meaning. There's nothing inherently wrong with Easter egg hunts or white chocolate bunnies. I'm sure most of it is all part of Hallmark's marketing team's efforts to keep their jobs, as opposed to some sinister plot to have a holiday that used to be about the day a man—who some thought to be the Jewish Messiah, the Redeemer—came back to life after being shamefully executed like a common criminal. Maybe that's naive, but I'd like to give people the benefit of the doubt...

This particular Easter is really moving to me, especially after reading "Surprised by Hope". I can't really put it into words very well—believe me, I've attempted doing so in this post several times already... I guess what I'm wrestling with is... It's not hard to believe Jesus died on the cross. History will confirm those details. Every person in Jerusalem at that time was aware of the would-be Messiah who had come to town, surrounded by controversy and whispered hopes. And every person, believer or not, knew the story of how Jesus Christ's life came to a screeching halt on a bloody cross, between two common thieves. No one started singing "Thank you for the cross, my friend" (No offense, Matt Redman, seriously! We're singing that song in church tomorrow. It's a good song!) Defeat hung in the air. Hopes dashed against reality. Or just another crazy guy who had a lot of hype and couldn't follow through. Or another rebel squashed before he became too much of a problem. It didn't matter what you thought of Jesus—you still knew He was dead. It isn't hard to believe that the crucifixion of Jesus happened. People won't look at you funny for believing that.

And I do believe that. I believe that Jesus Christ was killed on a cross, laying down His life as a ransom for my life and for yours. Our sin, our bent towards selfishness, rebellion and fear, defeated in a act of love and sacrifice by a holy God. That's not the hard part. But I also believe Jesus Christ rose from the dead. I believe that you don't let yourself get martyred as a disciple for a delusion or a lie that you made up. I believe that the historical evidence available to us, and the coherent collaboration of the gospel accounts, as well as the rapid growth of Christianity in those early years all points to the amazing fact that SOMETHING miraculous happened three days after Jesus was crucified and all signs point to resurrection. And I believe that in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, God began His work of rescue, of re-creation. Behold, He is making all things new!

It's weird to say that I believe some guy two thousand years ago, whom I've never met physically, came back to life. It sounds foolish. But I know I'm not an idiot, and I'm not just believing what I've been taught. Something in my soul, that I can't explain, rings true with the hope and longing for all things to be made right. For justice to prevail, for good to triumph over evil. For death not to be the end, not to have the final word.

And in the Resurrection, God says, "Death, where is your sting? Grave, where is your victory?"

I'm grateful for a holy God, stooping to become human, to experience all that we know as humanity, feeling the weight of our sin and shame on the cross, all to show His great love and goodness. But if Jesus Christ stayed in the tomb, that would be sentimental hogwash. A great tragedy. But if God raised Jesus from the dead? Then how great and strong is the passion with which God loves us. Not merely that He endured a painful death on our behalf. If that was the end, then death would still be stronger than God. There would be no fancy way to say it—death won. But we celebrate Easter precisely because in the recesses of our minds or maybe for some of us, just our cultural heritage, we are celebrating the reality that Jesus Christ rose from the dead and defeated death itself.

And the theological basis that allows us to understand ourselves to be crucified with Jesus Christ, releasing us from the bondage of living short-sighted self-protecting lives of sin, is the same theological basis we have of understanding that if we were crucified with Christ, then we are raised with Christ to new life. To a living hope. Death is not the end. God will raise us from the dead, like Jesus Christ was on the first Easter, and we will experience a deeper, fuller Life than we have so far, something far greater than we can ask or imagine.

I think that's why this Easter feels different to me. I'm really wrestling with the implications of believing in the bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ. The grace and mercy of the Cross have always been comforting to me. Reassuring of God's love, especially when I feel I least "deserve" it. But the Resurrection? I'm only just beginning to imagine with hope, for all that it means for me, for us.

Happy Easter, my blog-reading friends.

What Must I Do To Be Saved?

A good friend of mine was processing how to talk to another friend about salvation, and asked:

"How does one get saved, born again? Is it as simple as saying a prayer?"

That got me thinking... and I just thought I'd re-post my response.

"That's the exact question people humbly came to Jesus with. The rich young ruler, Nicodemus, etc. and Jesus answered them all differently... "Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the Pharisees...", "You must be born again", "Go, sell all that you have and give it to the poor, and then you'll find salvation", etc.

That doesn't give you a quick answer, but simply affirms that you're asking the right question. There is no formula.

That said, for me, part of it is believing God really loves and likes me, that He personally cares for and knows me and wants me to experience all the good things of being reunited with Him, and in that process, He MUST transform me from the inside out to make me capable of living a spiritual life, of participating in the new kingdom of redemption. It takes new eyes and a new heart, a completely new way of viewing and interacting with the world... So part of what being born again is, out of trust in God's good heart towards us, surrendering control, and giving Him access to our lives, to invite Him in to bring new life, and hope and peace. And it might happen in one monumental occasion, or it might be a slow process...

All of that is rooted in Jesus Christ. Which is ironic since I didn't mention Him. But He demonstrates and displays, as living "proof" of God's heart towards us, in dying for us for the forgiveness of our sins, but coming back to victorious resurrected life, to be in and through us, deliverance FROM sin and death.

How do we experience this? Saying a prayer? Getting baptized? I'm not sure. Praying is crucial, in my opinion. Not for the specific words, but simply the humility and openness that prayer requires—we're talking to the air! But that's the kind of faith that moves God. Even if we can't see Him, for us to call out to Him, in our need for true life, that is the heart He is after and rewards with disclosing Himself to us in ways we can handle..."

I've been studying the book of Romans with my small group from church. The first chapter launches into an in-depth discourse on the depravity of all humankind. Is that the correct place to start? Not for the Apostle Paul, obviously, because he wrote the book in a particular order for a reason. But for our culture today, and for the needs and perspective of individuals, is that a necessarily element to start with? Was I correct to assert that there is no formula?

Some of the questions I ask on this blog seem like they are really elementary. I think I'm questioning the method, not the truth. I do believe we are all sinful, flawed, broken, bent towards selfishness and self-reliance. On our own, we don't live our lives as an out-pouring of self-less love, participating with God in glorifying His name and being part of the answer to Jesus' famous prayer, "Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven." But where my question comes in, is when these truths are thrown around so grace-lessly. I hope there isn't a formula. It doesn't seem like there should be. Jesus didn't answer those questions with the same thing every time, nor did He heal people with the same means every time.

As Christians, I think it is imperative, for the sake of Jesus' name, that we learn to listen more, and understand the people we are communicating with, to know where they are coming from and to listen to God's Spirit, somehow, and determine how to best communicate the Good News to someone. And it takes constantly receiving the Good News in my own life if I'm to be a faithful, life-giving example of what the Good News really means.

God Told Me

An interesting article over on Relevant Magazine, about how people use the phrase "God told me" and what it means to hear from God or claim things in His name.

A thought-provoking quote from the article, by R.T. Kendall:

"How do we misuse God's name when we claim He told us something? With our intent. Most often we mention Him for one reason: to elevate our own credibility. It is not His name we are thinking of, it is our reputation. Adding the weight of God's name to our words gives us authority and respectability. But the truth is, we're not thinking of God's name and glory when we do this—we're thinking of our own."

Maybe that's not always true, but I'm sure it's true a lot.

Has God ever spoken clearly to you? What does it look like for you? Growing up in a Baptist church has meant a lot of unlearning when it comes to God speaking. There was a very deep us-versus-them mentality, and maybe there were good intentions, wanting to avoid extremes or abuses of certain, typically, charismatic gifts like prophecies, but for the most part, they succeeded in reducing "God's voice" to discerning principles from scripture that would give general wisdom in how to live. No personal revelation, no specific guidance, no unique movements in our spirits from God. Thankfully, I think I'm starting to see that there is something to the idea of God speaking to us. God repeatedly spoke to people in the Old Testament, in a variety of ways. He spoke audibly during Jesus' lifetime, and people in the New Testament had dreams, visions and heard God speaking to them. There's no biblical evidence to support the idea that God went mute or in His spite, refuses to talk to us individually, now that Jesus came and left, and we're "just" left with the Holy Spirit. I know I am only speaking from my experience, so I am not trying to condemn churches in general, or even any denominations, because I have only been a part of a handful of various churches, and I know my experiences are in some sense unique to me and the times and places I was in.

That said, it's been interesting to seek God in a way that allows for, hopes for and expects God to communicate with me personally. There have only been a handful of times where I felt like God "spoke" to me in my spirit, or impressed something very specific on my heart/mind. Those things were never contradicting to scripture and always resulted in peace, edification, encouragement, affirmation, etc. It is an odd thing—humbling, really—to imagine God's greatness, how transcendent and holy He is, and that in His love for us, for me, that He would lean close and whisper to our spirit what we need to hear.

I want to make more time to listen.

What is Christianity?

I've had a lot of questions rattling around in my brain lately about what Christianity is. There are so many caricatures and stereotypes of what Christians are or should be like. The holier-than-thou types and Bible-thumpers, the crazy street preachers, the stiff, boring type, the progressive champion of social justice causes, the über hip trendy kind, the sort that keep Christian bookstores in business by filling their wardrobe with cheesy bastardizations of corporate logos infused with Christian phrases, the fanatical right-wing political type blaming natural catastrophes God's wrath on a nation's past sins, the seeker-friendly type who tend to be really wishy-washy, etc. etc. I don't mean anything negative by calling out these stereotypes—just trying to illustrate the gamut of images that could come to someone's mind when they hear that someone is a Christian.

I know Jesus is important. In a way that is hard to describe or articulate, I know that Jesus Christ's life, death, resurrection and ascension are all ridiculously critical to wrestle with. In an equally difficult to communicate way, I feel as though I am genuinely interacting with God when I pray, sometimes. There's definitely something spiritual/supernatural to it. Other times, Christianity feels more like a system of principles—a worldview, as clever apologists would say. It's a proper understanding of reality and what the world is really like. At times in my life, Christianity was simply the ticket to avoid going to hell. It was believing the right things, saying the right things, doing the rights things, looking the right way, avoiding the wrong places, etc. And other times, it was simply a different set of friends who did more wholesome things with their time.

Right now, I feel like a lot of the theology that I've learned over the years in a Christian high school, Bible classes and chapel five days a week at a Christian liberal arts college, 20 years of listening to sermons on Sunday mornings (not every Sunday!), has become kind of hollow. Not very life-giving. Most of my Christianity, I confess, has been rooted in believing the right things. The more right things you could say that you believed, the closer to the center you got. The safer you were. If you amassed enough biblical knowledge, you could feel pretty confident that you were a good Christian. I mean, people looked to you for answers. And when you're an answer man, you can feel pretty secure in your standing.

Over the years, a lot of those answers have just started sounding empty. Telling someone that God allowed them to experience something deeply painful just to give them an opportunity to learn more about Him doesn't sound loving. Or when you slow down enough to listen to some honest questions from people outside the Christian bubble, you realize that you definitely have an answer, but that it's missing something and what made sense to you before, suddenly feels like it's missing a step in there. Like you took something for granted along the way. Of course, there was a talking snake in the garden... wasn't there?

I guess I feel free within God's love to let down my guard and be honest. Some of this doesn't make sense to me. I'm not asking for God to prove things, or using these questions as an excuse to live however I want and get out from under God's moralistic thumb. I believe with everything in me (I rarely doubt this) that Jesus had to have been from God and that His life, death and resurrection give ridiculously strong evidence—enough to cause me to commit to following Him—that Jesus was who He said He was... And that by believing in Him, trusting Him, committing to living my life like His, as best I know how and through the indwelling presence of His Spirit, that will lead to true Life, now and in the hereafter. All I know is to love people. To be merciful and kind, do what is right and live humbly in the presence of our loving God. I think that the specifics of doctrine and theology are important. They must be or people down the centuries would not have spent their lives studying and copying and dissecting them to find their meanings.

But maybe we've over-complicated it? Maybe Christianity is loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves? Could it really be that simple? And yet, if it is, why is it so difficult to do that well?

Amendment to Post on March Madness

I really do enjoy watching sports and feel like that previous post was very condemning in its tone. It is important for us to examine our lives and see what we're spending our time on, but that will mean different things for different people.

As I thought about what I had typed, it got me thinking about the internet and why we blog. What is my purpose in blogging? I don't want to use blogging to critique the lives of other people. Something about it doesn't seem relational. And if questioning the way other people live, isn't done in the context of community and real friendships, I wonder if it is edifying. If not, it's not worth blogging about. That would be similar to me receiving an anonymous note, condemning things in my life and judging me, without knowing of any trust or love behind it.

Is March Madness Mad?

I read this article on Relevant Magazine today about March Madness college basketball. I was going to comment on it there, but couldn't be concise enough!

I applaud Brett McCracken's desire to see the divine in the mundane. We need to do that more, because I think we do miss out on a lot of that's REALLY going on, because we don't have eyes to see it...

However, some yellow flags were raised in me as I read this, simply because sports, like anything else that has the potential for subconscious addiction (i.e. Facebook, etc.) can be consuming. Even though it's difficult, we need to pay attention to those areas that we have a hard time imagining giving up.

And before I launch into a judgmental tirade about how people idolize sports, I want to check myself. I want to make sure I'm not trying to remove the speck of dust from someone else's eye, oblivious to the plank of wood in my own eye. My goal is not to condemn anyone. I have learned and am continually learning that we, as followers of Jesus Christ, are not called, asked or chosen to be the Holy Spirit for someone else. I am not your conscience, and I don't want to presume to be. So there are a lot of things in this post that I'm not saying. I'm not saying it is sinful to watch sports, or to enjoy sports, or loving to watch sports. I'm not saying someone who loves to watch sports is less spiritual or holy. And, to the point Brett made on the Relevant site, it is good for us as Christians to reclaim the mundane and look for God in all the areas of our lives, from natural beauty to art and yes, even to sports.

Now, I know it's not popular to question what the majority of the culture is doing. ESPECIALLY not as a Christian—that'll get you pegged as "judgmental". None of us want that, though it is inevitable to make judgments on what we see around us. (How we respond to those judgments we make is another issue entirely.) Despite that, I think Christians in America should carefully "examine themselves" and how they spend their time. Not to heap guilt on ourselves, not to live identical lives as the other Christians around us, but to actively engage our minds and hearts to make sure ALL of our lives are in step with how God is leading us.

One thing that stands out is to find balance with this critique of how and why we love sports and what should a Christian's appropriate relationship to it be. I don't want to simply condemn watching sports (or playing them) in some blanket, black-and-white statement, because that could misrepresent the truth of the gospel and what it means to be a Christian.

Is it possible, though, that sports can be an idol in our lives? It's clear that Americans in general love sports and spend a lot of time and money on them. Why is that? Why do so many of us so instinctively love to watch sports? It controls our lives, to some degree. Heaven forbid church goes over and we miss the kickoff of the big game, right? Especially during football season, March Madness, Stanley cup playoffs, the Olympics... we become temporary slaves to the t.v. Is our first response defensive? Hey, there's nothing wrong with watching the Olympics. Anytime someone points out something about the way we live, rebuking or cautioning us, do we listen? Their critique might be completely wrong or misguided, but do we listen? Do we respect the person enough to hear what they are saying and really pray about our actions and see if we're living with a clear conscience? I hope so. I hope I do that. I don't want to lock down on the way I like to live my life and make it impervious to outside critique or examination. If I am truly walking with God with a clear conscience, then I have nothing to fear. So all that is to say, if you love watching sports, please don't feel like I'm condemning you, but do feel like I'm encouraging you to even question and be honest with yourself about these things.

There is nothing sinful about watching sports in and of itself. I think where it can become unhealthy is the amount of time that gets spent on it. There might be other considerations, like the negative emotions that we might vicariously experience when "our" team loses an important game. But I think what makes me sad or makes me question this in general is how much time and energy Christians seem to spend on watching college basketball and playing fantasy football, etc.

Do we spend the same energy on things that make us more like Christ? Are we that enthusiastic about anything relating to church, faith or Jesus Christ, or just sports? Is it okay that our faith and relationship with God doesn't really move us that often, compared to how worked up we can get over a game? I'm legitimately asking—it might be apples to oranges. It might not be a healthy expectation to think they should be similar. But maybe it is. I want to be willing to ask those questions. And are we as disciplined with spending time with God regularly, however that works best for us, as we are with following the draft or following our fantasy football team?

I hope these aren't harsh questions. That's not my intention. I think, since I'm not a huge sports fan (aside from following the Boston Red Sox and enjoying watching football on Sundays whenever it's convenient), being on the "outside" makes me notice things that those who are die-hard fans probably take for granted or simply don't pay attention to.

All I'm saying is if Christians in America were as excited and passionate about following Jesus Christ and loving those around them as ardently as they love watching and participating in sports, I think we would have an entirely different reputation and I think the gospel would seem a lot more like life-giving good news, rather than life-draining morality. I mean, even in commenting on this, it makes me feel like I'm intentionally squelching something that people give a lot of their time to. If we have nothing life-giving to offer people in place of the things that typically fuel their lives, then yes, Christianity will sound like a hollow, boring religion. But in place of our addictions, whether to sports, climbing the corporate ladder, being liked or just feeling safe and comfortable providing for our family at the expense of relying on God more often, what if we really experienced the Life Jesus claimed to offer us? What if we had more joy, peace and patience in our lives? What if we had hope and optimism that supernaturally flowed in and through the good and bad experiences in our lives? What if we were people of courage and gentleness, rather than fear and defensiveness?

In the moments when Christians are so caught up in sports, it gets hard to see Jesus sometimes. Maybe for some people it isn't that way, and I genuinely hope so. Again, I don't want to say sports are sinful. I simply wonder at what my life would look like, and what the lives of the Christians around me would look like if our passion for Jesus Christ was as great as, or greater than, our passion for sports. I think that would change some things in this country.

Which would you rather attend—a 3-hour church service in a cathedral or a 3-hour football game in a stadium? I think most Christians in America would pick the football game. Maybe that's okay. Maybe they are different events that should elicit different emotions and it's unfair to compare the two. I still think the question is worth asking... And I still wonder what it would look like for Christians to be as passionate about faith as some are about sports...

*** UPDATED ***

I apologize for the back-handed condemning tone of this post...