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.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
What We Want
Peter La Fleur (played by Vince Vaughn in Dodgeball) stated about having goals,
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.
"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.
Friday, April 30, 2010
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?
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?
Thursday, April 29, 2010
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.
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!
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!
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
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...
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...
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
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:
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...
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...
Thursday, April 8, 2010
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)?
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)?
Saturday, April 3, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
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.
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.
"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.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?
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..."
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.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
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:
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
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?
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?
Monday, March 22, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
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...
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...
Friday, March 12, 2010
Fire From Heaven
This excerpt from "Forgotten God" by Francis Chan:
There is something risky about faith. And I wonder, in America especially, if we are so comfortable with our lives and content with adding Jesus into our lives, somewhat like a hobby or a country club membership, that we are afraid to really step out and ask God for the big scary things that will make or break our faith. We are afraid to really trust God with the stuff close to our hearts, so we half-heartedly limp through our Christianity, wishing God was a little more real, but at the same time, not being willing to risk relying on Him to come through for us in a supernatural way that we couldn't explain otherwise. I mean, do we really trust God if we know we have a good chunk of money in our savings account and a solid 401k plan? We can absolutely say we do, and even extol the virtues of what wise stewards we are being with our money, but when push comes to shove—I'm trusting in money, not God. I'm trusting that when calamity strikes and painful situations arise, I have things to fall back on. Sure, I'll pray about it—but not REALLY expecting anything from it. More than likely, I'll consult with friends, rack my brain for the best way to handle the situation and then grit my teeth and make it through. And on the other side of it, I will probably still sigh with slight disappointment, wondering why God wasn't more real to me.
I'm not saying to be stupid and burn your money or "put God to the test" by jumping off buildings or anything like that. I'm simply trying to be honest with the fact that part of why I don't see God's hand more active in my life is because often I simply refuse to cry out to Him in my desperation or need because I'm afraid that He won't answer, and His silence would be utterly devastating. At least when I don't ask, I can fool myself into thinking God is good and dependable, without ever really putting that to the test.
So, although it is ridiculously scary, I think that's the kind of faith God is looking for. He knows we're finite. He knows we can't see Him and it is hard to have faith. But God has given us the scriptures, and the teachings, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ and the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit of God Himself, as a witness to God's heart—He is good. He can be trusted. And maybe God is waiting for hearts that will believe that and where appropriate, step out and risk trusting in His goodness. Maybe God knows if we aren't really relying on Him, and He gave us the things we deeply desire anyway, we would be deeply confused about where they came from, because we never really mustered the courage to ask Him. I don't know...
All this from a deep longing within me to be less timid, to shake off the fear and trepidation that enslaves me to chase after affirmation and validation from the people around me. The deeply encouraging thought in this is that God wants that too. He wants to free me and transform me into the man He's created me to be. The same is true for those of you reading this.
So, that just leaves me face to face with whether or not I will admit these longings for wholeness to God, crying out to Him in a way that desperately needs Him to be there and come through.
We are made to be like Elijah, who did not question whether God would show His face that day. He prayed and asked for help, and God sent down fire from heaven in response.I know these are just Francis Chan's words about what He understands God to be like, but something about the idea that God wants to take my mostly timid heart and set it ablaze with strength and courage... It's easy to assume that God doesn't want the same things I do, or that His desire is less intense than mine... When the reality is that my desires for good, healthy things are weak compared to how strongly God wants the same things for me. And I think that's Chan's point... If I really, deep-down believe that God is good and has my best interest at heart, why don't I ask Him for those things more often? I'm not talking about asking for more stuff—a new car, better job, shorter commute, etc. I'm talking about coming to Him with the scary stuff. Coming to God with my fears and anxiety, asking Him to replace them with courage and peace. Coming to God with my weakness and cowardice, asking for strength and self-control. If I brought the big things, that are real desires for wholeness and a better life, maybe He would be eager to answer those kinds of prayers. Maybe I settle for the things that leave less room for disappointment. I mean, what if I pray for those things, and God doesn't come through and nothing changes? Then what? I think on some level, I don't want to put all those eggs in God's basket, because if God fails... that shatters my reality. That crushes the supporting beams of the whole structure and what would I be left with?
Perhaps you don't need fire from heaven, but peace. Perhaps what you need is wisdom to know which decision to make. Or courage to do the right thing, even though you might lose your job. Or maybe you need love because you feel alone. Or you want people with a similar vision to journey with and support you along the way. Whatever you need, the point is that God is aware of you and your circumstances, and He knows what you really need. He is able to bring theses things, people, and circumstances into your life.
But God is not a coercive God. And though He desires for His children to know peace and love and to have wisdom, I have noticed that often He waits for us to ask.
He desires to do more than 'help out' a bit. He wants to completely transform us. He wants to take a timid heart and set it ablaze with strength and courage, so much so that people know something supernatural has taken place—life change just as miraculous as fire coming down from heaven. He wants to imbue us with His wisdom because He is the 'spirit of wisdom and revelation' (Eph. 1:17; see Isa. 11:2) Even as the Spirit works in us to make us more like Christ, to transform us, He is also patient. This work will not be complete until His kingdom comes in full, though this does not deter Him from working now." (emphasis added by me)
There is something risky about faith. And I wonder, in America especially, if we are so comfortable with our lives and content with adding Jesus into our lives, somewhat like a hobby or a country club membership, that we are afraid to really step out and ask God for the big scary things that will make or break our faith. We are afraid to really trust God with the stuff close to our hearts, so we half-heartedly limp through our Christianity, wishing God was a little more real, but at the same time, not being willing to risk relying on Him to come through for us in a supernatural way that we couldn't explain otherwise. I mean, do we really trust God if we know we have a good chunk of money in our savings account and a solid 401k plan? We can absolutely say we do, and even extol the virtues of what wise stewards we are being with our money, but when push comes to shove—I'm trusting in money, not God. I'm trusting that when calamity strikes and painful situations arise, I have things to fall back on. Sure, I'll pray about it—but not REALLY expecting anything from it. More than likely, I'll consult with friends, rack my brain for the best way to handle the situation and then grit my teeth and make it through. And on the other side of it, I will probably still sigh with slight disappointment, wondering why God wasn't more real to me.
I'm not saying to be stupid and burn your money or "put God to the test" by jumping off buildings or anything like that. I'm simply trying to be honest with the fact that part of why I don't see God's hand more active in my life is because often I simply refuse to cry out to Him in my desperation or need because I'm afraid that He won't answer, and His silence would be utterly devastating. At least when I don't ask, I can fool myself into thinking God is good and dependable, without ever really putting that to the test.
So, although it is ridiculously scary, I think that's the kind of faith God is looking for. He knows we're finite. He knows we can't see Him and it is hard to have faith. But God has given us the scriptures, and the teachings, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ and the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit of God Himself, as a witness to God's heart—He is good. He can be trusted. And maybe God is waiting for hearts that will believe that and where appropriate, step out and risk trusting in His goodness. Maybe God knows if we aren't really relying on Him, and He gave us the things we deeply desire anyway, we would be deeply confused about where they came from, because we never really mustered the courage to ask Him. I don't know...
All this from a deep longing within me to be less timid, to shake off the fear and trepidation that enslaves me to chase after affirmation and validation from the people around me. The deeply encouraging thought in this is that God wants that too. He wants to free me and transform me into the man He's created me to be. The same is true for those of you reading this.
So, that just leaves me face to face with whether or not I will admit these longings for wholeness to God, crying out to Him in a way that desperately needs Him to be there and come through.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Question: Is Christ the same thing as Christianity?
Does that seem like a weird question? Or perhaps too close to heresy?
Let me explain, slightly, and then open it up to biting condemnation and heart-felt prayers for my wandering soul!
Christians are taught that Jesus is the only way. It's in the book of John, Jesus Himself said, "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, and no one comes to the Father except through me." And we've built our apologetic defenses and exclusive theology firmly on that and other passages.
But have we read into that verse a doctrine that exists outside of it? Eisegesis, reading into the text what we already think it means, says that Christianity is the only way. Have you ever stopped to consider how we define "Christianity"? And have you ever considered the possibility that someone could be saved by and through the grace of God in Jesus Christ, without knowingly practicing Christianity or even ever hearing the name of Jesus Christ?
I heard that question recently, and it definitely sent the wheels spinning. The speaker was emphatic that this idea was not the good news of the gospel, perhaps merely a loophole.
Jesus Christ is the salvation and hope for the world. I never really considered if there was any biblical evidence for an understanding of God's love and redemption extending outside of our modern understanding of the nearly-impossible-to-define term Christianity. I could go on and elaborate on everything the seminar involved, which would probably make this whole thought seem more Christ-centered and biblical, but I think it's good for us to listen to questions that rattle what we already assume and feel confident is the truth, if for no other reason than to be a little more settled internally that what we think is true has less doubt-inducing questions surrounding it.
Let me explain, slightly, and then open it up to biting condemnation and heart-felt prayers for my wandering soul!
Christians are taught that Jesus is the only way. It's in the book of John, Jesus Himself said, "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, and no one comes to the Father except through me." And we've built our apologetic defenses and exclusive theology firmly on that and other passages.
But have we read into that verse a doctrine that exists outside of it? Eisegesis, reading into the text what we already think it means, says that Christianity is the only way. Have you ever stopped to consider how we define "Christianity"? And have you ever considered the possibility that someone could be saved by and through the grace of God in Jesus Christ, without knowingly practicing Christianity or even ever hearing the name of Jesus Christ?
I heard that question recently, and it definitely sent the wheels spinning. The speaker was emphatic that this idea was not the good news of the gospel, perhaps merely a loophole.
Jesus Christ is the salvation and hope for the world. I never really considered if there was any biblical evidence for an understanding of God's love and redemption extending outside of our modern understanding of the nearly-impossible-to-define term Christianity. I could go on and elaborate on everything the seminar involved, which would probably make this whole thought seem more Christ-centered and biblical, but I think it's good for us to listen to questions that rattle what we already assume and feel confident is the truth, if for no other reason than to be a little more settled internally that what we think is true has less doubt-inducing questions surrounding it.
Monday, January 25, 2010
What Could Resurrection Mean?
A quote from N.T. Wright's Surprised by Hope:
And yet, if Jesus rose from the dead, that means something. That shatters something we thought to be true, to be final. Maybe death isn't the end? And, better than floating off to some spiritual haze of puffy clouds, babies with angel wings and halos, we will be resurrected, too, to new life. Maybe we aren't going to sit in a boring church service, singing hymns, for all eternity. Maybe we will be given new transformed physical bodies, just like the one that the Bible describes Jesus having, and maybe we will be reigning with Jesus over the new creation, God's re-creation, when He makes everything as it was meant to be. Redemption. Maybe it's true, that we will be learning, growing, exploring, naming, creating, loving, discovering and taking care of the new heaven and new earth, with physical bodies that have been glorified and transformed, never to decay or die, because sin, and disease and death have been conquered and destroyed, not simply passed through.
When I start imagining this way, I get really excited for the life after death... and for life before death.
And this idea gives me great hope, courage and motivation to love people even when it doesn't seem like it'll do anything. What can one vote do? What can a $25 donation to a charity do to help the aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti? What good does a 5 minute conversation with someone who looks a bit lonely do? God sees our hearts and knows our intentions and, by the grace of God and the redeeming power of the resurrection, these seemingly insignificant actions will somehow affect the life to come; they won't be wasted. So let's love each other in the name of Jesus Christ and for the sake of the coming Kingdom, especially those around us who are hungry, lonely, scared, homeless, unwanted, awkward, insecure, broken and unloved... even if it doesn't seem to have any immediate affect that we can see—the hope of the resurrection is that these actions will matter and somehow be realized fully when God re-creates and makes this good, but broken and hurting, world whole and beautiful again.
"...This [working for the kingdom of God in this present life] brings us back to I Corinthians 15:58 once more; what you do in the Lord is not in vain. You are not oiling the wheels of a machine that's about to roll over a cliff. You are not restoring a great painting that's shortly going to be thrown on the fire. You are not planting roses in a garden that's about to be dug up for a building site. You are—strange though it may seem, almost as hard to believe as the resurrection itself—accomplishing something that will become in due course part of God's new world. Every act of love, gratitude, and kindness; every work of art or music inspired by the love of God and delight in the beauty of his creation; every minute spent teaching a severely handicapped child to read or to walk; every act of care and nurture, of comfort and support, for one's fellow human beings and for that matter one's fellow nonhuman creatures; and of course every prayer, all Spirit-led teaching, every deed that spreads the gospel, builds up the church, embraces and embodies holiness rather than corruption, and makes the name of Jesus honored in the world—all of this will find its way, through the resurrecting power of God, into the new creation that God will one day make. That is the logic of the mission of God. God's recreation of this wonderful world, which began with the resurrection of Jesus and continues mysteriously as God's people live in the risen Christ and in the power of his Spirit, means that what we do in Christ and by the Spirit in the present is not wasted. It will last all the way into God's new world. In fact, it will be enhanced there."I think if we considered that our actions matter for longer than this lifetime, we'd be more serious and intentional with the way we lived, and yet, at the same time, more joyful and free, believing that nothing we do in the name of love, for Jesus' sake and honor, will be wasted. It really is starting to be a quite radical concept for me, the resurrection. I haven't ever spent much time considering what it could and should mean for us, but as I've been reading Surprised by Hope, I'm really starting to see why the Apostle Paul said, "If Jesus did not rise from the dead, we should be pitied." The height of foolishness, something so ... un-natural. Supernatural. Death, for us, is the most sure thing about life. More than anything we could speculate about what our lives with contain or look like, we know they will end with death. Bodily resurrection flies in the face of the surest thing we know about the human experience.
And yet, if Jesus rose from the dead, that means something. That shatters something we thought to be true, to be final. Maybe death isn't the end? And, better than floating off to some spiritual haze of puffy clouds, babies with angel wings and halos, we will be resurrected, too, to new life. Maybe we aren't going to sit in a boring church service, singing hymns, for all eternity. Maybe we will be given new transformed physical bodies, just like the one that the Bible describes Jesus having, and maybe we will be reigning with Jesus over the new creation, God's re-creation, when He makes everything as it was meant to be. Redemption. Maybe it's true, that we will be learning, growing, exploring, naming, creating, loving, discovering and taking care of the new heaven and new earth, with physical bodies that have been glorified and transformed, never to decay or die, because sin, and disease and death have been conquered and destroyed, not simply passed through.
When I start imagining this way, I get really excited for the life after death... and for life before death.
And this idea gives me great hope, courage and motivation to love people even when it doesn't seem like it'll do anything. What can one vote do? What can a $25 donation to a charity do to help the aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti? What good does a 5 minute conversation with someone who looks a bit lonely do? God sees our hearts and knows our intentions and, by the grace of God and the redeeming power of the resurrection, these seemingly insignificant actions will somehow affect the life to come; they won't be wasted. So let's love each other in the name of Jesus Christ and for the sake of the coming Kingdom, especially those around us who are hungry, lonely, scared, homeless, unwanted, awkward, insecure, broken and unloved... even if it doesn't seem to have any immediate affect that we can see—the hope of the resurrection is that these actions will matter and somehow be realized fully when God re-creates and makes this good, but broken and hurting, world whole and beautiful again.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
The Story of Our Lives
Do you believe our lives are stories?
This idea, that our individual lives are dramatic, important stories, each within a larger Story that means something, is somewhat foreign to me. I feel like I live day-to-day, without the perspective that believes all the moments, experiences and situations are all part of a story worth listening to and retelling. The idea that I have an important part to play in the grand Story of history, what I do believe is God's story, is shocking, almost too good to believe. It adds so much dignity and worth, to every moment, to believe that you and I are the characters in the midst of a drama, where choices we make start us down the path towards becoming a hero or becoming a villain. Don Miller's new book talks about this idea of being a part of a story. John Eldridge talks about it in the daily email newsletter he and the Ransomed Heart team send out. It keeps cropping up in conversations.
We connect so deeply when a movie has a good plot. A good story to it. And yet, we're slow to make any kind of connection that maybe we get that perception and appreciation for a good story from the Great Story-teller. That analogy probably breaks down in places, as all do, but it's a sobering, exciting and empowering thought:
God is telling a grand Story and you have a part to play in it that matters.
You are part of a Story in which you play a critical role. God is doing something amazing and redemptive in all of creation, and what we do with our experiences matters. Our character is being shaped and molded, just like in our favorite books, by the things we experience. Will we choose evil and revenge and be consumed? Will we display inner strength and suffer for the sake of goodness? Will we pursue a life that is worth retelling? Will we weigh the worth of a day, in all its ups and downs, and choose to make the most of each one?
I realize some could run with this and/or criticize this idea, claiming it's much too self-esteem oriented, too self-focused. While that may indeed be a danger for some, but for most of us, I think we're too used to believing that our lives aren't that important.
May we choose to rise above the urgent to-do items and consider what kind of life we're living and make it a story worth retelling.
This idea, that our individual lives are dramatic, important stories, each within a larger Story that means something, is somewhat foreign to me. I feel like I live day-to-day, without the perspective that believes all the moments, experiences and situations are all part of a story worth listening to and retelling. The idea that I have an important part to play in the grand Story of history, what I do believe is God's story, is shocking, almost too good to believe. It adds so much dignity and worth, to every moment, to believe that you and I are the characters in the midst of a drama, where choices we make start us down the path towards becoming a hero or becoming a villain. Don Miller's new book talks about this idea of being a part of a story. John Eldridge talks about it in the daily email newsletter he and the Ransomed Heart team send out. It keeps cropping up in conversations.
We connect so deeply when a movie has a good plot. A good story to it. And yet, we're slow to make any kind of connection that maybe we get that perception and appreciation for a good story from the Great Story-teller. That analogy probably breaks down in places, as all do, but it's a sobering, exciting and empowering thought:
God is telling a grand Story and you have a part to play in it that matters.
You are part of a Story in which you play a critical role. God is doing something amazing and redemptive in all of creation, and what we do with our experiences matters. Our character is being shaped and molded, just like in our favorite books, by the things we experience. Will we choose evil and revenge and be consumed? Will we display inner strength and suffer for the sake of goodness? Will we pursue a life that is worth retelling? Will we weigh the worth of a day, in all its ups and downs, and choose to make the most of each one?
I realize some could run with this and/or criticize this idea, claiming it's much too self-esteem oriented, too self-focused. While that may indeed be a danger for some, but for most of us, I think we're too used to believing that our lives aren't that important.
May we choose to rise above the urgent to-do items and consider what kind of life we're living and make it a story worth retelling.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Sin and Hell
I can't quote the whole chapter, incomplete as it is to give an exhaustive exploration of the subject of hell, but in Surprised by Hope, by N. T. Wright, there's a statement he makes in relation to hell, that stood out to me for other reasons. Wright was discussing the inconsistencies in various traditional and current views on hell and judgment, and as he was addressing aspects of the liberal annihilationist view, that says "non-believers" are annihilated at death, since they claim a good, loving God could not eternally torment an image-bearing human for a short lifetime of sin. Relaying to you Wright's conclusion on that would take too long, and, though interesting and thought-provoking, it wasn't what really grabbed my attention.
This is what stuck out to me:
So, all this to say is I think that it's good to own up to the fact we sin against each other and feel free to use the word "sin" in our normal conversations about things that matter. I think Wright's description of sin gives us the gracious and logical space to do that.
This is what stuck out to me:
Sin, we note, is not the breaking of arbitrary rules; rather, the rules are the thumbnail sketches of different types of dehumanizing behavior.In a culture that is so politically correct and afraid of offending people, this quote does a great job of articulating the essence of sin, in relation to human interaction. We'd be remiss to neglect sin in relation to God—worshiping any created thing or idea over the Creator. We all know that there is right and wrong, justice and injustice. We tend to bend the rules for ourselves most times, conveniently reserving swift judgment for Hitlers, child rapists and those who commit genocide rather than pointing the finger at our own pride, impatience, vanity, laziness and consumerism. We sin. We have to face up to that. Yes, we absolutely need to acknowledge that we've sinned against God. But as a starting place to accepting that sin is a real concept, deserving our acknowledgment and a place in our vocabulary, we can admit that we sin against each other. We hold grudges. We steal from each other. We make fun of each other's weaknesses. We commit adultery with other people's spouses. We drive selfishly. We belittle and devalue those in our society that don't have the same standing as we do. We treat each other with impatience and rudeness.
So, all this to say is I think that it's good to own up to the fact we sin against each other and feel free to use the word "sin" in our normal conversations about things that matter. I think Wright's description of sin gives us the gracious and logical space to do that.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
The REAL You
You are not your sin; sin is no longer the truest thing about the man who has come into union with Jesus. Your heart is good. “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you” (Ezek. 36:26). The Big Lie in the church today is that you are nothing more than “a sinner saved by grace.” You are a lot more than that. You are a new creation in Christ. The New Testament calls you a saint, a holy one, a son of God. In the core of your being you are a good man. Yes, there is a war within us, but it is a civil war. The battle is not between us and God; no, there is a traitor within us who wars against our true heart fighting alongside the Spirit of God in us:I know many people might not agree with everything John Eldridge has written, but I feel like this rings very true, both as the predominating misconception in the church and also as the life-giving truth, like shackles falling off or a moment of realization, that the world is not as you thought it was—in a good way.
A new power is in operation. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air, freeing you from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death . . . Anyone, of course, who has not welcomed this invisible but clearly present God, the Spirit of Christ, won’t know what we’re talking about. But for you who welcome him, in whom he dwells . . . if the alive-and-present God who raised Jesus from the dead moves into your life, he’ll do the same thing in you that he did in Jesus . . . When God lives and breathes in you (and he does, as surely as he did in Jesus), you are delivered from that dead life. (Rom. 8:2, 9–11 The Message)
The real you is on the side of God against the false self. Knowing this makes all the difference in the world. The man who wants to live valiantly will lose heart quickly if he believes that his heart is nothing but sin. Why fight?
(Wild at Heart , 144–45)
When you read that excerpt, what do you think? How do you react to the idea that maybe you are not sinful at your core? That your flesh, your "sin nature" has been kicked off the throne of your heart and is now an enemy within the gates, trying to deceive and tempt you, but is not you? Does that give you a sense of hope, of freedom?
The yellow flag that many Christians might raise, is to caution against being prideful or thinking we are good apart from God. But that is precisely why I think Eldridge's statements are so needed. We are so afraid of being prideful, which is sinful, that we balk at the idea of saying we are "good". Jesus Himself reserved that for God, didn't He? (context, context, context! Jesus was God! He WAS good. If Jesus wasn't good, then He wasn't God, so that's clearly not the explicit point He was making. We have to be careful with stuff like that...) However, somehow, through being born again by the Spirit of God, of being united with Jesus in His death, resurrection and ascension, we are not the same as we were before. We are not unchanged. Being a Christian means precisely, in some intangible way, that the Spirit of the Living God has made its residence in us, and we are one with Him (not in a pantheistic way, in which we ARE God—we are no longer separated from communing with God because of our sin). So, it is not to say, Christ saved us from our sin, and now, on our own, we are good and are capable of earning entrance to heaven or anything like that. I think we need to process that they go together... If we truly believe that we have become a new creation in Christ, that the old has passed away, that we have been crucified with Christ and He now lives in us and through us, that the Living God has taken up residence in our hearts, our inner being, then in that union, if that has happened and cannot be arbitrarily turned on and off, then who we are has fundamentally and irreversibly changed. We are now beloved and adopted sons and daughters of God, capable of walking in unity with the Spirit of our Loving Father.
The biggest area that seems to be affected by this line of thinking is in the area of my thoughts. If I still believe, contrary to so much of what the New Testament clearly teaches about what happens in the conversion process of salvation and redemption, that I am sinful at my core, then suddenly the thoughts I have and the feelings I have are untrustworthy. I have no way of discerning internally what is from God, from me or the devil. It creates a never-ending self-contempt that keeps me in a prison of second-guessing every decision, every thought. Because even if I think a decision is good or wise, in that framework, I am deceitful and wicked and can't trust my own motivations. How can we live that way? How can we live by the Spirit or find the kind of life-giving freedom that brings hope, faith and love, if we believe our sinful core is so incapable of being good? The only way that could happen would be for God to absolutely override our actions and decisions, like He was controlling a puppet or robot, not a living human who He created with the freedom and capacity to love Him in return in the first place.
I think a lot of my experience in church growing up had this wrong, unfortunately. What are your thoughts, blog readers? Is there merit in clinging to a concept of inner depravity, even after becoming a Christian? Is there deep dangers in letting go of that idea?
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