With sagging eyelids, I finished my overnight shift and stopped by Meijer to pick up a 9V battery for the ever-nagging smoke alarm. During the months in which the sun rises early, it is not uncommon to see office folk on the road early. I was struggling to provide the motor skills necessary to remove my badge and grab my wallet, when I looked towards the Meijer exit. Making her way back to her car was one of the most beautiful women I've seen in a long time.
A 20-something with a noble face and dark curls dangling to the middle of her back, she walked unassumingly with a modest glow. She wore an appropriately fitted black top with a youthful white skirt that fell to her ankles. For a brief moment, I admired this rare occurrence of God's beauty manifested. As she approached her car, I caught her glance back in my peripheral vision without a hint of affirmation or judgment, and she moved along.
What began in admiration soon transitioned to a state of grief. My grief was not personal: I believe the quick, mutual recognition of one another was all God planned to offer us this morning -- a humble reminder that His greater beauty needs not flirt nor flaunt. No, I attribute my grief to the rarity of such a demonstration: a woman that carries the dignity of a princess with the innocence and wonder of a child.
Have you ever known the hope, grace, and faith of an individual without so much as a conversation? This is a possession of the pure at heart. The pure understand both elements of their humility: the God so mighty that they shrink in comparison, and the relationship with Him that defines their infinite worth. This acknowledgement is not one of boasting, but in recognition of identity in their Creator. A woman that recognizes her value does not offer herself to the masses or to the persistent. She welcomes and encourages the man that worships her Maker.
I remember feeling like a wide-eyed child in a candy store during my first year at Bethel. There were plenty of women trying to be noticed, but there were also a disproportionate number of the pure at heart. Having never understood this intent for creation while in high school, I easily took it for granted. I developed friendships with beautiful women, and I never had to concern myself with the sting of lust or a word of temptation. They were considerate for their own purity, but more surprisingly for ours as men.
I'm not sure if this reflects the time or the place. Perhaps Christian campuses still uphold the value of purity, and I have moved into a darker world; my last years in youth ministry would seem to indicate otherwise. Perhaps culture itself has shifted to impurity for the sake of fashion or attention. Whatever the case, it's gone. But now, with so rare an occurrence, I feel the need to pray for its return. The worst kind of loss is the one I hadn't noticed was missing.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
another law
Paul said:
So why am I digging through the trash bin?
It isn't for Jesus. I know my filthy rags are worthless in light of His righteousness. I do not aim to impress Him with that. However, a part of me thinks remaining silent about my dumpster diving will keep my envy from becoming a hindrance. My salvation can still be attained in His grace, and I won't flaunt my earthly spoils for His sake.
Like Achan's exposure before God, my heart is scoured and my envy revealed. Unlike Achan, I am not jealous for the things of others. I creep in the dark to occupy my own transferred possessions: those already placed before Him. For my flesh, I consider it borrowing with a noble purpose. I will allow these former gods to fulfill their earthly use to attain something of purer value.
They are the simple things -- not sinful in themselves. I dig up my ability to make conversation or initiate laughter. I brush the slime off my barista cool or stylish quill and scroll. Anything discarded that once offered a semblance of normality -- I polish these trophies. They stink of the less savory waste, but I wisely keep the "real sin" in the heap.
They serve a law of mankind. The words of Christ that make me awkward, intimidating, or set apart...I'll speak of His riches once the door is open. If I borrow my quick humor, taste in entertainment, or aloof and mysterious persona, people will welcome anything I share. We can work our way into my actual concerns; we can later commune in the depth of God. It's the classic bait and switch, but at what expense?
God tells me I don't need a hook to fish men. He says, "If you know my fullness, share me. Forget the other junk!"
"But God! I've forgotten their language! To them, you may be a compartment: welcome when useful, but otherwise intrusive. To my future beloved, I'm a one-trick pony, incapable of meeting anything but her spiritual needs."
He gazes into my eyes with a blazing love and inquires: "Isn't that enough?"
It's more than enough, but it's unacceptable. They do not operate under the same grace as He. I believe I must earn the right to sit at the cool kids' table.
Oh Father, this is high school all over, save the knowledge of Your suffering. I've long chosen You, but I fail to enjoy You. My heart must leap at Your presence, lest I tempt their hearts to leap at mine.
But whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ. More than that, I consider all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Jesus Christ my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ, and may be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own derived from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith, that I may know Him and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death; in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead. (Phil. 3:7-11)I believe that I want this, and my actions dictate that I want this. My works, while done unto the Lord, are garbage compared to the faith I have in Christ. Everything I've lost is worthless for the sake of knowing Him and becoming like Him in His death.
So why am I digging through the trash bin?
It isn't for Jesus. I know my filthy rags are worthless in light of His righteousness. I do not aim to impress Him with that. However, a part of me thinks remaining silent about my dumpster diving will keep my envy from becoming a hindrance. My salvation can still be attained in His grace, and I won't flaunt my earthly spoils for His sake.
Like Achan's exposure before God, my heart is scoured and my envy revealed. Unlike Achan, I am not jealous for the things of others. I creep in the dark to occupy my own transferred possessions: those already placed before Him. For my flesh, I consider it borrowing with a noble purpose. I will allow these former gods to fulfill their earthly use to attain something of purer value.
They are the simple things -- not sinful in themselves. I dig up my ability to make conversation or initiate laughter. I brush the slime off my barista cool or stylish quill and scroll. Anything discarded that once offered a semblance of normality -- I polish these trophies. They stink of the less savory waste, but I wisely keep the "real sin" in the heap.
They serve a law of mankind. The words of Christ that make me awkward, intimidating, or set apart...I'll speak of His riches once the door is open. If I borrow my quick humor, taste in entertainment, or aloof and mysterious persona, people will welcome anything I share. We can work our way into my actual concerns; we can later commune in the depth of God. It's the classic bait and switch, but at what expense?
God tells me I don't need a hook to fish men. He says, "If you know my fullness, share me. Forget the other junk!"
"But God! I've forgotten their language! To them, you may be a compartment: welcome when useful, but otherwise intrusive. To my future beloved, I'm a one-trick pony, incapable of meeting anything but her spiritual needs."
He gazes into my eyes with a blazing love and inquires: "Isn't that enough?"
It's more than enough, but it's unacceptable. They do not operate under the same grace as He. I believe I must earn the right to sit at the cool kids' table.
Oh Father, this is high school all over, save the knowledge of Your suffering. I've long chosen You, but I fail to enjoy You. My heart must leap at Your presence, lest I tempt their hearts to leap at mine.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
pro-life in hiding
I unexpectedly found myself in a political conversation this evening -- not that I didn't do everything to revert the conversation to a position built upon faith rather than platform. I appreciate this co-worker's level of thoughtfulness in shaping his opinions, even when I disagree, because I know that he will treat new information with care rather than disregard.
I falsely assumed that he was pro-choice based on previous conversations, and though his reasoning may stand upon a different foundation, it opened the door to some fine dialogue. Because he is a libertarian, he believes that our constitutional right to life should be upheld, and he admitted that living in a country where this liberty was not clearly defined may lead him in a different direction. Thus, by submitting to the letter of his law, he has come to the conclusion that the government has a constitutional obligation to protect the innocent's right to life.
We finished a great discussion, in which I was able to share the journey that led to my own "radical" interpretation of being pro-life, and how we can each formulate a similar position based on the Word that we follow: for him, the constitution -- for me, the Word of God. He expressed that he often filters his faith through his political leanings to a fault, whereas I concluded that were I not wholly apolitical (thank you Byron), I would do the opposite.
In the end, I found it ironic that the one bearing the greater heart conviction was the same that believes the government to be only moderately responsible for legislating abortion. That said, I do not intentionally vote pro-choice, but our liberties for life can be protected in multiple ways (not just in the initial act of birth), and I believe Republicans are equally negligent of these liberties. So I rest the responsibility where God has...on His Church.
It is an easy thing for most Evangelicals to be pro-life politically; by and large the overturning of Roe v. Wade has no bearing on their pocketbooks, and would probably benefit the preferable allocation of their taxes. But if we were to address what it means to be pro-life spiritually, we must answer the more messy question of what God expects. Would he have us provide our finances to the poor, even without the frustrating requirement of social services and taxes? Would he have us reject birth control -- even if it is legal and readily accepted -- to communicate that life is a wonderful blessing, which God provided for centuries without man's concern for modern financial planning? I'm not certain that God will bring each believer to the same conviction as mine, but if we are unwilling to call it to question, then we have already decided in our hearts that God can reveal nothing more.
When Christians are ready to thoroughly digest these common acceptances in light of scripture, and are able to justify their personal definition of "pro-life" through His Word rather than society, only then are we prepared to come before kings, rulers, and earthly authorities in His name. We must expose our hearts to His truth, and ask what we can be doing personally to support His desire for life. To politically protect the liberties of the unborn child, yet personally disregard the eternal state of our community is the worst kind of hypocrisy.
I want to shout about the injustice of abortion; believe me, I do. But I want to do so because it reflects God's attitude towards a disregard for life. I must remain ministerially consistent in my pursuit of His truth, and not merely support a position or person that can carry forth my convictions upon some other foundation. I want lost hearts to be changed to align with His, rather than projecting His heart as a law upon them. Please God, allow only your words to share my passion for life: whether birthed, conceived, or yet to be known.
I falsely assumed that he was pro-choice based on previous conversations, and though his reasoning may stand upon a different foundation, it opened the door to some fine dialogue. Because he is a libertarian, he believes that our constitutional right to life should be upheld, and he admitted that living in a country where this liberty was not clearly defined may lead him in a different direction. Thus, by submitting to the letter of his law, he has come to the conclusion that the government has a constitutional obligation to protect the innocent's right to life.
We finished a great discussion, in which I was able to share the journey that led to my own "radical" interpretation of being pro-life, and how we can each formulate a similar position based on the Word that we follow: for him, the constitution -- for me, the Word of God. He expressed that he often filters his faith through his political leanings to a fault, whereas I concluded that were I not wholly apolitical (thank you Byron), I would do the opposite.
In the end, I found it ironic that the one bearing the greater heart conviction was the same that believes the government to be only moderately responsible for legislating abortion. That said, I do not intentionally vote pro-choice, but our liberties for life can be protected in multiple ways (not just in the initial act of birth), and I believe Republicans are equally negligent of these liberties. So I rest the responsibility where God has...on His Church.
It is an easy thing for most Evangelicals to be pro-life politically; by and large the overturning of Roe v. Wade has no bearing on their pocketbooks, and would probably benefit the preferable allocation of their taxes. But if we were to address what it means to be pro-life spiritually, we must answer the more messy question of what God expects. Would he have us provide our finances to the poor, even without the frustrating requirement of social services and taxes? Would he have us reject birth control -- even if it is legal and readily accepted -- to communicate that life is a wonderful blessing, which God provided for centuries without man's concern for modern financial planning? I'm not certain that God will bring each believer to the same conviction as mine, but if we are unwilling to call it to question, then we have already decided in our hearts that God can reveal nothing more.
When Christians are ready to thoroughly digest these common acceptances in light of scripture, and are able to justify their personal definition of "pro-life" through His Word rather than society, only then are we prepared to come before kings, rulers, and earthly authorities in His name. We must expose our hearts to His truth, and ask what we can be doing personally to support His desire for life. To politically protect the liberties of the unborn child, yet personally disregard the eternal state of our community is the worst kind of hypocrisy.
I want to shout about the injustice of abortion; believe me, I do. But I want to do so because it reflects God's attitude towards a disregard for life. I must remain ministerially consistent in my pursuit of His truth, and not merely support a position or person that can carry forth my convictions upon some other foundation. I want lost hearts to be changed to align with His, rather than projecting His heart as a law upon them. Please God, allow only your words to share my passion for life: whether birthed, conceived, or yet to be known.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
a continuing thought
What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.
-- A. W. Tozer, from The Pursuit of God
This quote had me considering my post from Thursday, and I wondered what false perception of God still allows me to view myself as an "untouchable." I said myself that no child of God should be able to count the love expressions that he has received. I feel that my deception is related to this term "child of God."
One of the most painful reinforcements I received was during the altar call of a Sunday morning service. I was serving in a voluntary youth role after stepping away from my pastoral internship, and struggled to develop relationships with other adults. For the most part, the church was appreciative that we invested in the discipleship of their teens, and were otherwise hands off. This particular morning, the pastor preached about the walls we build in bitterness and loneliness, and the word cut to my heart. He invited those that needed intercession to come forward, and I approached with tears. One by one, the other adults had hands laid on them, likely by fellow parents and Sunday School buddies. I continued to kneel alone through the benediction, and they began to depart after the pastor's final prayer.
Glassy eyed, but hurting and angry, I stood to exit. A woman I had previously been interested in approached to see if I was okay. I fake smiled, said "sure," and walked past her to my car.
I watch how good parents look out for their children, and my heart is moved. The little boy gets a hug or the little girl gets her knee kissed, and suddenly everything is better. The circumstance of the pain has not changed, but the child knows where to find comfort. I have to be honest, this is beyond my reasoning. It is natural for me to gravitate towards the hurting with concern, but I have rarely known this grace. If you do not know it through your parents nor your local church, it is not an easy characteristic to attribute to God.
Brothers and sisters have confessed to me that they don't consider my need for help: when I reveal truth into their lives, they incorrectly assume I am without fault. (Please brethren, don't expect this of your leaders.) In response, I became proactive about sharing my struggles, which only led to uncomfortable silence or well-intended rebuke. But I didn't need a doctor to tell me I was sick -- I already knew that. I needed to know that I wasn't drifting into the darkness without a hand to hold.
And somehow I must believe that God extends that hand. I must ignore the evidence of earthly pain and deception and trust that He desires to hold me. I'm not sure how to do this. I have grown comfortable and trusting while serving Him as Lord, but I fail to recognize His voice when He addresses me as a Father to His son.
Father, let me understand the words of the song prophesied over me, that I would know your comfort in my loneliness and despair:
He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters.
He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me.
They confronted me in the day of disaster, but the LORD was my support.
He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me. (Psalm 18:16-19)
Thursday, May 26, 2011
wrapping my head around "every man's battle"
The greatest difficulty in overcoming a form of physical lust is the seemingly infinite number of strongholds to which it may attach. We have done men a great disservice in employing a "one size fits all" approach to sexual purity: often a cocktail of prayer, self-control, and one-on-one accountability. Few men are surprised when the formula fails them, if for no other reason than it has failed so many.
Like any recurring, self-destructive sin (depression, substance abuse, self-harm, and the like), sexual sin can only be overcome at the root, or source, of its appeal. To attempt ridding our lives of a destructive behavior without identifying a cause or lie is akin to exterminating your house, while ignoring the block of cheese that serves as the dining table centerpiece.
We are often blind to these roots through our own distorted lens, and this makes sexual sin a fine tool for the enemy. Eradicating roots requires a willingness to address unresolved pain and the trust of those that provide discernment. Pursuing spiritual freedom with pride or distrust is useless, and ultimately frustrating for all parties involved. Prayer warriors and prophets must be able to simultaneously offer an environment of immunity while addressing the sin for what it is.
****************
I know this places me in the minority, and this may be met with skepticism, but I've never struggled with sexual sin while in a relationship. Honestly, this is nothing to boast of; at best, it provides insight into the root of my own sin. Lust is rarely a purely physical matter. Men with a relatively satisfying sex life are just as prone to sexual sin, and since I have never been sexually active, something else in my flesh is being gratified by the presence of a girlfriend that is not gratified in singlehood. Because it is not overtly sexual makes it no less alarming.
I was reminded of an essay I wrote in a coffeehouse journal, sometime around age 25. My life was ravaged by sexual sin at the time, as I was still grieving the loss of my first love. In the essay, I divulged what felt like a life of physical leprosy -- nobody wanted to be close to me. I recalled the 15+ years since anyone had said "I love you," and the single hug I received from my dad at my college graduation. Tears streaming down the journal page, I concluded that no child of God should be able to count the number of love expressions he had received.
This paralyzed my intimacy with God, because I coveted something tangible -- touchable -- to comfort me in my despair. People continued to move in and out of my life, and I felt pathetic for clinging to the only human approval I could find: teenagers. While camp directing, I would finish doing bed checks at night, and the campers would leave unsolicited letters of love and appreciation on the porch. I would take my youth to conferences, and random girls in front of me would turn around to compliment my voice during worship. Satan tried to prey on my inadequacy at the expense of my Lord's glory, which made me immediately uncomfortable for receiving any praise. I would stand in silence for the remainder of the worship set.
Dealing with the conflict -- serving God in word and deed, but secretly harboring an envy for affection -- nurtured a lustful heart. Occasionally a woman would fall for me (more likely, my words), and my entire life would revolve around maintaining her impression. My demeanor turned ugly at the first sign of doubt, because I had placed my heart and hope in her hands and still faced rejection. This was a most unfair and unloving expectation, but I must have known that these women served as a more suitable replacement to my sin, because I feared the effects of being alone.
Where does this leave me, and what must be revealed? I catch my eyes wandering again for attention in this prolonged season, and I know it has little to do with sex, if that's possible to believe. God continually grants me the grace of theoretical wisdom, and has commissioned me to reconcile the enmity between men and women. But how can I help but disqualify myself from His service when the enemy relentlessly questions my motivations? Why must he corrupt even the purity and credibility that God has seen fit to offer me?
Unaware of my physical innocence, a female co-worker once grabbed my hand as a romantic song was playing, purely as a joke. She dropped it immediately when thousands of lightning bolts sparked in response to simple touch. She looked at me and exclaimed, "Wow, what was that?!?" I just nodded softly and acknowledged, "I know." My flesh continues to crave the tangible, even when my heart is right. How does one intending to serve God alone find spiritual healing while enduring a physical leprosy?
Truth is welcomed.
Like any recurring, self-destructive sin (depression, substance abuse, self-harm, and the like), sexual sin can only be overcome at the root, or source, of its appeal. To attempt ridding our lives of a destructive behavior without identifying a cause or lie is akin to exterminating your house, while ignoring the block of cheese that serves as the dining table centerpiece.
We are often blind to these roots through our own distorted lens, and this makes sexual sin a fine tool for the enemy. Eradicating roots requires a willingness to address unresolved pain and the trust of those that provide discernment. Pursuing spiritual freedom with pride or distrust is useless, and ultimately frustrating for all parties involved. Prayer warriors and prophets must be able to simultaneously offer an environment of immunity while addressing the sin for what it is.
****************
I know this places me in the minority, and this may be met with skepticism, but I've never struggled with sexual sin while in a relationship. Honestly, this is nothing to boast of; at best, it provides insight into the root of my own sin. Lust is rarely a purely physical matter. Men with a relatively satisfying sex life are just as prone to sexual sin, and since I have never been sexually active, something else in my flesh is being gratified by the presence of a girlfriend that is not gratified in singlehood. Because it is not overtly sexual makes it no less alarming.
I was reminded of an essay I wrote in a coffeehouse journal, sometime around age 25. My life was ravaged by sexual sin at the time, as I was still grieving the loss of my first love. In the essay, I divulged what felt like a life of physical leprosy -- nobody wanted to be close to me. I recalled the 15+ years since anyone had said "I love you," and the single hug I received from my dad at my college graduation. Tears streaming down the journal page, I concluded that no child of God should be able to count the number of love expressions he had received.
This paralyzed my intimacy with God, because I coveted something tangible -- touchable -- to comfort me in my despair. People continued to move in and out of my life, and I felt pathetic for clinging to the only human approval I could find: teenagers. While camp directing, I would finish doing bed checks at night, and the campers would leave unsolicited letters of love and appreciation on the porch. I would take my youth to conferences, and random girls in front of me would turn around to compliment my voice during worship. Satan tried to prey on my inadequacy at the expense of my Lord's glory, which made me immediately uncomfortable for receiving any praise. I would stand in silence for the remainder of the worship set.
Dealing with the conflict -- serving God in word and deed, but secretly harboring an envy for affection -- nurtured a lustful heart. Occasionally a woman would fall for me (more likely, my words), and my entire life would revolve around maintaining her impression. My demeanor turned ugly at the first sign of doubt, because I had placed my heart and hope in her hands and still faced rejection. This was a most unfair and unloving expectation, but I must have known that these women served as a more suitable replacement to my sin, because I feared the effects of being alone.
Where does this leave me, and what must be revealed? I catch my eyes wandering again for attention in this prolonged season, and I know it has little to do with sex, if that's possible to believe. God continually grants me the grace of theoretical wisdom, and has commissioned me to reconcile the enmity between men and women. But how can I help but disqualify myself from His service when the enemy relentlessly questions my motivations? Why must he corrupt even the purity and credibility that God has seen fit to offer me?
Unaware of my physical innocence, a female co-worker once grabbed my hand as a romantic song was playing, purely as a joke. She dropped it immediately when thousands of lightning bolts sparked in response to simple touch. She looked at me and exclaimed, "Wow, what was that?!?" I just nodded softly and acknowledged, "I know." My flesh continues to crave the tangible, even when my heart is right. How does one intending to serve God alone find spiritual healing while enduring a physical leprosy?
Truth is welcomed.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
dismissing God's authority (part 1)
Mankind does not care for authority. Many of us feel like we would be better left alone; others covet a position of authority because they feel they could rule better.
Whatever our authority dysfunction, Christians must wrestle with God to maintain such a position, because love it or hate it, God is all about authority. For those that desire to justify their resistance, we must be aware that justice is not the opposite of authority -- rebellion is.
I decided to break this topic into two posts, because our rebellion manifests itself in two seemingly opposing manners:
To some degree, I feel that #1 is perpetuated by #2, so I will begin discussing the latter.
**********************************
Accepting a Position of Authority
I have been open in this forum about my resistance to lead. When people begin looking to me in a moment of silence, I can become insecure, irritated, or downright angry. I don't want to be needed. I want to crawl into a quiet place where I can follow God without the burden of having to correct the behavior of others. I want people to like me. I want to experience acceptance because of who I am rather than how I'm useful.
And still, I know that my "wants" are a fat lie. I know that "following" God requires me to submit my wants into a large dumpster and accept the burdens that He grants me. There is no following Him in silence, because His followers are in the business of feeding sheep and fishing men. The fishing may come more naturally, but most days, I feel like I suck at the feeding.
Naturally, I evaluate this on response. If God is to give me a word, then I must be faithful in trusting that it is the Word of Truth. When I speak that word timidly, I deny my brothers and sisters the assurance of Him who grants me authority. But if I speak the word boldly, I deny myself the right to be shaken by rejection. Thus I teeter in rebellion, which only leads to my people's confusion and my own disobedience.
However, when walking in the Spirit, I evaluate my leadership according to His Voice. Knowing my insecurity, God sometimes allows me the grace of seeing that my words are useful, but at some point I need to grow past this. I need to trust that His Word is good, and that any harm it causes me is a rejection of the word and not of me. How much flesh has yet to die? I still tire of the rejection from good men and women.
I know the root of this sin, and I'm sure many others are familiar with this root. We become insecure, because we have seen leadership abused. We have learned to distrust a word of authority, and the domino collapse of Christian leadership has given righteous followers little reason to enlist. If I listened to God, I would understand that this is all the more reason for humble men to lead, but who will hear my words, when His word has been tainted? Is this death for nothing?
The Twelve must have felt this way. The Son of Man had been sent with the authority of God himself, and He was killed. Their political and religious leadership was no less corrupt. But Christ sent them with the Father's authority, to preach before men that had already denied Him!
It would have been easy to sit and sulk. They could have rebelled, and blamed their dismissal of authority on the Pharisees. They could have stopped when they faced their first wave of persecution. They had every human reason to seclude themselves and live quietly -- with the assurance of their salvation. But they led because He asked them to, and He empowered them with His Spirit.
Men, this goes far beyond our willingness to lead His church within our gifts. We utilize the same justifications to reject the leadership of our homes. We are too quick to dismiss our spiritual authority, and much too quick to offer it to someone else. Your wife and children may turn to a position of church leadership (or something worse) to lead them spiritually, but only because you have squandered the position that God has granted you.
We need to take leadership seriously, and while we are all disgusted by the selfish way in which leadership had been corrupted, it is just as rebellious to deny the authority that God has granted us. This reminds me of the parable of the talents: we become afraid that we cannot properly handle the people and tasks that we are granted to lead, so we bury the opportunity -- to salvage what we still have. And like the man who buried his talent, we end up with nothing.
Whatever our authority dysfunction, Christians must wrestle with God to maintain such a position, because love it or hate it, God is all about authority. For those that desire to justify their resistance, we must be aware that justice is not the opposite of authority -- rebellion is.
I decided to break this topic into two posts, because our rebellion manifests itself in two seemingly opposing manners:
1) By refusing submission to those in authority.
And a less obvious form of rebellion...
2) By refusing a position of authority that has been granted.
To some degree, I feel that #1 is perpetuated by #2, so I will begin discussing the latter.
**********************************
Accepting a Position of Authority
I have been open in this forum about my resistance to lead. When people begin looking to me in a moment of silence, I can become insecure, irritated, or downright angry. I don't want to be needed. I want to crawl into a quiet place where I can follow God without the burden of having to correct the behavior of others. I want people to like me. I want to experience acceptance because of who I am rather than how I'm useful.
And still, I know that my "wants" are a fat lie. I know that "following" God requires me to submit my wants into a large dumpster and accept the burdens that He grants me. There is no following Him in silence, because His followers are in the business of feeding sheep and fishing men. The fishing may come more naturally, but most days, I feel like I suck at the feeding.
Naturally, I evaluate this on response. If God is to give me a word, then I must be faithful in trusting that it is the Word of Truth. When I speak that word timidly, I deny my brothers and sisters the assurance of Him who grants me authority. But if I speak the word boldly, I deny myself the right to be shaken by rejection. Thus I teeter in rebellion, which only leads to my people's confusion and my own disobedience.
However, when walking in the Spirit, I evaluate my leadership according to His Voice. Knowing my insecurity, God sometimes allows me the grace of seeing that my words are useful, but at some point I need to grow past this. I need to trust that His Word is good, and that any harm it causes me is a rejection of the word and not of me. How much flesh has yet to die? I still tire of the rejection from good men and women.
I know the root of this sin, and I'm sure many others are familiar with this root. We become insecure, because we have seen leadership abused. We have learned to distrust a word of authority, and the domino collapse of Christian leadership has given righteous followers little reason to enlist. If I listened to God, I would understand that this is all the more reason for humble men to lead, but who will hear my words, when His word has been tainted? Is this death for nothing?
The Twelve must have felt this way. The Son of Man had been sent with the authority of God himself, and He was killed. Their political and religious leadership was no less corrupt. But Christ sent them with the Father's authority, to preach before men that had already denied Him!
It would have been easy to sit and sulk. They could have rebelled, and blamed their dismissal of authority on the Pharisees. They could have stopped when they faced their first wave of persecution. They had every human reason to seclude themselves and live quietly -- with the assurance of their salvation. But they led because He asked them to, and He empowered them with His Spirit.
Men, this goes far beyond our willingness to lead His church within our gifts. We utilize the same justifications to reject the leadership of our homes. We are too quick to dismiss our spiritual authority, and much too quick to offer it to someone else. Your wife and children may turn to a position of church leadership (or something worse) to lead them spiritually, but only because you have squandered the position that God has granted you.
We need to take leadership seriously, and while we are all disgusted by the selfish way in which leadership had been corrupted, it is just as rebellious to deny the authority that God has granted us. This reminds me of the parable of the talents: we become afraid that we cannot properly handle the people and tasks that we are granted to lead, so we bury the opportunity -- to salvage what we still have. And like the man who buried his talent, we end up with nothing.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
trapped in the past
By the grace of God, I rarely struggle with guilt anymore. The Spirit has allowed me to discern between the vice and holy conviction -- between the attack and a loving Father's rebuke. My enemy has had to restructure his troops to prevent me from moving forward, and it will continue to take on the same face until I live according to my freedom in Christ.
This perpetual thorn is regret. It often manifests itself as a cousin to guilt, without the hope for change. Whereas condemnation can be brought to light through His truth and a sound understanding of grace, regret holds our past hostage. We may know forgiveness in our past, but a present discontent can remind us of the events we would love to change.
Like many transient types, I find myself reflecting a lot, because the past can be a bridge to those I have loved and lost. Memories age entirely too well, and they tend to redefine themselves into better versions of the actual event. I glorify previous employment, without recognizing why I left. I glorify past music, without admitting how it gratified my flesh. I glorify past friends, at the risk of dismissing the loyalty of those that remain. I glorify past romance, while denying the years of pain it brought me.
I struggle with the idea that these stable communities eventually move on without me. I've been pastor to some, or barista to others; some have called me boss, and others friend. I have hundreds that have claimed me as their big brother. But their lives eventually move forward, or at least provide a stable satisfaction in the plateau.
I'm not sure how to handle my memories in a healthy manner, because I feel like I've been stripped of anything constant in the present. I don't say that to be hurtful to those that appreciate my services, but I readily accept that God will continue to weave me in and out of people's lives. Perhaps it is selfish to covet human comfort in spite of the cross I willingly bear, but I can't pretend to be something other than human. And God created mankind to desire the comfort of another. If I'm an exception because I've told God "yes" on occasion, then I need to know the fullness of His love, lest I obtain nothing of worth.
I welcome your prayers in my daily battle with regret. I cannot relive a conversation, take back a longing embrace, or undo my hurtful actions, but I can continually consecrate myself before a God that will never leave nor forsake me. In a life filled with passing yearbook photos, I need the reassurance that He has always been by my side.
This perpetual thorn is regret. It often manifests itself as a cousin to guilt, without the hope for change. Whereas condemnation can be brought to light through His truth and a sound understanding of grace, regret holds our past hostage. We may know forgiveness in our past, but a present discontent can remind us of the events we would love to change.
Like many transient types, I find myself reflecting a lot, because the past can be a bridge to those I have loved and lost. Memories age entirely too well, and they tend to redefine themselves into better versions of the actual event. I glorify previous employment, without recognizing why I left. I glorify past music, without admitting how it gratified my flesh. I glorify past friends, at the risk of dismissing the loyalty of those that remain. I glorify past romance, while denying the years of pain it brought me.
I struggle with the idea that these stable communities eventually move on without me. I've been pastor to some, or barista to others; some have called me boss, and others friend. I have hundreds that have claimed me as their big brother. But their lives eventually move forward, or at least provide a stable satisfaction in the plateau.
I'm not sure how to handle my memories in a healthy manner, because I feel like I've been stripped of anything constant in the present. I don't say that to be hurtful to those that appreciate my services, but I readily accept that God will continue to weave me in and out of people's lives. Perhaps it is selfish to covet human comfort in spite of the cross I willingly bear, but I can't pretend to be something other than human. And God created mankind to desire the comfort of another. If I'm an exception because I've told God "yes" on occasion, then I need to know the fullness of His love, lest I obtain nothing of worth.
I welcome your prayers in my daily battle with regret. I cannot relive a conversation, take back a longing embrace, or undo my hurtful actions, but I can continually consecrate myself before a God that will never leave nor forsake me. In a life filled with passing yearbook photos, I need the reassurance that He has always been by my side.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
rare applause for a politician
Those familiar with Solomon's Ledger are aware of my general distrust for all things political. I believe that the greatest advancement to His Kingdom is primarily initiated through the change of hearts, rather than the change of laws. But we also know that God has chosen at times to use the position of men to call their people to holy living. That said, I think it is necessary to speak well of the recent news that our governor will not be pursuing the presidency:
I have openly opposed many of the governor's budget cuts, some of which may eventually cost me my current job. But it would be wrong to ignore a courageous act because of prior disagreements, particularly one that has prioritized his role as husband over the "needs" of his constituency. This is a decision that most men of executive power would never make. I pray that God blesses Daniels and his family as a reminder to Hoosiers of God's desire for sincerity in His covenant.
In the end I was able to resolve every competing consideration but one, but that, the interests and wishes of my family, is the most important consideration of all.Daniels and his media-shy wife had undergone some up and down moments in the 1990s, which ultimately led to a divorce, but the two reconciled and remarried shortly after. Although pressured by his party to represent the lone fiscal conservative in a weak Republican pool, Daniels declined to protect his family from the mudslinging that his family would inevitably endure regarding their personal matters.
-- IN Gov. Mitch Daniels
I have openly opposed many of the governor's budget cuts, some of which may eventually cost me my current job. But it would be wrong to ignore a courageous act because of prior disagreements, particularly one that has prioritized his role as husband over the "needs" of his constituency. This is a decision that most men of executive power would never make. I pray that God blesses Daniels and his family as a reminder to Hoosiers of God's desire for sincerity in His covenant.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
discovering grace in God's boundaries
A portion of my church's discipleship training has become invaluable to my understanding of Godly leadership. Richard Greene, a small man like myself, has taught this principle to thousands of African nationals as a lesson in following the Spirit's lead:
If only I had the right pedigree, if only I was married, if only I hadn't been burdened with a prophetic heart, if only I was smarter, if only I could write better, if only I could make people laugh, if only I was attractive, if only I was less intense, if only I was artistic, if only I was charismatic...
God hears my whining, as sure as with Moses, and He wonders how I've missed the point. As His name is made known through shaking stutter and humble physique, He leaves no doubt that I am the vessel and He is God. I may never be polished, published, or man-pretty, but each boundary is one less pride to overcome. He knows the evil that gratifies my flesh, and maintains the integrity of the vessel through everything I lack.
When we begin to compare ourselves with others, God's grace is perceived as a limitation. Most of us will never be the best-selling author or the mega-church pastor, but we look to these men and women to presume who we should be. The rejection of His boundaries becomes a thorn that chokes our ministry -- immobilized as we invest our efforts into modeling mankind. God, however, could just as well use a rock or an ass; He includes us in the demonstration so that we might share in the joy of His redemption.
Have you rejected any boundaries that God has placed in your life? God doesn't need to give you a pep talk; He has created you with everything necessary to serve Him today.
An important aspect of walking in the Spirit is to discover and accept the limitations God has placed on us. God's boundaries are those things about us that He designed and we cannot change. They protect us and define us. Most insecurities and poor self-esteem issues come from a rejection of one or more of these boundaries:How much precious time do we waste arguing with God over our limitations or trying to compensate for our shortcomings? When I look at this list, I can identify at least half of these that have left me feeling unqualified.
*Parents
*Time in history
*Gender
*Family
*Nationality
*Spiritual gift mix
*Race
*Birth order
*Mental abilities
*Physical features
*Personality
*Life span
If only I had the right pedigree, if only I was married, if only I hadn't been burdened with a prophetic heart, if only I was smarter, if only I could write better, if only I could make people laugh, if only I was attractive, if only I was less intense, if only I was artistic, if only I was charismatic...
God hears my whining, as sure as with Moses, and He wonders how I've missed the point. As His name is made known through shaking stutter and humble physique, He leaves no doubt that I am the vessel and He is God. I may never be polished, published, or man-pretty, but each boundary is one less pride to overcome. He knows the evil that gratifies my flesh, and maintains the integrity of the vessel through everything I lack.
When we begin to compare ourselves with others, God's grace is perceived as a limitation. Most of us will never be the best-selling author or the mega-church pastor, but we look to these men and women to presume who we should be. The rejection of His boundaries becomes a thorn that chokes our ministry -- immobilized as we invest our efforts into modeling mankind. God, however, could just as well use a rock or an ass; He includes us in the demonstration so that we might share in the joy of His redemption.
Have you rejected any boundaries that God has placed in your life? God doesn't need to give you a pep talk; He has created you with everything necessary to serve Him today.
The LORD said to him, "Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Is it not I, the LORD? Now go; I will help you speak and teach you what to say."
Thursday, May 19, 2011
when giving opposes grace
My 45-year-old co-worker continued the description of her new boyfriend.
“You know how there’s a giver and taker in every relationship?”
I had only been half-listening, but my spiritual lie antennae suddenly perked to receptivity.
“We were both in marriages where we were the givers, and its different being on the receiving end.”
Hmm…this was of interest. I myself had been rejected by a couple female “givers” that had found a mutual giving to be unattractive. I didn’t think that my co-worker was on to something true, but I was curious to understand her common line of thought. What did she mean by different?
“It can be uncomfortable. I mean, it’s strange, there’s something about women that innately wants to be taken care of, but I think most women learn how to push it away. The younger women ignore that it’s there at all. With my ex, we did what he wanted every time, and I made sure that it happened. I stayed in the marriage until our kids were older, but I was never happy.”
Continually giving without receiving made my co-worker‘s marriage unfulfilling, but she chalks this up to the natural order of relationships: one giver, one taker.
“Like the other day, he took me to Olive Garden and insisted on paying. I like that he’s different than other guys, but I’ve already learned how to take care of myself. And I’ve learned what is required to take care of everyone else.”
********************************
I encourage her to stick it out, but my own frustrations have been lit. Why are sacrificial women so prone to abuse?
Again, pride creeps into our lives in funny ways. As soon as we have “humbled” ourselves such that we see our lives as nothing, we are drawn to the people who affirm our insignificance and offer nothing for our service. Our “humility” becomes an identity. And like any identity apart from I AM, it is saturated with pride.
She knows he’s a deadbeat, but it only magnifies her strength. She has endured his verbal beatings, and each day is a new challenge to be one step ahead. Maybe, if she achieves perfection today, he will be silenced for good, and she will have won.
But she never does. He always finds something. She’s working fifty hours, watching the kids, cleaning, and cooking, but it is never enough. She has failed him again, and he will make sure that she knows it.
At greater risk is what this says about her God. He too has asked for her entirety, and she never quite measures up. She hears the sermons about love and grace, and she claims them with a prayer. She denies them with her misconception. She wears her faith boldly, worships with abandon, and maintains a purity of speech and femininity. But unlike the man at home, He is not grading her effort. He would hold and comfort her if she would be still. Instead, He watches her dance, as if He purchased a ticket to watch His own creation perform.
“You know how there’s a giver and taker in every relationship?”
I had only been half-listening, but my spiritual lie antennae suddenly perked to receptivity.
“We were both in marriages where we were the givers, and its different being on the receiving end.”
Hmm…this was of interest. I myself had been rejected by a couple female “givers” that had found a mutual giving to be unattractive. I didn’t think that my co-worker was on to something true, but I was curious to understand her common line of thought. What did she mean by different?
“It can be uncomfortable. I mean, it’s strange, there’s something about women that innately wants to be taken care of, but I think most women learn how to push it away. The younger women ignore that it’s there at all. With my ex, we did what he wanted every time, and I made sure that it happened. I stayed in the marriage until our kids were older, but I was never happy.”
Continually giving without receiving made my co-worker‘s marriage unfulfilling, but she chalks this up to the natural order of relationships: one giver, one taker.
“Like the other day, he took me to Olive Garden and insisted on paying. I like that he’s different than other guys, but I’ve already learned how to take care of myself. And I’ve learned what is required to take care of everyone else.”
********************************
I encourage her to stick it out, but my own frustrations have been lit. Why are sacrificial women so prone to abuse?
Again, pride creeps into our lives in funny ways. As soon as we have “humbled” ourselves such that we see our lives as nothing, we are drawn to the people who affirm our insignificance and offer nothing for our service. Our “humility” becomes an identity. And like any identity apart from I AM, it is saturated with pride.
She knows he’s a deadbeat, but it only magnifies her strength. She has endured his verbal beatings, and each day is a new challenge to be one step ahead. Maybe, if she achieves perfection today, he will be silenced for good, and she will have won.
But she never does. He always finds something. She’s working fifty hours, watching the kids, cleaning, and cooking, but it is never enough. She has failed him again, and he will make sure that she knows it.
At greater risk is what this says about her God. He too has asked for her entirety, and she never quite measures up. She hears the sermons about love and grace, and she claims them with a prayer. She denies them with her misconception. She wears her faith boldly, worships with abandon, and maintains a purity of speech and femininity. But unlike the man at home, He is not grading her effort. He would hold and comfort her if she would be still. Instead, He watches her dance, as if He purchased a ticket to watch His own creation perform.
But the Lord answered and said to her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried about so many things; but only one thing is necessary, for Mary has chosen the good part, which shall not be taken away from her." (Luke 10:41-42)
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
overdue allegiance to Him
I have spoken much about relationships, perhaps not so much recently, but enough to communicate the theoretical framework for the word God has placed on my heart. The subject I have never approached is the theoretical possibility that this “ideal” may elude me in life.
We develop convictions for a reason -- some Godly and some not. I may be a man with more convictions than most, but like the man of lesser conviction, I must toss them in the fire to discover what is verified, purified, or outright discarded. I feel like I spent a better part of ten years having a number of difficult convictions verified; this past year has brought a great deal of discarding. Through this process, God has begun to purge my personal preferences from His ultimate desires. My well-intended (but ill-conceived) habit of placing particular women on a pedestal has evaporated like a paper plate in a campfire.
However, it is the purifying of my convictions that disables me from evaluating women with a mental checklist. “A+B+C = the perfect wife” may sound methodically prudent in my head, but it didn’t require the knowledge of good and evil for Adam to discover that Eve was a blessing. (See what I did there?)
Another phrase has been thrown around in Christian circles: “Do not settle for the one you could live with; marry the one that you could not live without.” In hindsight, I believe this is an excellent way to evaluate the health of a relationship, but I also remember feeling that I could not live without a couple women while with them, only to reflect and recognize this clearly was not the case (unmistakably, since I am still with y‘all).
No friends, I must utilize a different criteria in the present -- one most certain to leave me single. If every other conviction or value is to be purged by the flame of God, this one will not. I must build my convictions for a relationship around every other work He has already set before me. She must follow.
“Well, duh!” you may say, as this is the natural order of things. But to truly allow this conviction to supercede all else, two things must occur that are quite contrary to the tent in which we reside:
1) I must be worth following. I’m not proposing a need for perfection on my behalf, but I also cannot ignore how essential this is to the other point I am about to make. Imagine if Christ had asked his disciples to follow and had led them to deception or an eternal death. Does he gain another opportunity to regain their trust? Their lives would have been in vain. We can talk a big game, but if she cannot trust that I am leading her as I am being led by Christ, the rest is a wash. The scary part for us men is that we don’t get to evaluate whether we’re worthy of being followed. That brand of leadership works for the world, but it falls short in Godly marriage.
2) She gets the whole package. This is where the wheels fall off in a hurry. God has asked me to move nine hours with no friends, quit my job, work for minimum wage, speak ill of respected establishments, move again, condemn accepted American practices, leave the uncommitted behind, move again, buy a house -- these are only the requests in which I’ve been obedient. There’s nothing noble about doing what our Father asks of us, but our Father asks a lot of me, and this takes precedent. Sometimes it leaves me weary, disheartened, and burdened without warning. She gets that too, and I‘ve compromised this too often.
That’s really it, my only convictions that remain. Now, squeeze that into the question of “the one I cannot live without,” and we’re talking about a miracle of God proportions. Because I’ve gone about living without her for 32 years, and all this remains, I can only presume that the one thing I lack is grace, and grace is a gift that cannot be conceived in advance. She is the gift that God provides to comfort the pieces of me that I‘ve never known needed comforted. She is the truth that breaks my wall of lawfulness. And I am the same for her.
I felt it was important to type this tonight, even if it is to understand that I cannot sit around waiting for her when He’s already told me what to do. If the stream of her life crosses paths with mine, we will certainly know when that transpires, because a woman like this holds convictions just as deep. Until then, take heart my love, and you will only be spoken of in my prayers.
We develop convictions for a reason -- some Godly and some not. I may be a man with more convictions than most, but like the man of lesser conviction, I must toss them in the fire to discover what is verified, purified, or outright discarded. I feel like I spent a better part of ten years having a number of difficult convictions verified; this past year has brought a great deal of discarding. Through this process, God has begun to purge my personal preferences from His ultimate desires. My well-intended (but ill-conceived) habit of placing particular women on a pedestal has evaporated like a paper plate in a campfire.
However, it is the purifying of my convictions that disables me from evaluating women with a mental checklist. “A+B+C = the perfect wife” may sound methodically prudent in my head, but it didn’t require the knowledge of good and evil for Adam to discover that Eve was a blessing. (See what I did there?)
Another phrase has been thrown around in Christian circles: “Do not settle for the one you could live with; marry the one that you could not live without.” In hindsight, I believe this is an excellent way to evaluate the health of a relationship, but I also remember feeling that I could not live without a couple women while with them, only to reflect and recognize this clearly was not the case (unmistakably, since I am still with y‘all).
No friends, I must utilize a different criteria in the present -- one most certain to leave me single. If every other conviction or value is to be purged by the flame of God, this one will not. I must build my convictions for a relationship around every other work He has already set before me. She must follow.
“Well, duh!” you may say, as this is the natural order of things. But to truly allow this conviction to supercede all else, two things must occur that are quite contrary to the tent in which we reside:
1) I must be worth following. I’m not proposing a need for perfection on my behalf, but I also cannot ignore how essential this is to the other point I am about to make. Imagine if Christ had asked his disciples to follow and had led them to deception or an eternal death. Does he gain another opportunity to regain their trust? Their lives would have been in vain. We can talk a big game, but if she cannot trust that I am leading her as I am being led by Christ, the rest is a wash. The scary part for us men is that we don’t get to evaluate whether we’re worthy of being followed. That brand of leadership works for the world, but it falls short in Godly marriage.
2) She gets the whole package. This is where the wheels fall off in a hurry. God has asked me to move nine hours with no friends, quit my job, work for minimum wage, speak ill of respected establishments, move again, condemn accepted American practices, leave the uncommitted behind, move again, buy a house -- these are only the requests in which I’ve been obedient. There’s nothing noble about doing what our Father asks of us, but our Father asks a lot of me, and this takes precedent. Sometimes it leaves me weary, disheartened, and burdened without warning. She gets that too, and I‘ve compromised this too often.
That’s really it, my only convictions that remain. Now, squeeze that into the question of “the one I cannot live without,” and we’re talking about a miracle of God proportions. Because I’ve gone about living without her for 32 years, and all this remains, I can only presume that the one thing I lack is grace, and grace is a gift that cannot be conceived in advance. She is the gift that God provides to comfort the pieces of me that I‘ve never known needed comforted. She is the truth that breaks my wall of lawfulness. And I am the same for her.
I felt it was important to type this tonight, even if it is to understand that I cannot sit around waiting for her when He’s already told me what to do. If the stream of her life crosses paths with mine, we will certainly know when that transpires, because a woman like this holds convictions just as deep. Until then, take heart my love, and you will only be spoken of in my prayers.
Monday, May 16, 2011
"choose life"
My mind works out puzzles. In a redeemed state, God presents himself and speaks to me in the same fashion: a corner piece of foundation supporting the framework of His person, partnered with a slew of disjointed chunks that make no sense at all. Every so often, God allows two of these chunks to form together, just often enough to remind me that the puzzle still exists, and I am drawn back to how inconceivable He truly is. Maybe this is the only way He can keep my interest; maybe He never intended this at all.
Bad habits arise when I begin formulating my own image between the pieces that have been filled. I get a picture that the emptiness should be filled with reds or blues, that the house should have an arc-shaped roof, or that the flower should be in bloom. My picture is rarely correct (or for that matter, interesting), but I can’t help myself. And as certain as His love, He will show me the errors of my knowledge, fill in a portion of the hole with His own piece, and leave me pleading for more.
Lately, the process has been a greater deal more frustrating. It is as if He has introduced random, scattered pieces every week, and they belong to different sections of the entire surface. I cannot fill in the holes, because nothing makes sense together. Rather than working from the outside in, He is joining the seemingly arbitrary pieces at the core. The following is one such discovery about my Father.
My co-worker loves 80’s music. I’ll be diligently checking rooms for signs of foul play, and she’ll be shamelessly singing along with Journey on her iPhone. I don’t fault her much, as the music from my teenage years can be equally embarrassing, but I do give her a good rip on her favorite artist. She loves WHAM. More specifically, she loves George Michael. I’m old enough to know his music, but I’m young enough to see him as a caricature of the times (not unlike how 20-somethings might feel about the 90s flannel party.)
A part of the parody comes from watching VH1 specials. I see Michael and his posse swinging their hips to the anthem “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go,” and it is nothing short of ridiculous. They are clad in all white aside from the statement on their t-shirts: “CHOOSE LIFE.” Apparently, these were marketed to fund an environmental charity, and WHAM was the perfect (willing) band to promote them. These and other statement shirts became an icon of 1980s political lobbyists.
Friday night, two of us were engaging in another Michael teasing. I returned home and read a book. Something about living a life of grace. I woke up and did some volunteering on Saturday, went to Byron’s house in the evening, and watched a disc of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. Something about humanity killing humanity with its own invention. I woke up Sunday morning, and began reading blogs. Something about God’s intent for life in the book of Genesis. ZING! Like a thought bubble that graphically interlocked the pieces, the picture came together.
For years, I had been hearing and entertaining arguments about free will. I had heard it said that a loving God could not deny us free will upon our creation, because the truest expression of creation’s love is choosing Him when confronted with good and evil.
And then I read the passages in Genesis, and realized that I’ve had it all wrong. The conversation about free will (choosing to follow God or not) is preceded by a more important choice. The only boundary that God gave Adam was to choose between life or death.
So here’s a mindblowing question: Did God ever intend us to know anything?
I had to process this. Could our desire for knowledge really be the sole origin of our death? Our ability to reason between good and evil, right and wrong, holy and common -- never intended? In life, God never needed to explain anything. Adam and Eve walked with Him in the garden carefree, because there was no human reason to assume that he wouldn’t continue to be God. They weren’t concerned with poverty, hunger, distrust, infidelity, or any of the other fears that creep into relationships. They didn’t even know that they were naked! They knew no such thing as racism, beauty, wealth, or depression. They knew life; death was the absence of what they knew.
So how does death relate with the knowledge of all things previously unknown? Hang with me…
Sure, what’s done is done. There is no use in crying over spilled milk. We do have the knowledge of good and evil. We have the ability to process and analyze, and these functions will continue to bring out the best and the worst of us. I’ve spent an entire lifetime pursuing wisdom, only to arrive and find that I am miserable and haven’t concluded anything helpful. I have no doubt that God can redeem anything that He chooses, but I must admit, if my knowledge leads me away from life, I am a foolish man and my life is in vain.
But these New Testament passages pierce me. While God always intended us to choose life, He understands that our sin has given us over to death. I love the language in 1 John 5: “…that the Son of God has come and has given us understanding, so that we may know him who is true.” We are again asked to choose between life and death, with God as the initiator: the same way that Adam was asked in the Garden, and the same way that Israel was through the words of Moses. I always understood Christ as my Savior, as my bridge to salvation. But He is also allowing us to choose between His Spirit and our own knowledge, to return to a place where we trust Him implicitly. One brings life and one brings death. It’s the age old question, predating our own understanding.
Choose life.
Bad habits arise when I begin formulating my own image between the pieces that have been filled. I get a picture that the emptiness should be filled with reds or blues, that the house should have an arc-shaped roof, or that the flower should be in bloom. My picture is rarely correct (or for that matter, interesting), but I can’t help myself. And as certain as His love, He will show me the errors of my knowledge, fill in a portion of the hole with His own piece, and leave me pleading for more.
Lately, the process has been a greater deal more frustrating. It is as if He has introduced random, scattered pieces every week, and they belong to different sections of the entire surface. I cannot fill in the holes, because nothing makes sense together. Rather than working from the outside in, He is joining the seemingly arbitrary pieces at the core. The following is one such discovery about my Father.
My co-worker loves 80’s music. I’ll be diligently checking rooms for signs of foul play, and she’ll be shamelessly singing along with Journey on her iPhone. I don’t fault her much, as the music from my teenage years can be equally embarrassing, but I do give her a good rip on her favorite artist. She loves WHAM. More specifically, she loves George Michael. I’m old enough to know his music, but I’m young enough to see him as a caricature of the times (not unlike how 20-somethings might feel about the 90s flannel party.)
A part of the parody comes from watching VH1 specials. I see Michael and his posse swinging their hips to the anthem “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go,” and it is nothing short of ridiculous. They are clad in all white aside from the statement on their t-shirts: “CHOOSE LIFE.” Apparently, these were marketed to fund an environmental charity, and WHAM was the perfect (willing) band to promote them. These and other statement shirts became an icon of 1980s political lobbyists.
The LORD God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. And the LORD God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die.” (Genesis 2:15-17)
“You will not surely die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” When the woman saw that the fruit was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized that they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves. (Genesis 3:4-7, emphasis added)
This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the LORD you God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him. For the LORD is your life, and he will give you many years in the land he swore to give your fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. (Deuteronomy 30:19-20)
I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life. I tell you the truth, a time is coming and has now come when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God and those who hear will live. For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son to have life in himself. And he has given him authority to judge because he is the Son of Man. (John 5:24-27)
We know that anyone born of God does not continue to sin; the one who is born of God keeps him safe, and the evil one cannot harm him. We know that we are children of God, and that the whole world is under the control of the evil one. We know also that the Son of God has come and has given us understanding, so that we may know him who is true. And we are in him who is true -- even in his Son Jesus Christ. He is the true God and eternal life. (1 John 5:18-20)
For years, I had been hearing and entertaining arguments about free will. I had heard it said that a loving God could not deny us free will upon our creation, because the truest expression of creation’s love is choosing Him when confronted with good and evil.
And then I read the passages in Genesis, and realized that I’ve had it all wrong. The conversation about free will (choosing to follow God or not) is preceded by a more important choice. The only boundary that God gave Adam was to choose between life or death.
So here’s a mindblowing question: Did God ever intend us to know anything?
I had to process this. Could our desire for knowledge really be the sole origin of our death? Our ability to reason between good and evil, right and wrong, holy and common -- never intended? In life, God never needed to explain anything. Adam and Eve walked with Him in the garden carefree, because there was no human reason to assume that he wouldn’t continue to be God. They weren’t concerned with poverty, hunger, distrust, infidelity, or any of the other fears that creep into relationships. They didn’t even know that they were naked! They knew no such thing as racism, beauty, wealth, or depression. They knew life; death was the absence of what they knew.
So how does death relate with the knowledge of all things previously unknown? Hang with me…
*Our human reasoning requires us to create and utilize weaponry, because we must defend against greater evils. If we do not have the best minds in science defending our nation, someone else will have the greatest minds defending theirs. Knowledge = Anti-life.
*Our human knowledge leads to the decision to abort and use contraception. We should be able to engage in a pleasurable act without risking life. If raising a child was easy, no mother or father would make this choice. But the world is getting harder, and how can we afford to provide for another when we already have so little? Knowledge = Anti-life.
*Our human knowledge brings us into states of depression. The sharpest minds, and not the simpler ones, recognize the evil around them and find that life is not worth living. I myself have heralded martyrdom above all else, not because of His glory, but because I desire to leave for a better place. Knowledge = Anti-life.
*Our human reasoning of finance prevents us from making sacrifices that would bring greater life to others. I have a house payment, a car payment, utilities, phone, school, etc. -- and I am expected to give to the poor with my hard earned money? Knowledge = Anti-life.
*Worst, our human reasoning allows for personal pride. It is the comparison of self to others that has brought forth envy, jealousy, hatred, greed, and racism. A comparison that wouldn’t be known if we had no knowledge that we were even naked.
Sure, what’s done is done. There is no use in crying over spilled milk. We do have the knowledge of good and evil. We have the ability to process and analyze, and these functions will continue to bring out the best and the worst of us. I’ve spent an entire lifetime pursuing wisdom, only to arrive and find that I am miserable and haven’t concluded anything helpful. I have no doubt that God can redeem anything that He chooses, but I must admit, if my knowledge leads me away from life, I am a foolish man and my life is in vain.
But these New Testament passages pierce me. While God always intended us to choose life, He understands that our sin has given us over to death. I love the language in 1 John 5: “…that the Son of God has come and has given us understanding, so that we may know him who is true.” We are again asked to choose between life and death, with God as the initiator: the same way that Adam was asked in the Garden, and the same way that Israel was through the words of Moses. I always understood Christ as my Savior, as my bridge to salvation. But He is also allowing us to choose between His Spirit and our own knowledge, to return to a place where we trust Him implicitly. One brings life and one brings death. It’s the age old question, predating our own understanding.
Choose life.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
on sexual morality
I find this greatly interesting and relevant for having been published sixty years ago:
-- C.S. Lewis, excerpts from Mere Christianity (p.91-95)
You find very few people who want to eat things that really are not food or to do other things with food instead of eating it. In other words, perversions of the food appetite are rare. But perversions of the sex appetite are numerous, hard to cure, and frightful. I am sorry to have to go into all these details, but I must. The reason why I must is that you and I, for the last twenty years, have been fed all day long on good solid lies about sex. We have been told, till one is sick of hearing it, that sexual desire is in the same state as any of our other natural desires and that if only we abandon the silly old Victorian idea of hushing it up, everything in the garden will be lovely. It is not true. The moment you look at the facts, and away from the propaganda, you see that it is not true…
If anyone says that sex, in itself, is bad, Christianity contradicts him at once. But of course, when people say, “Sex is nothing to be ashamed of,” they may mean “the state into which the sexual instinct has now got is nothing to be ashamed of.” If they mean that, I think they are wrong. I think it is everything to be ashamed of. There is nothing to be ashamed of enjoying your food: there would be everything to be ashamed of if half the world made food the main interest in their lives and spent their time looking at pictures of food and dribbling and smacking their lips. I do not say that you and I are individually responsible for the present situation. Our ancestors have handed over to us organisms which are warped in this respect: and we grow up surrounded by propaganda in favour of unchastity. There are people who want to keep our sex instinct inflamed in order to make money out of us. Because of course, a man with an obsession is a man who has very little sales resistance. God knows our situation; He will not judge us as if we had no difficulties to overcome. What matters is the sincerity and perseverance of our will to overcome them…
In the first place our warped natures, the devils who tempt us, and all the contemporary propaganda for lust, combine to make us feel that the desires we are resisting are so “natural,” so “healthy,” and so reasonable, that it is almost perverse and abnormal to resist them. Poster after poster, film after film, novel after novel, associate the idea of sexual indulgence with the ideas of health, normality, youth, frankness, and good humour. Now this association is a lie. Like all powerful lies, it is based on a truth -- the truth acknowledged above, that sex in itself (apart from the excesses and obsessions that have grown around it) is “normal” and “healthy” and the rest of it. The lie consists in the suggestion that any sexual act to which you are tempted at the moment is also healthy and normal. Now this, on any conceivable view, and quite apart from Christianity, must be nonsense. Surrender to all our desires obviously leads to impotence, disease, jealousies, lies, concealment, and everything that is the reverse of health, good humour, and frankness. For any happiness, even in this world, quite a lot of restraint is going to be necessary; so the claim made by every desire, when it is strong, to be healthy and reasonable, counts for nothing. Every sane and civilized man must have some set of principles by which he chooses to reject some of his desires and to permit others. One man does this on Christian principles, another on hygienic principles, another on sociological principles. The real conflict is not between Christianity and “nature,” but between Christian principle and other principles in the control of “nature.” For “nature” (in the sense of natural desire) will have to be controlled anyway, unless you are going to ruin your whole life. The Christian principles are, admittedly, stricter than the others; but then we think you will get help towards obeying them which you will not get towards obeying the others…
Finally, though I have had to speak at some length about sex, I want to make it clear as I possibly can that the centre of Christian morality is not here. If anyone thinks that Christians regard unchastity as the supreme vice, he is quite wrong. The sins of the flesh are bad, but they are the least bad of all sins. All the worst pleasures are purely spiritual: the pleasure of putting other people in the wrong, of bossing and patronising and spoiling sport, and back-biting; the pleasures of power; of hatred. For there are two things inside me, competing with the human self which I must try to become. They are the Animal self, and the Diabolical self. The Diabolical self is the worse of the two. That is why a cold, self-righteous prig who goes regularly to church may be far nearer to hell than a prostitute. But, of course, it is better to be neither.
-- C.S. Lewis, excerpts from Mere Christianity (p.91-95)
Saturday, May 7, 2011
no lie: holiness is hard
If He desires holiness, I desperately need His strength. I press forward, but I can discern the evil the lurks at my heels. The first half of Romans 16:20 is fresh on my mind:
My Greek text gives me the verb SUNTRIBO (overcome completely) and the adverb EN TACHOS (without delay). What did Paul mean by God overcoming Satan completely, without delay? Was it a personal word for the Romans concerning the divisive people in v.17-18, or does Paul intend this for me as well? Because if God is in the business of completely overcoming Satan under my feet, I could really use that tonight.
Thinking about feet and crushing reminds me of God's curse upon the serpent in Genesis 3:15:
Merriam-Webster defines enmity as "positive, active, and typically mutual hatred or ill will." What a description of the relationship that God's people have with their enemy! Satan's curse is that he will always be lurking -- he will strike our heel, causing grief and pain and poisoning our condition, but he will also be overcome by the very foot he strikes. God isn't just going to sentence Satan to his due justice; God's going to humiliate him through the very creation that he intends to destroy!
So why is it that I always feel like Satan has the upper hand? Why does there seem to be more striking than crushing? Is our hatred mutual enough? I certainly accept enough of his hatred.
But if I'm shortchanging the enemy's enmity with me, I'm overlooking God's love and strength to an even greater degree. It is not I that is supposed to be doing the crushing. Yes, I am the object of the enemy's humiliation, but it is God Himself that is determined to use mankind to demonstrate His sovereignty and justice over evil. So Paul follows his declaration of victory with an imperative benediction:
Trust me, I'd rather God crush Satan sooner than later. I wish I never lost a battle. I wish my eyes never wandered and my feet never sunk. I am SOOOOO tired of the fight. I want to be rid of this flesh and the struggle of pursuing a holiness in which 99% of our population has no interest. It's exhausting. Sometimes I feel like I don't want to be set apart anymore, and I find little joy in my purity. Other days, I'm encouraged just in time for the next battle...
But Father, can I please receive an extraordinary measure of your grace? The cursed is being relentless tonight.
The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. (NIV)
My Greek text gives me the verb SUNTRIBO (overcome completely) and the adverb EN TACHOS (without delay). What did Paul mean by God overcoming Satan completely, without delay? Was it a personal word for the Romans concerning the divisive people in v.17-18, or does Paul intend this for me as well? Because if God is in the business of completely overcoming Satan under my feet, I could really use that tonight.
Thinking about feet and crushing reminds me of God's curse upon the serpent in Genesis 3:15:
And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.
Merriam-Webster defines enmity as "positive, active, and typically mutual hatred or ill will." What a description of the relationship that God's people have with their enemy! Satan's curse is that he will always be lurking -- he will strike our heel, causing grief and pain and poisoning our condition, but he will also be overcome by the very foot he strikes. God isn't just going to sentence Satan to his due justice; God's going to humiliate him through the very creation that he intends to destroy!
So why is it that I always feel like Satan has the upper hand? Why does there seem to be more striking than crushing? Is our hatred mutual enough? I certainly accept enough of his hatred.
But if I'm shortchanging the enemy's enmity with me, I'm overlooking God's love and strength to an even greater degree. It is not I that is supposed to be doing the crushing. Yes, I am the object of the enemy's humiliation, but it is God Himself that is determined to use mankind to demonstrate His sovereignty and justice over evil. So Paul follows his declaration of victory with an imperative benediction:
The grace of our Lord Jesus be with you.
Trust me, I'd rather God crush Satan sooner than later. I wish I never lost a battle. I wish my eyes never wandered and my feet never sunk. I am SOOOOO tired of the fight. I want to be rid of this flesh and the struggle of pursuing a holiness in which 99% of our population has no interest. It's exhausting. Sometimes I feel like I don't want to be set apart anymore, and I find little joy in my purity. Other days, I'm encouraged just in time for the next battle...
But Father, can I please receive an extraordinary measure of your grace? The cursed is being relentless tonight.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
building a new well
If you have dabbled in spiritual maturity, there's a good chance you find yourself disregarding the merit of renewing your covenant with God. I know that I for one can play the cynic concerning the mountaintop experience. I watch the camp meeting altar calls and the campus revival services, and I think to myself, "Oh, that's cute; they think they're being sincere." This coming from the same boy who once looked at the adults in disgust while they vicariously fed on our spiritual zeal.
Pride takes on many forms. One of the most debilitating comes from determining how God should move. Sure, the natural progression of spiritual wisdom and maturity offers a welcome stability to the peaks and valleys we once knew. But sometimes the arrogance of our stability blinds us to the gradual downward slope in which we have been slipping.
My moods once created such a natural transition from ecstasy to defeat that I'm not quick to resign to the need for personal revival. The enemy dissuades extreme behavior through a cunning dialogue in my head:
"Don't you know that you're done with all that? Sure, it was fun to run to the altar with your teenage buddies. But you're grown now. And you're alone. There's no large congregation to impress. Do you think He will be impressed? I thought the two of you were doing just fine coasting along. Remember, slow and steady wins the race! People are looking to you to help them remain stable. What would happen if you came unglued?..."
********************
I lie awake in bed. My body is worn, and my mind disturbed. I am sick with sin. All of my victories seem empty and distant. The demon that oppresses me is familiar, and I can feel him clutching like he did years ago. I'm at a crossroads and I know it. But to speak the truth before God would be terrifying. I shouldn't be back here again.
I undress and hop into the shower for relief. I timidly begin to confess my sins, but there's still a measure of disbelief in my tone. I've been through this before. I claim his blood, quietly at first, but gradually my voice strengthens and the shake dissipates. My tormentor -- he too is subject to my Lord's authority and sovereignty, and I let him know. I cry out against attacks on friends and family as well. Beads of water flood my face, a refreshing miracle of peace and relief. And He speaks, not like He spoke to me at the altar as a child, not through sensory bliss, but with the clearness of a loved one left in longing.
Returning to my pillow, I am drawn to the softness of my skin and the coolness of my shaven head. I was shamed, but am renewed. I was useless as an outdated motherboard, but am redeemed. I was compromised, but am ruined for Earth. I am being saved, presently and actively.
Pride takes on many forms. One of the most debilitating comes from determining how God should move. Sure, the natural progression of spiritual wisdom and maturity offers a welcome stability to the peaks and valleys we once knew. But sometimes the arrogance of our stability blinds us to the gradual downward slope in which we have been slipping.
My moods once created such a natural transition from ecstasy to defeat that I'm not quick to resign to the need for personal revival. The enemy dissuades extreme behavior through a cunning dialogue in my head:
"Don't you know that you're done with all that? Sure, it was fun to run to the altar with your teenage buddies. But you're grown now. And you're alone. There's no large congregation to impress. Do you think He will be impressed? I thought the two of you were doing just fine coasting along. Remember, slow and steady wins the race! People are looking to you to help them remain stable. What would happen if you came unglued?..."
********************
I lie awake in bed. My body is worn, and my mind disturbed. I am sick with sin. All of my victories seem empty and distant. The demon that oppresses me is familiar, and I can feel him clutching like he did years ago. I'm at a crossroads and I know it. But to speak the truth before God would be terrifying. I shouldn't be back here again.
I undress and hop into the shower for relief. I timidly begin to confess my sins, but there's still a measure of disbelief in my tone. I've been through this before. I claim his blood, quietly at first, but gradually my voice strengthens and the shake dissipates. My tormentor -- he too is subject to my Lord's authority and sovereignty, and I let him know. I cry out against attacks on friends and family as well. Beads of water flood my face, a refreshing miracle of peace and relief. And He speaks, not like He spoke to me at the altar as a child, not through sensory bliss, but with the clearness of a loved one left in longing.
Returning to my pillow, I am drawn to the softness of my skin and the coolness of my shaven head. I was shamed, but am renewed. I was useless as an outdated motherboard, but am redeemed. I was compromised, but am ruined for Earth. I am being saved, presently and actively.
The thing that was intended from the start has become buried, and once uncovered it comes bursting as if through a mountain of dirt and rock from the end of a tunnel with bad fluorescent lighting and traffic into sunshine and blue sky. This is the habit I'm interested in rediscovering. It is the deep breath after having forgotten to breathe. The one we were made for. Remember the start? Our beginnings? In the beginning there was the recognition that the source of all things was Creator God. There was relational communion with our Maker in all that was life, and we were alive, really alive. He was in the breeze and under rocks and in our love and in our skin and in His voice, oh, His voice. There was no knowledge of anything but what was good, and gratefulness beat in our bones. This is the kind of praise that is sweeter and stronger than anything conjured up in an order of worship on Sunday or during our scheduled morning quiet time or in the songs of the "contemporary worship" service Saturday evening or in classrooms of scholarly study.
-- David Crowder, from Praise Habit
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
i am not, but...
Louie Giglio:
Few reminders are necessary to remind me what I'm not. I've experienced too much embarrassment and failure to conclude that I'm big stuff. My greater struggle is attempting to understand why He bothers including me at all, as if the "me" is still the determining factor. He must continually remind me that His plan does not hinge on my allegiance, and that His wonderful grace allows the willing to share a scene with the Famous One. He sets His mind on the demonstration of His glory, and we are an act in the demonstration. Giglio continues:
This hits a bit closer to home. I once journaled, "If God has stripped me of the delight in everything the world desires, it seems that I cling to the bag of bones that remains, because otherwise there would be nothing left of 'me.'" There are days when I still fear this to be true. I become so grieved over losing any remaining identity of "Anthony," that I miss the wonder of Christ in me. But He does not empty us for the sake of some Zen self-dismissal; He does so to fill us with His Spirit, so that we might showcase His grand production!
I tire of feeling like nothing while dismissing Him who is everything. It is much less about who I am not than who HE IS. John the Baptist's vow to become less is only wise in that he allows Christ to become greater. What a fool I become when I fall face down, intending humility, but never look to the heavens for His magnificence! To conclude:
So often we think that everything begins when we step through the door. We think the project happened because we had a brilliant idea, and are convinced that the mission was accomplished because we chose to participate. But things don't start when we have a "vision," or we think of a new way of doing things, choose to act, have a burst of creative inspiration, give, or pray. God's story is the already-in-motion story, a story that was happening just fine before we arrived and is going to go on just fine with or without you and me.
That's why we should wake up each day on the lookout for the Story of God, constantly thinking to ourselves, "God is already here. What is He up to?" (p. 108)
From i am not but i know I AM
Few reminders are necessary to remind me what I'm not. I've experienced too much embarrassment and failure to conclude that I'm big stuff. My greater struggle is attempting to understand why He bothers including me at all, as if the "me" is still the determining factor. He must continually remind me that His plan does not hinge on my allegiance, and that His wonderful grace allows the willing to share a scene with the Famous One. He sets His mind on the demonstration of His glory, and we are an act in the demonstration. Giglio continues:
Just because we agree that God is bigger than our ability to comprehend doesn't mean that we automatically love and trust Him. And many, even among Christ's followers, don't. Not really. They don't trust His intentions, His reliability, His sensitivity to their needs, His timing. As you'd expect, then, they're reluctant to let go of their own story -- no matter how small, self-focused, or unrewarding -- to be a part of His. (p. 139)
This hits a bit closer to home. I once journaled, "If God has stripped me of the delight in everything the world desires, it seems that I cling to the bag of bones that remains, because otherwise there would be nothing left of 'me.'" There are days when I still fear this to be true. I become so grieved over losing any remaining identity of "Anthony," that I miss the wonder of Christ in me. But He does not empty us for the sake of some Zen self-dismissal; He does so to fill us with His Spirit, so that we might showcase His grand production!
I tire of feeling like nothing while dismissing Him who is everything. It is much less about who I am not than who HE IS. John the Baptist's vow to become less is only wise in that he allows Christ to become greater. What a fool I become when I fall face down, intending humility, but never look to the heavens for His magnificence! To conclude:
And God is determined that the story will remain about Him, concluding with the unending applause of heaven. His purposed preoccupation with His glory is a river that no man can tame, a sovereign tide that makes the pride-filled current of Eden, destructively massive as it is, seem like a desert trickle after a brief shower. As He did with Pharaoh, God will use the greatest pride of man to amplify His glory, insuring in the end that every life and every tongue affirms His fame (Exodus 14:17-18)
To joyfully choose to make our lives count for His renown is to join His cause and to get on board with what He is already doing with or without us. In so doing, we make sure our lives count for what matters most while enjoying for all time the very best God had to offer.
Which is Himself. (p. 166)
Monday, May 2, 2011
insensitive words
I was relaxing in my basement this afternoon, when some random chain of thoughts brought me back eleven years. Can you recall the most insensitive statement you have ever made? I can. I can pinpoint the place, time, and circumstance. And like every sin against a loved one, I can't take it back.
When I was 20, I spent the majority of my summer with three other people. Two of them had developed into close work friends over the previous couple years, the third was one of the other's little sister, recently hired. We'd jump from the grocery world to one another's homes; we attended graduation parties together, ate meals at Hacienda together, watched the 4th of July fireworks together, and played an astronomical number of NHL '99 games...together.
My male friends enjoyed teasing me because of the number of younger girls that thought I was the epitome of the perfect man. It was a greater deal more frustrating for me, and a bit of a sore spot. My friend's sister was no exception in that she shadowed me regularly at work, to the point that my dad embarrassed me about it when he came to the store. She didn't mean any harm, and I don't think that she had any kind of crush on me; she just found me to be safe and refreshingly different, and I made her laugh.
One night after returning from an outing, the four of us were sitting in the car when my mouth moved before I processed what was being said. I had compared my younger friend with another female co-worker, as if to suggest that she should become more like her. My comment wasn't overtly crude, but I inadvertently told her that she wasn't good enough. As soon as I said it, I knew it was wrong, and I knew that I couldn't take it back. She grew quiet; I tried to play it off like a joke, but it wasn't funny in the least.
A couple days later at work, I realized the depth of my foolishness. She worked alongside me as usual, but there was a discernable barrier between the two of us, and I asked if she was still mad at me. She tactfully explained that she had built me up to be something perfect, and this one sentence had soured her impression. Trying my best to salve the wound with human wisdom, I told her that maybe it was for the best; that I was not perfect and that it wouldn't have been good for her to view me as such.
I don't harbor guilt from this event, but it's hard not to feel some regret. I continued to be friends with her for another couple years before being separated by geography, and while she continued to come to me for advice, I knew that I had tarnished something that she needed to believe. She needed to hope that a man could live and speak with more integrity than the other boys that she knew from work, school, and home. And my one statement robbed her of an innocence that would have served her well.
I believe that God reminds me of this occasionally, because He knows how damaging my mouth can be to my testimony. I convince myself that I can say something because it is funny or holds an element of truth, but words that lack love have the power to create irreparable harm. When my flesh chides me for being less likable than I once was, it is a good reminder that my "charming self" was as hurtful as he was exciting.
When I was 20, I spent the majority of my summer with three other people. Two of them had developed into close work friends over the previous couple years, the third was one of the other's little sister, recently hired. We'd jump from the grocery world to one another's homes; we attended graduation parties together, ate meals at Hacienda together, watched the 4th of July fireworks together, and played an astronomical number of NHL '99 games...together.
My male friends enjoyed teasing me because of the number of younger girls that thought I was the epitome of the perfect man. It was a greater deal more frustrating for me, and a bit of a sore spot. My friend's sister was no exception in that she shadowed me regularly at work, to the point that my dad embarrassed me about it when he came to the store. She didn't mean any harm, and I don't think that she had any kind of crush on me; she just found me to be safe and refreshingly different, and I made her laugh.
One night after returning from an outing, the four of us were sitting in the car when my mouth moved before I processed what was being said. I had compared my younger friend with another female co-worker, as if to suggest that she should become more like her. My comment wasn't overtly crude, but I inadvertently told her that she wasn't good enough. As soon as I said it, I knew it was wrong, and I knew that I couldn't take it back. She grew quiet; I tried to play it off like a joke, but it wasn't funny in the least.
A couple days later at work, I realized the depth of my foolishness. She worked alongside me as usual, but there was a discernable barrier between the two of us, and I asked if she was still mad at me. She tactfully explained that she had built me up to be something perfect, and this one sentence had soured her impression. Trying my best to salve the wound with human wisdom, I told her that maybe it was for the best; that I was not perfect and that it wouldn't have been good for her to view me as such.
I don't harbor guilt from this event, but it's hard not to feel some regret. I continued to be friends with her for another couple years before being separated by geography, and while she continued to come to me for advice, I knew that I had tarnished something that she needed to believe. She needed to hope that a man could live and speak with more integrity than the other boys that she knew from work, school, and home. And my one statement robbed her of an innocence that would have served her well.
I believe that God reminds me of this occasionally, because He knows how damaging my mouth can be to my testimony. I convince myself that I can say something because it is funny or holds an element of truth, but words that lack love have the power to create irreparable harm. When my flesh chides me for being less likable than I once was, it is a good reminder that my "charming self" was as hurtful as he was exciting.
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