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.
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