Hope

(This was first posted to my Instagram and Facebook pages.)

I wonder what Instagram or Facebook would look like if we only posted photos of the moments in our lives when we’re not accomplishing something. While it makes sense to think that viewing the success of others should be inspiring or motivating, we instead see spikes in cynicism, depression and hopelessness directly connected to engagement with social media. Every time we see our friends or those we admire celebrating accomplishments and success it becomes nearly impossible to refrain from comparing that with our own life. Perhaps it’s even subconscious, a little bit out of our realm of awareness. But the crazy thing is how drawn we are to it, almost to the point of obsession. As if we can vicariously experience the sense of value that comes with their achievement.

What we miss is that value is inherent. Worthiness is built in. Success does not add beauty to the priceless treasure we already are. We cannot earn our way to freedom. And we all know that we’re searching for some sort of freedom. Freedom from feeling less accomplished, less appreciated, less successful, less beautiful, less motivating, less inspiring, less, less…. a word that, by definition, reinforces comparison. We engage because we think that watching success will build hope in our hearts. That someone will have the answer we’ve been looking for to free us from the weakness we despise in ourselves.

We’ve believed that lie that our worth is a direct result of what we do. That what makes us valuable in this world is the performance we bring to the table. That validation for a job well done is the life that flows through our veins. That your likes and comments on this post solidify my position as a contributor of value in this world.

You are valuable to the One who made you. You have a Creator who considers you – you, who you are – to be of worth to him. That fact that you have been created, that you are alive, implies purpose. You were made to be loved. Not by your network because of your success and hard work, but by your Creator, God, because of his success and work for you through Jesus. Find your value in what’s already been done, and let go of your search for hope.

Leading, not Pushing

You can learn how to lead well in some very unexpected circumstances.

A little background first. I grew up in a very conservative church environment with an emphasis on pastoral authority. It wasn’t a cult by any means, but from the outside you might recognize some cultish tendencies. To some members, the pastor’s interpretation of Scripture was generally viewed as right because he said so, and those who disagreed would be seen as dissenters. There was some room for discussion, and others were allowed to teach at times, but the rule was that all ideas were vetted through the pastor. He was the final authority in church matters. Ideas about anything from doctrine to the color of the carpet; from service schedule to plants in the foyer.

Others may have had a different experience in a similar environment, but what I took away was a strong distaste for authoritarianism in the church. This has been an underlying fear of mine since following the call into ministry: that I would succumb to the love of power and pride as a leader in the church. Four years in and the temptation is ever present, and likely my past experience is the grace and blessing that keeps me aware of it. 

I have found that holding the gift of teaching too tightly leads to a lack of trust in others, poor listening skills, and over-developed speaking skills. The expectation we can sometimes have is that we are called to teach every single person who crosses our path. (The gift has become our identity.) This can lead to an overbearing, impersonal, distant persona. People will view us as above instead of among, because, in our hearts, we’ve believed this premise, too. 

Jesus says something else: Matt 22:25-28; Matt 23, et al.

I have found that personally investing in the individual lives of those I’m called to minister to has done more to teach me about leadership than a hundred sermons preached to an audience. Being vulnerable has taught me to see myself in them. The Spirit has made me aware of my weakness through the weakness of others. As I seek to be grasped more and more by the love of God for me, his love for others through me grows and my mind and heart are transformed to honor them above myself. I’m not good at this, mind you. Submitting to love is death for the flesh. But there is hope for me yet.

Living and Dying

I feel like I am simultaneously living and dying.

These past few weeks have been hectic in our house, and not just because of the holidays. Nearly every day for a week I’ve had many moments where I’ve felt both incredible stress to the point of tears, along with incredible joy and peace in walking with Jesus. I wonder if this is the juxtaposition of the life of a disciple. I know that in the past I’ve always considered these feelings mutually exclusive, but perhaps it’s not that simple.

Here’s what’s true: loving others in the abstract is simple, easy, and satisfying to a point. 

Actually loving others is frustrating, offensive, and totally fulfilling. Actually loving the sick, broken, dirty, and selfish is annoying, depriving, and completely worth it. Actually walking the path of Jesus is sacrifice, rejection, suffering, loneliness, hardship, temptation, death. And absolutely priceless.

Thus I find myself both living and dying in the same moment. I find myself possessing a treasure I only ever dreamed of. I find myself seeing, feeling, and walking with Jesus – Jesus, the person.

Because there’s no such thing as “enough faith” for anything. None of us have enough. But we have Jesus. He says, Walk with me and be filled. Not just satisfied, but filled

You’ll never know him better by watching him walk by. Get up and go with Jesus. He’s the treasure you seek.

But If Any Man Love God…

…the same is known of him. 1 Cor. 8:3 (1-3)

I don’t want to be known as a man with vast understanding or knowledge of Scripture. I don’t want to be known as a great theologian or scholar, or even a good preacher. I don’t want to be called a “good Christian.” 

I just want it to be known that I love God, and because of the great love with which he loves me, I love my neighbor. 

In fact, I so want the call of love to drown the sound of my own name, that only Jesus is heard. Father, help me.

Gift of Service

In essence, all gifts God gives to the church are gifts of service to his body.  We are servants first to God, and then to one another; rather, we are servants to God by serving one another.  The primary question, then, is this: How does my gift reflect the service of Jesus to me?

Jesus served us through weakness.  He became weak by taking on humanity, by becoming human.  He suffered my weakness through accepting temptation in his flesh.  He was literally born into sin as I was, suffered the limitations of being flesh and bone, and allowed himself to be made weak to the point of death so that we could live in the strength of his resurrected Spirit.  He learned obedience by the things which he suffered, and he grew in faith and trust toward his Father.  He walked in the fear of the Lord, and gave himself fully into his hands.

My spiritual growth is not about getting better and better at not sinning.  It should be a realization that apart from his creative work in me I am most wretched, and more wretched than I first imagined.  It should be a daily renewal of the realization that I need the salvation Jesus gave me through his sacrifice.  I should be constantly and consistently amazed at what Jesus had to forgive and overcome to give it.  With this in mind, I am never in a position of earned “lordship” over the flock, but should remember that the gift given for service to his body is a token of grace, totally undeserved by me.

God intends for his greatest gifts to be given through apparent weakness.

We are always to recognize our weakness so as to need his strength.  We want Jesus to be seen, not our efforts to be Christ-like.  If Jesus is seen his work will be obvious without any promotional help from us.  So I am free to serve according to the measure of grace given to me, and able to serve in whatever capacity he wills to be of greatest benefit to the body, event to the point of giving up any position and all perceived earthly influence.  Jesus ultimately gave up his position and influence as a teacher and preacher to serve all of humanity according to the will of the Father – through weakness – and gained a position and influence he would never have otherwise achieved.  And if the way of service is through weakness, then I should not be surprised that if through my failures God witnesses of his strength to the community around me.  Further, he will allow me to fail in order to brighten the light through my humble reliance on his grace and truth.  And perhaps he may someday ask me to step down from a leadership position for a new way to serve his body, and so long as my identity is not rooted in what I do for God, but rather in who I am in him, I will be open to his calling.

A Question of Politics

This will be simple and straight to the point.

I have not discovered the intersection between the gospel and politics. In other words, how does the Good News inform my perspective regarding politics?

Currently, I do not participate in campaigning, voting, or even intentionally keeping up with what’s happening. I believe I find scriptural reasons for this position, but not necessarily a demand for a Christian to be as I am. I strive to see the world through the lens of Jesus and the gospel, and so I don’t make a distinction between sacred and secular, practical and spiritual. But I don’t feel quite settled on the question, and I’m okay with that.

That said, I would love to hear the community’s thoughts on this subject. What has informed the position you take? How does Jesus lead you into politics, or out of it?

Pondering the Path of Life

“Lest thou shouldst ponder the path of life, her ways are movable, that thou canst not know them.” Proverbs 5:6

Once you see sin in its true, naked form, you gain a knowledge of it that leads to a firm belief in its destructive nature.  This is part of what motivates you to cast off the work of darkness, to repent, and to be renewed in praise and thanksgiving for forgiveness and grace.

And then it moves.

Sin seems to move into a new light, giving us a new perspective that needs to be learned afresh.  It seems to have a new face on, with new tricks that allure us.  This is because sin’s ultimate object is not simply to lure you to commit a wrong action.  No, ultimately sin want you to focus on itself to the exclusion of everything else.

Sin’s object is not to tempt you to do wrong, but to keep your eyes off of Life in Jesus.

Sin constantly finds new ways to be attractive, to justify lust, to deceive us about its consequences; these are new ways it must be resisted, ignored, and reckoned powerless.  Sin does not want you to ponder the path of life (faith in the finished work of God in Christ) but rather ponder how YOU must defeat it along your path.  The truth is, though, that if we’re on a path of fighting guilt and condemnation for our weakness and failure, we’re not on the path of life. We’ve strayed onto sin’s path, where it controls our beliefs about who we are, and where we forget who God is. We’ve actually made the mistake of worshiping sin.

What?!

That’s a fantastical thing to say, I know. But what would you describe a person as doing if you saw them being controlled physically, emotionally and mentally by something outside of themselves? What if they were doing what this thing wanted, feeling good or bad about their attachment to or detachment from it, and thinking in a way that was more like the thing than their own individuality?  Another proverb puts it this way: “He that is slow to wrath is of great understanding: but he that is hasty of spirit exalteth folly.” (Proverbs 14:29)  If the circumstances dictate our response, rather than the Spirit within us, we’ve literally “exalted” that temptation to sin.  Lust conceived sin in that moment and we worshiped at the altar of sin.

Jesus has freed us from sin’s power, from the eternal consequences of its destruction, and from our desire to seek satisfaction in it.  That work is all done – it is finished.  We no longer need to have anything to do with it.  When sin asks you to look at and focus on it, remember that we have Someone far better and more glorious to behold who has defeated sin in all its ugliness, and has given YOU the Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead.  We don’t have to defeat the sin in our path, or in our flesh.  In Jesus we rise above it.

Going Deeper

“And I’m not sure if I want to go as deep as I think I need to go.”

Read the above statement on a blog I follow, and I totally identify with it.  The writer is a pastor seeking to lead a group of God’s people to be more mission-minded.  His struggles are probably typical of what you’d find in an established denominational church: tradition, apathy, stubbornness… you name it.  But regardless of the context in which we find ourselves, the sentiment remains the same.  Jesus calls us to death.  That’s pretty darn deep.  And it’s hard sometimes.

I will take advantage of the relative anonymity of the internet here, and confess to a weakness for pornography.  I suppose though, that since my wife knows, as well as my church family, there is no need to worry who else knows.  In fact, “worry” is exactly what I want to talk about.

It is very difficult for me to balance the belief that I bear no shame for my sin due to Christ’s substitutionary atonement (resulting in freedom from the condemnation of the law) with hating the pain and destruction my sin causes.  I mean, it’s one thing to preach the gospel, and another to believe it when you really, really need to.  Because here’s the thing: if my shame is gone and I’ve been made free, then why should I care who knows what’s in the depths of my sinful flesh?  I stand redeemed, justified, sanctified and righteous before my God because of my Savior, and that, my friend, is amazing grace.  See, I know this.  But my wife is wonderful, beautiful, loving, kind and forgiving and I can’t stand seeing her struggle with the insecurity I spawn by my sin.  I’m strongly tempted to feel ashamed of myself even as I write this.

There is a truth about this, though, that makes me sound (and even feel) insensitive to women, and especially to wives.  And that is that she should not feel insecure because of my actions.  I know, how callous of me.  But let’s be real.  This is not an accusation against or condemnation of her, but it is an admission of my helplessness.  If my hope is not in my actions to grant me favor, love and blessing from God, then her hope cannot be in my actions either.  I will never love her purely, never truly give her all of myself, never measure up to the standard of Jesus’ loyal, selfless, sacrificial love for all of us.  How can I?  I used to demand perfection in order to rid myself of this filthy desire, but that was until Jesus showed himself alive to me and opened my eyes to the completeness and sufficiency of the gospel.  I have failed, and I will fail again. You can’t count on me, and neither can she.  Not ultimately.  If I become an ultimate thing to her, I become a god to her.  By the same token, if my shame is wrapped up in my reaction to how she feels about me when I sin, then she has become an ultimate thing to me as well – I’m counting on her to be a source of what only Jesus can give me.  My security and her security is real by virtue of having been sealed in the Body of Jesus by the Spirit.  Only he is forever faithful.

But she is hurt and I feel shame because we both need the gospel.  We both need Jesus every day to remind us of who he is, what he’s done and who we are because of it.  And I hate that it’s this way, that we can’t learn this once and finally and move on.  But I also love that he allows our weakness to remind us of how beautiful and downright tenacious his grace is.  I’m a paradox.  And it’s the best life I can imagine.

So I need Jesus’ love.  I need Jesus to love my wife through me, because then and only then will she have confidence in the only source of faithful love.  She will see that I have died to self so that I might live to God.  She will recognize that the love she feels could not simply have been conjured out of my own heart and mind, but it comes straight from the heart of her Savior, her Healer, her Friend.  I want to be used by him to love my wife and show her in some small way the love of the Father for his daughter.  He will never hurt her, leave or forsake her.  He will stick closer to her than I ever can by myself.

Jesus, thank you for taking my shame.  Thank you for being my hope.  Thank you for my wife.  Help me submit to your love for her in me.  Amen.

 

Read further: Good News for Us Struggling with Pornography