The Necessity of Theology

As I pursue specific growth towards leadership in ministry, I've wondered about the true benefits of seminary. If God chooses the foolish to shame the wise; if His wisdom, wiser than that of men and is folly in their eyes; if knowledge puffs up; if Paul comes without eloquence or persuasion; if there is no end to the writing of books, and all is vanity- would I be better off learning to love, and to serve, and to grow in personal worship and devotion?

It's a tempting thought, to live simply and believe simply and believe then that the Lord will simply use my leadership. But one cannot avoid the role that formal education played in the writing of the New Testament. Nor can we avoid the highly technical studies of the nature of God and of man in scripture.  Extensive effort is put into developing systematic theologies (organized, complementary beliefs which tie Christianity together coherently), and Jesus Himself goes to great pains in 'theological' descriptions of things to His students, the disciples (the kingdom of God, the nature of God, the nature of man, faith, love, and the law- these are some of His favorites).

Formal knowledge and instruction, then, cannot be excluded from the faith of a Christian.  There are things which we must strive to understand, which we must explain and study and comprehend and instruct.  Obviously, knowledge without love is worthless- but knowledge with love is a gift of God, and part of the growth of the believer.

Practically, the need for theological training can be seen in the pastoral implications of poor theology.  Say someone comes to you distressed. Their uncle is sick and they don't know what to do.  Pray for them, you say.  Lay hands on them and pray for their healing, like Jesus did.

Yeah, but He was God, they respond.  How can I pray for anyone?

This is a common conversation, with massive implications depending on the response. The distressed friend is correct in their recognition that Jesus is God, and correct in their recognition that they are not.  However, on one crucial point their theology misses the mark, and therefore changes the way they live: the nature of the incarnation is different than they believe.

'Incarnation' is the term we use to describe God-becoming-Man. Literally, the word means 'the process of taking on flesh', of the spiritual becoming physical. Most Christians would agree that Jesus was God, and most would claim that He became man- but how we think about this transformation, this incarnation, has massive repercussions. If we believe that God became man, but kept His 'super powers', then we can't say that that He really understands what it's like to be human- He always had an out.   We also can't 'follow His example' if He had something that we don't.

But if we understand the incarnation to mean the full submission of the nature of God to the nature of Man (not just a physical limitation, but a full limitation), then we can trust Jesus as one of us, one who understands us, and we can follow his example as one who lives fully in the kingdom of God as we can live.  If we understand that His power came not from His nature as the second Person of the Trinity, but by the power of the Holy Spirit.  This same Spirit is promised to us by Jesus himself, and therefore we too can pray for and expect healing to occur in those around us.

All that to say, poor theology can be incredibly damaging, and while not all need to be theologians of academic rigor, it is a right and wise and even loving thing to study and develop a thoughtful, systematic, humbly-submitted theology.

Theology, the study and knowledge of God, if done in love for Him and for each other*, is a good and beneficial thing.  True knowledge of God results in hope, and healing, and joy, as well as conviction, obedience, and worship.  And thus, as I pursue formal ministry, I am more and more convinced of my need to study formally, to study scripture, to study the church, and to study our Lord.  How that will come to pass, I am as of yet unsure.  But I am very excited at the prospect of a theological education, and would love your prayers as I seek it out.


---

* Contrast this 'knowledge in love' with knowledge to prove ourselves, or knowledge to manipulate God with our formulas, or to cling to control by our understanding- just a few ways we can make learning an idol, or twist it to our own intentions.

Gratitude, Growth, Explanation, and Momentum

First, I want to thank you, my dear reader, for your encouragement and prodding. I love to write, and I love to share; I've seen the Lord's hand in it time and time again. Some of you have seen His hand in my writing, and by that I am floored, humbled. Nothing that I have done, or could ever do, could avail me of that honor; and yet it has been given to me. Grace on grace it is, to be both a son and a minister of the kingdom. He lets me hold His glory in my hands.

As I work out my faith, wrestling with the Lord, I find myself actively pursuing self-understanding as a son of God, and equipping in my calling as a minister*. The pursuits of my own growth and the growth of my community, have consumed much of my time of late (hence the lack of writing). But they have provided no less introspective ponderings than life months ago. Much thought has been born in crisis and need, much in community and challenge and joy. And much more of my growth in character and understanding has occurred within my relationship with Lizzy, and has been deeply personal, and private, at least for now. I'm learning anew the blessedness of pondering things in my heart and not on paper, and the depth of wisdom needed to discern what to share when in order to best honor each other and the Lord's continued work in us. And much have I found that I will not share now, and perhaps will never share- there are secrets which the Lord leaves us to treasure**. But nonetheless, many thoughts have been coalescing, and I'm excited to share some of them with you. Thank you for your persistence, and your patience. I pray my writing will be a boon to us both, honoring God and calling us to Him in worship, obedience, and love.


----

* Generally, we are all called to be priests in the kingdom of God, and so I seek general equipping, as I seek to equip those around me (particularly in my LifeGroup) towards the same calling. Yet I also feel called to particular ministry, that of pastoring a community of some sort, and so am pursuing equipping specifically in that direction.

** Revelation 2:17. I have found so much joy in sharing what the Lord gives me. But sometimes it does seem that the joy is not always in the sharing, but sometimes is in the keeping, treasuring up in our hearts, like Mary, all these things which the Lord is showing us. Perhaps He intends us to share them eventually, but so great is His love for each of us, that He would share something as finite, personal, and private with us as a new name.

My Reaction to Pride in Church Leadership

A confession.

I've always intended to be a leader to make a change, to start a movement, to shift the church from stagnancy to exponential growth.  I have an awareness of inconsistencies, a personal perfectionism, and a critical eye towards churchy things, and it somewhat fuels my desire to do something different.  Better.

And the thing I hate most is pride, particularly in leaders.  In young Christians, I expect it.  In folks who don't know the Lord, I don't think twice about it.  It's still ugly, still repugnant.  But expected.

In church leaders, though, I absolutely hate it.  They should know better.  Christian leaders never have any right to gloat over anything*.  Church planters that rattle off statistics in a 'we've done this right' fashion, and 'you should all learn from us' reject grace.  Because grace has nothing to do with what we do right, nor our statistics.  Grace is a gift.  Salvation is a gift.  The church is a gift.  Transformation, sanctification, are gifts.  And they only happen by the work of the Spirit.

Truth be told, a lot of people are doing a whole lot of really good things.  And we all have a ton to learn from each other here.  But the little we do know about how to do church, even if it is good and true, is a gift.  Nothing more.  And therefore it should be held with humility.  We are honored by what we hold, not by what we do.  We are honored by what we have been given, in a place and a name and a calling, not by what we have done with them.

Unfortunately, my reaction to seeing this pride in other leaders is nearly always to sink into pride myself.  I become cocky, arrogant, proud.  You know how to do church?  You know how to do small groups, how to teach, how to think rightly?  Well, I can find your flaws.  I can biblically challenge your presuppositions.  I can shoot you down.  If nothing else, I'm not as prideful as you are, which has got to count for something.

And immediately I become proud.  Smug.

The past few months have been filled with me seeing problems in the church universal.  Seeing things that are wrong, or aren't working- mainly things that just don't feel right even if I can't put my finger on just why.  And at times I've been quite frustrated, and often arrogant.

However, the past few months have also been filled with me seeing problems in myself as I engage in the church.  I don't really know how to lead a lifegroup well.  I don't really know how to teach.  How to be both organic and organized, systematic and Spirit-led.  And I really feel like I've come up short.  Which slams my arrogance into insecurity.

The truth is, the truth I have to keep telling myself, is that no matter how many people have told me that I am something special, that I am meant for great things, and that I should be proud, and no matter how much I can critique or deconstruct leaders around me- I really have nothing but what God has given me, in creation, redemption, and the present indwelling of the Spirit.  And no matter how well trained I might be, well studied, well pedigreed, if God should choose not to act, I would have no meaningful success, no worthwhile endeavors.  I could change no heart by my work, not even my own.

Which would lead me to despair, were it not for grace already supplied in full.  Even so, despair lingers close.  And so, when I consider the church, and my role in it, I must begin with the gospel, lest despair wrap me up and tie me down.  And this is the gospel to my heart: it does not matter at all what I do, save what He has done.  All program, all theology, all systems, all spontaneity- all is filthy rags in comparison.

And so no one can be proud, certainly not I.  Church 'works' only by the grace of the Spirit.  It exists by that same grace.  And so for it we must pray, work, strive, study, dialogue.  But, I pray, in humility, that we might be the church of a gracious Lord instead of a church of self-confidence.

-----

*  I honestly think pride ought to be eradicated from positive Christian vocabulary.  Now, to take joy in something, good.  To be grateful and honor something, even better.  To worship God because of what He is doing in you, through you, around you?  Perhaps out true purpose.  But to be proud of ourselves?  Honestly, the feeling that accompanies 'to be proud' is the feeling of 'receiving honor' from something.  'I am proud of my son,'** literally means 'my son gains me honor', honor which can only be gained if I (the parent) had an extensive role in what the son has become.  Honestly, our role in creating change and formation in the lives of those around us is passive at best, merely as conduits of God's grace and presence.  Every power that we have 'of our own strength' is but a gift remaining from the original image of God in which we were made.  And every continuing good that comes of our hands is by grace alone, the grace that the Lord poured onto His children when He did not obliterate them (as they willed) in the removal of His presence, but instead remained engaged in their lives, desiring the restoration of all that is good.  Therefore, pride is never the appropriate response.  Honor, gratitude, joy, celebration, definitely.  The key difference: pride centers around you, or at best around them.  Honor, gratitude, etc., centers around Him, and draws us to worship.  We ought to be deeply glad for others, and deeply honored to have been used in the process.  But again, humbled, not lifted up.

** Footnote of the footnote:  I don't think saying that you are proud of someone is a ridiculous statement.  I know what we mean when we say it, generally: that someone has done well, and we celebrate the good that has come from them.  But how much more powerful a blessing would it be to say, not 'I am so proud', or 'you have done so well', but 'The Spirit has used you so beautifully', or 'how incredibly God has made/redeemed you', or 'how beautiful you are'.  Semantics, perhaps, but as language creates culture, perhaps phrases that emphasize grace and gratitude would be good for our churches.  They would be for me.

Invited to Dinner

Hard summer, in parts. Several times I just burned out. So many challenging things, with so much pressure I place on myself, of my house, work, girlfriend, lifegroup, future. I sometimes felt like I was eternally pouring out. So many good, beautiful things, so many gifts from God. But still I grew burned out and exhausted. The very things I felt called to I deeply felt incapable of executing. And then I noticed sin creeping in. I started feeling a twinge of bitterness towards those in leadership over me, and towards those I love. Growing suspicious of particular friends, pride over others, anxiety and selfishness- all while trying to do so much good. What happened?

I was praying about it the other day, praying though my bitterness towards one friend/mentor in particular. And in discussion with one of my roommates, a thought crossed my mind. I was growing bitter largely because a great desire of my heart lay unfulfilled.  Deep down, I yearned to be invited over to dinner. I longed for someone older, wiser, someone I respect, to invite me over for dinner with their family. Someone who requires nothing, needs nothing, asks nothing from me, who is entirely stable without my presence, but still invites me in. Someone who seeks me out for the love of me, and serves me. Someone with whom to walk, to find comfort, to learn.

And the more I've thought about it, the more it's true. I long for the freedom of love that pursues me, the freedom of love that requires nothing but offers peace, rest, security, help. Love that invites me over for dinner, just to have dinner, and be with me.

And I knew something further, as soon as I recognized this unmet desire.  I knew that what I desired was exactly that which Christ offered.  Wasn't that the love of God? Inviting me to the feast of a lifetime, of an eternity? A Father that ran from the porch to me, a Son who condescended to my lowly attic room, a Spirit that applies grace over and over again onto the gaping wound of my remaining iniquity. Am I not offered that freedom? Am I not pursued for me, by a stable One who needs nothing in Himself, but Who still loves beyond reason? Am I not invited to dinner, to rest, and sit, and be safe.

I have not felt His pursuing love, in a large way, for a while now. I have not perceived His hand, nor His heart, nor His Spirit in more than little, day-by-day ways. Is it necessary to feel it? No. The Truth is not founded upon my experience. Yet I long to feel Him, to know Him, to experience His pursuit and to be fully freed therein. Like the Psalmist writes,

“As a deer pants for flowing streams,

so pants my soul for you, O God.

My soul thirsts for God,

for the living God.

When shall I come and appear before God?b

My tears have been my food

day and night,

while they say to me all the day long,

“Where is your God?””

My heart is the chief accuser in these seasons. “Where is your God?” And I respond, “I am not sure. But I know where He's been. In the garden, on the cross, in the church. At Awanita in 6^th grade, at camp in 2008, in my car talking with Joseph in 2011. He was there.” Remembrance is a great weapon of faith.

But so too is rest. Spending time sitting, drinking tea in the morning instead of rushing to get some Bible reading in before a frantic bike to the cafe to start my shift. Even biking to work instead of walking [which I sometimes do to make time to pray for folks], so that instead I have time to rest and be at peace.

I find a juxtaposition there, between doing what I am called to do and resting as I must rest. I don't know how to fit them both into a world where 'the days are evil', and time is short. But I hold to scriptures like Exodus 14:14, in which the Lord fights for His people as they rest in silence. Or like Isaiah, in which returning and rest is indeed our strength. How to fit that in to an increasingly busy schedule? I need prayer for that. Practically, I have to cut some things out. I'm learning. And I'm finding that I still often trust my abilities over the work of Jesus to make me clean and make me able. I'm preaching the gospel to myself again, as I have to do so many times. And trying to make time to sit, rest, receive- time to participate in the dinner to which I've been invited.

Life-Update

So, I've been doing a fair bit of writing lately, but not for the blog.  Alas, I apologize.  To fill you in on what I've been doing, here's an update.

I am the most recent addition to the staff at Saint Andrews in Mount Pleasant.  I am the assistant to the clergy, which is something between a secretary, a scribe, a gopher, a student, and a writer.  So far.  Today.  On my first day.  But don't worry, I'm still at Kudu part time too.  Can't give up the discount quite yet.

My Lifegroup is really exciting right now.  After a summer of inconsistent attendance and frustration from my end (no co-leader, little direction, and all amidst a big roommate transition), I have a co-leader (Andrew Yuhas), a vision (written on dry-erase boards), a few lesson plans, and the beginning of a Lifegroup leader's manual.  It's not for anyone in particular, just helping me to frame my thoughts and push them further.  But it's energizing to work on.  Oddly enough, one of my first tasks here at the main campus is to put together Lifegroup manuals for the LG leaders this side of the Cooper (river).  Maybe I can abscond with one during lunch for some light reading.

My brother and a good friend of mine bought a sailboat with me to flip (meaning, to fix up and re-sell).  She's a Catalina 22, in good shape, but needing some fiberglass work.  We hope to fix her up and spend a little time on the water before selling her in the spring, when the market is better.  But, we'll see.  If someone makes us an offer, who knows.  We're keeping the knots loose, just in case.

Questions that have been occupying my thoughts and conversations of late, and therefore may result in blog posts in the future: (in no particular order)

1-how can I date well towards marriage?

2-how can I pursue ministry as a job while doing a 'normal' job and doing 'normal' ministry on the side?

3-is seminary necessary for that which I feel called to do?

4-what makes a Lifegroup different from a church, different from a small group? Should it be?

5-how can my Lifegroup be both Spirit-led and structured?

6-how is the Spirit to be addressed in worship?  Is He to be worshipped directly? What does it mean to invite His presence to draw near, if He is already in us and primarily moves us by the gospel anyhow?

7-how does the gospel produce mission, in the most practical terms?

8-how do we move from an 'outreach project' culture to a 'life as outreach' culture, emphasizing discipleship over events as the primary means of both evangelization and growth?

9-how does one brace the interior wall of a double-walled sailboat hull to re-apply fiberglass to the outside?

10-how would Jesus respond to Syria?

11-how can we make worship songs that are easily accessible in small group settings but remain theologically rich and instructive?

12-how should I respond when I sense that something is not right in a situation or relationship but don't know what is actually making me uncomfortable?

And a few more here and there.

Some cool God moments:

1-Prayed for the gift of administration, and then was hired as the assistant to the clergy within two weeks.

2-Was meeting with Todd, discussing my desire to shift out of Kudu full-time but only if it led to greater preparation for ministry, when Steve walked in and offered me the job to work upstairs with the staff.

3-Had a long walk with Elizabeth in which we learned that, when we have not spent time with the Lord, we react in opposite ways (I get clingy, she gets defensive), ways which keep us both in check even if we're both running dry at the same time.

4-Have been incredibly encouraged by living with Andrew Yuhas, being able to discuss church theory and life group systems until all hours of the night.

Hope that's enough for now ;)

After Sin 3.2- Case Study

I had a friend who I met with regularly to talk about life and God and all things between (read: everything).  We met at a church function, and grabbed lunch soon after.  I intended to encourage some of his present pursuits, and give whatever wisdom I could to his moves towards independence from his parents.  But it quickly became clear that much something much greater lay beneath the surface.  It seemed like he was ready for independence less and less, and more and more trapped in sin and pride than I imagined.  Lunch went from a pleasant, 'let's work through some practicals of life' to 'dude, you're totally in the wrong here, and are messing everything up yourself.'  To which he responded 'yeah, I know, but I'm going to do what I want anyway.'

I was pretty confident I had lost him as a friend and brother at that point.  But, he kept answering my calls, kept wanting to hang out.  So we did, and we hung out and we talked.  And it became increasingly apparent that he had nothing in order.  His life was a mess of insecurity and manipulation.  I tried to find areas of life where things were going well for him, and frankly, none existed.  His life was falling apart, largely due to his own brokenness*.

So, I created a plan.  Clearly he needed some Jesus, some conviction, some change.  So, of course, I found a Tim Keller book I thought we could study together.  "Counterfeit Gods", I figured, hits about every major sin in my friend's life, so maybe with a book study we could discuss them all without me actually having to say 'wow, you're screwing everything up yourself'.  Which he was, he'll admit it.

But, in some excellent foresight, the Lord never let me get around to buying him a copy.  Because soon thereafter I invited him to spend the night at my house.  He rode home with me, and sitting in the car on my driveway, talking about his family issues, he said very bluntly that he had never belonged anywhere.  He never had a home, never felt loved, never felt safe.  And so I shared the gospel with him, in the language of his brokenness.  Jesus died for your sins, yeah, he knew that.  But Jesus died to be with him, to invite my friend into perfect Community, perfect Love.  Jesus died so my friend could belong.  And he was stunned.

The Lord was on his tail, and eventually caught up to him**.  He surrendered to the Lord a few months later, and his life has never been the same.  Everything, I mean everything that I had seen as sin in his life, the Lord has redeemed, transformed, taken away.  And he still struggles, sure.  But with hope, life, joy, purpose.  It still blows me away- every conversation with him encourages me to this day.  Because I saw God totally save him.  Saved.  That's the right word, much as its been overused and watered down.  From death to life.  Its amazing.  But it did not happen because I addressed the sin in his life.  I saw it, I even intended to address it.  But the Lord showed me the root of it all before I had the chance, and in applying the gospel to the root of sin (fear, insecurity, loneliness, pride), sin was conquered.

All that to say, accountability is not a matter of sin-eradication but gospel-propogation.  Find the deeper roots of surficial sins, and pull them out with a steady dose of gospel, of the love of God.  Accountability will look different in application for everyone, but it will always begin the same- Jesus, the love, wisdom, and power of God, applied to sin.  We must rely on the Spirit, in creativity and wisdom, to apply it rightly in our present circumstances.

-----

* Some of his own making, and some brought on by others,

** His coming to the Lord involved more than our one conversation.  We also took a road trip together to spend time with some friends of mine who really love the Lord.  That trip opened his eyes to the way grace-filled community works and feels, as we poured out our hearts to each other and encouraged each other in the faith.  I had a blast, and he was dead silent.  I thought he hated it- turns out he was soaking it all up.  I was actually disappointed that he and I, in the 8 hours we spent in the car together, never got around to talking about God much.  Didn't matter- the Lord was showing my friend His goodness anyhow.

After Sin 3- Accountability

It's been too long*

If true conviction is the triumph of a greater love over a former love, and true repentance is the manifest change in desire that occurs with a new, greater love- then any form of Christian accountability must be more focused on our loves than on our actions.

We the church have long encouraged something called 'accountability groups'.  In highschool they were groups of boys/men gathering to discuss sexuality and lust. And this was the basic goal: get people around you who can ask you tough questions, encourage honesty and openness, and keep you from sinning.  And so, most 'success' came from behavioral management at best, and peer pressure and shame at worst.

I never participated in a so-called accountability group, but many of my friendships took on the same dynamics.  We'd sit down once a week and talk about our problems.  We'd say how well or poorly we were doing, how long we'd held out on one sin or another, or what seemed to help.  We'd give suggestions for better environmental controls.  And we'd pray together about it.  I have friendships that continue in this format.  And frankly, they never seem as victorious and life-changing as we wish them to be.

And I think I might know why: they center on our sin.  They focus on the visible problem, thinking that in the study of sin we might find its weakness, might defeat it.  But interestingly, they do not draw us to love anything more than sin, nor to think about sin less.  Instead it trains our minds to think about evil- and how quickly then we run to it again.  In the case that such a group actually reduces the number of sins we commit, we often grow proud of our outward progress and content  in our 'growing holiness', which in fact can leave us worse that we began, as we begin to think that we are truly becoming righteous.  But we cannot earn nor gain righteousness.  We must receive it.  And so any 'righteousness' that we create with behavioral or social controls is a poor imitation of that which is truly righteous- the love of God, given in Christ.

The true work of community, then, is not managing sin's behaviors, nor leveraging a greater weight of judgement over sin.  Both magnify sin's power, and emphasize its centrality in our lives.  No, the true work of community in dealing with sin in the believer is the recentering of the believer on Christ, and fostering within him a greater love for Christ, such that faulty and weak affections for lesser things are expelled.  We must draw that heart to the love of God, in scripture, prayer, worship, and fellowship, honesty, openness, and confession*, discussing how the love of God fills every longing that we fill with lesser things, and so present the weak heart of a brother desiring grace to the Spirit that he might be changed.

----
* Going hiking to watch my friend propose, the visiting of family over the summer, renovations at Kudu, and some conversations at St. Andrews are all to blame for my hiatus.  Wouldn't trade a-one of 'em, but I've missed writing and engaging with you folks.

** 'Real Christian guys' are expected to talk openly about their problems.  'Real small groups' are expected to 'ask hard questions'  and 'dig deeper'.  But if things like honesty, openness, and confession are used to control behaviors, they will fail.  If instead they are used to show us where the gospel can be applied to our hearts, they may produce fruit in drawing us to love Jesus more than the weak things we cling to in sin.  I'll try to provide a case study in the next blog to clear things up, because this can be horribly abstract without some practical application.

After Sin 2- Israel and True Repentance

From Numbers 13-14:
Moses and the Israelites arrive at the Jordan at last and send out scouts.  These return with evidence of a fertile land, but filled with a giant, fortified enemy.  The people's hopes collapse, and they mutiny, collecting stones with which to kill Moses and his allies.  Until God intervenes.  His glory fills the tabernacle, and Israel is silenced.  He threatens the destruction of all Israel for their unbelief, and is only dissuaded by Moses' pleas for mercy.  He banishes this generation from Canaan forever.

When the people hear this, they 'mourn greatly'- and decide to do something about it.  In the morning, they strap on swords and march towards Canaan.  They will repair what they have broken, do what should have been done.  They ignore the warning of Moses and invade the promised land a day late-  and are utterly routed in battle.
--
We often try to repent in this way.  When we have sinned, we try to correct our misdeed.  We try to cover our tracks, fill in the breach, make reparations, often only to be beaten down at our attempts to do better.  But true repentance is so much richer than that.

When we meditate on the news of a loving, dying, rising God, we realize that while our sin is grievous, it is no longer condemning.  And while it may cause problems, it is no longer controlling.  The tracks of sin have been washed clean by our Lord's blood.  He has filled the breach we created.  He has repaired our relationship with the Father, re-making our peace with Him.

Which leaves us in an interesting place.  If repentance is not covering our tracks, or filling our breaches, or re-creating peace, what is it?

In the Christian Bible, 'to repent' is the most common translation of the greek word 'metanoia'.  This is an unfortunate translation*.  To repent means 'to turn around', while the literal translation of metanoia is 'to think again' or 'to change one's mind'.

In Numbers 14, Israel 'turns around'.  It changes its behavior.  It covers it's tracks, fills the breach, makes reparations.  It does what it should have done.  But God rejects their new attempts at obedience.  Why?  Because they attempt to fix themselves without Him.  And this is bound to fail, because we have a greater brokenness than our behaviors.  Israel's repentances is at best addressing symptoms (behaviors, fears, faithlessness), while the disease runs much deeper.

Jesus demonstrates this idea when he says that to hate your brother is to kill him, and to lust is to commit adultery.  He makes it clear that sin is deeper than behavior- it's a heart issue.  It's an issue of our affections, of our longings and desires.  Chiefly, sin is mislove, not misdeed; broken relationship, not broken actions.  Therefore repentance is not acting differently so much as loving differently, thinking differently, relating differently.  It is returning to relationship with the Lord in thought, desire, and conversation, and living from Him, instead of attempting to earn our way by living from ourselves.

Let's get practical.  Once you have sinned, and realize it, you must not resort to new laws and new rules.  Not at first, anyway.  Boundaries are good, but often we use them to hedge our iniquity and try to be good enough.  And when used in that way, rules only attempt to minimize something enormous- a deliberate rebellion against Love itself.  Rules cannot contain such evil, much less defeat and transform it**.

But forgiveness can.  Love that would be broken, that would take on rebellion and bear the true pain of our sin, can.  Repentance, then, is to ground your thinking, your desires, your hopes, on this Love.  It alone will change our desires, and so will change our actions.

----
*Not that I could think of a much better one-  I don't envy the translators' jobs one bit.

**Rules are useful in seeking how to love well, not to be good enough.  How do we work on our motives?  Look again at Jesus, who was good enough and has made us good enough.  We no longer need to try to reach what He has attained for us- thus we are free to love, freely.  And if rules help you love, go for it.

After Sin 1- David and True Conviction

While some hold that true Christians will never sin, it is clear biblically that sin continues in the life of the believer even after the indwelling of the Spirit*.  If, then, sin is common (read: inevitable) for us, we must hope in a boundless grace.  As Jesus tells the twelve to forgive their brother not just 7 times but 70 times 7, we understand the limitless grace of God.  As inevitable as our sin may be, equally inevitable is His redeeming and recovering outpouring of grace on His sons and daughters.  It is cause for worship, and the very spring of peace within us.  Additionally, His response to our sin also creates within us a desire to change, to be transformed and better love, better serve.

As king David sins with Bathsheba, in 2 Samuel 11-12, I recognize my own proclivity to fall, even in the best of circumstances.  He sleeps with a married woman, who becomes pregnant, and so he orders the tactical murder of her husband.  But the Lord sees, and through a prophet rebukes David.  The illegitimately conceived son dies prematurely, and a plague falls upon Israel.  David is struck with heavy conviction.  You can hear it in Psalm 51, written immediately afterwards.  'Against you, you only, have I sinned.'  His prayer moves me, because while he is saddened by what he has done, his greatest sorrow is that of broken communion with the Lord, whom he loves.  He sees that a beautiful, loving relationship has been pushed away by his very own hands, a beautiful marriage and a beautiful life lost.  And the loss of such beauty leaves him sorrowful.  Yet he hopes and trusts in the salvation of God.  He is sorry, and transformed.  He no longer desires the sin that he once desired, for he now knows the depth of its pain, the weight of its ramifications.  He has seen beneath the surface of wrong-doing, and has been awakened by the Spirit to the core of his wrong-thinking and wrong-loving.  Thus he is convicted, and thus repentance begins.**

I remember distinctly when I told a grocery-shopping companion that I could guess the life-story of one of her old friends after a brief conversation with him.  I proceeded to bluntly surmise his history, complete with emotions, sins, failures and fallouts.  In fact, I characterized him quite accurately, and was smugly proud of my precision.  But within a few minutes a sensation fell on me which was sweetly sad and beautifully disappointing all at once, a sensation I was unsure I had ever felt before.  I realized, by my companion's facial expression (and the faint whisper of the Spirit) that I had without hesitation turned a human, made in the image of God, into a shallow caricature which I could judge and critique from afar.  I had been grossly arrogant, using discernment (a gift from God) to make a man whom He loves into a dismissed silhouette, a paper story worthy of only my temporary satisfaction.  Immediately I was sorry, and had absolutely no desire to ever, ever do that again.  I was filled with a desire to view those I meet with compassion and deep empathy, to use my gifts in love and not in pride. For perhaps the first time, I truly perceived the beauty that had been lost in my sin, and thus my desires were changed.

This, I believe, is the true conviction of a believer.  The predominant emotion in it, in my experience, is an aching sadness at beauty lost, like a funeral of one deeply loved, or the moving away of a very good friend.  These are examples of a sweet sadness without fault, and indeed, the sadness of sin is different because we recognize our fault.  But the sadness is because we have trampled on beauty, not because we have broken a rule.  This allows conviction to change us into more loving creatures, instead of wrapping us in further behavioral modification.

Often after sin we are overwhelmed with shame or a sense of condemnation, overwhelmed by a renewed awareness of our failings:  we should have known better, have had greater self-control, loved God more.  And of course we should have.  All these things are certainly true, and yet we fail, as Jesus knew we would***: and His love endures.  And by His death, His separation from the Father, He has borne our sin and freed us from its ramifications.  Thus the power of shame is reallocated to Him, condemnation proclaimed over His body.  We are hence left with an emotion born not of fear and self-preservation, but of love of God and love of His beauty.  True, godly conviction, as far as I can tell, is known by this sorrow of His beauty lost, worshipful reliance on the Him for grace, and realigned desires for beauty and so to act differently.  If you experience such godly conviction, worship, for it is a merciful gift of a thing.  If you do not experience conviction as such, pray, as David prays in Psalm 51, that the Lord might renew the joy of His salvation to you.  Because it is only in the gospel, in the love of Jesus bearing our shame, that our true guilt can produce sorrow, worship, and change.

----
*  Half of the epistles are written expressly to call churches back from different sins and shortcomings.  Peter himself is corrected for a lack of integrity in his treatment of the gentiles.


** I intend to discuss this process in the next post, titled 'After Sin 2- David and True Repentance'.


*** Luke 22:32
----
Addendum:  Should you repeatedly be floored by despair and condemnation, shame and fear over sin, know then that this is not the conviction, presence, or voice of our Lord God.  These experiences in no way align with the love and mercy of a suffering, dying, crucified Savior, and therefore contradict the most explicit and complete image of God humanity has ever known.  We must then surmise that these emotions and experiences are either the self-scourging of the proud flesh, wanting to prove itself and earn its way, or the enemy seeking to tear down that which the Lord has built up.  Both voices are to be rejecting and replaced by the knowledge of the good, strong love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord, which sets us free.

Freedom of Choice

Don't even think that I'm going to get into that free-will/predestination debate.  I will have nothing to do with it today, save that my foundation contains some principles of both, principles which the really really really scrutinizing reader will fish out.  Alas, I intend to address other things.

Namely, the freedom the Christian has to make a decision without heavenly direction.

I'm always intrigued by Isaiah 30:21.  It says that a voice will tell you 'this is the way, walk in it'- but it describes the voice as following decision.  'Whether you turn to the right or to the left, you will hear a voice...'  I may be misunderstanding Hebrew grammar, but it sure appears that direction may or may not be given- but affirmation will come.  Similarly, Psalm 90:17 asks the Lord to set His favor on us, and to 'establish the works of our hands.'  It repeats the sentiment twice, as the author begs the Lord to make secure what the author has begun, seemingly without direction or certainty of success.

Similarly, in Genesis 13:17, where God gives Abraham the task of scouting out the land that his offspring would inherit, the Lord does not say to mark the borders (though that comes), nor to follow the hills and the streams.  He just says 'go, walk through the length and the breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you.'  I think of myself, as a child, loosed into the creeks behind my parent's house.   Explore.  Journey.  Discover.  There were parameters (make sure you're within earshot of the dinner bell; wear a lifejacket if you're alone)-  but in large part there was freedom.

So too does the Lord often release us.  If no direction comes, perhaps we, like the reader of Isaiah and like Abraham, have the freedom to explore.  Obviously within parameters, obviously listening for clear direction, submitting to the counsel of scripture and one's community.  But, all that aside, it does seem that the Lord sometimes offers us freedom to choose.  Seems like a bad idea to me, letting me hold the reins.  But, over it all, He is still sovereign, and can fix anything I screw up.  Nor will He let me get too far while I still fear Him (in the biblical 'reverence/awe/worship/submission' sense of the word).  He loves us too much to let something so petty in the grand scheme of things get in the way of a relationship with us.

In fact, remaining in the purgatory of indecision is often damaging to my own faith and to relationships around me, as I become increasingly agitated, anxious, and undependable as the culminating weight of a decision postponed bears me downward.  And because I can make no commitments out of indecision, many of my friends are left hanging, waiting in blindness themselves. This neither loves them, nor trusts the goodness of God, which has been so incredibly displayed on the cross.

So, if you are trapped in indecision, perhaps the word of God to you is to not freak out, and instead to make a choice.  As Augustine is reported to have said, 'love God, and do as you please.'  Because God's loving sovereignty is stronger than our decision, whatever it may be.  He remains.  Your relationship with Him remains.  The kingdom remains.  And so it's not as big a deal as you think.  If indeed it is more loving and more faith-full to act than to wait in fear, then Trust, Listen, Go.  He goes with you, regardless.

Perplexed and Faithful

Often I grow anxious when facing a decision without clear direction.  The power to choose makes me nervous enough, but worse is the idea that I should know what to do.  Why?  Because I'm a Christian.  Which means I should recognize Jesus' voice (John 10:27), and I should be directed and comforted by the Spirit.  Right?  So what if I still don't know what to do?

At my lowest moments, it makes me wonder if I know Him.  Lately, this is evident in my anxiety about the Lifegroup that I help lead on Monday nights.  I really, really want it to be more than a Bible study.  Certainly not less, but more*.

But I have no idea how to get there.

And so I spend hours thinking, writing, praying, reading, talking.  How do I move us from theory to practice?  And I just don't know.  And so I get anxious.  This is my calling as leader, in part, is it not?  Even if I lead nothing at all, shouldn't I have some sense of how to be what I think God is calling me to be, how to do what He's calling me to do?

I am so comforted by scripture.  In 2 Corinthians 4 Paul describes the struggles in his ministry.  He says he is afflicted, but not crushed; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.

But I skipped a line there.  Did you catch it?  Darrell missed it too.

Verse 8 says 'we are perplexed, but not driven to despair'.  Which is huge for me.  Because so often I feel perplexed.

The root word for 'perplexed' in Greek is translated as doubting, or unsure, and has connotations of being thrown overboard, being lost in the waves.  But not driven to despair, it says.  We may be overboard, but we're not drowning, nor giving up.

Which, I think, defends us against the crippling anxiety of self-doubt.  Because the nature of Paul as he follows the Lord is not omniscience or clairvoyance, nor supreme confidence.  Instead, the nature of the redeemed Paul is to cling to hope and reject despair.  He tells the gospel to himself, over and over.  He worships.

Often the Lord will give direct guidance or direction.  But it is not guaranteed.  And so, when He does not direct us, when we are not sure what to do- we must believe that we are not failing.  We are not lost, nor in sin.  We are existing as true believers have existed from the beginning**-  perplexed, but not despairing.  Because so great is our Redemption, that even if the worst option were chosen, Hope would remain by the strength and love of a suffering Lord.

Having offered peace to those wracked by self-condemnation by reason of indecision, my next post intends to explain the Christian's freedom of choice, and therein offer limited aid in decision-making.

-----
*I hope to address this concept in a future post as well.

**Also, see 2 Chronicles 20:12.

Kudu and the Hammering of my Pride

Questions follow us by season.  In college, you're asked your major.  At graduation, your degree, and your plans for the future.  As a young adult, I am asked, "So, what are you doing these days?"  Meaning, what's your job.

And I hate that question.  Oh, I hate it.  Because somedays being a barista makes me feel like an epic failure.  I crushed the SAT, went to a prestigious university, took a semester off, graduated with a strong GPA, and then...  entered the world of food and bev.

Truth be told, the first year at Kudu beat my pride with the consistency and precision of a pileated woodpecker.  I reeled, swayed, under new revelations of my pride, realizing how highly I thought of myself.  Sweeping and mopping the shop, I was met with a wheedling voice-  you are better than this. You worked hard for something more than this.  You deserve a better job.

And part of me truly felt that I was better than everyone around me, set on a higher plane by intelligence and purpose, and therefore by dignity.   I've attempted to kill as much of that pride as I can, offer it to the Lord as it rises again and again from the stump that remains.  I know I am no better and no worse than the doctor or the janitor; and I know that I am called to be at Kudu, for now.  But family reunions still get me down sometimes.  Cousins show me their children, and their business cards, and their portfolios.  And I show them a picture of a swan I once poured in a latte bowl.  Nope, didn't even use a toothpick.

I see my shame when I define my position.  I call myself an assistant manager (which I was called by a manager, once), or a closing manager.  I don't say barista.  Because I feel like I've let myself and my family down, though they would never say such a thing.

And I want to scream sometimes, that this is just temporary, that I don't intend to stay here, that I am bound for greater things.  And I hope that all those prove true.  Because I do feel called to different things (though perhaps not greater), and I do feel better suited for another field of work.

But my squirming and discomfort and political framings of my position belay something deep within, and give a reason for me to stay right where I am.   They demonstrate that I still find much of my value in what I do, not who I am.  I am not satisfied to make coffee and pour beer, because I find it demeaning and boring and unhealthy and financially unstable.  But were I truly satisfied in the Lord, if I trusted Him fully, with all that I am and have and do, then I would be satisfied regardless.  I wouldn't mind making coffee for sixty more years (eighty, if I follow in Memaw's worn-out shoes), nor would I mind doing hard labor or teaching in a school or driving a taxi or cleaning pools.  Because, when my joy and my self worth is in Him, my trust for the future hung on His love for me, then there is nothing to fear.  Nothing to be ashamed of.  Nothing but to work hard, to love those around me, and rest in His grace.  If repentance means 'to think newly', then I repent by rejecting my ashamed self-aggrandizement, and my arrogant assumptions of superiority, and instead meditate on the source of my true value and satisfaction.  These things come from the love I have been given in Jesus, not the position I have earned, and therefore cannot be compromised.  And when I rely on this love, cling to it, I am freed to work well, to serve well both employer and customer.  And I am freed from anxiety unto rest.  And so I am glad to work as a barista, simply because in such a position I learn humility, leadership, and service, and because I indeed work with and for beings made in the very image of God and who are loved by Him.  Any such work is therein honorable, and good.

Forgiveness

About a month ago, Lizzy had to forgive me, for the second weekend in a row, and it was miserable.  It wasn't even a big deal, and she wasn't that concerned.*  But it bothered me for days.

Sin itself is painful, and the knowledge that I had hurt her (even a little) swelled as a foreign compassion in me.  And the frequency of my need for forgiveness made me feel like an idiot.  And she had to forgive me for something I was trying to avoid [or at least knew I should avoid, and didn't].  That made me feel weak, and immature, and miserable.

But as difficult as such realizations are, receiving her forgiveness was even moreso.

Because, to receive forgiveness, I had to acknowledge that I was not the knight in shining armor I've hoped to be.  In the past, I'd excused my sins as products of a season of life, or as done in ignorance, or as mistakes.  But Elizabeth, strong and loving as she is, left no room for that.  Instead, in her grace, I suddenly saw myself broken and revealed, as I had not in years.  And I could no longer hold up the image of having it all together, nor could I fix what I had broken.  And yet our relationship was not severed, for in her peculiar grace, Lizzy bore the brokenness for me.  It is a weight that I fiercely desire to bear alone, my brokeness, and yet a weight that would crush me in proud isolation.  Her bearing of that weight, her forgiveness offered freely, chose to take on the pain of my sin so that she might continue in relationship with me*.

She turns my thoughts towards God.  Is this the nature of my sin against him, division-making and heart-wrenching, ugly in every way and self-embittering?  Is this the nature of His grace, that I must determine to simply continue in the relationship He maintains, unable to earn or make much of myself in any way, and unable to promise healing on my own?

Because indeed, Lizzy's forgiveness presents two options to me.  I must either run from relationship and the realities of sin and grace, or be forgiven and thereby continue together.  Or to frame the options within two questions- is a continued relationship worth acknowledging the reality of the pain I caused?  And am I willing to let my sin stand in the light, and that very brokenness be covered by the love of another?

Were I to run, I would find myself alone, calloused, and cruel.  I knew this, and I know it.  The only healing for my heart is in allowing those I love (God and people) to drag my sin into the light, and then to receive relationship from those I love as grace- the free, unmerited gift that it is.  But you see, this grace comes with ugly preparations, for it cannot be planted but in the overturned soil of the repentant heart.  Such is relationship with Elizabeth, and such is relationship with the Lord.

My pride and my flesh compel me to dismiss all the realities of sin and to meditate on the platitudes of self-help books and self-esteem mantras.  Yet to do so actively rejects relationship with the Lord**, for these behaviors maintain the lie that we are worthy in ourselves, and that to love us is not condescension.  But it is.  He stooped very, very low.  In sin's isolation He was broken for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities.  The weight of all our relational brokenness fell with finality upon His shoulders.  And therefore if relationship is to continue with Him, we must acknowledge that He is the bearer of our brokenness.  We cannot run from the reality of our failures and to the Lord, lest we negate His very greatest act of forgiving love.


I've never thought so much about how much I fear letting people down, but if this relationship has made anything clear (other than the beauty and loved-ness of Elizabeth), it is that very thing.  I fear disappointing, fear the eye that searches for one more worthy, one more perfect than me.  And while that is a risk with any person, I must trust.  And I can trust, and hope, only because I have received Love that is not hunting for someone better, Love that is secure and indwelling and sanctifying.  So I can dare to receive love, and potentially be hurt by my own failures or inadequacies.  Because ultimately my deepest essence, my baseline, my foundation, my heartbeat, is no longer alienation and despair, but the present love of God, whether I feel it or sense it or rejoice in it or not.  So I choose to continue in relationships, to be loved past my failure, small and large.  Because such is the love of God, and such is the love I am learning to receive, and the love in which I am coming to rejoice.  And because it is a very good thing,  I am deeply grateful for it.

----
*edited in after some confusion.  My aforementioned sin was not enormous, earth shattering, or life-altering, certainly no more than any sin is.  However, like all sin, it did separate, and did require a bridge to continue relationship.  This bridge, offered by Elizabeth's forgiveness, is by far the largest and most life-altering of things in this blog post.  If you remain concerned about the various sins in my life and how I repent and such things, know that they are topics which I am always open and vulnerable about with close friends, and topics which I am usually willing to share with anyone who asks, with very few exceptions.

**still blows my mind that relationship with her is an option at all, from the get-go.

***read that again, because I really mean it.

Prayer, 5/6/2013

Lord,

I don't know what to do.

I have reached the bottom of my pile of advice.  My wisdom has been plumbed, and the sailboat of my life has run aground in its shallows.  And I fear the tide may be waning.

I am so uncomfortable, having friends in need yet having no words to share.  There is no clarity in my mind, no weight to shift so as to dislodge the vessel.  I have been scuttled, and left with all my weight, once dispersed and spread over all the water-displacing hull, now bearing upon a small bit of wood pressed into the sandy bottom.  All the engineering of the hull, all the bracing and the framing and the curve of the pitched timbers are now frivolously miscalculated, inverted.

No longer do I cling to my understanding, no longer to my control.  No longer am I supported by my wit and purported wisdom.  My future cannot hold me, nor my past.  I cannot define myself by my sins, nor the sins of others, nor the fear of what I or they may do, though all are present and demanding.

All is displaced, all is discarded.  I can only hope in Your goodness, and your mercy.  It is sufficient.  I can only hope that I am but careened, that repairs are to be done and health to be restored.  I don't know what to do, Lord, but I rejoice in Your nearness, in Your voice.  Your pursuit of my heart, unexpected, undeserved- to this I now cling.  To this I am anchored, to this I devote myself, in study and worship and service.

Let me know Your love, Lord, however the tides may flow.  And may my heart be made new by Your workmanship, and Your love.

In Jesus' name.

Pre-Hike

Most of this blog is me talking at you.  Now, you can talk for me.  Namely, pray for me.  Making this thing reciprocal- what an idea!

I'm going on a men's hike with my church tomorrow, and I'm stoked.  Please pray for me to meet with the Lord, receive healing and joy, and to rest well in His grace, something I'm re-learning to do yet again.  I feel like I'm growing, as a dear friend used to say, but on a spiraling trajectory. I hit the same things over and over again, but with slightly greater understanding and growth.  Namely- insecurities, self-righteousness, pride, control.  And yet I give them over, or try to, again. Pray that I would let all of them go, again, in the next few days.

Pray for wisdom, discernment, and joy in Him.  I'm pumped.  Turkey Pen, here I come.

David and Shimei

King David is a personal role model of mine.  He is known as a man after God's own heart, and were that to become my epitaph, I would be deeply satisfied.

He sins horribly, but is forgiven, somehow.  He has desire for God's kingdom that is not fulfilled, yet his dreams are called good, and are righteous even if never fulfilled.  He writes poetry and music, and knows every frame, from despair to jubilation.  I suppose it's easy to relate to him, since he is presented in scripture from so many angles, and in so many places.

His leadership is one I desire to model my life after.  He is anointed and called, not for his strength or power but by grace.  He must endure years of persecution and fleeing and irrational king Saul, even after knowing His calling.  And once he becomes king, he must flee again, now from his usurping son Absalom.  His humility is undaunted, respecting even the authority of Saul (whom I would have disqualified from respect after his second attempt on my life).  When Absalom claims the throne and rides towards Jerusalem, David does not call his men to arms and prepare to defend what was his God-given place.  Instead, he slinks away, with a trail of men and women behind him.  He runs, rather than fight his own son.

Two interesting things happen here.  First, as David leaves, the priests carry out the ark before him.  If the king is to go, so will the Presence of God go with him.  But David turns to the priests and tells them to carry the ark back into the city.  And David says, "If I find favor in the eyes of the Lord, he will bring me back and let me see both it and his dwelling place.  But if he says, 'I have found no pleasure in you,' behold, here I am, let him do do me what seems good to Him."

Second, as he journeys, a man, Shimei, from the family of Saul, sees him go.  Shimei follows David, pelting him with rocks and stones, and cursing him as he goes.  He calls him a man of blood, a sinner and a thief.  Shimei yells to David that the Lord had brought this disaster upon him, and so justice was served.  One of David's servants offers to behead the man for his cursing, but David rebukes him.  He says "If he is cursing because the Lord has said to him, 'Curse David,' who then shall say, 'Why have you done so?'"  And again David said, "Leave him alone, and let him curse, for the Lord has told him to.  It may be that the Lord will look on the wrong done to me, and that the Lord will repay me with good for his cursing today."

David's humility is astonishing here.  It might even border on insecurity.  He is willing to entertain the possibility that the Lord may have finally brought justice upon him.  And if so, 'let Him do what seems good to Him.'  Astonishing.

And, he sends the very presence of God back.  He does not claim a monopoly over the revelation of the Lord.  Instead he trusts the the Lord will return to him what He deems right.  David has no need to scramble for keeps.  He hopes in the Lord.

Moreover, David does not rebuke his revilers.  He simply lets them curse him.  He knows that the love of God is greater, that redemption can turn even the darkest deeds to light.  And so he has no need for vengeance, no need to guard his reputation.  He is who he is by the Lord alone, and so the Lord alone can restore him if need be.

This is the humility of the man after God's own heart.  I desire to love and serve like him, with full abandon and trust.  Because of what Jesus has done, I can believe that all will be made well, and trust him even when my light expires.

Me, the Stone

The life of faith, for me, often feels like a skipping-stone.  You sling it out into the river, and it touches for only the briefest of moments before springing, arching back into the air, drifting, drifting, until it skips again.

There are moments, crisp, poignant, clear moments, when all I know is God.  When every bit of my experience is consumed in the present, the Word breaking in harshly, as through glass.  All pretense is shattered, and I respond reflexively.

Recent moments like that:

• Reading Ezekiel, and recognizing the shame that accompanies so great a salvation, and almost being brought to tears. A sharp, fast skip.
• Listening to the story of a coworker who shares of the early death of a sister in an automobile accident years ago.  Abrupt, and melting my awareness into a sweet, deep sadness, with a yearning for redemption.
• Realizing, in working through conflict with Lizzy, that God has committed to me so deeply as to negate the danger of my failures, past and present, and future.  A slow skip, steadily dawning, deepening, before fading away again.

Often these moments are the very things I write about here on the blog.  Perhaps my writing is the ripple produced at each brief contact.  I hope my ripples go still further, that these moments drive life and hope and peace into the world around me.

Yet, so much more of my life, day-to-day, resembles the drifting of the stone through the air.  There is a loss of gravity, of pressure.  The weightiness of life, the meaning of each moment fades away like the coffee shop music playlist- you never know that the album has ended, until it's been silent long enough to make us all feel awkward.

And so I live, often with an awkward, uncomfortable sense that this is not one of those moments.  I do not perceive contact with anything greater than myself.  I see no ripples, feel no pressure, lack proper emotion. It can be debilitating, the gaps, the dry, empty air between bits of water.  And, should I dwell on my present experience (or lack thereof), I am prone to despair, and frustration, and bitterness.

But if I choose to remember, if I look back at all the moments in which I have grazed the surface of the water, the moments when all has been compressed into certainty and clarity and purpose and hope, often I find the courage to continue.

Israel is repeatedly told to remember.  Half of the Old Testament is plagiarized, I'm confident, repeating what has already been said.  How many times must the tale of Abraham the patriarch be retold?  Or the story of Moses and the Exodus?  Must we really hear again of the conquest of the promised land, and the establishment of Israel?

Yes.  We must hear it again.  Because we are a forgetful people, quick to define ourselves by our present circumstance and not by our roots, our narratives, our stories; our skips.

Man was created in the image of an eternal God, and somehow our minds were not meant to merely consider the present.  We are to hope in the future, indeed, and also to remember the past.  Because in the past we often see most clearly the hand of God, and the Figure of redemption being indwelt within us.

And I hope, as I grow older, that the skips will become more frequent, as a stone slows near the end of it's path.  And I do look, with eager anticipation, towards the moment the stone sinks.  What a glorious day that will be.

--

Practically, I have a stack of flashcards by my bed.  When something occurs that I perceive to be His hand, I write it down.  I have dozens of healings, provisions, prophecies, words, encouragements, scriptures- the stack is roughly an inch and a half thick, and growing.  I recommend something like it for you: an Ebenezer, a system of remembrance.  The stack has been crucial, particularly on those nights I've gone to bed laden with doubt or awoken in heavy anxiety.  I also blog, to meditate on the stories of God.  And I read scripture.  Re-placing myself in the story of redemption (global and personal)- it's a wonderful means of grace.

Isaiah 54:4-8, or Easter

"Fear not, for you will not be ashamed;
be not confounded, for you will not be disgraced;
for you will forget the shame of your youth,
and the reproach of your widowhood you will remember no more.

For your Maker is your husband,
the Lord of hosts is His name;
and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer,
the God of the whole earth he is called.

For the Lord has called you like a wife deserted and grieved in spirit,
like a wife of youth when she is cast off, says your God.

For a brief moment I deserted you,
but with great compassion I will gather you.

In overflowing anger for a moment
I hid my face from you,
but with everlasting love I will have compassion on you,"
says the Lord, your Redeemer.

The act that confounded our minds and silenced our mouths for shame is the very act that empowers the words of Isaiah.  Fear not.  It is the same act which removes our confounding and our disgrace, the very act which covers our shame and clothes us with security, peace and light.

The Almighty has become our Husband, in total compassion and love.  As Boaz, He who had no compulsion to cover us has wrapped His coat around and redeemed us.

The sense of God being far off is now only fleeting.  It is temporary.  The perception of the wrath of God is not lingering, but passes overhead.  And I think these words may offer to us a glimpse of the Father's heart towards His Son, deserting for a moment's space, anger overflowing, but returning to perfect union again.  And, unfathomably, returning to a union that has made space for us.  You and I may now existing in relationship with the Maker, the Lord of hosts, the Lord of Israel, the God of the whole earth.

The joy of the resurrection is mirrored in the sunrise.  As light bursts into darkness, I am often awoken, beams piercing the dusty eastern windows in my attic room and stretching to my pillow.  Right around 8, these days, though it'll get earlier as the days lengthen.

But the sunrise occurs without me, to me.  It is an external joy in which I participate, but to which I do not in any way contribute.  Sunrise has a beauty of it's own: truly, I do not add to it.

So too the resurrection.  Were I a bystander, watching, the joy of life returning to the Son would be enough to stir my soul, to pare off my dim dreams and wonder at reality.  If the world grew dark at the crucifixion, I believe the sun rose brighter on Sunday.  I believe the earth responded to the reunion of the Father and Son, and to the reunion of flesh and spirit.  The earth shook as the stone was rolled away.  It shivered awake.  Joy had returned to walk in the garden.

And now with everlasting love the Father will meet the Son.  The deed had been done, and peace ensued.

Yet, as though watching were insufficient, we now have been invited to participate.  As the sun rises I am drawn to sing, to pray and read and cook and eat and water the seedlings on the porch.  And as the God-Man rose, the compassion that did follow the Father's wrath then followed us.  The love of a Husband, a good husband, henceforth wrapped us in light.  God, whose face was no longer covered, now pursued us.

And so there is immeasurable hope now, for those who are tempest-tossed.  Those who are afflicted, weary, ashamed, silently begging.  Peace is extended.  There is joy for those who have suffered immeasurable pain.  There is hope, for the children who have passed away, and their parents, and their brothers and their sisters.  Because the One who was lost rose again.  Redemption has come, and the whole earth rejoiced.  For truly all creation had been barren for so long.

Ezekiel 16:62-63, or Good Friday

Following a lengthy description of the infidelity of Israel, the prophet records these two verses:

I will establish my covenant with you, and you shall know that I am the Lord, that you may remember and be confounded, and never open your mouth again because of your shame, when I atone for you for all that you have done, declares the Lord God.

I stumbled across it last week, looking for a passage to read at the wedding of a good friend.  I had underlined it, presumably in my last pass through the Old Testament, yet it struck me as pointedly fresh, and cutting.  Scripture is a double-edged sword, I have found.

I almost cried, reading this, which is odd for me.  Rarely do I perceive the weight of what I read, but when I do I take notice.  I wrote the verse out on a flash card and kept it in my back pocket that day, pulling it out occasionally.  It continued to move me, largely because of the intensity of emotion it describes, and the regular lack of that same emotion within me.

We who have been raised in the church know the story of the death of Christ.  We know the time-tables of the last supper, prayer in the garden, arrest, beatings, trials, beatings, crucifixion.   And for a while there seemed an emphasis in church culture on the physical suffering of Christ.  I remember going on retreats where clips of the suffering God were shown from several different movies.  And I remember long talks by speakers stretching out the descriptions of the tortuous death that was endured by Him.  And they were shocking, and moving- but largely out of compassion, and visceral disgust.  I don't ever recall watching, or listening, and reacting with shame, or confounded silence.

We have so repeated the story that I fear many of us have forgotten its force.  This should be to us a shameful moment, as Christ was shamed for our liberty.  The physical pains were great, but the emotional suffering was likely greater.  God, bearing shame, mocked and spit upon.  But the spiritual pain was greater still.  The Son of God becoming alienated from the Father as the sins of man are driven between Them as a keenly sharpened wedge, even as the nails were driven between the bones of Jesus' arms.  I may be amiss here, but I believe the very fabric of the Trinity was torn in that moment, that separation was endured and received,  so that the veil in the temple may be torn for our reconciliation with the Father.

We ought to hear the story and cringe, not in a humanistic discomfort, but in deep, personal shame.  This is the fruit of our labor.  This is the result of our whoring after other things, our ingratitude and self-centeredness and rebellion: the suffering, dying, Lord of all.  Jesus, very God made humble man, received the wrathful payment for our actions; and so we ought to be confounded, and shamed.  By the magnitude of what has been done, we ought to be silenced.

Freedom and Constraint, or, Why I Follow Rules

Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God.  Honor everyone.  Love the brotherhood.  Fear God.  Honor the emperor.
1 Peter 2:16-17

The Christian is to be both the most free and most constrained of all persons, for both freedom and constraint are the product of love.

First, love frees.  One who is deeply loved (and is deeply aware of the fact) is not bound by introspection, nor insecurity, nor fear of failure, nor the need to produce.  One who is loved is totally freed from oneself, from pride and despair.  Thus, love casts out all fear and produces joy that is inalienable.  Love frees.

But second, love constrains.  Not by manipulation nor threat, but love constrains instead by the transformations of our affections.  That is, when we are loved deeply, and know it, we turn towards the source of that love with release and malleability.  Imagine the flower that bends to follow the sun across the sky, or the wife who curls into the arms of her husband.  Love transforms us, giving us new desires and longings (affections), and so constrains us from whence we once looked for joy and life and purpose (namely, ourselves) unto Christ, the bearer and securer of love to us.

Peter is fairly clear.  Honor everyone, love the brotherhood, honor the emperor.  This, following the mandate to live freely.  How can rule-following exist within the ultimate reign of freedom?

By challenging the very premise of the question.  Because freedom does not reign, nor do rules.  Instead, love reigns, and both our freedom and our desire to respect those around and over us are merely an outflow of that love.

When are loved, we are freed.  The more full the love, the more full our freedom within it.  Yet love also draws us in and molds us into its own character over time.  If it does not change us towards love in the end (understanding that the outward change is impossible to measure with certainty, and often is proportional to how much of our freedom in Christ's love we understand and therefore how much healing from past wounds we have undergone), we have likely not met love at all- at least not as love.

In true love we are freed to be ourselves, as we were created to be.  But freed to be ourselves as created and redeemed by God.  In Him we find that our nature is not self-serving, nor rebellious, but submitted to and serving, as Christ submitted to the Father and served us, His bride.  Jesus Himself, Son of God, suffered injustice and insult because of His great love for us.  How much more can we submit to and serve authority, even unto injustice, having been loved so sacrificially?

If we see love as license, we abuse it.  If we see love as control, we reject it.  Yet love seen as love is different, producing both freedom and constraint- and such is the love of God.

---

Addendum:

Obviously there are times in which rules must be broken.  Should authorities require rebellion against God, we can and must reject its rules.  Jesus did, by healing on the Sabbath.  The disciples did, by preaching after being instructed to preach no longer.  Even calling Jesus Lord was seen as treason: Caesar was Lord, and to call Jesus such was thought rebellious.  Yet Jesus paid the temple tax, and 'gave to Caesar what is Caesar's'.  From this we glean that even poor leadership is to be honored, according to Jesus's example, so long as it does not cause us to sin.  For another example, study David, Saul, and Absalom, and their relationships with each other.

Loving My Job

is not natural for me.

I mean, it's easy when the lines are short and tips are high and everyone's in good moods.  The combination from heaven.  But often, the lines are endless, the tips are average, and someone is having a bad day.

And often it feels like a dead end.  The managers/owners are doing a fantastic job pushing forward into new business ventures.  Their goals are to get their staff salaries, maybe even benefits.  They reward hard work and integrity.  Honestly, my bosses are great, and there is room to grow, but I still feel unfulfilled most days.  I miss thinking, fighting through theories and devising new methods of practice.  I miss writing papers, believe it or not.  Even writing about things I don't care about.

And it's taxing to serve constantly.  I spend six hours a day (or more) answering the beck and call of anyone and everyone who passes the curly sentries.  And sometimes it feels absolutely dehumanizing.  When do I get something?  Anything?  A 'how are you, really?', a thoughtful tip, a smile?  Sometimes it feels like I'm scratching the bottom of my barrel of joy, life, love.

I have kneeled in the bathroom, door locked, or in the alley behind the recycling bins, and begged for more joy, begged for a servant's heart.  Because the truth is, my Lord served unto death.  He served the petty and the foolish and the entirely self-centered, with no return and very, very little affirmation.  Usually, He was misunderstood, and His love stood alone.  So I beg, and pray, and try to reset my heart upon His love, and try to act joyful.  Sometimes it works, in that my heart is changed.  Most of the time, really.  But sometimes I just have to fight through it.

Exercising thankfulness helps, too.  Be grateful in all circumstances, He says.  Because His goodness supersedes all, and brings joy, life, hope, to all.  So I try to think about what I'm grateful for in my job.  A paycheck.  Bosses that are concerned with my welfare, and who apologize when they're wrong.  Coworkers who enjoy each other.  The ability to play worship music while I close sometimes.  Good, good music.  The chance to pray with folks.  The chance to make friends and take people sailing.  Free sun-dried Kenyan coffee, occasionally.  Dollar-off beers.

And seeking to love folks can bring life too.  Seems counter-intuitive, that to further serve a customer would give you more energy when you are totally depleted already.  But love is a deep well, deeper than the law of what I'm 'supposed to do'.

It helps me when I come to work early, too.  And stay late.  And drop by even when I'm off.  My gut reaction, when work becomes a bore, or frustrating, is to get away.  As far away as possible, for as long as possible.  Get cut, get off, get away.  But, if I'm truly to do everything as though to the Lord Himself, that's not going to cut it.  So, to spur a right attitude of service, I can come in early.  Instead of structuring my day, and thereby my heart, to avoid that to which I truly believe I am called, I can act like it's something given for me to grow in, and love in, and do well in.  I can invest in what I am called to love... and love grows.  Keller mentioned it in a sermon I listened to last week, that in relationship, when everything feels dry, enact love, and love will grow.  It is true at work, for sure.

These are some rambling thoughts on work, but have been very apparent to me of late, and worth sharing.  Most of us find ourselves oscillating between enjoying and despising our jobs- time to let the gospel level our emotions.

The Gift of Your Needs

The church needs you.  And not just because you have a particularly useful set of talents (though you do), nor just because God has made you uniquely to fill a particular role (though he has).

The church needs you, because you have needs.

I have several friends who suffer from depression, who are in despair, who see within themselves no capacity to pour out and no desire to serve.  They are trapped in themselves.  Depression is a self-centered position, entirely introspective and implosive.  I oft' times live in melancholy, and depression is never far from me.  My senior year of college was by far the darkest season of my life (thus far), and for nine or ten months I idled in depression.  Occaisionally I shifted into first or second gear, serving or worshipping or writing.  But generally, I 'rested' in fear and anxiety.  And if I'm not careful, I can slip into anxiety again, in but a moment's time.  Because, I am self-centered, self-concerned and introspective.  God is teaching me how to step out of that, how to love and worship and look outward, not inward.  But it's a slow process.  Time, the ultimate tool in the Lord's sanctifying workshop.

Smack dab in the middle of my depression, I interned at a church in Greenville.  God used my community there the push me out of my self and into gratitude.  I hated it.  But, they were right in many ways.  Though I felt nothing, I had to choose.  Though I perceived nothing, I was called to worship.  Faith in darkness: another blog, for another day.

At the end of my internship, we took a trip to the beach, and shared what we had discovered as each other's greatest strengths, our greatest gifts to the community.  I was ready to hear that, perhaps I was a great encouragement, that I had excellent discernment or wisdom.  But instead, the group almost unanimously agreed that I was the greatest single force for unity in our community.  Why?

Because I was a mess.  I cried, I groveled, I was vulnerable.  I knew that I was in a horrible state, and I laid it all out before the community.  I begged for help, I asked for advice, I complained, I whimpered in despair.  And in doing so I provided the church with an opportunity to do God's work.  They prayed with me, encouraged me, prayed without me for me.  They loved me with creativity, and they rallied around me.

And somehow, in the midst of the catastrophic spirals of my existential doubts, my weakness became a strength for the group.  My total ineptitude became a blessing to the community.  My depression strengthened the church.

This puts 1 Corinthians 12 in a different light for me.  God's strength was made perfect in my weakness.  How?  His strength was manifest, made present to both me and my community, in the work and love of my church.  And, as God used them, they were grown, and strengthened, and unified, and encouraged.

The church needed me for my needs.

When you feel least able to serve, least able to be a blessing, least able to offer anything good at all, offer your weakness.  Offer your hopelessness.  Offer your needs.  As you allow the church to minister to you, whether you feel encouraged or not, you bless the community.  For in your weakness, hopelessness, needs, God's power in the church is made perfect.  The church is refined, gifts honed, compassion deepened.  Don't waste your despair; don't be the 'noble' martyr, suffering alone.*  Counter-intuitive though it may be, keeping your troubles to yourself is a selfish thing, for it robs the church of it's work.  Let us bear one another's burdens, and so better know the ministry and nature of our God who has already borne them.  Let us offer the church the gift of our needs.

----

*The position of noble, solitary martyr has already been filled, that you might be fully incorporated into His body.  Don't cheat His body of the opportunity to serve you, for it is part of His desire in placing you within it.

Growth and Easy Answers

I long to give quick answers when group discussion births questions that I have wrestled with myself.  I want to interrupt, speak truth, and move on.  None of this dilly-dallying, let's get to the point and grow and push forward into the next thing.  In some cases I can probably answer more accurately, with scripture, than most folks in a group, simply because I've done my time on that particular issue, and have some conclusions that have been affirmed in me, in scripture and experience.  I have vision for conclusion, and so want to see it reached.

Aside from the arrogance clear in that thought process, the immediate provision of an answer holds two great faults.  First, it denies the community the opportunity to become the body of Christ to itself, and second because it removes the quickening presence of tension that drives much of our desire to pursue the Lord and His righteousness.  Thus, I am learning to not jump to share answers, but instead to press into questions.  Greenleaf talks about questions as the key to building corporate vision, and I think he's on to something.  Questions, the right ones, can best be used to build holy discomfort and spark true desire.

How often the Lord engages us with a question- Where are you? What are you doing here, Elijah? Can these bones live?  From whence came John's baptism?  Who do you say that I am?  Why do you persecute me, Saul?  Who is worthy to open the scroll?  These questions set our hearts on fire.  They reframe our thoughts, not on our experience but on the kingdom of God, with its own ethics and physics and wisdom.

Questions, by definition, lack resolution.  Our culture has trained us to reach the end as quickly and easily as possible.  Unanswered questions are bad, answers are good, all hail wikipedia.  Yet this focus on resolution denies the relational benefit of process.  Let me explain.

Think of someone lifting weights, repeating the same motion over and over.  The 'goal' is to lift the barbell from one position to another- yet the 'purpose' is not the newly-achieved height of the barbell, but what is gained in the process.  Similarly, the life of faith is not a matter of achieving ends or reaching certain points, but of relationship with the Lord.  Case in point: most evangelicals would say that eternal life is to get into heaven, but Jesus says that eternal life is to know the Father.  It is not the end result but the relationship that moves us towards the end upon which Jesus focusses.

So, I ask you the question- does the way you structure your church, your gathering, allow for relationship with the Father, or simply reaching conclusions?  Is it only about teaching truth, that people may accept and believe, or is it about engaging hearts with the heart beat of God, that they may, as Hosea writes, know and press on to know the Lord.  Know and press on to know, both.

Teaching is a massive tool in the belt of the church, absolutely.  Truth is not relative, but is universal, clearly.  But Jesus taught within experiences and often did not give the easy answers even when they existed.  He let questions sit, let theology jumble, let minds explode.  Because he was not as interested with His people assenting to doctrines as He was with nurturing His relationship with them, knowing that true relationship with the Father will produce true doctrine.

I am learning that the presence of vision does not require reaching the end, but pursuing it.  For, if faith is primarily discipleship, walking with the Lord and learning from His yoke, then it is not the conclusion that matures us, but the walking.

Or, to quote the ever-wise Ashley twins, half of the adventure is getting there.  You can thank my sisters for that one.

Serving and the Presence of God

I suppose you should know that I am dating a friend of mine*.  It has and will influence my thoughts, and my prayers, and even my perception of God; all things for which I am grateful.

We went to see a friend get baptized a few Sundays ago.  It was a beautiful moment.  He was asked who he proclaimed as Lord, and my friend practically shouted 'Jesus Christ!'.  It gave me chills.  To see, enacted, what I believe has happened internally, is a stunning thing.  Sacraments.  Still not sure what to make of them, but they are wonderful.

But the experience was not the easiest, particularly for my girlfriend.  Returning to her old church brought back hard memories, things with which she had not dealt in years.  She wrapped her arm around mine, and it seemed the slightest expression of affection, but primarily a clinging for strength.  I didn't know what troubled her, or how to respond at all, but I felt a joyful responsibility there.  I never want to be the hope to which she clings**, but I prayed that somehow I might be to her God's comforting presence.  If the Spirit dwells in me, it's not a stretch, to be manifest the love of God.  We the church are called His body, and we were created as His idols, images, representatives.  Thus my desire, strongly present but which I did not entirely understand, was a desire not to be god, but to manifest God.  I desired to comfort, to be an instrument of comfort, by connecting her to the Comforter, much as one sharing scripture with another can be the very voice of God.  Though I had no strength worth mentioning in myself, I desired her to be steadied far above the storms, and prayed that I might be a part of that grounding.

And it occurred to me that the most attractive part of a human relationship was not receiving, but serving.

Now, ye southern religious were likely taught that it is theoretically better to give than to receive.  I was.  But it had never struck me so powerfully that what I desired, my created purpose, was to serve.  To love. 

And I could not process that all at once.  While I was driving and praying about why the morning had seemed so momentous to me, the passage when Jesus washes His disciples' feet came to mind.  Meditating on that as I shopped for groceries and walked around town brought much of this to the surface.

In hearing Lizzy's struggles and fears, and submitting them to a God of strength, love, and peace, I was carried into His presence with her.  There is something about participating in what God is doing that knits me to Him.  Discipleship is similar- I often grow most deeply as I walk alongside another.  And as I saw pain, and called upon the Balm to heal, I found great joy, joy in turmoil and pain, but joy.  And I learned, just a very small bit, about being the presence of God.

---------
* Elizabeth Willingham.  She is wonderfully pretty, a phenomenal photographer, and loves well.  More than that, she is loved incredibly by God, and so is undeniably beautiful.  Way out of my league.

**  She brought this up with me after the Lord brought it up to her on a run.  Baller status.