If you turn back a year in my journal, you will find the following question on April 14: "Will it ever be okay?"
We call Jesus the Healer of our hearts. But that question was penned nearly a year after an experience that left me feeling confused, shattered, and beyond the reach of grace. And even just a few months ago, in the wake of difficult confessions and all the remembering and reliving that comes along with that, you can find the words, "I'm so frustrated and tired." "I don't know what's going on with me." "My heart is so worn."
And somehow, even though this topic haunted the pages of my journal for nearly three years, it vanished a few months ago and hasn't returned until I wrote this declaration of victory and healing in it last night.
My journey was long, probably longer than most. Circumstances made it hard to understand and find closure; my own hypocrisy from years past followed me for much longer than I would have liked. But I am here to tell you: Jesus Chris heals broken hearts.
He does not do it quickly, certainly not as quickly as we want Him to. But I am convinced that the reason it took so long was that He was not interested in a quick fix. He wanted to take His time and deal with every little part of my heart. He wanted to deal with habits and mindsets that had influenced my path to this heartbreak. He wanted to root out deep-seeded insecurities and lingering anxieties. He didn't want me to have a good-as-new heart. He wanted me to have a new one, completely remade, more in His image than ever before.
Our culture is obsessed with quick fixes. We slap a Band-Aide on it. We turn to drinking. Drugs. Sex and relationships. Anger. Bitterness. Or the most common one, gritting our teeth and "moving on."
So when I tell you that it will take years for Jesus to heal your broken heart, I understand how that could be discouraging, even upsetting. That is why I am writing this.
I want you to know that it's worth it.
Jesus thinks it's worth it to pour years into healing you. Isn't that comforting? He's not going to hand you Advil and an ice pack and send you on your way to wait out the pain. When He deals with a specific pain, He deals with it -- so that it never gets to come back. So that you can recognize its lies when it tries to creep back in. So that you don't just have relief -- you have victory.
If your heartbreak was caused by your own actions, He wants to show you a better way. He wants to reveal the lies in your life that told you that you needed to do such-and-such. And He wants to forgive you and make your confidence in Him complete, wants to satisfy you with Him instead of whatever it is you were chasing.
If you suffered at the hands of another, He wants to remind you of who you really are. He wants to show you every tiny consequence of what happened to you and bear them all away on the cross. He wants to lead you along the difficult road to forgiveness, and He wants to love you when you cry.
It will be slow. It will probably be painful. But please believe me when I tell you it's worth it to allow Jesus Christ to restore you. Shun quick fixes. Let the ultimate Healer do His work -- slowly, thoroughly, completely, perfectly.
You can be free.
It will one day be okay.
Cling to your precious Jesus as He carries the pieces of your once-whole heart and binds them back together with His blood and tears and love.
He hasn't forgotten you. He isn't refusing to heal you.
He just knows you're worth the time.
"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." ~Psalm 147:3
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
The Day Jesus Left Me
God is perfect.
God cannot stand in the presence of sin.
I sin.
God cannot be with me when I sin.
Anyone ever follow this logic? I did. For...well, forever. I'd lie in bed, sinning up a storm (minds are nasty little betrayers sometimes), and I knew -- knew -- that God had left me. I was confident that He had to go away for a while until I'd gotten a grip. Because God cannot stand in the presence of sin, and behold! Sin! He could come back tomorrow, after I'd gone to sleep and forgotten about my little "episode" with pride or worry or lust or anger the night before.
But wait, logic began to whisper, if He can't stand in the presence of sin, then why in the world was His company of choice on earth the sinners?
And how about the fact that He's omnipresent? Doesn't thinking He flees from sin defy His very nature?
The problem, I think, is our phrasing. "God can't stand in the presence of sin." That's not a verse, by the way, I'm putting it in quotes because I've heard it said that way so many times. It is true that God cannot allow sin into His perfect, heavenly kingdom. It is true that He Himself does not sin. But do you see what we've done to God with that one little phrase? We've turned Him into a child in a PG-13 movie, covering His ears and eyes so that He won't be traumatized. We've diminished Him, made Him fearful, made it seem as though He runs and hides, shrieking and screaming whenever He sees sin.
But that's not what a king does when he sees his enemy. He doesn't sheath his sword and run away, saying, "I can't look at you! Not listening! Not listening!" No! When the king sees his enemy, he draws his sword, he fights, and he conquers.
And the same goes in our lives. When Christ sees us sinning, He doesn't get a nervous look and timidly back out of the room, saying, "See you in the morning, I need some time to center and recover from this." He draws His sword. He's ready to fight. And if He fights, He'll win.
But what if we think He's not there? He's standing, waiting to come defend us, waiting to avenge His beloved, and we're mourning His absence, wondering why it's worth it to obey a God who leaves every time we screw up. We're fighting alone. Fighting and failing. Failing and waving goodbye to Someone who's still there.
It's backwards, you see. For years, I thought that the fear of Jesus leaving every time I sinned would be enough to prevent me from messing up. Didn't help. I'd fall anyway. But everything changed the day I realized, He won't leave me, even if I fall. Suddenly I loved Him more...because the Jesus who stays to fight and defend is more loveable than the wimpy, "Sorry, gotta go" god I'd created. Suddenly I wanted to please Him more. Suddenly, I had access to the very power of Christ while fighting temptation.
Suddenly, I wasn't losing nearly as often. Fear wasn't strong enough to combat temptation. A real and powerful God with a heart to rescue and save -- well, He was.
Grace isn't Jesus forgiving you after you've muddled through a few hours without Him, long enough that you both just kinda "forgot" about what you were doing. Grace is the fact that you never fight alone, even when you fall. Grace is the fact that He doesn't leave, even when you fail Him. Grace is the fact that He not only stood in the presence of sin; He became sin. And in so doing, He defeated it -- defeated it so thoroughly that you don't have to sin anymore.
But He won't leave even if you do.
So the day Jesus left me -- it didn't exist. Even while I was pretending He wasn't there, He was living "to make intercession" for me, He who is able to save to the uttermost (Hebrews 7:25, NKJV).
God is perfect.
God cannot abide sin.
I sin.
God loves me too well, and hates sin too much, to leave me to fight it alone.
God cannot stand in the presence of sin.
I sin.
God cannot be with me when I sin.
Anyone ever follow this logic? I did. For...well, forever. I'd lie in bed, sinning up a storm (minds are nasty little betrayers sometimes), and I knew -- knew -- that God had left me. I was confident that He had to go away for a while until I'd gotten a grip. Because God cannot stand in the presence of sin, and behold! Sin! He could come back tomorrow, after I'd gone to sleep and forgotten about my little "episode" with pride or worry or lust or anger the night before.
But wait, logic began to whisper, if He can't stand in the presence of sin, then why in the world was His company of choice on earth the sinners?
And how about the fact that He's omnipresent? Doesn't thinking He flees from sin defy His very nature?
The problem, I think, is our phrasing. "God can't stand in the presence of sin." That's not a verse, by the way, I'm putting it in quotes because I've heard it said that way so many times. It is true that God cannot allow sin into His perfect, heavenly kingdom. It is true that He Himself does not sin. But do you see what we've done to God with that one little phrase? We've turned Him into a child in a PG-13 movie, covering His ears and eyes so that He won't be traumatized. We've diminished Him, made Him fearful, made it seem as though He runs and hides, shrieking and screaming whenever He sees sin.
But that's not what a king does when he sees his enemy. He doesn't sheath his sword and run away, saying, "I can't look at you! Not listening! Not listening!" No! When the king sees his enemy, he draws his sword, he fights, and he conquers.
And the same goes in our lives. When Christ sees us sinning, He doesn't get a nervous look and timidly back out of the room, saying, "See you in the morning, I need some time to center and recover from this." He draws His sword. He's ready to fight. And if He fights, He'll win.
But what if we think He's not there? He's standing, waiting to come defend us, waiting to avenge His beloved, and we're mourning His absence, wondering why it's worth it to obey a God who leaves every time we screw up. We're fighting alone. Fighting and failing. Failing and waving goodbye to Someone who's still there.
It's backwards, you see. For years, I thought that the fear of Jesus leaving every time I sinned would be enough to prevent me from messing up. Didn't help. I'd fall anyway. But everything changed the day I realized, He won't leave me, even if I fall. Suddenly I loved Him more...because the Jesus who stays to fight and defend is more loveable than the wimpy, "Sorry, gotta go" god I'd created. Suddenly I wanted to please Him more. Suddenly, I had access to the very power of Christ while fighting temptation.
Suddenly, I wasn't losing nearly as often. Fear wasn't strong enough to combat temptation. A real and powerful God with a heart to rescue and save -- well, He was.
Grace isn't Jesus forgiving you after you've muddled through a few hours without Him, long enough that you both just kinda "forgot" about what you were doing. Grace is the fact that you never fight alone, even when you fall. Grace is the fact that He doesn't leave, even when you fail Him. Grace is the fact that He not only stood in the presence of sin; He became sin. And in so doing, He defeated it -- defeated it so thoroughly that you don't have to sin anymore.
But He won't leave even if you do.
So the day Jesus left me -- it didn't exist. Even while I was pretending He wasn't there, He was living "to make intercession" for me, He who is able to save to the uttermost (Hebrews 7:25, NKJV).
God is perfect.
God cannot abide sin.
I sin.
God loves me too well, and hates sin too much, to leave me to fight it alone.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Revive
My last nights at home before returning to school from Christmas break, I read through my old journals. They started the day I turned 13, and read right up to the present. Sometimes entire months, even years, were missing from their pages. But what was there was dramatic and random and sometimes downright hilarious in its youthful confusion. I was convinced at age 13 that I would be a professional dancer and poured all my prayers into trying to convince God of the same thing. If you went to high school with me, there's probably a prayer for you in the pages of my journals, so if you need to know on what day you had a crisis, I've gotcha covered. If anyone has any idea who I had a crush on in the first half of 11th grade, please enlighten me, because I've completely forgotten the identity of this all-important "him" who is namelessly prayed for (and by "for" I mean, "for me, he needs to be mine").
There is so much contradiction and hypocrisy and earnestness and exaggeration in these pages that I can hardly read them without being torn between laughing and crying. I was a mess. I wrote so many things that I firmly and whole-heartedly believed in, wanting to live by them until the end...and mere weeks later, I was thanking God for circumstances that totally contradicted the lifestyle I had claimed to want.
My journal probably knows more about me than my mom (and she knows a lot). But Jesus knows even more. He knows each word before I pen it; He knows the words that never make it to the page, the ones engraved into my heart that I can't fully grasp enough to bring out. That's a little daunting. What's He seen? What's He thinking about? Are there sins I haven't even confessed because I can't remember them?? Woe is me!!
Perspective.
"I have seen his ways, but I will heal him; I will guide him and restore comfort to him." -Isaiah 57:18
I have seen his ways...
...but I will heal him.
I just want to breathe that in for a minute.
I have seen his ways. I know. I saw it happen. I knew it was going to happen. I cried. It was awful. I wish he hadn't done it.
But I...will...HEAL him.
Look at a little context: "For this is what the high and lofty One says -- He who lives forever, whose Name is holy: 'I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite...I have seen his ways, but I will heal him; I will guide him and restore comfort to him...Peace, peace, to those far and near.'" -Isaiah 57:15,18,19b
What??
Praise Him, for He knows and He heals. He sees and He comforts. He is holy but He dwells with the lowly. He's read my journals and He's read between the lines, and He's seen the times I've hurt myself and others and Him, and He heals.
He heals. There is no chain so strong it cannot be broken by the blood and the power of the High and Lofty One, no place so far that He cannot speak peace to you there. He loves you...He will heal you.
He healed me.
There is so much contradiction and hypocrisy and earnestness and exaggeration in these pages that I can hardly read them without being torn between laughing and crying. I was a mess. I wrote so many things that I firmly and whole-heartedly believed in, wanting to live by them until the end...and mere weeks later, I was thanking God for circumstances that totally contradicted the lifestyle I had claimed to want.
My journal probably knows more about me than my mom (and she knows a lot). But Jesus knows even more. He knows each word before I pen it; He knows the words that never make it to the page, the ones engraved into my heart that I can't fully grasp enough to bring out. That's a little daunting. What's He seen? What's He thinking about? Are there sins I haven't even confessed because I can't remember them?? Woe is me!!
Perspective.
"I have seen his ways, but I will heal him; I will guide him and restore comfort to him." -Isaiah 57:18
I have seen his ways...
...but I will heal him.
I just want to breathe that in for a minute.
I have seen his ways. I know. I saw it happen. I knew it was going to happen. I cried. It was awful. I wish he hadn't done it.
But I...will...HEAL him.
Look at a little context: "For this is what the high and lofty One says -- He who lives forever, whose Name is holy: 'I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite...I have seen his ways, but I will heal him; I will guide him and restore comfort to him...Peace, peace, to those far and near.'" -Isaiah 57:15,18,19b
What??
Praise Him, for He knows and He heals. He sees and He comforts. He is holy but He dwells with the lowly. He's read my journals and He's read between the lines, and He's seen the times I've hurt myself and others and Him, and He heals.
He heals. There is no chain so strong it cannot be broken by the blood and the power of the High and Lofty One, no place so far that He cannot speak peace to you there. He loves you...He will heal you.
He healed me.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Words For 2013
"All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be" (Psalm 139:16).
With those words washing over my racing thoughts like a gentle wave smoothing the shore, my heart slows and my breathing becomes regular.
I'll go nowhere in 2013 He hasn't already been. He has written my days. When I wake up each morning, He's already been there. He's already seen it all. He's already carried it to completion. He's already won victory. Nothing will happen to me in that day that He has not already taken complete control of. There is nothing I'll face that He hasn't faced already, that first day that He wrote my story, that first time He smiled and penned an entire life with care and compassion and mercy and love...my life. The life He died to redeem. The life He wooed and won. The life He carries and sustains and breathes life to each and every day. The life He knows, inside out, because He Himself is its Author. The life in which He will prove His glory; the life in which He will prove His faithfulness.
The days I feel in my heart the sentence of death...this will happen that I might not rely on myself, but on God, who raises the dead (2 Corinthians 1:9). He knows the way that I take (Job 23:10). When my spirit grows faint within me, He knows my way even then (Psalm 142:10). He will shield my head in the day of battle (Psalm 140:7). When I'm bruised, He will not break me; when I feel like a smoldering wick, He will not snuff me out (Isaiah 42:3). Though my world should shake, though everything I thought was firm and trustworthy and steady be removed, His unfailing love for me will not be shaken (Isaiah 54:10).
I will live in safety, and no one will make me afraid (Ezekiel 34:28).
God has promised. And He cannot lie (Titus 1:2).
And at the end of 2013 I will be able to say, as I can say of 2012: Never once did I ever walk alone.
With those words washing over my racing thoughts like a gentle wave smoothing the shore, my heart slows and my breathing becomes regular.
I'll go nowhere in 2013 He hasn't already been. He has written my days. When I wake up each morning, He's already been there. He's already seen it all. He's already carried it to completion. He's already won victory. Nothing will happen to me in that day that He has not already taken complete control of. There is nothing I'll face that He hasn't faced already, that first day that He wrote my story, that first time He smiled and penned an entire life with care and compassion and mercy and love...my life. The life He died to redeem. The life He wooed and won. The life He carries and sustains and breathes life to each and every day. The life He knows, inside out, because He Himself is its Author. The life in which He will prove His glory; the life in which He will prove His faithfulness.
The days I feel in my heart the sentence of death...this will happen that I might not rely on myself, but on God, who raises the dead (2 Corinthians 1:9). He knows the way that I take (Job 23:10). When my spirit grows faint within me, He knows my way even then (Psalm 142:10). He will shield my head in the day of battle (Psalm 140:7). When I'm bruised, He will not break me; when I feel like a smoldering wick, He will not snuff me out (Isaiah 42:3). Though my world should shake, though everything I thought was firm and trustworthy and steady be removed, His unfailing love for me will not be shaken (Isaiah 54:10).
I will live in safety, and no one will make me afraid (Ezekiel 34:28).
God has promised. And He cannot lie (Titus 1:2).
And at the end of 2013 I will be able to say, as I can say of 2012: Never once did I ever walk alone.
Monday, November 12, 2012
How to Save an Atheist
I am beginning to sympathize with atheists.
Not in belief -- no, never! A year in anatomy taught me that I have far too little faith for that.
But I am beginning to understand their persistent question: "What's the point?"
"Can't you live a worthwhile, fulfilling life without Christ?" they ask. "Why do you need Jesus to be happy? I'm perfectly happy without Him. Are you telling me that everything I do is pointless? Are you telling me I can't make the world a better place if I'm not a Christian? Why should I add Him to my life when I can benefit the world just as much on my own?"
"Well," we try to say, "you're not really happy. You just think you are."
Good try, but no one is going to buy that one. If I'm out on the weekend laughing and dancing with dozens of cool people; if I have awesome friends; if I laugh all the time; and you try to tell me I'm not really happy, I'm going to raise my eyebrows, write you off as a freak, and laugh at you later with my friends. It may be true, but try winning someone to Christ by telling them that their life is secretly miserable -- they just don't know it (poor souls!).
"But our sins are forgiven and we get to go to heaven when we die!" Great. Apart from the problem of making heaven sound appealing to someone who doesn't believe it exists, you might also try selling the idea of absolution of sins to a relativist. Let me know how that goes.
There are those drowning in the world. Those whose need is obvious, who are miserable, who are hungry for grace and meaning and life. I'm not talking about them (although their need is just as great). I'm talking about the happy atheist, the content agnostic. How do we win those who are tickled pink not to be won?
Here, I believe, is our problem: We are standing shouting, "Want what I have!" but do not appear to have anything worth having.
We proclaim divine and radical happiness -- more joy, more freedom, more life -- but don't actually appear to have more of anything. We aren't happier. We aren't freer. No wonder unbelievers question us -- we're no different from them. Actually, we're worse off, because we have to avoid all those things that are so "sinful" and "pagan" and miss out on all the fun that they get to experience. Who wants an ordinary life with the only difference being the things we aren't allowed to do as "good Christians"? Oh, and a strange belief that God became a human and died tacked on for good measure to establish our insanity.
Who in their right mind, being currently happy, would look any further into that?
Christians, this ought not be so!! Where are the Gladys Aylwards, with the power of Christ to stand in the middle of a prison and command the rioting inmates to cease? Where are the Hudson Taylors, standing up even while infected with the plague in the confidence that death would not come until his calling to China was fulfilled? Where are the Vibia Perpetuas, winning thousands to Christ by dying in the arena? And "I do not have time to tell about Gideon, Barak, Samuel and Jephthah, about David and Samuel and the prophets, who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, and gained what was promised; who shut the mouths of lions, quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword; whose weakness was turned to strength; and who became powerful in battle and routed armies."
Do our lives look like that? Because that, my friends, is what it is supposed to look like.
But we're too busy proclaiming "Christians aren't perfect, just redeemed" as an excuse to go on living sinful, self-indulgent lives with a great big "FORGIVEN" slapped across it; too busy running back to Jesus at night after running from Him in the day; too busy dealing with our own problems and vices and addictions and annoyances to experience true victory.
Have we stopped to realize that there is more to the Gospel than forgiveness? There is more to the Christian life than a few moral rules? There is more to loving Jesus than a ticket to heaven?
We aren't supposed to overcome sin because Jesus is a stick in the mud.
We're supposed to be rid of sin so that the very power of Christ can live within us.
We're supposed to be saved so that we're useful! He has promised us "newness of life," but we're looking an awful lot like the old life with a few new rules that we don't even follow all the time.
So.
What if we stopped trying to convince people of the joy of the Christian life, and actually lived it? If we're spending more time talking to our boyfriend or best friend than to Jesus Christ, we have no right to pontificate the benefits of having Jesus Christ as our self-proclaimed "Best Friend."
What if we got reacquainted with the Gospel? If we have boiled the Gospel down to "forgiveness of sins" and "heaven when you die," we've lost sight of the majority of the Gospel -- and have no right to try to be its representatives.
If our life is anything less than the very presence and power of God Himself, no one is ever going to see a difference. No one is ever going to want it. They may ask you why you don't sleep around, but they're not going to join you in that endeavor so that they can go to a place they don't believe in. They're just going to feel sorry for you.
But when suddenly our life has more -- when it starts exuding heavenly beauty, starts breathing heavenly life, starts wielding heavenly power -- that's when they'll notice. That's when it will make sense. When we look different, when we look like Jesus, when we look like we're supposed to, maybe -- just maybe -- they'll see something they don't have. And maybe they'll want it.
Yes, we are supposed to make disciples of all nations.
But first, let's remember what being a disciple actually means, and become that ourselves.
Let's have something worth having; something worth giving.
"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me." | Philippians 3:12
Not in belief -- no, never! A year in anatomy taught me that I have far too little faith for that.
But I am beginning to understand their persistent question: "What's the point?"
"Can't you live a worthwhile, fulfilling life without Christ?" they ask. "Why do you need Jesus to be happy? I'm perfectly happy without Him. Are you telling me that everything I do is pointless? Are you telling me I can't make the world a better place if I'm not a Christian? Why should I add Him to my life when I can benefit the world just as much on my own?"
"Well," we try to say, "you're not really happy. You just think you are."
Good try, but no one is going to buy that one. If I'm out on the weekend laughing and dancing with dozens of cool people; if I have awesome friends; if I laugh all the time; and you try to tell me I'm not really happy, I'm going to raise my eyebrows, write you off as a freak, and laugh at you later with my friends. It may be true, but try winning someone to Christ by telling them that their life is secretly miserable -- they just don't know it (poor souls!).
"But our sins are forgiven and we get to go to heaven when we die!" Great. Apart from the problem of making heaven sound appealing to someone who doesn't believe it exists, you might also try selling the idea of absolution of sins to a relativist. Let me know how that goes.
There are those drowning in the world. Those whose need is obvious, who are miserable, who are hungry for grace and meaning and life. I'm not talking about them (although their need is just as great). I'm talking about the happy atheist, the content agnostic. How do we win those who are tickled pink not to be won?
Here, I believe, is our problem: We are standing shouting, "Want what I have!" but do not appear to have anything worth having.
We proclaim divine and radical happiness -- more joy, more freedom, more life -- but don't actually appear to have more of anything. We aren't happier. We aren't freer. No wonder unbelievers question us -- we're no different from them. Actually, we're worse off, because we have to avoid all those things that are so "sinful" and "pagan" and miss out on all the fun that they get to experience. Who wants an ordinary life with the only difference being the things we aren't allowed to do as "good Christians"? Oh, and a strange belief that God became a human and died tacked on for good measure to establish our insanity.
Who in their right mind, being currently happy, would look any further into that?
Christians, this ought not be so!! Where are the Gladys Aylwards, with the power of Christ to stand in the middle of a prison and command the rioting inmates to cease? Where are the Hudson Taylors, standing up even while infected with the plague in the confidence that death would not come until his calling to China was fulfilled? Where are the Vibia Perpetuas, winning thousands to Christ by dying in the arena? And "I do not have time to tell about Gideon, Barak, Samuel and Jephthah, about David and Samuel and the prophets, who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, and gained what was promised; who shut the mouths of lions, quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword; whose weakness was turned to strength; and who became powerful in battle and routed armies."
Do our lives look like that? Because that, my friends, is what it is supposed to look like.
But we're too busy proclaiming "Christians aren't perfect, just redeemed" as an excuse to go on living sinful, self-indulgent lives with a great big "FORGIVEN" slapped across it; too busy running back to Jesus at night after running from Him in the day; too busy dealing with our own problems and vices and addictions and annoyances to experience true victory.
Have we stopped to realize that there is more to the Gospel than forgiveness? There is more to the Christian life than a few moral rules? There is more to loving Jesus than a ticket to heaven?
We aren't supposed to overcome sin because Jesus is a stick in the mud.
We're supposed to be rid of sin so that the very power of Christ can live within us.
We're supposed to be saved so that we're useful! He has promised us "newness of life," but we're looking an awful lot like the old life with a few new rules that we don't even follow all the time.
So.
What if we stopped trying to convince people of the joy of the Christian life, and actually lived it? If we're spending more time talking to our boyfriend or best friend than to Jesus Christ, we have no right to pontificate the benefits of having Jesus Christ as our self-proclaimed "Best Friend."
What if we got reacquainted with the Gospel? If we have boiled the Gospel down to "forgiveness of sins" and "heaven when you die," we've lost sight of the majority of the Gospel -- and have no right to try to be its representatives.
If our life is anything less than the very presence and power of God Himself, no one is ever going to see a difference. No one is ever going to want it. They may ask you why you don't sleep around, but they're not going to join you in that endeavor so that they can go to a place they don't believe in. They're just going to feel sorry for you.
But when suddenly our life has more -- when it starts exuding heavenly beauty, starts breathing heavenly life, starts wielding heavenly power -- that's when they'll notice. That's when it will make sense. When we look different, when we look like Jesus, when we look like we're supposed to, maybe -- just maybe -- they'll see something they don't have. And maybe they'll want it.
Yes, we are supposed to make disciples of all nations.
But first, let's remember what being a disciple actually means, and become that ourselves.
Let's have something worth having; something worth giving.
"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me." | Philippians 3:12
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Two Weeks Later
Day 1: October 17, 2012
Experiment began. Started well in the morning. Committed not to exceed a certain amount of TV/movies, internet browsing, etc. Evening found me glued to The Weather Channel and weather website tracking the progress of a potential tornado. Scheduled sleep hours thrown off due to not wanting to go to a storm shelter in my pajamas.
Day 2: October 18, 2012
Started well again. A few hours later, curled up under a blanket in front of the television with nausea and dizziness. Stayed up too late because rice takes a long time to cook.
Day 3: October 19, 2012
Didn't even start well -- woke up with a piercing dehydration headache from the day before's lack of food and water. Stayed up late because of company. Ate too many cookies.
A few days later found me looking up at a huge (metaphorical) brick wall. Here I was, striving to make Jesus Christ my first priority, and I was not becoming radiant. I did not have a gentle and quiet spirit. I was not experiencing healing. I was less healthy and more riddled with anxieties, annoyances and disappointments than ever. (If you want to become convinced that spiritual warfare exists, try this experiment.)
I took a walk under the stars, promising to pray through this impasse. I could feel it; I could taste it; victory was at my fingertips. And then came the whisper of Christ in my heart: Run.
Probably a small command for most of you, but honestly, a solid run for more than about a minute would be nigh miraculous for me. "Jesus, I can't run." I turned my steps back toward the dorm.
Run.
I turned around. I didn't start running right away, but walked until I had undergone sufficient mental preparation; then I started running.
I made it barely a hundred feet. As I fumbled for my extremely rapid pulse, swallowing back tears, His voice came: Kendall, you can't run.
"I know! That's what I tried to tell You! Why did You ask me to?"
I can.
Though it came in only those two words, I understood the whole message: Why are you trying to break through this wall? It's impassable. You cannot make yourself like Me. Only I can do that. Beating up against this wall will not break down the wall; it will break you.
Why are you limiting yourself with flimsy human rules that do not deal with your heart? Why are you trying to clean up your outside, when I'm waiting here longing to renew you from the inside out?
Why are you trying to run...when you can't?
One of the many amazing things about this little experiment is that when something I read in Scripture or hear in a sermon grabs my attention, I never hear it only once. Within a very short amount of time, I hear the same concept from no fewer than two individual, totally unconnected sources. It's not as though I go out and Google what the Lord spoke to me about; He just does it Himself.
And one thing I have heard over and over and over -- from different places and different sources that I wasn't even looking for -- is this:
"Our old self was crucified with [Christ] so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin." (Romans 6:6)
I have always been very tempted to legalism, which means I can also get extremely caught up in the letter of the law while completely neglecting the spirit (just ask me how I've managed to have multiple relationships without ever dating). So when I began this experiment, I started with a lot of rules: Don't watch more than one movie a week, don't get on Facebook more than once a week, have an hour of Bible study in the morning and an hour in the evening, and so on. And I became so caught up in those rules and wanting to follow them perfectly that the whole experiment became about the rules...not Jesus Christ.
There were definitely practical changes that needed to be made in my life to create more time to cultivate intimacy. If I put as much time into my friendships as I'd been putting into my relationship with Jesus, I'd always be having "I-haven't-seen-you-in-forever" chats. There's things that need to go. But it can't become about getting rid of those things. It has to be about Him.
Because when I sleep in an hour or get on Facebook on an "off" day, sure, I felt sheepish. But nothing threw my days off like neglecting time at the feet of King Jesus. Nothing killed a Bible study quicker than going in with a "check-it-off-my-list" mentality.
I want to reassure you of just one thing, my friend, that you may wonder from time to time from the midst of this crazy whirling thing called life.
It works.
When I opened my Bible hungry for God, asking for His guidance, direction, and voice...I have never seen an hour fly by faster. I have never had such victorious, peaceful days. I've never seen anxiety and peevishness flee that quickly.
Christianity's practical. Christianity works, because our old self died with Jesus Christ 2,000 years ago, and if we believe it, we are dead to sin, and sin is not our master.
How often do we reckon that as truth? Not nearly as often enough. How often do we reckon all of Scripture as truth? Not nearly often enough.
So my two weeks are over. But I'm not done, not hardly. I'm just getting started.
Or rather...He's just getting started.
Feel free to join.
Experiment began. Started well in the morning. Committed not to exceed a certain amount of TV/movies, internet browsing, etc. Evening found me glued to The Weather Channel and weather website tracking the progress of a potential tornado. Scheduled sleep hours thrown off due to not wanting to go to a storm shelter in my pajamas.
Day 2: October 18, 2012
Started well again. A few hours later, curled up under a blanket in front of the television with nausea and dizziness. Stayed up too late because rice takes a long time to cook.
Day 3: October 19, 2012
Didn't even start well -- woke up with a piercing dehydration headache from the day before's lack of food and water. Stayed up late because of company. Ate too many cookies.
A few days later found me looking up at a huge (metaphorical) brick wall. Here I was, striving to make Jesus Christ my first priority, and I was not becoming radiant. I did not have a gentle and quiet spirit. I was not experiencing healing. I was less healthy and more riddled with anxieties, annoyances and disappointments than ever. (If you want to become convinced that spiritual warfare exists, try this experiment.)
I took a walk under the stars, promising to pray through this impasse. I could feel it; I could taste it; victory was at my fingertips. And then came the whisper of Christ in my heart: Run.
Probably a small command for most of you, but honestly, a solid run for more than about a minute would be nigh miraculous for me. "Jesus, I can't run." I turned my steps back toward the dorm.
Run.
I turned around. I didn't start running right away, but walked until I had undergone sufficient mental preparation; then I started running.
I made it barely a hundred feet. As I fumbled for my extremely rapid pulse, swallowing back tears, His voice came: Kendall, you can't run.
"I know! That's what I tried to tell You! Why did You ask me to?"
I can.
Though it came in only those two words, I understood the whole message: Why are you trying to break through this wall? It's impassable. You cannot make yourself like Me. Only I can do that. Beating up against this wall will not break down the wall; it will break you.
Why are you limiting yourself with flimsy human rules that do not deal with your heart? Why are you trying to clean up your outside, when I'm waiting here longing to renew you from the inside out?
Why are you trying to run...when you can't?
One of the many amazing things about this little experiment is that when something I read in Scripture or hear in a sermon grabs my attention, I never hear it only once. Within a very short amount of time, I hear the same concept from no fewer than two individual, totally unconnected sources. It's not as though I go out and Google what the Lord spoke to me about; He just does it Himself.
And one thing I have heard over and over and over -- from different places and different sources that I wasn't even looking for -- is this:
"Our old self was crucified with [Christ] so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin." (Romans 6:6)
I have always been very tempted to legalism, which means I can also get extremely caught up in the letter of the law while completely neglecting the spirit (just ask me how I've managed to have multiple relationships without ever dating). So when I began this experiment, I started with a lot of rules: Don't watch more than one movie a week, don't get on Facebook more than once a week, have an hour of Bible study in the morning and an hour in the evening, and so on. And I became so caught up in those rules and wanting to follow them perfectly that the whole experiment became about the rules...not Jesus Christ.
There were definitely practical changes that needed to be made in my life to create more time to cultivate intimacy. If I put as much time into my friendships as I'd been putting into my relationship with Jesus, I'd always be having "I-haven't-seen-you-in-forever" chats. There's things that need to go. But it can't become about getting rid of those things. It has to be about Him.
Because when I sleep in an hour or get on Facebook on an "off" day, sure, I felt sheepish. But nothing threw my days off like neglecting time at the feet of King Jesus. Nothing killed a Bible study quicker than going in with a "check-it-off-my-list" mentality.
I want to reassure you of just one thing, my friend, that you may wonder from time to time from the midst of this crazy whirling thing called life.
It works.
When I opened my Bible hungry for God, asking for His guidance, direction, and voice...I have never seen an hour fly by faster. I have never had such victorious, peaceful days. I've never seen anxiety and peevishness flee that quickly.
Christianity's practical. Christianity works, because our old self died with Jesus Christ 2,000 years ago, and if we believe it, we are dead to sin, and sin is not our master.
How often do we reckon that as truth? Not nearly as often enough. How often do we reckon all of Scripture as truth? Not nearly often enough.
So my two weeks are over. But I'm not done, not hardly. I'm just getting started.
Or rather...He's just getting started.
Feel free to join.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
The Purchased Life Experiment
I haven't been here recently. I could give you the typical reasons: I'm busy, so much schoolwork, no time for my little blog and bloggy friends.
Those would be lies.
There are two reasons I haven't written. They may seem to conflict, but they don't. I can't explain it. I just know it to be true.
The first reason is that I have to write what the Lord is currently working in my life, and what He's been working these past few months is far too intimate to share with the internet. The words He has spoken to me are -- at least for now -- just between me and Him.
The second reason is that I've had a serious lack of inspiration.
I don't know how that works -- that He's been so active, but yet I have nothing to talk about. He's been speaking, but am I listening? Am I implementing it?
I don't think so.
I think I'm too busy wasting time, wasting my life.
I want more. I want to grow every day. And then I fritter away my hours surfing the internet, watching television, or doing any other number of things that are so unimportant and frivolous.
So what do I really want?
Do I want to grow in Jesus Christ, or do I want to be a mindless time waster? Because with the activities my time and energy are directed toward, it sure seems like the latter is what I really want. And that is both sad and pathetic.
So I've decided to try a little experiment.
For the next two weeks, I'll give the best hours of my day to Jesus Christ.
It will have to look a little different depending on the day because of school. But what if every day, for the next two weeks, I jealously guard my time with Christ? What if I give Him more than a passing 15 minutes in the morning and 15 minutes in the evening -- the paltry amount He's been receiving for most of my life? What if I take practical steps to avoid Facebook, avoid television, and spend that time diving deeper into the Word and reading about people from Christian history who truly understood the purchased life?
Would things be different? I can't imagine they wouldn't.
So starting tomorrow (Wednesday is an awkward time to start, but why wait another day?), I'll completely revamp my life for the next two weeks. You won't see me on Facebook much. If you call or text me during certain hours I've set aside, you won't reach me. If nothing at all changes within my heart during that time, I'll join the multitudes who have deemed this lifestyle too "radical." I'll go back to my little 30-minutes-a-day, don't-drink-swear-or-have-sex life.
But honestly, I just don't see that happening.
To be honest, it was extremely hard for me to make this decision to even try it. Leslie Ludy compares it to surrendering a handful of worthless pebbles for a truckload of priceless jewels, and here I am, clinging to my pebbles. It's pathetic, the things we seek after more than Him. The things we are unwilling to give up to get more of Him.
If I fail to hold up my end of this, I'll be straight with you. I'm not going to sit here and tell you that spending more time with Christ doesn't make a difference, if I didn't spend more time with Christ. I'm sure all of you know how easy it is to say we're going to start something, and then completely neglect to actually do it. And that's part of the reason I'm announcing this experiment to the bloggy world. Now you know. I can't pretend I didn't decide to do this. I have all of you who know full well that I did.
So pray for me, friends, as I embark on this journey. I'll be sure to let you know in two weeks what has happened.
"I have often wished that there were some way to bring modern Christians into a deeper spiritual life painlessly by short easy lessons; but such wishes are vain. No shortcut exists! God has not bowed to our nervous haste nor embraced the methods of our machine age. It is well that we accept the hard truth now: the man who would know God must give time to Him! He must count no time wasted which is spent in the cultivation of His acquaintance. He must give himself to meditation and prayer hours on end. So did the saints of old, the glorious company of the apostles, the goodly fellowship of the prophets and the believing members of the holy Church in all generations. And so must we if we would follow in their train! May not the inadequacy of much of our spiritual experience be traced back to our habit of skipping through the corridors of the kingdom like little children through the marketplace, chattering about everything but pausing to learn the true value of nothing?" | A.W. Tozer
Those would be lies.
There are two reasons I haven't written. They may seem to conflict, but they don't. I can't explain it. I just know it to be true.
The first reason is that I have to write what the Lord is currently working in my life, and what He's been working these past few months is far too intimate to share with the internet. The words He has spoken to me are -- at least for now -- just between me and Him.
The second reason is that I've had a serious lack of inspiration.
I don't know how that works -- that He's been so active, but yet I have nothing to talk about. He's been speaking, but am I listening? Am I implementing it?
I don't think so.
I think I'm too busy wasting time, wasting my life.
I want more. I want to grow every day. And then I fritter away my hours surfing the internet, watching television, or doing any other number of things that are so unimportant and frivolous.
So what do I really want?
Do I want to grow in Jesus Christ, or do I want to be a mindless time waster? Because with the activities my time and energy are directed toward, it sure seems like the latter is what I really want. And that is both sad and pathetic.
So I've decided to try a little experiment.
For the next two weeks, I'll give the best hours of my day to Jesus Christ.
It will have to look a little different depending on the day because of school. But what if every day, for the next two weeks, I jealously guard my time with Christ? What if I give Him more than a passing 15 minutes in the morning and 15 minutes in the evening -- the paltry amount He's been receiving for most of my life? What if I take practical steps to avoid Facebook, avoid television, and spend that time diving deeper into the Word and reading about people from Christian history who truly understood the purchased life?
Would things be different? I can't imagine they wouldn't.
So starting tomorrow (Wednesday is an awkward time to start, but why wait another day?), I'll completely revamp my life for the next two weeks. You won't see me on Facebook much. If you call or text me during certain hours I've set aside, you won't reach me. If nothing at all changes within my heart during that time, I'll join the multitudes who have deemed this lifestyle too "radical." I'll go back to my little 30-minutes-a-day, don't-drink-swear-or-have-sex life.
But honestly, I just don't see that happening.
To be honest, it was extremely hard for me to make this decision to even try it. Leslie Ludy compares it to surrendering a handful of worthless pebbles for a truckload of priceless jewels, and here I am, clinging to my pebbles. It's pathetic, the things we seek after more than Him. The things we are unwilling to give up to get more of Him.
If I fail to hold up my end of this, I'll be straight with you. I'm not going to sit here and tell you that spending more time with Christ doesn't make a difference, if I didn't spend more time with Christ. I'm sure all of you know how easy it is to say we're going to start something, and then completely neglect to actually do it. And that's part of the reason I'm announcing this experiment to the bloggy world. Now you know. I can't pretend I didn't decide to do this. I have all of you who know full well that I did.
So pray for me, friends, as I embark on this journey. I'll be sure to let you know in two weeks what has happened.
"I have often wished that there were some way to bring modern Christians into a deeper spiritual life painlessly by short easy lessons; but such wishes are vain. No shortcut exists! God has not bowed to our nervous haste nor embraced the methods of our machine age. It is well that we accept the hard truth now: the man who would know God must give time to Him! He must count no time wasted which is spent in the cultivation of His acquaintance. He must give himself to meditation and prayer hours on end. So did the saints of old, the glorious company of the apostles, the goodly fellowship of the prophets and the believing members of the holy Church in all generations. And so must we if we would follow in their train! May not the inadequacy of much of our spiritual experience be traced back to our habit of skipping through the corridors of the kingdom like little children through the marketplace, chattering about everything but pausing to learn the true value of nothing?" | A.W. Tozer
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