The Funeral of Your Own Independence

“The things that are right, noble, and good from the natural standpoint are the very things that keep us from being God’s best. Once we come to understand that natural moral excellence opposes or counteracts surrender to God, we bring our soul into the center of its greatest battle. The cost to your natural life is not just one or two things, but everything. Beware of refusing to go to the funeral of your own independence” (Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest).

A lot of what passes for Christianity is simply behavior modification. Back in the day, there were a lot of don’ts. Don’t drink, don’t gamble, don’t play cards, don’t dance, etc. As one pastor put it, we’d get to church on Sunday and celebrate that we hadn’t done anything.

But Christianity is a lot more than being moral. If you want to play that game, the standard is impossibly high, as in be perfect as God in heaven is perfect. Simply put, you can’t be good enough. But Jesus could. And Jesus was.

Christianity is not behaving better. It’s not being an upstanding citizen or a good moral human being. It’s about surrender. It’s about dying to self. It’s about letting God form the Christ-life within you and make you more like Jesus.

As my friend says, it’s not about making bad people good. It’s about making dead people alive. It’s about being transformed rather than just upgraded. And Christmas is the season where we celebrate the hope that means that we can be better or more improved but made brand new.

Season’s Greetings?

A few years ago, it seemed like everybody was getting bent out of shape over retail workers not saying Merry Christmas to every customer. It was a thing.

Apparently, life was a lot easier then so that there weren’t more pressing issues or more dire problems to deal with other than people who may or may not know about the Christ of Christmas getting the semantics right.

Don’t get me wrong. I love hearing Merry Christmas. I sometimes even remember to say it. Sometimes I just say, “Have a good day” and then walk away wondering why I didn’t say Merry Christmas.

But I do think that believers have been known to expect lost people who don’t have a regenerated heart and mind to act saved when people who are supposed to be the ones who know Jesus are the most obnoxious and rude customers. There’s a reason why people at restaurants hate working on Sunday.

I still think that just possibly instead of expecting to hear Merry Christmas everywhere we go, we should instead exhibit the qualities of the Christ in Christmas. Maybe we need to be a little kinder or a little more patient. Perhaps instead of forcing someone to parrot Merry Christmas, we do our part to make their Christmas a little merrier by how we live out Jesus in front of them.

People might want to know Jesus if they saw Him lived out by the people who profess to know Him. They might want to follow Jesus if they saw a real difference in the lives of those who go to church every Sunday. What turns them off isn’t Jesus, but people who profess Jesus with their lips and deny Him by their lifestyle (thanks to Brennan Manning for that one).

Oh, and don’t get me started on the whole Xmas thing. By the way, you do know that X is also a Greek letter and can be used as an abbreviation for Christ, right? Just checkin’.

Unselfishness Vs. Love

“If you asked twenty good men today what they thought the highest of the virtues, nineteen of them would reply, Unselfishness. But if you had asked almost any of the great Christians of old, he would have replied, Love. You see what has happened? A negative term has been substituted for a positive, and this is of more than philological importance. The negative idea of Unselfishness carries with it the suggestion not primarily of securing good things for others, but of going without them ourselves, as if our abstinence and not their happiness was the important point. I do not think this is the Christian virtue of Love. The New Testament has lots to say about self-denial, but not about self- denial as an end in itself. We are told to deny ourselves and to take up our crosses in order that we may follow Christ; and nearly every description of what we shall ultimately find if we do so contains an appeal to desire. If there lurks in most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for the enjoyment of it is a bad thing, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is no part of the Christian faith. Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased” (C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory).

I heard someone wise once say that it’s not enough to resist temptation, unlearn bad habits, and give up unhealthy thoughts and actions. You need to replace all these with good habits, healthy choices, and obedience. Otherwise, you end up with a different set of bad habits and vices.

I remember my pastor commented on how old-school Baptists were known more for what they were against than what they were for. He said they used to show up in church and brag about not having done anything bad — or actually anything at all.

To be unselfish just to be unselfish is missing the mark. You’re likely to pick up bitterness (from all that you gave up) or self-righteousness (at how much better you are than those who still indulge in what you gave up).

Love is the opposite of selfishness, not unselfishness, because it is self-less. We don’t need to think less of ourselves as the antidote to thinking too much of ourselves. We just need to think about ourselves less and more about others and God.

We miss the mark when we make it about modifying our behavior and being more moral when it’s about emptying of self so there’s more room for God and His ways. It’s not about becoming a slightly better version of me but about becoming a brand new me, one that looks and acts like Jesus.

More Like Jesus?

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I’ve noticed that Christians sprinkle a lot of religion-isms into their conversation. I mean those phrases and terms that only us as believers know what they mean and sometimes we’re not even sure. At least not me.

Take for example when people talk about the goal of becoming like Jesus. What does that even mean? In my Life Group, a newbie asked that question and I was a bit taken aback at first, but then I thought, “What DOES that mean? I mean, really?”

I don’t think it means that we’re going to all be a bunch of clones of Jesus one day, like those stormtroopers in the Star Wars movies. Or when there were 7 exact replicas of Harry Potter in the last Harry Potter movie.

Here’s what I think it means.

It’s like that couple you know who’ve been married forever. The ones who can finish each other’s sentences. The ones who know what the other is thinking and feeling without having to use actual words.

Back in the ancient days, a disciple was someone who literally studied another. He or she followed this person around. When the teacher ate, a disciple ate. When the teacher slept, that disciple slept. The disciple was with the teacher 24/7.

Ultimately, the disciple picked up the mannerisms and behavior of the teacher just by being around him so much. He started even to think and speak like his teacher.

That’s what it looks like. If I become most like the people I spend the most time with, then if I spend the most time with Jesus, I start to look like Him. I don’t mean I start wearing a robe and sandals and sprouting a beard. I mean that I act like Jesus. I do what Jesus did.

Granted, I can never be completely like Jesus in the sense that He is divine and I am definitely not. But I can emulate His attitude (see Philippians 2:5-11) and His behavior and His attributes.

Here endeth the lesson.

Character (And Not the Cartoon Kind)

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I’m sure you’ve heard the word character defined as “what you do in the dark” or “how you behave when you think no one is watching.”

I agree with that. But my question in response is: so what does that look like in real life?

I think it means keeping your word. Regardless.

It means following through on a commitment, even if it becomes inconvenient.

It means when I say, “I’ll pray for you,” actually praying. I can say that I’m about 50/50 on that. Sometimes, I pray and sometimes I intend to but life and forgetfulness get in the way. I need to work on that.

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It means when you say you’re a friend, actually being a friend and not just being friendly. To me, being friendly means “whenever I gave spare time or whenever I feel like it.” Being a friend means sacrificing by taking time out do other important things to make time for a person.

Character means when I say I’ll be somewhere, actually showing up.

Character means more than good intentions and good feelings. It means I am the same person to all people in all situations. Not like the old joke, “I’m frank and earnest with all my women. In Memphis, I’m Frank and in Nashville, I’m Earnest.”

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When life squeezes me, what comes out? Is it anger? Is it annoyance? Is it impatience?

The reality is that what I’m filled with is what comes out. If I spend time with Jesus and get filled up with Him, He’s what comes out.

People are watching me whether I know it or not. People will decide whether or not Jesus is worth following by examining how much I talk about Him and how much I look and act like Him.

And sometimes, it’s fun to be a character. But that’s another topic for another day.

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That Undo Button

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I love the undo button on WordPress. It’s saved me more than once when I accidentally deleted a good portion of a blog I was in the process of writing. Quite frankly, it has saved me from cussin’ at my computer.

I wish I had an undo button for tonight. I had a burger and fries at McCreary’s Irish Pub. I was okay until those last ten or so fries.

Then I went over to Frothy Monkey, where I had an iced mocha. I was good until I started the walk back to my car. Then it hit me.

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I can’t remember ever feeling so full in my entire life. I was nearly praying that I would spontaneously combust. I actually felt nauseous. It was touch and go for a while. Thankfully, no cookies got tossed, no one called for Ralph on the porcelain phone, and nothing was spewed or projectile anything’d.

Right now, I feel like I won’t eat again until next Wednesday.

Do you ever have regrets like that?

Maybe it was a few drinks too many one night. Maybe it was getting carried away in passion and going too far with a date. Maybe it was a marriage that imploded. Or a career that got jettisoned.

It could be a conversation that you wish you could redo, words you wish you could take back, replays of yourself doing incredibly stupid stuff that is on an endless loop in your brain. Maybe you intended friendly conversation that got interpreted as creepy and involved a Starbucks manager warning you not to harass the employees so he wouldn’t have to get the cops involved. Yeah, that last part happened to a good friend of mine. Ahem.

Oh, if I offered you an actual undo button right now, you’d pay just about anything to get your hands on one.

Jesus said that if you confess your sin, He is faithful to forgive you and cleanse you. That means the sin is gone. No trace or reminder of it anywhere. It goes away from you as far as the east is from the west. That’s a long way.

You might still have consequences, but remember this. There is nothing in your life that Jesus can’t take and use it for good, no disastrous mess that He can’t turn into a beautiful masterpiece, and no mistake that He can’t turn into a powerful message of Hope.

I love the word justified. You could say it means just-if-I’d never sinned. God declares you innocent. Not guilty. God looks at you and sees none of those ugly stains and wounds. He sees the perfection of Jesus.

I’m thankful every single day for forgiveness and fresh starts with each new morning. I’m thankful that I don’t have to pay for all my mistakes and bad choices and regrettable behaviors.

I also know this. The next time, I’ll leave a few fries behind. And maybe skip that iced drink.