Christian Maturity

“Christian maturity is the distance between God’s call and your capacity for obedience” (from the Growing Deeper class this morning).

I’m reminded of something my pastor once said during a sermon. He stated that you can’t wait until you confirm the call of God on your life to start getting reading. You have to be ready. You have to develop a life of disciplines before God calls you.

I believe that maturity look a lot like leaning on the Lord. It’s a declaration of dependence that acknowledges the words of Jesus in John 15:5: “Apart from Me, you can do nothing.”

I can’t expect to recognize the voice of God if I never spend time with Him. If I rush through my prayers and Bible reading, how can I learn to discern when the Shepherd is speaking? If my prayer life is spiritual version of my Amazon wish list, I leave no room for God to respond.

Sometimes, I think the best prayers are ones where I’m silent in the presence of God, not bringing any petitions or requests or even thanksgiving, but simply sitting at the feet of Jesus for as long as it takes to come to a place of calm where I can hear Him speaking. Sadly, I’m often too busy or impatient to wait that long.

I’m also learning that it’s better to read less Bible and ruminate on it more. I tend to speed read for information instead of prayerfully meditating on what I read and turning it into a prayer. Also, it’s easy to leave the words on the page and not put them into action. Then nothing changes.

But thankfully God is more patient than I am. He still speaks when I’m less inclined to listen. He has more time for me than I have for Him. And I believe He’s making me more like Him even on those days when I don’t act very much like Him.

Lord, speak to me and all your servants, for we are listening.

Spoiler: God Wins

“… just slipping a note to those in the thick of it who really need to know right now how this all works out, how today ends, how this week ends, how this whole shebang ends:

SPOILER: GOD WINS” (Ann Voskamp).

“No doubt about it! God is good—
    good to good people, good to the good-hearted.
But I nearly missed it,
    missed seeing his goodness.
I was looking the other way,
    looking up to the people
At the top,
    envying the wicked who have it made,
Who have nothing to worry about,
    not a care in the whole wide world.

Pretentious with arrogance,
    they wear the latest fashions in violence,
Pampered and overfed,
    decked out in silk bows of silliness.
They jeer, using words to kill;
    they bully their way with words.
They’re full of hot air,
    loudmouths disturbing the peace.
People actually listen to them—can you believe it?
    Like thirsty puppies, they lap up their words.

What’s going on here? Is God out to lunch?
    Nobody’s tending the store.
The wicked get by with everything;
    they have it made, piling up riches.
I’ve been stupid to play by the rules;
    what has it gotten me?
A long run of bad luck, that’s what—
    a slap in the face every time I walk out the door.

If I’d have given in and talked like this,
    I would have betrayed your dear children.
Still, when I tried to figure it out,
    all I got was a splitting headache . . .
Until I entered the sanctuary of God.
    Then I saw the whole picture:
The slippery road you’ve put them on,
    with a final crash in a ditch of delusions.
In the blink of an eye, disaster!
    A blind curve in the dark, and—nightmare!
We wake up and rub our eyes. . . . Nothing.
    There’s nothing to them. And there never was” (Psalm 73:1-20, The Message).

It’s easy to lose sight of the end when you’re stuck in the middle. When evil seems to rule the day, it’s hard to believe that God can ever set things right. It’s tempting to fall into a cynical view of “Well, that’s it. We’re done for. There’s no hope left.”

But just as Billy Graham said, I’ve read the last page of the Bible and I know it’s going to be fine in the end. Actually, more than just fine. It will be better than the happiest ending in the best book you’ve ever read. It will be like in the last book in the Narnia series where all that happened before was merely the title page and prologue, but heaven is where the real story starts and where each chapter is better than the one before.

The Bible says for those who are in Christ that whatever the worst that we can face is light and momentary compared to the joy that’s coming. Read that again. The absolute worst we can imagine ever facing is light and momentary compared to the joy that awaits.

Not that what we face isn’t very real and very scary and very awful. But the joy ahead is infinitely greater and longer and lasting. It will be like the joy of a new mother holding her child after the pain of delivery, knowing it was way more than worth it.

It will be way more than worth it when we get there.

Your Value

I love stories like this one. The man basically paid a penny for something that ended up being practically priceless. The reason the card is so valuable is because it’s extremely rare, especially in near mint condition. Also, the fact that I collected baseball cards back in the day makes it mean more to me.

I’ve always dreamed of something like that. I’d love to walk into a thrift store and find a rare record or piece of artwork. I did find an autographed first edition copy of Gregg Allman’s autobiography, though I very much doubt it’s worth anything close to $25 million. Still, it makes for a cool story to tell.

I’m reminded of what my pastor said a long time ago. He said that when you doubt your worth, remember who you are and Whose you are. Remember who made you. If God could flip you upside down and somehow show you His signature on you, then you would know how valuable you are. Not worthless but priceless.

Not only do you have value from God’s creation of you, but also because Jesus paid the highest possible price to redeem you. It wasn’t from anything the world values. It wasn’t your good looks or your fat bank account or your skinny body. It wasn’t because of what a wonderful human being you are. In fact, the Bible says that while we were yet sinners and enemies of God, Christ died for us. Not from any intrinsic value in and of ourselves but from the value God placed on us of bearing the image of God. Basically, it was God’s good pleasure to love us and to die for us to redeem us.

So remember your value on those days when you feel less than. It’s not your job title or your bank account or the letters after your name. It’s what God says about you and what He did for you on the cross. That’s your worth.

The Litmus Test of Our Faith

“We pray for the big things and forget to give thanks for the ordinary, small (and yet really not small) gifts. How can God entrust great things to one who will not thankfully receive from Him the little things?” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together: The Classic Exploration of Faith in Community)

I wonder if the litmus test of genuine faith is gratitude. I also wonder if one of the hindrances to answered prayers is failure to give thanks for previous answered prayers. It could just be that the more we’re able to give thanks for God’s graces and gifts, the more discerning we are to God’s responses in the present. The more we can see and hear God at work.

I also know that God is not bound to my obedience. The life of faith is a life of grace. I know that if for God to answer one of my prayers required complete faithfulness and obedience, I’d be lost, both figuratively and literally.

Still, the word I keep hearing over and over is thanksgiving. Saying “thank you” to God isn’t a magic formula that forces God’s hand, but a prayer that frees us to see more of God’s smaller gifts and maybe makes us able to receive the larger gifts.

That June Post

“Our culture has accepted two lies. The first is that if you disagree with someone’s lifestyle, you must fear or hate them. The second is to love someone’s means you believe with everything they believe or do. Both are nonsense” (Rick Warren).

Yes, it’s June. These days they have created something called Pride Month where we are supposed to celebrate all things LGBTQ, etc. The thinking goes that if you love someone, you will love and endorse just about everything about them, and if you disagree with someone on any point, you must hate them.

That’s not true. I know and love people who are in the rainbow lifestyle, but I don’t endorse or agree with their lifestyle. I don’t hate them. I don’t wish them harm. I do pray for them and wish them true happiness.

I also don’t happen to see sexual sin as any worse than living together outside of marriage or adultery within the context of marriage. I don’t think someone else’s struggle with homosexuality is worse than my struggle with the sins of pride and envy.

Jesus loved people in the middle of their messes but didn’t leave them in their messes. He called prostitutes, tax collectors, and other sinners to follow Him. The best part is that when He was finished with His work, they weren’t prostitutes, tax collectors, or sinners any more. They were disciples. That was their new identity.

Did they still sin? Absolutely. But Jesus still loved them.

One of my favorite quotes that sums up the kind of love Jesus had for them (and for us) goes like this:

“Love loves unto purity. Love has ever in view the absolute loveliness of that which it beholds. Therefore all that is not beautiful in the beloved, all that comes between and is not of love’s kind, must be destroyed. And our God is a consuming fire” (George MacDonald).

For those of you in the LGBTQ lifestyle, my prayer is first and foremost that you fall in love with Jesus and surrender to Him fully. I don’t want you in heterosexual marriages as much as I want you to be fully devoted disciples of Jesus who confess and repent daily of their sins and let Jesus’ love transform them to be more like Jesus.

Ultimately, your identity is not your sexuality or your skin color or your ethnicity or your nationality or your tax bracket or your ancestry. Your primary identity is one made by God who bears the image of God, called into relationship with God to be a son or daughter of God.

The Lost Art of Porch Sitting

I think in my twilight years I want a house with a front porch. It doesn’t have to be a big house. It can even be one of those tiny houses as long as there is room enough in front for a rocking chair and/or a wicker swing.

I see houses all the time that have front porches of all sizes and types and shapes, from wraparounds to those that barely stretch past the entry. But I very rarely see anyone sitting on those front porches. Most people are too busy and have lost that art of being able to sit on their front porches.

I think it’s a lost art. It’s one thing to be physically present on a front porch but be mentally elsewhere, whether it be on social media via all the devices or with thoughts that are a thousand miles away. Sometimes, all you need is a front porch, a rocking chair, and a good book. Or even just the front porch and rocking chair on a beautiful sunny day.

We’re so addicted to our devices that 15 minutes without them can seem like 15 years. It’s easy to spend all that time wondering what you’re missing out on or what breaking news you haven’t heard about. But all that can wait for a few moments of hearing the hum of a creaky porch swing or the song of the cicadas.

People did that back in the day. They’d spend afternoons and evenings on the front porches, visiting neighbors and sharing sweet tea and their lives. They didn’t have devices. Further back in the day, they didn’t have television. Those front porches were their social media, their grapevine, their community all rolled up into one.

Back when I was little, I’d sometimes curl up on a porch swing and fall asleep to the creaky swaying rhythm and gentle breezes blowing. I’m sure that life can’t be THAT simple again, but I wonder if we don’t overcomplicate our lives with too much stuff and too many activities and not enough margin. We can choose to say no to things to have room for rest and reflection.

I want to get good at front porch sitting, not doing anything other than waving at neighbors and being in the moment and hearing the small still voice of God.

Humbly Let Go

“Humbly let go. Let go of trying to do, let go of trying to control, let go of my own way, let go of my own fears. Let God blow His wind, His trials, oxygen for joy’s fire. Leave the hand open and be. Be at peace. Bend the knee and be small and let God give what God chooses to give because He only gives love and whisper a surprised thanks. This is the fuel for joy’s flame. Fullness of joy is discovered only in the emptying of will. And I can empty. I can empty because counting His graces has awakened me to how He cherishes me, holds me, passionately values me. I can empty because I am full of His love. I can trust” (Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are).

I’m not advocating for a kind of “let go and let God” passive approach to spirituality. I think in this case I need to let go of my way of thinking of how God should act. I should stop setting up boundaries to put God in so that He will act according to what I have set up as my standard for Him to follow.

I can trust that God’s ways are not my ways. I can trust that I would want what God wants if I knew what He knew. I would understand what He does if I could see the whole entire big picture from eternity rather than my own specific limited viewpoint. If my brain could comprehend the infinite, I could begin to think like God.

But I can’t and I’m not. “Faith is the assurance of things you have hoped for, the absolute conviction that there are realities you’ve never seen” (Hebrews 11:1, The Voice).

I trust in what I can’t see and I believe what I can’t fully understand. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be faith. It would be seeing and understanding. But even if I have the teensiest amount of faith like that of a microscopic mustard seed, that’s enough.

Feeling Something

“It is quite right that you should feel that ‘something terrific’ has happened to you (It has) and be ‘all glowy.’ Accept these sensations with thankfulness as birthday cards from God, but remember that they are only greetings, not the real gift. I mean, it is not the sensations that are the real thing. The real thing is the gift of the Holy Spirit which can’t usually be—perhaps not ever—experienced as a sensation or emotion. The sensations are merely the response of your nervous system. Don’t depend on them. Otherwise when they go and you are once more emotionally flat (as you certainly will be quite soon), you might think that the real thing had gone too. But it won’t. It will be there when you can’t feel it. May even be most operative when you can feel it least” (Collected Letters of C.S. Lewis Volume III, C.S. Lewis).

The problem with a faith based on feelings is that those feelings are fickle and subject to change. I mean, have you ever tried to sustain a single emotion over a 24-hour period? You can’t. You can’t make yourself feel anything indefinitely.

Also, I’ve learned that feelings can lie. What you feel at any moment can stem from something you ate yesterday that didn’t agree with you. I’ve noticed I might trend more toward negative emotions when I am tired or hungry or bored. Typically, I can’t trust what I’m feeling when I haven’t slept well the night before. I especially have learned from experience not to post any social media or respond to any social media or emails late at night. A good night’s sleep and some time have a way of miraculously changing my attitude and perspective.

But the life of faith does have an emotional component to it. You just don’t put feelings in front. That’s where faith comes in. Feelings should be the caboose of your spiritual journey, present but not leading the way.

God is real even when I don’t feel Him. God’s promises are true even when I can’t see them. Obedience is acting in loving ways even when I don’t feel loving and following God’s commands when I don’t want to.

I’ve always loved the idea that my security as a believer doesn’t depend on how tightly I hold God’s hand but how He won’t ever let go of me.

Telling Stories

“Child,’ said the Lion, ‘I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own” (C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy).

I’m beginning to understand that we all have different stories. We also have different seasons and struggles. I am in the middle of a career transition. I overheard where someone else has a parent dealing with a cancer diagnosis. Yet someone else I know has struggled within the past year with mental health issues.

Each story is different. Each struggle is unique. It’s no good for me to compare my story with someone else’s and to either think that mine doesn’t matter because it’s not a potentially terminal diagnosis or that I have it way worse because someone else might have an ingrown toenail.

The Bible doesn’t say God never gives us more than we can handle. Often, it’s way beyond our capacity to bear so that we are forced to lean in on the Lord for daily strength. He does give us grace equal to the struggle. He does promise to be with us in each season.

In each story, the testimony is that God is able. I am in as much need of God’s continual grace and strength as anyone else alive right now on this planet. My need is no more or less than theirs. And my God is equally up to the task.

That’s the beauty of intercessory prayer. I enter into your story and you enter into mine. We share each others burdens and magnify the name of Jesus equally. Sometimes, we can speak words when the other has none or believe for the other when they can’t find the faith at the moment.

The best part is that God is always the hero of our stories and we can rest assured that in every case we know that God works all things together for good and for a happy ending.

Not Good but God’s

“For years, I begged God to help me be good. Didn’t you join up because you wanted to be good? I’d worked years trying to be good and I wasn’t good! Oh, I was gooder than I was when I started out, but I still wasn’t good because as good as I was getting, I still wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t sustain it long enough. Sometimes I’d go 7 or 8 minutes without sinning. But it still wasn’t long enough!

And the Lord spoke to me very clearly that day. He said, ‘The issue isn’t being good, the issue is being God’s. Just come to Me and I’ll provide goodness for you. Just come and love Me. Seek Me with all your heart.’

Now I’m not arguing for sin, but I am saying this: my focus these days is not on trying to be good. I am gooder than I’ve been in the past, but it’s not because I’m focused on trying to be good, it’s because I’ve focused on Him and doing His bidding. That doesn’t leave a lot of time for me and my sinning” (John Wimber).

As I’ve heard before (and maybe you have as well), Jesus didn’t become incarnate to make bad people good but to make dead people alive. See, it’s not about behavior modification and better morals. It’s about being made new.

I still think that more than being gooder, I need to focus on being more like Jesus. That can only happen when the Spirit of Jesus inside me starts to manifest outward from me as I live more surrendered and obediently. It’s no good if I behave better when I still have the illusion of control over my life and my destiny. It’s only when I acknowledge that I belong to another that I really begin to transform.

It’s not about being good as much as it is being God’s.