Dealing with the unsaved parts of your life

A friend who counsels through healing prayer shared a story a while back of working with a middle-aged woman who had a form of dissociation (we used to call it multiple personality disorder). Significant dissociation is an effect of significant childhood trauma. In simple (and probably inadequate) terms, it happens when the part of the brain that is wounded sequesters itself, creating a separate personality and resulting in  something like another person inside your head.

This woman being treated by my friend had a six-year-old child living in her head who had been hiding there for decades, ever since the trauma occurred in her life. My friend said that as he prayed with this woman, the six-year-old would come in and out. It was as if he was talking to two different people. This wasn’t a demon; this was a dissociated or fractured part of this person’s personality.

In the course of the prayer, a problem surfaced. As it turns out, the adult had come to Christ in recent years but because that happened after she was six, the child didn’t know Jesus. This was a point of contention. The adult would tell the child, “You need to find Jesus so we can get together.” That sounded reasonable enough to an adult mind but not to a wounded child. The six-year-old was afraid; there had already been so much hurt and distrust. Even between the adult and child living in the same body there were hurt feelings and resentments.

What eventually broke the stalemate? The adult decided to act like an adult. Instead of telling the child, “You need to go meet Jesus,” the adult embraced the child and the two of them walked toward Jesus together. My friend says it was like watching a six year old girl get saved. When she accepted Jesus, he spontaneously integrated them. But to get there, the more mature side of this person had to go after the healing.

Good healing starts with a decision to go after it. It starts with a choice to act like an adult and walk the unredeemed parts of myself out of the darkness and toward Jesus.

I wonder if there are some parts of you that need to challenge other parts of you to get up and go after God? Is there is a conversation inside of you waiting to happen so you can move through the broken places to the next rise?

A while back, I wrote the following in my journal on a day when I was challenging myself on the shallowness of my personal Bible reading. I wrote: “It is tempting to read the Bible only for what it might reveal to me today about myself or my circumstances. I begin looking for nuggets of hope or support. I read into the lives of the Israelites — harassed by the Babylonians — slivers of truth for my middle-class life today. I compare apples with automobiles, bowing to the tempting belief that some of the most profound moments in history are really just bits of advice for my day. The Word of God becomes a fortune cookie, and my part is to believe that whatever snappy phrase I can uncover is my destiny.

“But what if that isn’t God’s best for my relationship with him? What if, instead, I’m to be looking for the life of God rather than my own?

“Lord, forgive me for treating your Word like a fortune cookie and for allowing it to suffice only for how it can improve my immediate circumstances. And Lord, pour through me today your cleansing and renewing power. While I’m praying for folks and listening to stories, I need your power to cleanse me. Make me kinder, gentler, more loving, forgiving, pleasing to you. Bend my character toward your will. Kill all the unsaved parts of me. Jesus … circumcise my heart.”

This is what it means to seek after the life of God, and to bring it into my life so that my faith becomes an expression of Jesus being lived out in me. It means seeking out and embracing the unsaved parts of me, so I can walk them into the redemption of Jesus.

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Eat this scroll (or, how to become earthly good).

You’ve heard it said that a person can be so heavenly minded that they are no earthly good. Sounds catchy enough to be true, doesn’t it? It ends up being terrible theology, not to mention indefensible. I would argue that if you want to be any earthly good at all, you are better served by a mind that fixes on higher things. In fact, I will go out on a limb and say that the world is better served by those who spend their lives looking for signs of the in-breaking Kingdom than by those who don’t have eyes to see beyond this world.

Being heavenly minded is precisely what makes us earthly good.

Some of the greatest influences on humanity have been heavenly minded. In his classic Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis famously wrote:

A continual looking forward to the eternal world is not (as some modern people think) a form of escapism or wishful thinking, but one of the things a Christian is meant to do. It does not mean that we are to leave the present world as it is. If you read history you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were just those who thought most of the next. The Apostles themselves, who set on foot the conversion of the Roman Empire, the great men who built up the Middle Ages, the English Evangelicals who abolished the Slave Trade, all left their mark on Earth, precisely because their minds were occupied with Heaven. It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this. Aim at Heaven and you will get earth “thrown in;” aim at earth and you will get neither.

Being heavenly minded is the point. It is what Paul meant when he instructed new believers to set their minds on things above. It is what Ezekiel was called to when he was told to eat the scroll, on which were written the lamentations of God. Those words were the very heart of God for his people. When God instructed Ezekiel to eat the scroll, he was saying, in effect, “Unless you have internalized my heart for my people, you won’t be any good for them. If you have any hope of following through on any of the weird stuff that is in your future, you’re going to need to operate not out of an external word but out of something rooted inside.”

In leadership, the quickest way to kill a great idea is to ask someone to do it before they own it. Hannah Whitall Smith (Quaker theologian) wrote that it is our nature to rebel against laws that are outside of us, but we embrace that which springs up from within. She was right. How often have you resisted someone else’s idea until you decided it was your own? God’s way of working in us is to get possession of us, so he can make his ideas our ideas.

This is how we become heavenly minded. Eat this scroll, God said. Gain the heart of God for people. Internalize it. Own it. Let it do its work in you. This could well be the most powerful word in the Bible about the Bible. Only as we steep in the Word are we able to internalize and own the very heart of God, allowing it to change the way we think.

If being heavenly minded is the only way we can do any earthly good (and I am convinced it is), then the path to that posture runs through the Word of God. Not counter to it.

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You are a strange bird (or, What it means to love like Jesus)

You are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people; that you should show forth the praises of him who has called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. – 1 Peter 2:9

We are peculiar people. We’re designed that way. Christians aren’t supposed to look like the rest of the world. We like the hard case, the loose cannon, the one in the margins, because Jesus does. He has a preference for the poor and those who struggle and because he loves, we do.

Christians are known, in fact, for the way we treat the least lovable among us. How do we love those who struggle like Jesus loves them?

Hang in there with those who struggle. Tony Campolo says, “If you want to win people to Jesus, you first have to love them.” Too often, people who follow Jesus react in fear when they are faced with someone who struggles with sexual brokenness or addiction or emotional wounds. But the Bible teaches us that perfect love casts out all fear. Jesus is our model. Jesus healed the sick, fed the hungry and ate with sinners. Those who follow him will hang in there with those who struggle.

Pray for anyone who struggles with any issue that keeps them from the abundant life. There is a sense that Christians are supposed to live to avoid pain. We celebrate healing as the ultimate sign of Jesus’ presence and power, but then we pray too small. As if our own personal deliverance from a headache is the most a cosmic redeemer can muster. “Well, the world is a shambles, but at least my head feels better.” Is that the redeemer we want? Is that the redeemer of the Bible?

Why not spend your faith on bigger things?

Let your heart break in prayer over someone in your life who deals with sexual brokenness. Or start praying every day for an alcoholic or an addict. Or pray in tears for God to save every person you love who isn’t saved. Why not shake the gates of hell for someone every day for a month and see what happens? Because your headache can be handled with an aspirin, but the world is full of people who cannot change or will not change until we pray.

Be a friend. You know the old saying, right? “People don’t care what you know until they know you care.” It is a cliche because it is true. Our job is not to fill every need or ease every discomfort. That’s a formula for burn-out. What we can do is simply be a friend who listens, prays and loves … a friend who cares.

Don’t define anyone by their struggle. None of us wants to be labeled according to our sins or issues. Grace doesn’t define people by their struggles, but by the blood of Jesus. If the gospel were to boil down to one issue, it would not be someone’s sin. It would be grace. That doesn’t mean we ignore sin or normalize it, but that we are able to look more deeply at what defines people so we see them as more than their worst moment.

Practice humility. We can’t possibly know all the reasons someone struggles with a hurt, habit or hang-up. Humility requires us to assume that they suffer just as legitimately as we do. It also requires us to be honest about our own weaknesses. In their shoes, we might be just as much of a mess. Humility cautions us to wait for the Lord to move first because only the Lord can change a life.

That’s how Christians act. We are peculiar people — people who love profoundly, who hang on way past good sense, who believe that the Holy Spirit uses odd people to advance the Kingdom of God.

And when we act like Jesus, the world will call us peculiar but the Word will call us blessed.

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How to have a spiritual conversation in Starbucks without feeling weird about it

Here’s a fact: A real Christian is never going to look like the rest of the world.

Never.

We are peculiar people, and that isn’t just my opinion. The KJV of Deuteronomy 14:2 tells us we are called to that label — chosen to be God’s peculiar brand of person. (the Hebrew word actually means “treasure” or “God’s possession). We are chosen, holy, God’s possession.

Let’s call it what it is: we kind of like being called treasures but we don’t much like looking strange. And doing spiritual things can look strange. Nonetheless, this is the call. It is to peculiarity, to distinguishing ourselves from the rest of the world. Having spiritual conversations is one way we mark that distinction.

Think of it this way: Suppose you had a passion for painting old furniture. You relish the hunt — finding a beat-up chair for $5 in a second-hand store and seeing that which is not as if it is. You buy it, take it home by way of Home Depot (where you spend another $50, but that’s not the point), and transform it into a treasure. What looks like dumpster-diving to someone else is a creative adventure for you. A passion.

So when guests come to your house and notice your creation — “Wow! What a cool chair!” —  do you stay quiet? No way! You tell them the whole story behind the find and the transformation of that chair. And if someone tells you they’d really love to paint furniture, do you tell them, “Well, I don’t really know enough to talk to you about it. Find a professional.” NO! Because you have Pinterest, you are a professional. And this pleasure of finding treasures and transforming them gives life to you, so you want to share it.

And I want to say this to you: Because you are a treasure who has been redeemed and have found your treasure in Christ, you are also a person who talks about it. You are set apart for this, to share Christ. But if you’re not practiced at having spiritual conversations (even if you are supernaturally gifted for them, by virtue of your redemption), where do you begin?

Ask great questions.

Choose a few easy questions and begin to practice them in the context of conversations with your friends. You’d be amazed at how quickly they become second-nature. And you’ll be surprised at how quickly a well-placed question can turn a conversation to a deeper, more meaningful place. Try these, for starters:

  • How is it with your soul?
  • Where have you seen Jesus at work in the last week?
  • What has you stressed out right now? How can I pray for you?

Learn something new from each other.

Choose a Bible passage to study together (the method offered here is called Discovery Bible Study). Read it out loud, then close the Bible and try to reconstruct what you’ve just read from memory. Then ask a few questions to help get at the meaning of the passage:

  • What did you like? What surprised you? What confused you? Why?
  • What does this passage tell us about God? People? The relationship between God and people?
  • How does this passage change how you view God? Yourself? Other people?
  • How should this passage change how you live? What specifically will you do differently this coming week?
  • (and my favorite question of all) Who can you tell what you learned?

Share prophetically with each other. 

Prophetic thinking exposes us to the treasures that have been embedded in other people. This is why Paul would say, “Follow the way of love and eagerly desire gifts of the Spirit, especially prophecy” (1 Corinthians 14:1-5).

So how do we do that for each other? It is not as hard as it might sound. Just spend a few minutes talking with each other about what you see God doing in the world and in each other. Use this as a time of encouragement and challenge.

  • Talk about what God is doing (Deuteronomy 6:7).
  • Speak words of blessing and encouragement (Numbers 6:22-26).
  • Speak that which is not as if it is (Romans 4:17).

Pray together.

Finally, pray. Having listened to one another with an ear toward the voice of the Holy Spirit, think about how this conversation can be turned into prayer. What did you learn that can now become a conversation with God? What was exposed that can be brought for healing?

Remember: “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience” (Pierre Teilhard de Chardin). Spiritual conversation is how we learn the language of our people — chosen, holy, treasured, spiritual.

And peculiar … in a good way.

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How to act on the brink of brokenness (or, divorce and the mercy of God)

Roly-poly1We used to call them roly polies. When I was a kid, they were hands-down my favorite bugs. Finding a family of them under a brick in the dirt was like finding a whole other world.

When a roly poly is stretched out and moving forward, he is one of the most flexible animals on God’s green earth. But when he balls up to protect himself he becomes the opposite of flexible. Stretched out, he can maneuver through dirt and grass and under rocks. Rolled up, he is incapable of mobilizing at all. He is just a hard ball of crustacean trying to protect himself.

When Jesus talks about divorce in Matthew,* it makes me think of the roly poly. Jesus says, “When you ball up to protect yourself, you default to a hard heart. And in a marriage, a hard heart can be a killer.” That “rolling up’ we do can manifest as anger, emotional withdrawal, dishonesty, manipulation or even bitterness. It is us, backing off emotionally until we feel nothing and have lost all sense of possibility.

Stretched out and moving forward, we put ourselves in line with immense possibilities. In a self-protective crouch, we are incapable of seeing the options.

In Jesus’ word about marriage and divorce, he reveals what he knows about human nature. The one who spoke us into being knows how we are made —  our weaknesses, how we cope, how we tend to protect ourselves. He knows our tendency toward self-protection leads us in directions we don’t intend to go.

And in his great kindness he offers mercy even at the dying end of a marriage. Not because it is God’s best but because sometimes it is the best we can do.

Sometimes marriages will fail. I believe this is exactly the point Jesus was making in Matthew. In a fallen world, tough things happen, things that are not God’s best. Sometimes it will happen because of our own fallenness; sometimes it will happen in spite of our best efforts at restoration.

What then? We are limited but we serve a God of immense possibilities. In the middle of something that feels like a valley of dry bones, what is our right response?

Acknowledge what is. Recently I had a conversation with someone whose marriage is teetering on the brink of brokenness. The comment was made: “I have to decide whether I want to be married to this person or not.” To which I replied, “Too late. You already are.” Married is married. Vows are vows. At the very least, be honest about what is.

Remember: there are a million steps between your unhappiness and divorce. When things go wrong, we tend to default to “fight or flight” mode and neglect all the options available to us. Keep in mind that we serve the most creative Being in the Universe. Surely he can come up with a solution or a way through that we haven’t yet considered. Is counseling an option? A conversation with your pastor? What about a weekend away? Or a weekend apart (but in safe places)? Spend time listening to the Holy Spirit and writing down every option you hear. Don’t discount any of them; allow God to open up the possibilities for you. A crisis will often narrow our perspective. Allow God the chance to widen it again. Remember the roly poly and stretch yourself. You can’t move forward in a defensive crouch.

Let Jesus referee. When face-to-face communication stops working, try knee-to-knee communication. Bring Jesus into the conversation through prayer. Praying together does two things in a marriage. First, because it is such a real and intimate thing, it is a place where you really get to hear the other person’s heart. People tend to be more honest, more transparent when they pray. Second, because it is a prayer, God hears it. Jesus says that wherever two or three are gathered together, he is right there with them. So if you want to make that triangle thing happen in your marriage, prayer will do it for you. Prayer is like a zipline that takes you immediately into God’s presence. If praying aloud isn’t comfortable, sit together and pray quietly. Start somewhere.

Remember that your circumstances are not the foundation of your happiness; God is. By focusing on circumstances, we make others responsible for our joy. Others must behave in a certain way in order for us to be at peace. If, on the other hand, we’re able to focus on what Christ has done, we find ourselves rooted in something more stable. Root your emotions in your relationship with Christ, especially in times of uncertainty. This change in perspective may be the key to moving us from hard-heartedness to whole-heartedness.

Is there room for divorce within a Christian worldview? Yes. When infidelity happens, the trust that is broken may be irreparable. When there is abuse, it is both our right and responsibility to remove ourselves from the abuser (some boundaries are holy; this is one of them). When others are acting immorally or illegally it is an act of mercy and maturity to hold them responsible for that. To let a person persist unchallenged in their sin is not healthy for either of you.

We will also get divorced for reasons that aren’t so noble or clear-cut but even then, we must remember that divorce — while it is not God’s best for us — is not the unforgivable sin. We can rebuild, restore and become new people as we forgive and take responsibility. Even when we miss out on God’s best, we remember that we are not sinners in the hands of an angry God. We are people who sin in the hands of a merciful God.

Praise God for grace enough to cover all of it — the good, the bad and the painful.

 

* They said to him, “Why then did Moses command one to give a certificate of divorce and to send her away?” He said to them, “Because of your hardness of heart Moses allowed you to divorce your wives, but from the beginning it was not so. And I say to you: whoever divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, and marries another, commits adultery.” — Matthew 19:7-9

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Change Your Mind.

Today’s post is a gift from Angel H. Davis. A Christ follower who lives in Athens, Ga. Angel is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker specializing in healing prayer. Read on: 

Have you heard of the Butterfly Effect? Fascinating! In short, it is research that suggests that the flap of a butterfly’s wing might ultimately cause a tornado on the other side of the world.

One flap of a tiny wing has more power then we ever imagined and the same could be said of our own thoughts. Current brain research indicates (as Gary Sibcy says) “we are connected like Bluetooth.” In other words, we naturally communicate to others even though we may not realize it is happening.

I imagine a butterfly has no clue that what it does naturally every day has the potential to create such a powerful force miles and miles away. Nor do we. Most of us don’t have a clue that our brain waves (thoughts) also have extraordinary power. After all, what I think is my business … right?

Well, yes … but …

Our thoughts make a difference. They effect the world around us more than we can fathom.

Perhaps that’s why Paul says in Romans 12:2, “Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.” Our thoughts have the power to transform us and our subsequent behavior has the power to transform the world … to transform other people. How? Because of our inherent interconnection. God has designed us not as islands unto ourselves, but as interconnected beings.

Which means that what I do in my private time does effect you. And what you do effects me. And at the root of all of it is the nature of holiness.

We tend to look at holiness as a set of behaviors; we look at the outward appearance and actions. And of course, as we’ve said actions can indicate and point to the inward, but what we’re after is not judgment from the outside in but transformation from the inside out. This is what Paul meant when he said to the Corinthians: “So don’t make judgments about anyone ahead of time—before the Lord returns. For he will bring our darkest secrets to light and will reveal our private motives. Then God will give to each one whatever praise is due.”

This is judgment from the inside out; and note that it isn’t we who judge! We are not given that right … which is hard to accept because frankly, we humans are good at pointing fingers and judging others. We like having our opinions and raging at those who don’t agree with us. Even ‘”us” who call ourselves Christ followers. Maybe even especially us (Frank Viola says, and not as a compliment, “God’s people are the most easily offended people on the planet.”).

It’s the blame-and-shame game — the age-old attack from the enemy of our souls.

That game began in the garden of Eden and sin and satan have been tempting us ever since. When we sin, we fear what God and other people will do; we attempt to cover it up (control), hiding from God and others by rationalizing. “If I hide then God won’t know … right?” Good luck on that one! Or we find someone to blame (“it’s Eve’s fault”). The behavior is as old as humanity itself and we still buy into it and go round and round with the enemy of our souls. We are getting duped today just like our earliest ancestors.

The good news is that there is an ancient remedy still relevant for our time. Through Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit our hearts can be made new. Our part as Christ-followers is to allow Him to transform us into more and more of His likeness/ character.

In your quiet time, spend some time asking God:

  1. 
What am I protecting myself against?
  2. What parts of my heart am I trying hide from God?
  3. Who do I need to forgive?
  4. What do I need to face and take responsibility for?
  5. And what do I need to receive forgiveness for?

If we allow God to access to our hearts He will purify them and transform them. In other words — listen! — God can change the way you think! Then, and only then, can we truly be conduits in this world for positive change.

A friend told me recently that in prayer she was asking God to use her hands, her feet, her voice for His glory. And she heard in her soul: “Give me your heart.”

As a counselor for thirty-plus years, I can tell you this is the hardest submission that I see Christ-followers facing here in the West. Because of our religious freedom, there is little chance we will literally have to die for our faith, as some of our brothers and sisters do in other parts of the world. But God does call us to let Him have access and control of our hearts and that too is a kind of death — a death to self and self-protection, which God calls sin.

Instead of the blame-and-shame game that connects us to the world, let’s enter into the repent-and-forgive game that can connect us like Bluetooth to our amazing God.

Be an agent of change. Flap your wings for His Glory!

 

Read more from Angel in her book, The Perfecting Storm: Experiencing God’s Best Through the Trials of Marriage. This is an exceptional resource for those who want to see transformation in their marriage.

 

 

 

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Work-life balance is a lie (and that’s okay).

Work-life balance is the new black. Everyone wants it, everyone believes it is attainable, and just about everyone uses it to make others feel guilty for not having it.

But no one has it. Why? Because it is a lie. Balance is a lie, no less in the world of ministry than in any other vocation. And lies tend to be guilt-producing. As I’ve said so often we all have twenty-four hours and we all tend to spend every minute of them. This is life. Life is work, and work is life. We likely do ourselves a disservice when we attempt to divide things up. When we compartmentalize — church goes in this slot, work goes in this slot, family over here, God over there — we train our minds to separate rather than integrate. Which is not to say that we won’t get over-extended or that our priorities won’t get out of whack. I’m just saying that a lot of the rhetoric out there creates the illusion that somehow we can divide our lives into equal pie pieces and somehow make it all fit.

If that can happen, I sure haven’t figured it out yet.

What I have discovered, however, is that there is a holy rhythm I can strike that brings rest into my life. I’ve discovered that I am uniquely calibrated; I have a pace that works for me (you have one, too) and when I go faster than my pace, I feel it. I’ve also discovered that I can pick up my pace for a season if I know I can slow down when that season has passed. Learning my holy rhythm has been a way for me to negotiate seasons of travel and busy-ness without losing my sanity.

These days, I’m not seeking balance so much as seeking rhythm.

In my pursuit of a holy rhythm, I’ve discovered a truth: Discipline is rest. Far from being constrictive, discipline actually provides the kind of physical and mental rest I crave. When I submit to a daily schedule of exercise, devotion, work and downtime, it creates mental space in which I can rest. Discipline creates less guilt than the alternative; as I enter into it, I find a pace that naturally selects what can be accomplished in the course of my day.

Discipline creates rhythm, and rhythm is restful.

Discipline creates space! No wonder John Wesley advocated for the means of grace. These spiritual disciplines help create holy rhythm, which creates space, which creates rest, which leads to joy.

Every season has its own rhythm, of course. When I had a daughter at home, my life was very different. In this season, however,  I’m working toward making the following disciplines into a regular weekly rhythm as a way of creating more space in my life. I offer them here as food for thought as you consider what rhythm might work in your life:

Five days of devotional time. I spend about an hour each weekday in prayer, listening, reading and journaling. One of these hours is spent with an accountability partner. Saturdays are my Sabbath. Sundays are for community worship.

Four days of exercise. I make mine happen early in the day.

Three days of blogging. I am committed to sharing what God is teaching me. Writing is my thing, but it may not be yours. What brings you joy? Whatever it is … music, dancing, woodworking, whatever … give yourself the intentional gift of making time for it each week so it doesn’t end up being the thing you “used to do.”

Two evenings at home. Church meetings can soak up a lot of weekday evenings and in this season of our lives (no kids at home), we can be more flexible. Making sure we get at least a couple of nights during the week to be home together without agenda creates space for my husband and me to stay connected.

One Sabbath. I take one day a week to slow down, sleep late and just hang out. I don’t usually do anything I don’t want to do on this day, and I don’t let myself feel guilty if I do things (like a home improvement project) that others might consider work. This is my day, a gift from the Lord.

And once a year, I take a few days with friends to simply “be.” I have a group that gets together to “take our tents outside the camp.”  In Exodus 33, we learn that Moses had a habit of picking up his tent and taking it outside the camp to meet with God. Out there, away from people and problems, the story says he would talk with God as a man with a friend. There is nothing more restorative than time away from the office, from distractions, to listen for the voice of God and re-center on his priorities for your life. I appreciate the time my friends and I take together to rest in the Lord, think deeply and talk honestly about what we see happening in each other’s lives.

I’m not doing any of this perfectly but I’m discovering the rest that discipline brings, whether I’m traveling or at home. This goal creates a rhythm inside my schedule that more naturally selects what else I have time for. What about you? What rhythms will help you develop a more sane and sanctifying pace for your life, so you have margin to live a holy life?

 

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The difference between repentance and saying you’re sorry

Forgiveness is the centerpiece of our gospel. It is half the gift God offers through the cross, the other half being an invitation into the fullness of life.

Repentance is how we receive that gift. The word has a bad reputation these days. It has been yelled far more often than taught, so it has gathered more shame than freedom as it has rolled through the Church. Which is a shame in itself, because repentance is a far cry from shame-producing. To the contrary, it is yet another freedom word in the vocabulary of Christ.

To repent means to make a conscious decision to change behavior away from immaturity and repentance2toward maturity. It is a decision to walk out of dysfunction and toward health. Repentance frees us up to more joyfully live into our created design as it shakes off of us the destructive behaviors that cling so tightly and hold us captive.

In its most spiritual sense (which is its deepest definition), to repent means to turn away from something that offends a good, holy, loving, wise God. We do this not because God will strike us dead if we don’t, but because offending a good and loving God is not life-giving. To repent means shifting gears, making a genuine choice to practice life so that we (our whole selves) become an offering pleasing to God. We become no longer our own, but His. That thing we did becomes no longer ours but His.

True repentance releases us from shame and guilt that too often distort our decisions and behaviors and send our lives down dead-end paths.

But here’s the thing: for real repentance to happen, there has to be a willingness to let something go. There has to be a death to our self-centered tendencies. Humility (the primary personality trait of Jesus, always characterized by self-sacrifice) is the fruit of genuine repentance. It is very much what Jesus meant when he advised his friends, “If anyone wants to be my follower, he must take up his cross and follow me.” There is more to repentance than just saying, “I did it,” or “I’m sorry.” When practiced, authentically, there is a transformation proven by a character shift. What happens after we repent proves the sincerity of repentance itself. Humility surfaces, showing up beneath the words in some unmistakable way. In an honest act of repentance, the watching world sees a spiritual shift in one’s relationship with God, with others, with oneself.

Let me say again: In genuine repentance, something has to die. 

You see the point in Jesus’ story about the prodigal son. When the rebellious son first went to his father, he was bent on getting something for nothing. He said to his dad, “I don’t want to wait until you die. I want my share of the estate now.” Somehow he wanted to receive death benefits without death, but there is no shortcut.

Even Jesus asked (remember? on the night before he died?) if it could be done any other way. The answer is no. In order for true forgiveness to happen something has to die. Jesus said (John 12:24), “I tell you the truth, unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” This is the great news on the other side of repentance. If we’ll fully submit to the act of it, we will find such progress on the other side. But as Psalm 23 teaches, we can’t get to the feast on the mountaintop without first walking through the valley.

There is no shortcut to fruitfulness.

That’s what I’m waiting for in stories of people apologizing for things misspoken or for misbehavior that doesn’t honor their best or benefit anyone. I am looking for a spirit of Isaiah, for a deeper understanding of Paul’s truth. There is something to be said for sober judgment, for falling down before God in an honest recognition of our imperfect state, with a less arrogant defensiveness. There is something attractive about a sincere acknowledgement that we’re on a journey … and not there yet. I’m not talking about self-flagellation (a false humility that belittles us). I’m talking about eyes-wide-open reflection on the distance between our current reality and what is true, noble, pure, lovely, admirable.

Yes, we are free, but not free to do as we please. To think otherwise is to completely miss the point of true community.

I guess what I’m looking for in those who lead, in those who serve, in those who live in Christian community is a little holy humility. I’m looking for a death worthy of repentance. And what I’m asking of others — I realize even as I’m writing this — I must also be willing to do within myself.

Lord, have mercy.

Are you practicing the art of repentance, transparently confessing before God areas of offense in your life, so you can experience freedom?

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How to live in Heaven now

Let’s say you have a great trip coming up. You’ve planned something you’ll really enjoy and you’re excited. The closer it gets the more pumped you get. If this trip is a vacation from a bad job, you’re even hungrier to see it hurry up and get here. This is your mindset every day when you go in to work: This daily grind is something I have to endure until I get to the thing that is going to be the best thing ever. This is now, but that thing I’m waiting for … that is great.

Somehow, we’ve allowed the salvation message to morph into that kind of message. This life is something we have to endure so we can get to the thing that is going to be the best thing ever. Almost like Heaven is a vacation from a bad job, or another way to check out of real life.

Let me be clear: standing in the presence of the most loving Being in the universe has got to trump standing in line at Kroger. Eternal life is a treasure. But practically speaking, we tend to treat it more as an escape. The bigger truth is that eternal life is God’s kind of life. It is this life the way it is supposed to be lived … now.

When we talk about eternal life, we’re talking about sharing in the life of God.* God makes life happen and God’s kind of life is designed to be eternal. It has a beginning (in God) but no end. This is what characterizes the life He gives.

If I choose to share in the life of Christ, then I’m sharing in that life now. I’m living my eternal life now. Eternal life begins now. I don’t know of any other truth that has power to bring more peace than this, nor any other truth we seem so remarkably incapable of embracing.

So here’s a question: If I fear death, how does that manifest in my choices about lesser things? Because if I believe this — if I really believe that my biggest questions are answered — that ought to make a difference in all the other choices in my life. In the same way, if I still fear death then that also will affect my choices about lesser things.

To say I am not afraid of death means I am also not afraid of anything less than that. This way of thinking is the path to peace, which means that peace is a choice I make every day. It is a choice to live as if my biggest questions are already answered.

Does my thought life prove my belief in eternity? Does yours?

 

*I got this idea from Billy Graham’s newest book, Where I Am: Heaven, Eternity, And Life Beyond.

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It’s a lot easier to be a hypocrite than it is to be holy.

(Today, I’m giving this space to Leah Hartman, who I met at New Room. Read on …)

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”
— Matthew 7:3-6

These words from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount popped into my head the other day. I was driving down the road when a speck of something (likely sawdust, in fact, given the husband’s cabinet business) got stuck in my eye.

As I was trying to get it out, I got to thinking about holiness. Because that’s what I think Jesus is getting at here. That’s what paying attention to the plank in our own eye and then removing it means. Jesus pits hypocrisy and holiness against each other. The two are diabolically opposed. Unfortunately, we sometimes confuse “holiness” with “holier-than-thouness” which is to say hypocrisy. Jesus says they are antonyms.

Not hypocrisy, Jesus says. Holiness.

Like the parent of tattling children, Jesus reminds us to “worry about your own self.” I get this because it’s currently my life. I can’t tell you how many times a day I say this to Claire, who is five, as she bosses Wesley, who is two, to NOT do the very thing she herself IS doing. Jesus knows as well as I that we cannot be fully committed to our own holiness if even part of our energy is in making sure someone else is holy.

It’s a lot easier to be a hypocrite than it is to be holy.

As I was reflecting about all of this, I thought about the following process from hypocrisy to holiness:

  1. Humility— You can’t have holiness without humility. Humility is not self-deprecation; it’s honesty. It is to come into agreement with who God says we are. To think that we are anything less than a child of God or anything more than a sinner in need of grace is pride, which uproots holiness faster than anything else. Humility admits THAT we have at least a speck in our eye, and probably a plank.
  2. Awareness— It’s not enough to know THAT we are sinful. We must also come to know WHAT is our particular brand of sin. Each of us has disordered thinking, affections, and living. Awareness is paying attention to our patterns of behavior and manifestations of sin and asking the Spirit of God to reveal their root.
  3. Holiness— Armed with humility and awareness, we can get serious about holiness. Holiness is the process of partnering with the Spirit of God to obsessively remove the planks from our eyes.

As I was driving down the highway at 70 miles per hour, that speck in my eye felt more like a plank. And Jesus is right— it became very hard to see! There was a lot of blinking and watering and blurring. I was easily a danger, not only to myself, but to my three children who were counting on me to see clearly. (Not to mention anyone else one the road!) Perhaps this is Jesus’ whole point: other people are dependent upon OUR holiness. And ironically, removing our own planks just might be the very thing that motivates someone else to remove their speck.

Because there is nothing more compelling than a life transformed by the Gospel, a life of holiness.

Leah Hartman’s discipleship mantra is word, deed, repeat. And she practices it at home, with her husband and three children, and in community. She blogs at Leah-hartman.com.

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