Redemption

The passages in the Lectionary this week which inspired this post are Isaiah 49:1-7, Psalm 40:1-11, 1 Corinthians 1:1-9, and John 1:29-42. I hope you will read along and share the ways these scriptures spoke to you.

The story of redemption is so thrilling to me. 

I have this picture in my head of God concocting a plan that went above and beyond anyone's wildest dreams, with a gleam in his eye and a conspiratorial whisper to the prophets and his own Son about his plans for redemption of the whole world. Isaiah 49:6 says, "It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to bring back the preserved of Israel; I will make you a light for the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth." 

After baptizing Jesus, John proclaimed that Jesus was "the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world." Even before Jesus' ministry began, John caught a glimpse of God's grand scheme, a plan that had been in the works since sin first became messily twisted into human nature. 

It was too light a thing to simply bring hope and salvation to his people, Israel. God decided to go even further than that, to bring hope and salvation to the world. 

The first chapter of 1 Corinthians declares that recipients of God's grace and forgiveness will stand guiltless before God. Of course, this is not because we are naturally without sin on our own, nor are we suddenly incapable of sin in light of our salvation. No, we are guiltless before God because Christ sustains us. Our guilt has been covered, is being covered, and will continue to be covered.

This is what inspires me to worship, and to speak of what God has done; I stand in awe of of the grace that has been given to me. I certainly do not deserve it on my own. I have another picture of God in my head, as a loving parent stooping down to gently wipe the dirt away from a small messy child who has stumbled and fallen yet again. My hands are dirty, yet they have been cleansed, and they continue to be cleansed. 

And in the process, my heart is continually transformed. God's law has been written on my heart-- a law that can be summed up with the directive to love God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love my neighbor as myself. And while this law does not do away with the propensity to sin that has been entangled in my very nature, the spirit of God himself whispers it to my heart daily, pointing me toward a different path and enabling me to choose it.

I don't always choose it. No, sometimes I choose poorly-- and boy, have I messed up over and over. And yet there is God again, holding out a loving hand, cleansing and forgiving me, pointing me always toward love, hope, and grace. He has a hold on my heart that the propensity for sin cannot undo, and for that I am grateful.

Faith Creeps In

This week's readings in the Lectionary are: Isaiah 42:1-9, Psalm 29, Acts 10:34-43, and Matthew 3:13-17. I hope you'll read along!

According to the liturgical calendar, we are now in the season of Epiphany. I am familiar with Advent, and of course Christmas, but I didn't know much about Epiphany. I wanted to understand the significance better, so I looked it up.

Basically, Epiphany celebrates the manifestation of God in human form through Jesus and focuses on the ways that Jesus was revealed to both the Jewish people and the Gentiles. (I'm sure there's much more to it that some readers could explain, but these seemed to me as though they were the major points. Readers, feel free to further elaborate in the comments!)

Epiphany will last until Lent begins in March. I'm excited to spend the next several weeks focusing specifically on God in human flesh-- and actually, I've done a bit of that already in my Christmas posts!

Isaiah 42:5 paints a beautiful image of God as the creator and giver of life, "who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people on it and spirit to those who walk in it." Furthermore, Psalm 29 specifically describes God's glory, strength, power, majesty, and holiness. This God-- this holy, powerful God-- chose to humble himself and come to us in human form through Jesus. God's spirit rested upon him, and anyone at all can be redeemed, regardless of who they are or what they have done.

Isn't that amazing?

However, since this is my blog, I'm gonna be really honest. As amazing as it is, it can also be hard to believe sometimes. Please don't misunderstand me here. My heart fully believes it to be true, but occasionally I have doubts. I think most people have this struggle at times, if they are being honest with themselves.

I told my brother recently that I have a faith crisis every six months or so. And honestly, that's pretty accurate. I wake up one morning and reflect on my beliefs, and all of a sudden I find myself thinking, "Whoa! That sounds crazy. What if it's not even true and I'm just nuts?"

Unfortunately, many times the church shuts people down when they express their doubts and questions. It is as though there is something to be feared about doubt; as if doubts will inevitably lead to renunciation of faith.

Actually, in my experience, my doubts and questions have always led me to a deeper faith.

When doubts creep in, so does faith. It's a hard answer sometimes, because of course some tangible, undeniable proof would be nice. But there is an element of faith that involves the things we cannot prove. For me, my heart just feels it and knows it to be true, even when it doesn't always make perfect sense in my head. And I have come to a point where I am okay with this supposed contradiction.

Yes, I do believe God came in the flesh. I believe he humbled himself to our level to make a way because he loves us. I believe in forgiveness, unmerited grace, redemption, and love. Even if it doesn't always make sense, my heart believes it to be true.

Themes

If you are interested in reading along, the passages from the lectionary that inspired this post are: Jeremiah 31:7-14, Psalm 147:12-20, Ephesians 1:3-14, and John 1:1-18. They can be read at http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts.php?id=11. 

Scripture speaks of the same tendency over and over, a theme that seems inextricably woven into humanity: the tendency to veer quickly off course when left to one's own devices. Throughout the Old Testament, God revealed himself to the people of Israel-- his ways, his power, his provision, his righteousness, his love, his mercy, and his comfort. And yet continually, they turned away as soon as they lost focus on him.

Then God came in the flesh through Jesus, and still many of his own people did not recognize him. He embodied grace and truth; he gave them an example of what God is like. Yet they were so focused on their own expectations and traditions that when God himself walked among them, they rejected him.

But another theme is revealed throughout scripture: amidst the chaos and brokenness of the human condition, God loves so fiercely that he continually makes a way.

Heaven knows if I were God, I would eventually throw my hands up in disgust and give up on the whole mess. But that isn't who God is. I've heard so many negative statements about the Old Testament through the years. A punitive God, wars, bloodshed, and so on. But if you take a closer look, you see God's mercy and love revealed again and again. God doesn't give up on his people, no matter what. He promises to lead them back, to gather and keep them, to comfort them, to turn their mourning to joy, and to redeem them.

His love and provision are evident; his tenderness and mercy are always present. God doesn't give up; he makes a way because it is clear that they cannot do it without his help. 

And this is not just for the people of Israel. No, it is for anyone who will receive him. Despite our human tendency to miss God when he's right in front of us, he is able to shine through into our hearts so we can recognize him. And that, to me, is a beautiful mystery: it's not something we are able to do on our own; it is something that is done through his grace.

Ephesians speaks of receiving an inheritance, and the Holy Spirit is the down payment. This means that through God's grace, we have received even more than forgiveness; we have also received his spirit so we can live out his love and grace toward others. We won't do it perfectly, of course, because we are in fact still human. But we can do it; or rather, God can do it through us.

This leads me to seriously consider the ways in which God's spirit is evident in my life. Am I loving, joyful, peaceful, patient, kind, gentle? No, not always. And yet God remains merciful to me, and continues guiding and discipling me in love!

I'm unspeakably grateful for a loving God who lavishes us with grace. In his perfect love, he has cast out fear and he has made a way for us, a path of forgiveness, freedom, and mercy.

Praise

Several months ago, I began an attempt to write down things I am grateful for on little slips of paper, and thumbtack them to a cork board. It was meant to be a visual reminder of the large and small ways God has provided for me and my family. Unfortunately, it was a failed attempt because the board ended up getting buried under other stuff on my desk and I forgot about it. :-/ However, I'm getting ready to try it again, this time with the board hanging on a wall in a common room of the house so everyone can see and contribute to it. And no more thumbtacks and little slips of paper; ain't nobody got time for that. I'm just putting a posterboard over the cork board and we can write things directly on it with whatever is handy.

But as I think about praise, I realize there is so much more to it than I think about most of the time. It's not just about praise for material and financial provision, or for health-- although those are most certainly worthy of praise!

There is more.

Psalm 148 is a beautiful piece of poetry that talks about all of creation praising God. It starts by speaking of heavenly beings such as angels, then works its way down through nature itself: the sun, moon, and stars, the animals, the mountains, the trees, even the weather. And then humanity: the kings and rulers of the world, men and women, and finally children. Each aspect of creation is described as being created at the commandment of a God whose majesty is above both earth and heaven. And God's entire creation is poised to praise him.

But the imagery in the psalm takes on more meaning for me when I consider the heights and depths of the universe experienced by Christ: from the heavens all the way down to being a human infant, taking on flesh and blood, and experiencing temptation and suffering. God humbled himself to our position-- then gloriously defeated death. Hebrews 2 describes this so beautifully, with a reminder that Jesus destroyed the one who has power over death. The implications for our spiritual freedom and deliverance are enormous! This is certainly worthy of praise.

But there is, again, more.

This is where my mind is blown every time I think of it.

Presumably, Jesus could have stayed safe in the comfort of heaven, but he didn't. The act of coming to this world as a human being, taking on flesh and blood, suffering, and dying so we could be redeemed... this is such an amazing display of God's compassion, mercy, goodness, and love that I am nearly speechless when I try to fathom it.

The tendency toward sin is woven through humanity; it is egregious and tragic. But God, rather than being put off by it or throwing his hands up in the air and giving up on us, opted instead for marvelous grace, mercy, and compassion to make a way for us. Because stronger than our sinfulness, is God's love for us.

Let me try to put it in human terms I can wrap my head around more easily. It's like seeing my child fail repeatedly at meeting adult standards. As a parent, I see his limitations and immaturity, so rather than giving up on him or punishing him, I come alongside him to help him meet the standard. That's a very dumbed down explanation, but it's one I can easily understand.

The love of a parent toward his or her child is humble, self-sacrificing, compassionate, and merciful. This is a beautiful picture. When I blow it up to the proportions of a perfect creator and fallen humanity, it becomes that much more beautiful. 

Look at the love God has lavished on us. How amazing that God has made a way for redemption for people who are incapable of doing it on their own.

God responds to our failures and sins with compassion and mercy! Not with fury, disgust, punishment, or turning away from us. But why?

Because of the "abundance of his steadfast love" (Isaiah 63:7).

And that is worthy of praise.


If you are interested in reading along, the passages from the lectionary that inspired this post are: Isaiah 63:7-9, Psalm 148, Hebrews 2:10-18, and Matthew 2: 13-23. They can be read at http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts.php?id=8

Faith

I was planning a lesson for children’s church about Moses and the Exodus. As I read through the Bible story, a particular scene caught my attention. God had just told Moses that he wanted him to go back to Egypt and rescue his people.

Moses doubted himself. “Who am I to go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” And God promises to be with him. And then God promises Moses a sign.

“This will be the sign that it is I who will send you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.”

Now, most of us know how the rest of the story went. We know that God did some amazing things in order to bring his people out of Egypt and to show that he was indeed God. But put yourself in Moses’ place for a minute. When he woke up that morning, he had no idea that God was going to interrupt his normal daily life and give him such an enormous job. And now he’s standing here, trying to take in this impossible-sounding assignment, and God tells him he will give him a sign-- after he brings the people out of Egypt.

When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.

I sat and pondered this for a while. If God asked me to do something that I felt totally comfortable and confident doing, obeying wouldn't require much faith. But would I have the faith to step out and do something that sounded so impossible? Something that terrified me? Something I didn't feel confident enough to do? And what if the sign that it was really from him would not come until after I had done the thing he was asking me to do?

Once God has interrupted your life in such a dramatic fashion, you have a choice: You can step out in faith and obey in spite of your fears, or you can ignore what has just happened and try to go back to your daily life.

Moses obeyed. Despite his fears, despite his worries, he obeyed. The only other option was to ignore what had happened to him and try to go back to life as usual. But I suspect that even if he had done that, things never would have felt the way they did before. He would always have that niggling feeling in the back of his mind, down deep in his spirit, that God was calling him to something more...

Empathy

After my experience on Sunday morning, I am not sure what to do. I feel like I cannot carry on as usual and pretend it never happened. Even when I do carry on as usual, something in me feels... unsettled. I am reminded of what James has said about being "haunted" by the Holy Spirit; when you are haunted, you are unable to live a normal life.

It's not that I feel an urge to go out and try to fix everyone's problems. For once, I don't feel that way. I know that is not my place. But I am left asking myself, what do I do with this? I sat in that room and became immensely aware of people's pain and God's compassion. That is real, and I cannot ignore it.

Empathy is a gift, I think. And I think that is at the core of what I felt on Sunday. There have been many times in my life when I have felt so strongly what other people are feeling. Combine empathy with intuition, and yes, I absolutely believe it is a gift that God wants to use. Not that I am "special" somehow; I think we each have a gift he wants to use. But perhaps this is mine.

But what do you do with empathy and intuition? As with any gift, some people might use these things to manipulate others. But I don't think that is what empathy and intuition should be used for.

I want to use them to connect with other people. When you can "read" people well, and pick up on their emotions, you are better equipped to come alongside them and encourage them or help them through their problems. You can pray for them with a keen sense of what they are going through.

In fact, it hit me the other day that this is part of what Jesus did in his life here on earth. He became human. He can empathize with our struggles, fears, and joys. And Scripture says he intercedes for us with God.

As I look at the life of Jesus, I am so encouraged by what he did with his empathy and understanding of people. He had compassion. He loved them. He encouraged them. He spoke hard truths when necessary. He didn't let himself become completely overwhelmed by the pain of other people. He intercedes for us.

And so while I am still left wondering how, specifically, God wants to use me, I am not anxious and worried about it. I simply feel led to get to know the people in my life better, to spend time developing relationships with them, and encouraging them when I can, and praying for them. And I know I do not have to let myself get overwhelmed by other people's pain; I can be aware of it, let the feelings run through me, and give it to God.

But one thing is for sure; I cannot go on as though Sunday morning never happened.

Eclipsed By Glory

During worship at church on Sunday morning, I felt the unmistakable presence of God. It wasn’t something flashy, fancy, or loud; just a quiet sense of peace. It’s hard to describe. It reminded me of the passage in 1 Kings where Elijah was waiting to hear from God, and there was a strong wind, an earthquake and a fire-- but God was in none of these. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.

After the third song, the music continued playing, and those who wanted to share their prayers or praise were free to speak. The first prayer request brought me to tears. I don’t even know the people who were being spoken of-- I have heard their names but we have never met-- yet the words that were said broke me, and I could not stop myself from crying. As others shared their prayer requests, I suddenly felt the heaviness of the pain and brokenness and suffering represented in the room.

I said nothing; I don’t think I could have said anything in that moment, honestly. I had no words. It is still hard to find the words for how I felt. It was as though all these feelings were rushing through me and I felt so much love and compassion for everyone in the room, and this deep sense of wanting to be there with people through their pain. Not necessarily to make it all better or fix everyone’s problems-- but to be there. To be a friend, to help them through it, to show them the love and compassion of Jesus.

The next song began, and we sang these words: All of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory. And I cried again. In that moment, I saw so clearly the beauty of God’s love and grace in comparison to our pain. We are afflicted, and he has such compassion for us. We are afflicted, and he walks alongside us. We are afflicted, and in the midst of all our pain, his grace is washing over us. Pain hurts, it is not fun-- and yet, even in the midst of pain, there is so much beauty. There is the opportunity for hope, redemption, and grace.

In the past, I have prayed to see people the way God sees them, to love people the way God loves them. And of course I am not arrogant enough to assume that I could ever see people exactly the same way God sees them, because I am not God. But I do believe God wants to let us see people through his eyes and he wants us to have the same heart for them as he does. And in that moment, I truly believe I had a glimpse of God’s heart for us. In our pain, our doubts, our brokenness, our fears, our suffering, our struggles-- he loves us, his compassion is overwhelming, he wants to walk alongside us through it all.

And I felt the beauty of this little community that was gathered together. We are all connected, and we are reaching out to each other in love, bearing each other’s burdens together, empathizing with each other, showing love and compassion. It is so beautiful. Indeed, these afflictions are eclipsed by glory.

Discontentment

One of my biggest struggles in life is discontentment.

I realize I "shouldn't" be discontent. But let's be honest here, sometimes even though you know all the reasons you shouldn't do a certain thing or feel a certain way, you still struggle with it. And that's where I am, so I'm going to talk honestly about it.

I have spent years now looking toward the next big thing, the next life change, the thing I am so sure will make me happy and more complete. Getting married. Having a baby. Graduating from college. Buying a house. Getting a bigger vehicle. Going back to school. Selling the house. Getting a more fuel-efficient vehicle. Having a big house out in the country with lots of land. Having a comfortable-sized house in town so we will be close to friends and family. Losing another pants size, or three. Getting the newest electronic gadget. Making more money. Having a career I enjoy. And on and on and on.

And it's not just that I am always looking for the next big thing to make me content; it's that I'm looking toward life events and situations to make me content at all. I know those things are not where my sense of happiness and contentment should lie. So why do I succumb to the temptation to put too much stock in those things?

Conventional wisdom says you should plan out where you want to go and then take steps to get there. And I think that can be a good thing. But for people like me who too often equate contentment with getting to the next big goal, this is sometimes less like wisdom and more like a millstone around the neck. Perhaps I need less planning and goal-setting, and more faith, hope, and joy in God.

Speaking Out

I ended my last post with a few questions:

When you are passionate about seeing change, do you think it is more effective to fight against the thing you don't like, or to fight for the thing you want to see? Do you see a distinction between the two, or do you feel they are the same thing?

Is there a time for specifically speaking out against something?

It has taken me longer to get back to this topic than I intended, but I needed to think about it for a while myself.

Before I get started, please note that these are simply the ideas I'm mulling over in my own head. My conclusions may not apply to everyone; for that matter, they may not always apply to me. As I think through these things more, I may change my perspective. But for now, this is where I am.

As I stated in my last post, when it comes to things that matter to me, I have become more convinced that my role is that of an encourager, not one who tears down the things I am against. I am not sure that constantly railing against various topics is really the way to shine a light on the changes I want to encourage.

Should that apply to everyone? I have absolutely no idea. But it is something that has irritated me about a few different Christian books lately because it seems like there is a lot of negative talk about whatever the author doesn't like. And this led to the question, "Is there a time for specifically speaking out against something?"

After thinking the question over for a while, I think my answer is yes. Yes, there are times that it is appropriate to speak out against things that are going on in our culture, in our world, and certainly in the church.

Where I think I part ways with the authors of some of these books is, I think that probably the most appropriate context for speaking out against something is relationship.

When Paul wrote letters to the various churches, they were not books written to the Church as a whole. Yes, they became part of the Bible we read today, but Paul certainly didn't write these letters with the goal to have them published, sell them, and to change the face of Christian culture as a whole. He was writing to specific churches, specific people he had relationships with, addressing specific issues within those churches.

I'm not saying Christian books are useless. I think they certainly serve a purpose, and I think God absolutely can and does use them to speak to people. I know God has spoken to me before through Christian books. But I do think they are to be taken with a grain of salt. In the end, the author does not know me or you or most of his or her audience. There is no relationship there. And I think a lot of times, real changes take place slowly, one person at a time, through relationship and community.

Of course, publishing a book is not the only way to speak out against something without the foundation of relationship; there are ways that people just like you and me can do it too. Facebook status updates, blog posts, and so on. So what do you think? If you feel the need to speak out against something, do you do it in a public way so anyone and everyone can see it, or do you do it more quietly in the context of relationship? Why?

The Fine Line

I have read a couple of popular Christian books lately that have left me feeling frustrated and discouraged. It seemed I would enjoy these books very much, considering that I believe in loving and caring for other people as an integral part of living out a Christian faith. And, on the surface anyway, it seemed like this was what these books would be about.

But these books, rather than simply encouraging this approach to faith, spend a huge amount of time tearing down what they are against. And, to hear them tell it, what they are against is basically Christianity in America as a whole.

For one thing, I feel that to negatively characterize the whole of Christianity in America is painting with a broad brush. Are there American churches that are so integrated with the American dream that they are completely self-focused and self-dependent? Well, yeah. And it's true that this is not the gospel. But I honestly do not believe that the majority of Christians in America have this attitude. I think most of us are doing our best to live an authentic faith. Instead of hearing that we are probably living unbiblically, perhaps we should instead be encouraged to seek the heart of God even more. In the end, books are not going to convince me of the heart of God or his plan for me. God can and will do that as I continue to seek him.

But this approach bothers me for another reason, and it may take a few posts to completely address my thoughts about it. So please bear with me.

The first question I have been asking myself is, "When we want to see change, is it best to tear down what we are against, or encourage what we are for?" It seems like semantics, a fine line, and some people would say our job is to do both. When fighting for a particular change, aren't you naturally fighting against something else?

I have encountered this struggle in my own life regarding something I care very much about: discipline of children. I will be very honest; I would love to see the day when all parents are able to effectively discipline their children without feeling the need to use spanking as an option. And that applies to all ends of the spectrum, from the spankings that border on abuse all the way down to the light swat on a diapered bottom. But does that mean I must fight against spanking, tear it down, and characterize people who do it as bad parents? Or does it mean I should encourage the kind of discipline I believe in so strongly? (Please note that this is not what this post is actually about, so if you disagree with me here, that's okay; this is just here as a personal example of the issue I am addressing.) I have become more and more convinced that my role is that of an encourager, not one who tears down what I am against.

But the next natural question is, "Is there a time for specifically speaking out against something?" That is my next question, anyway. And I am still thinking on that, so I will have to address it later. ;)

But for today, I will leave you with this: When you are passionate about seeing change, do you think it is more effective to fight against the thing you don't like, or to fight for the thing you want to see? Do you see a distinction between the two, or do you feel they are the same thing?

Children's Ministry

When I realized it had fallen to me to put together the children’s ministry at church, I’ll admit my first response was trepidation. I’m not sure this is the right place for me, I thought. I mean, yeah, I love children and I think children’s ministry is important, but wow, this feels like a big deal. With some encouragement and affirmation from people who know me well and were sure I would be great at it, I decided to give it a chance. Then we promptly purchased a curriculum that turned out to be a horrible fit for us, stopped meeting at the theater, started meeting in a home, and completely abandoned any notion of children’s ministry for a while as we located and renovated a permanent place to meet.

Now we are settled into our new location and we are ready to get the children’s ministry up and running again. And again, I have an underlying feeling of anxiety. But this time, I am better able to pinpoint what the problem is. As much as I care about children and families, and as much as I love putting together a curriculum that fits into the vision of our children’s ministry, I find it so overwhelming to think of the enormous responsibility involved in teaching children about God. I have heard too many stories of people whose view of God was warped by the teaching they heard as children, and as adults they are still trying to sort it all out. And I am reminded of the scripture that says, “Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness. For we all stumble in many ways.” Combine that with the idea that “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea,” and yeah, there’s some anxiety there!

I look at myself and see how imperfect I am, and all the ways that I stumble on a regular basis. And I wonder how on earth anyone, much less God himself, could think it’s a good idea for me to teach children about God. I certainly don’t have it all figured out. In many ways I am still learning about who God is and how much he loves me. I’m still sorting out all the different teachings I’ve heard about God in my lifetime. How can I presume to teach children the right things about God? What if I inadvertently cause them to stumble?

But as I thought through this, a couple of things happened.

I realized that no one has a perfect, completely accurate understanding of God. Every last one of us is doing the best we can with the understanding we have of God, and every last one of us is going to get it wrong sometimes. At some point we may all give others an inaccurate view of who God is, not because we are doing it on purpose but because we are human ourselves and we are all still on the journey. Of course that doesn’t mean we can be careless about what we teach others about God, but it does mean that we can have grace for ourselves. God knows that none of us are perfect, and luckily, he is bigger than us and our mistakes. If God was limited by our understanding of him, we’d have no hope at all. I mentioned earlier that I’ve heard so many stories of people whose view of God was warped by teachings they heard as children, but then I realized that most of those people have hung in there and are trying to come to a more accurate understanding of God. Others may be in the process of walking away from damaging teachings they’ve heard, but that doesn’t mean they’re walking away from God himself. Perhaps they are taking the steps they need to take in order to gain a better understanding of who God is.

When I look at the whole situation, it makes a lot of sense for me to be involved in family and children’s ministry; it’s something I really do care about very much. But I have been too afraid to put that passion to use because of my fear that I will mess up. Now I am seeing that it is better to move forward prayerfully and carefully than to let fear stop me from moving at all.

So, children’s ministry, here I come! I'm excited about planning a curriculum and building a family and children's ministry. I love figuring out how to put our vision into action. I'll admit that I feel my strengths lie more in planning and administration than the actual teaching, so for that reason I'm still a little nervous. However, I think it is going to be okay. I definitely do have a heart for families and children, and a desire for the children at our church to learn about God in ways they can understand. I also know that we have an amazing group of volunteers to work with the children. I'm excited to see where things go!

Thy Grace Alone

Several months ago, I began going through the book of Romans, reading and then writing about a chapter at a time. I only made it through a few chapters before I quit.

I'm thinking that it's about time to pick that back up. Romans always speaks to me in such a profound way, and it is especially hitting me hard lately as I grapple with the grace of God and my own brokenness.

I've realized that while I seem to understand grace in theory, I have such a hard time understanding it and accepting it when it comes to myself. Recently I have come face to face with my own brokenness and the issues and struggles that come from it. I've tried denying it, I've tried hiding it, I've tried giving in to it, and I've tried fixing myself. But I've come to a point where I have stopped trying to do all those things and instead am trying to wrap my mind around the unfathomable, amazing grace of God.

The song "Not What My Hands Have Done" by Aaron Keyes has been on my mind, and I think it fits perfectly in this post. You can also read the lyrics at the following link if, like me, you don't really like to watch videos. ;) http://www.lyricstime.com/aaron-keyes-not-what-my-hands-have-done-lyrics.html

Beauty To Be Found

I find winter depressing and ugly. The bare trees, the gray sky, the chilling cold, the extra darkness. It feels lifeless and drab.

I feel like I am going through a personal winter right now. Where there once was color and joy, things feel dead and gray. I don't necessarily mean emotionally, although it naturally takes an emotional toll too. I mean within myself, spiritually, as I struggle through this season of life that reminds me so much of winter.

Yesterday I looked out the window and saw snowflakes coming down. It was like an extra measure of grace, a bit of much-needed beauty in the midst of the freezing air and the gray sky. And in that moment, I was reminded that beauty is still there. Even in the grayest, coldest season where everything feels lifeless, there is still beauty to be found.

It is the same in one's personal winter; there is still beauty to be found. It may be harder to come by, at times, but it is there. Perhaps in a hug, the kind words of a friend, laughter, a song, thoughtfulness.

I was also reminded that winter is just a season. The winters come and go, but they do not last forever. They are followed by new life, growth, and warmth. Though I may be in a dark place now, it will not last. Spring is coming. Joy is coming. There is hope.

Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.

Where They Are

I've heard many people say that God "meets you where you are." He's not angry or punishing us for not being able to do everything the way he knows is best. Nor is he throwing out expectations and standards; he expects us to grow and mature. But God recognizes our abilities and weaknesses at any given spot in our journey and he guides us through them. He patiently disciples us and helps us grow, and as we mature, we start living more as he desires us to live.

It hit me the other day that this is an excellent model for me as a parent, and it's something I've forgotten quite a bit lately, if I'm being honest. I've realized how often I refuse to meet my children where they are. As the adult, with my adult logic and rules and plans, I end up frustrated because my children are simply not on the same level. And it is so easy to become harsh and punitive when, rather than meeting my children where they are, I expect them to be where I am! But I was reminded that this is not how God treats me.

So I have been re-evaluating my parenting and reminding myself that my children are in completely different places developmentally than I am. They have their own abilities and weaknesses. I need to understand what they are and are not capable of at any given age/stage and meet them where they are. Of course this doesn't mean tossing out rules and standards of behavior; that would be permissive, and that's not how God treats me either. ;-) It means coming alongside them and patiently discipling them, guiding and teaching them, and helping them grow and mature.

I want the fruit of the spirit to be evident in my parenting-- love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. I am reminded of God's patience, kindness, and gentleness to me, and I want to show the same to my children. It seems that in meeting my children where they are, there is a greater likelihood for grace, patience, and understanding to characterize my relationship with them.

The Point of Grace

Lately I’ve felt distant from God, and, honestly, a little angry. Some of it is righteous anger at the awful things that have been (and are being) done, said, and taught in the name of God. But I haven’t just been angry at the people who do these things; I’ll admit I’ve been feeling a little angry at God too. He surely sees the hurtful things that people do and say in his name, and yet he seems to do nothing about it. If someone attached my name to teachings or actions that I knew were wrong, I’d want to make it clear that I most certainly am not okay with those things. So many Christians twist scripture and use God’s name to justify manipulation, abuse, and teachings that are not true to God’s character. How does God put up with it– and why does he? Doesn’t it break his heart? Doesn’t it anger him?

I don’t have an answer, really. I’m going to assume the answer involves love, mercy, and understanding of a magnitude I cannot even begin to grasp. I’m going to assume that God must have a plan. He sees things I cannot– situations, motivations, consequences, people’s hearts– and he must be working it all out in ways I don’t perceive. The only other option is a God who’s weak, passive, cruel, or non-existent. And my heart tells me that just isn’t true; my heart tells me God is there, and that he is powerful, loving, and good.

But as I think through all of this, I feel God nudging me to consider some hard questions and answer them truthfully…

Yes, there are people who do and say wrong things in the name of God. But what if I’m one of those people and I don’t realize it? After all, it’s not as though I have a flawless understanding of God; perhaps there are things about him that I firmly believe to be true, but they aren’t, and those beliefs influence my actions. If that were the case, would I want God to become angry, lose patience, and disassociate himself from me? Would I want him to punish me and make a public example of me? No. I would want him to patiently work in my heart, show me the areas where I was wrong, and point me in the direction he wants me to go.

So why do I want him to make a big scene when people continually attach his name to things that are not of him? Honestly– and this is a hard truth to realize– I guess it’s because I believe they’re wrong and I’m right, and that they deserve his anger and I don’t. It’s as though I believe that at some point, the transforming love and grace of God are not enough. In the face of lies, oppression, violence, and abuse, love and grace feel too subtle, too weak, not big enough, not powerful enough. (I know this isn’t the case, but I’ll admit that it feels that way sometimes.) I imagine that God does feel angry and heartbroken when his people attach his name to things that are not of him. Yet he chooses to respond in love.

All I can do is ask God to show me how he feels toward those who do wrong things in his name and to help me see them the way he does. Left to my own devices, I become angry and harbor these feelings I didn’t even realize I had, feelings that they don’t deserve his love, mercy, and grace.

They don’t deserve it. But I don’t deserve it either. That’s the point of grace.

Children and Sin

Usually I'd back away quickly if a book I was reading started talking about children and sin. Most of the "beat it out of them" parenting methods seem to originate with the idea that children misbehave because they're sinful, and I honestly believe that young children misbehave because of immaturity and where they are developmentally. They still have so much to learn, they're curious, and they have very little impulse control and very short attention spans. Young children need patient guidance and understanding of where they are developmentally, not harsh punishment based on the notion that they are sinful little creatures who need to have the sinful impulses driven out of them.

But tonight, as I was reading Grace (Eventually) by Anne Lamott, I came across the following sentence in a chapter about her teenage son: "It turns out that all kids have this one tiny inbred glitch: they have their own sin, their own stains, their own will... all of them are wrecked, just like the rest of us." Out of context, or if you aren't familiar with Anne Lamott's writing style, that still may sound a little out there to you. But please bear with me for just a moment, because it got me thinking about something that I think may be really important.

I still think that young children disobey or mess up because of developmental abilities and immaturity. But it's also obvious that sometime between those early years and adulthood, people do develop certain areas where they struggle. I'm not sure when that starts happening, but it does.

Our job as parents is not to try to drive sin out of our children somehow (an impossible task anyway because no matter how old people get, they will never be completely rid of sin), but instead our job is to teach our children what to do when they struggle with it. We can teach them how to recognize areas of weakness in their own lives, and how to make amends when they mess up, and how to look to God for help, and how to do their best and still accept God's grace and forgiveness when they miss the mark. And we can't teach all of this just by telling them; we teach them by living it in front of them daily. They see us struggle with our own sins, and they see us make amends and go to God and accept grace and forgiveness. My oldest child is almost eight, so obviously immaturity is still a factor here, but I do see certain patterns and tendencies in him that I think could be the building blocks of particular struggles he will have in his life. Instead of punishing him for them, I need to help him learn how to deal with those things and also what to do when he does mess up.

I don't know about you, but it makes a huge difference to me to realize that my children are in the same boat as me. They need the same love, grace, and forgiveness along the way that I do. It makes me think of the story in Matthew 18 where a servant owed the king a debt that he could never have repaid, and the king had mercy on him and forgave him the debt-- but then the servant went out and found someone who owed him some money and refused to show him any mercy. The grace and forgiveness and patience that God gives us, we should also give to others, including our children.

I think about all I've gone through, and will go through, in my life-- the habits and temptations and weaknesses and failures, and the lessons I've learned along the way-- and it breaks my heart to realize that my children will have to go through these things too in the context of their own weaknesses and struggles. It's an inevitable part of the human condition; no matter how much I live these things in front of my children, and no matter how much I teach them, I simply cannot spare them from this human journey. They will struggle, they will fail, they will learn about grace and forgiveness in their own relationships with God. I can equip them for their journeys in certain ways, but their unique journeys are theirs to take. I can't do it for them. All I can do is be there to guide them, prepare them, and love them.

Using God

Sometimes people follow God out of fear. And sometimes, we follow because of what we think we'll get from him.

Believe me, I could write plenty about the idea that God will give us material blessings if we follow him. Suffice it to say that I don't think that's how God works, and regardless, it's not a great reason for following him. What kind of relationship is it if we're doing things just so we'll get a reward?

No, I want to talk about something that seems so much more innocuous on the surface, something I do all the time and have only recently realized it.

Many times I've written that we cannot change our own hearts by simply changing our outward actions; God is the one who changes hearts, and then true heart changes are naturally reflected in outward actions. And this may be true-- but I've realized that a lot of times I've been guilty of viewing my relationship with God as a means of self-improvement. And maybe that doesn't even sound like such a big deal, but when you're more or less addicted to perfectionism and self-improvement, it is a big deal.

I see where I am weak, I see where I fail, I see where I want to improve, and all my efforts and striving make very little difference in my heart. And so I see that I need to turn to God and stop trying so hard to be righteous on my own-- and that's true-- but then I simply substitute God as my means of self-improvement. If I can't do it on my own, maybe God will do it for me if I just follow him properly.

Do you see how this is not a great thing? On the outside, it looks perfectly reasonable and it sounds spiritual enough, so what could the problem be? But underneath the surface, it's still the wrong motivation for following God.

I'm not saying that God won't change our hearts; I think he does. I'm saying that this should not be our primary focus in pursuing a relationship with him. Suppose God never changes me in the ways I think he should or the ways I wish he would-- would I still follow him? The truth is, even when God does change our hearts, and even when those changes are reflected in our actions, we still are not going to be perfect in this life, because it isn't possible.

So instead of following God in pursuit of that thing we want to get from the relationship or out of fear of punishment, we are free to follow him out of love. It's that simple and that complicated-- simple because it is just that, no strings attached, and complicated because our humanness is constantly telling us there must be more to it and so we are continually tempted to focus on the wrong things.

My Experiences With Fear

The question about different motivations for following God is a personal one for me. I have spent about ten years moving away from a fear-based motivation for following God, and sometimes I'm still not completely rid of it.

As far as I can tell, my religious upbringing was not too uncommon for my particular area. I remember sitting in church as a young child and hearing our pastor recount time and time again the detailed stories of vivid nightmares he had about hell when he was a teenager. There was the constant reminder that if you died without knowing Jesus, you would "spend eternity in a devil's hell." I can still hear that phrase in my head if I think about it hard enough. At the age of eight, I felt anxious and sick to my stomach about leaving church. I was scared because I'd heard the pastor talk about people who knew they should believe but never took that step, and how they would go to hell if they died. So I thought that because I hadn't said THE prayer yet, but I knew I should, that made me one of those people. What if we got in a car accident when we left church and I died and went to hell? (Another common example used in the sermons I'd heard.) The next Sunday I went to the front of the church to pray.

It's not that I didn't believe in Jesus; I did. And it's not that the people at our church had negative intentions; actually, I believe they had the very best of intentions and were passionately preaching what they believed. But, either way, I ended up following God out of fear of what would happen to me if I didn't.



Starting my relationship with God based on fear had other effects. For years I struggled with feeling like God would punish me or reject me if I wasn't good enough. If I messed up too many times or didn't improve quickly enough, I feared he would punish me somehow. To this day, I still struggle with the deeply rooted fear that if I am not grateful enough or if I don't do things right, God will take away the people or things I love the most. I can't tell you how many times I've had a frustrating day with one of my children, only to lie in bed at night and cry because I'm so scared that God will take them away from me for not appreciating them enough. I know it's not true-- that this isn't how God works-- but that fear is still there in the back of my mind, haunting me at my weakest moments.

Most teens who have grown up with their parents' faith reach a point where they begin to question it all for themselves. This is an important step toward making their beliefs their own rather than simply regurgitating what they've heard all their lives. When I reached that point, though, I was so frustrated with all I had seen and heard that I more or less started over from scratch. Throughout my late teens and early 20s, I reexamined and reassembled my faith, and this time it was truly my own. And one thing I had to work through was whether I should be following God out of fear. As I learned more about God's love and grace, I felt this gentle nudge in my soul that this was it-- this was the point, this was what I hadn't understood before. I mean, I "knew;" I could have talked to you about love and grace, but I didn't really know. In my heart, I didn't get it.

This post has been long enough, so tomorrow I'll talk about the other half of it: following God in hopes of getting certain rewards.

"Turn or Burn" Evangelism

Last night, as I was working on a post about my experiences with fear-based religious beliefs, I decided to see if I could find a few pictures to illustrate my point. I ended up on a website that sells tracts and I read through several. The spiritual and emotional manipulation and the theological fallacies in them brought up so many thoughts and feelings that I realized they deserved a post of their own.

The last tract I read was a very recent one, published just this year. A guy asks his pastor about hell, and the pastor fumbles around for an answer and tells the guy that hell isn't real and God is too loving to send people there. At some point after this conversation, the guy is in a car accident; his wife is killed and he is in critical condition. He calls his pastor to the hospital, and here is the scene that follows:



He dies a couple hours later, and the doctor says it was a terrible death.

That's only the first half of the tract. In the second half, the pastor is shaken by this whole scene and he talks to a retired pastor, who tells him, "Billions of souls are down there because no one warned them. And billions more are on their way. Their blood is on our hands." Then the retired pastor asks him if he's ready to face judgment, and reminds him that there's "only one way to avoid hell," so the pastor who didn't believe in hell before has a conversion experience.

There's more to it than that, but I'm going to stop here before my head explodes. I felt sick after reading this. Let's begin by assuming that the Dante-inspired interpretation of hell represented here is accurate; if the guy was "dead in the ambulance" and saw it all, why on earth, in the two hours he was alive again, wouldn't he seriously examine his faith? Why would he use his time to call in the pastor and make accusations that it's the pastor's fault he's going to hell?

That was bad enough. But the scene with the retired pastor really bothered me. The last I checked, people were responsible for their own decisions and beliefs, and our role is not to terrify people into believing in Jesus; our role is to show others the love of God. That's what Jesus did. However, those who embrace the theology in this tract would say that scaring people into believing in Jesus is loving, because they're being saved from hell. But that brings up another point. Is the gospel-- the good news-- about escaping hell or about being able to have a relationship with God? About a year ago, I drove past a church that had "Amazing Grace" in its name-- yet under the church's name, the sign read, "Turn or Burn." Is this actually the point? The last scene of this tract basically implies that without having certain beliefs about hell, you do not really have a relationship with Jesus, and that the real reason for turning to God should be to avoid hell. The pastor believed in God and in what Jesus had done, but since he didn't believe in a particular interpretation of hell, his salvation didn't count? That isn't Jesus' message at all!

Having faith in God's love and forgiveness sounds too simple to be true, but it is true. Why do so many Christians insist on making it more complicated and putting burdens on people that they cannot bear? Why add on guilt trips and emotional manipulation? Why terrify people into believing, and then terrify them into scaring other people so they won't have blood on their hands? Where is the love in that? How is this not highly works-based? How is this a loving, Christlike way of interacting with our fellow human beings?

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." -John 13:34-35

Punishments and Rewards

In my last post, I asked if it matters why we're following God, or if it just matters that we're following him regardless of the reason why. I likened it to my children obeying me; I want them to obey me out of the love and trust in our relationship and not because they're seeking a reward or afraid of being punished.

I want to talk about that a little more. Because children begin forming their understanding of God based on their parents, I think it's important for Christian parents to be aware of what our interactions with our children may be teaching them about God. Believe me, I know that in the short term it can feel awfully tempting to hang rewards and punishments over our children's heads to get them to behave the way we want them to, but is it beneficial to them long-term? Is this how God relates to us? Does he want us to obey him because we're afraid of what he'll do if we disobey? Does he want us to obey him because we're seeking certain blessings? Or does he want us to obey him because of the love and trust in our relationship with him? (More on whether I think God rewards or punishes us based on behavior in another post, but the short answer is: I think he allows us to experience the natural consequences and outcomes of our actions, but that is not the same thing as adding on a punishment or reward.)

Long-term, both in life and in their understanding of God, does it help or hinder our children to tie the value of obedience to obtaining a reward or avoiding punishment? I would submit that at the very least, it's not helpful because it doesn't point them toward an accurate view of how God relates to us and it encourages less-than-great motivations for obedience. Now, obviously we are not God; we are human, and we won't always get it right. God's grace leaves room for our mistakes, but I do think it's a good idea to be cautious about the general parenting and discipline philosophies we embrace. Let's learn about how God responds to us and why he wants us to follow him, and then do our best to intentionally represent this in our interactions with our children.