It seems there’s a fine line between thinking yourself worthy of something and finding your worth in it. The example that leaps to my mind most forcefully is romantic relationships. I can have a healthy self-esteem that would lead me to believe myself worthy of a man’s affection, but it’s only a tee-tiny step away from allowing that affection or lack thereof to define my worth. It works with your professional life too. You can know that you’re completely qualified for a job – that you’re worthy of it – and then you can feel that you are more or less valuable as a human being depending on whether or not you get the job. It’s so subtle a difference, so sneaky and slick, that it can trip you up every time if you’re not aware.
The only thing it doesn’t work with is God’s love, which I would say is ironic except for that it’s not. It’s the only truth of any of the examples. All those other things – romance, marriage, professional advancement, kids, material things – can never define your worth no matter how worthy of them you are, no matter whether you get them or not. God’s love, on the other hand, is the only true determiner of your worth, we’ll never be worthy of it, and we’ll always have it. It doesn’t seem to make any sense, but it’s the truth.
I think that’s how you can recognize truth a lot of times. It’s the option that seems the most unlikely, the most paradoxical, the furthest out there, the one you would never have thought up on your own.
Campfire Girls
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I'm going to go ahead and post twice today because they're both written, and who knows when I'll get another chance to use the internet on my own computer? Here you go...
They call them the “Campfire Girls” because in the winter, they build fires on the side of the road to keep them warm while they work. They need extra heat to stay warm because they are roughly the size of pencils, and they are not wearing a whole lot of clothing. The Italian Campfire Girls work the side of the highway while the Nigerian and Filipino ones work smaller roads. Prostitution is illegal here, but every day you will see cars stopped on the side of one of these roads, negotiating.
It breaks my heart every time I see them or even think about them out there for so many reasons, but largely, I think, because I can identify with them. Because when I run after worldly desires, I too become like a prostitute running after other gods, and it just absolutely breaks God’s heart, but He just keeps on pursuing me and bringing me back and loving me, and I wish that those girls on the side of the road knew that kind of love.
I wish they had a Hosea to continually go out and get them and bring them home, to love and provide for them and show them in every way that they don’t need to live like that – not even because it’s dangerous or dirty or immoral, but because it’s degrading, and they are worth so much more.
And then I realize that when I turn away from God, I am degrading my very soul. I’m counting myself unworthy of the best available option and choosing a lesser generic god – one that might put food on the table for a few days but is ultimately starving me to death.
It is here that Satan wants to come in and say, “But you DON’T deserve Him,” and he’s right...EXCEPT that Jesus has made me worthy. He has made me clean and perfect, and to continue to live as though I am worth only a pitiful excuse for a god is to devalue myself, my worth, and the death of Jesus that made me worthy of more. To steal C.S. Lewis’s analogy a bit, it’s settling for making mud pies in the backyard when I could be on a luxurious tropical beach vacation.
There’s a fine line here between being worthy of God and feeling entitled to wealth. It’s an easy step to take over that line, but the instant you do it, you’re right back where you started, whoring yourself out to money and materialism when the good God just wants to love you.
If those other things come, praise Him, and if they don’t, praise Him for that, and if you never get that dream job or marriage or to kiss or be held by anybody ever again, praise Him for all those things, too, because you’re not entitled to them. They are, in fact, just mud pies, and you’re worthy of the Caribbean. You’re worthy of God because He has made you worthy.
I don’t know how else to describe this notion of being loved by God without either comparing it to having some earthly thing or saying that He’ll give you earthly things, so I don’t really know how to convince anyone that being loved by God is better than...stuff. I guess it’s just better because it means you don’t need the stuff.
All the other things that we want apart from God – relationships, experiences, material things, wealth, etc. – are just things we want because we think they will validate us somehow. They’ll make us either more likely to be loved by other people, or they’ll be an indication that we are loved by other people. I mean, that’s really what we’re after, isn’t it?
But with God, we already have love, and it’s infinitely greater and more pure than any love we could possibly get from a human being who has their own agenda and desires and selfish reasons for doing so many of the things they do.
Why is it so hard to want God’s love more than human love? Is it just because He’s not here physically? Because he can’t literally hold us when we cry? Because he doesn’t stroke our hair and tell us we’re beautiful and make us feel all giddy inside?
If marriage is a reflection of God’s relationship with the church, and we are the body of Christ, then when the body comes around us and supports us and hugs us in hard times, He literally is holding us when we cry. And when a godly husband tells his wife she’s beautiful, it’s not just an affirmation of her physical beauty. It’s God Himself affirming her soul.
When you put it that way, it’s hard NOT to want God’s love and the community that comes with it.
This has been sort of a stream-of-consciousness post, so I hope you’ll forgive me if there are any connections or leaps that don’t make total sense, and I hope you’ll jump in and clarify for me or pick up where I trailed off or just add your thoughts.
They call them the “Campfire Girls” because in the winter, they build fires on the side of the road to keep them warm while they work. They need extra heat to stay warm because they are roughly the size of pencils, and they are not wearing a whole lot of clothing. The Italian Campfire Girls work the side of the highway while the Nigerian and Filipino ones work smaller roads. Prostitution is illegal here, but every day you will see cars stopped on the side of one of these roads, negotiating.
It breaks my heart every time I see them or even think about them out there for so many reasons, but largely, I think, because I can identify with them. Because when I run after worldly desires, I too become like a prostitute running after other gods, and it just absolutely breaks God’s heart, but He just keeps on pursuing me and bringing me back and loving me, and I wish that those girls on the side of the road knew that kind of love.
I wish they had a Hosea to continually go out and get them and bring them home, to love and provide for them and show them in every way that they don’t need to live like that – not even because it’s dangerous or dirty or immoral, but because it’s degrading, and they are worth so much more.
And then I realize that when I turn away from God, I am degrading my very soul. I’m counting myself unworthy of the best available option and choosing a lesser generic god – one that might put food on the table for a few days but is ultimately starving me to death.
It is here that Satan wants to come in and say, “But you DON’T deserve Him,” and he’s right...EXCEPT that Jesus has made me worthy. He has made me clean and perfect, and to continue to live as though I am worth only a pitiful excuse for a god is to devalue myself, my worth, and the death of Jesus that made me worthy of more. To steal C.S. Lewis’s analogy a bit, it’s settling for making mud pies in the backyard when I could be on a luxurious tropical beach vacation.
There’s a fine line here between being worthy of God and feeling entitled to wealth. It’s an easy step to take over that line, but the instant you do it, you’re right back where you started, whoring yourself out to money and materialism when the good God just wants to love you.
If those other things come, praise Him, and if they don’t, praise Him for that, and if you never get that dream job or marriage or to kiss or be held by anybody ever again, praise Him for all those things, too, because you’re not entitled to them. They are, in fact, just mud pies, and you’re worthy of the Caribbean. You’re worthy of God because He has made you worthy.
I don’t know how else to describe this notion of being loved by God without either comparing it to having some earthly thing or saying that He’ll give you earthly things, so I don’t really know how to convince anyone that being loved by God is better than...stuff. I guess it’s just better because it means you don’t need the stuff.
All the other things that we want apart from God – relationships, experiences, material things, wealth, etc. – are just things we want because we think they will validate us somehow. They’ll make us either more likely to be loved by other people, or they’ll be an indication that we are loved by other people. I mean, that’s really what we’re after, isn’t it?
But with God, we already have love, and it’s infinitely greater and more pure than any love we could possibly get from a human being who has their own agenda and desires and selfish reasons for doing so many of the things they do.
Why is it so hard to want God’s love more than human love? Is it just because He’s not here physically? Because he can’t literally hold us when we cry? Because he doesn’t stroke our hair and tell us we’re beautiful and make us feel all giddy inside?
If marriage is a reflection of God’s relationship with the church, and we are the body of Christ, then when the body comes around us and supports us and hugs us in hard times, He literally is holding us when we cry. And when a godly husband tells his wife she’s beautiful, it’s not just an affirmation of her physical beauty. It’s God Himself affirming her soul.
When you put it that way, it’s hard NOT to want God’s love and the community that comes with it.
This has been sort of a stream-of-consciousness post, so I hope you’ll forgive me if there are any connections or leaps that don’t make total sense, and I hope you’ll jump in and clarify for me or pick up where I trailed off or just add your thoughts.
"Sacrifice" and the art of being yourself
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Naples is both completely beautiful and absolutely filthy. There is trash everywhere, and then you look up, and there’s Mt. Vesuvius, standing firm and lovely and always reminding you that in its beauty, it was also once deadly, for just on the other side of the mountain lie the ruins of Pompei. Naples is the perfect, most vivid illustration possible of the two sides that exist to every coin. It’s like a caricature, really, with certain elements exaggerated to really make them stand out. The vineyards, the lakes, the mountains, the sunsets – everything natural is breathtakingly gorgeous. But the buildings, the streets, the graffiti and the trash make the place look like some Eastern European communist leader came in and built it, was convinced to paint everything in pastels, and then left it to fend for itself during a war. And now, years later, he still has not returned to clean up the debris, so life was simply built on top of it.
When we drive around sometimes, I see these buildings, and I can’t tell whether they are inhabitable or not. They look like everything in them was burned out at some point, and now they’re just shells of buildings, but then I’ll notice that there are clotheslines on the balconies, so people must be living there. Then there are buildings that actually are completely empty. They were never finished, in fact, because apparently the builders began building without the proper permits, but instead of destroying the structure once construction was shut down, they were just left there, half-finished.
I live in a really nice area. The houses are big and completely secure, and most of them are in parcos, which are sort of like loosely guarded gated neighborhoods. And yet, outside of our gate, there is graffiti all over the walls. It’s not violent or gang-related at all. Several of the messages are of love and romantic desire (very Italian, no?), but still, it’s there. It’s not even artistic graffiti. It’s just crudely spray-painted graffiti.
And as much as I dislike the trash and graffiti and bad roads and inconsiderate drivers everywhere, I really sort of admire the Neapolitans for their ability and willingness to just be exactly who they are. They don’t try to cover up their problems or relegate them to certain areas of the city. They don’t try to keep the touristy parts clean and just forget about the rest. The whole place just is what it is, and the people are who they are, and you can take it or leave it.
I want to be more like that, if not with other people, then at least with God. I mean it’s not like He doesn’t know me completely already, but I find sometimes that when I am journaling, I’m censoring myself. I might say it’s because I don’t want someone else to read it, but there’s plenty of stuff in there I don’t want people to read, so what’s a bit more? The truth is I’m trying to hide it from myself because if I don’t acknowledge it, then it’s not really a part of me, and I don’t have to deal with it. That’s what I think anyway.
But when I do acknowledge the sin in my life, it provides God with an opportunity to remind me that it’s not really a part of me, that He has made me perfect already, that He has already dealt with it, and that all I have to do is live without it. Is it really even a sacrifice to give up something you didn’t want to claim as your own anyway?
When we drive around sometimes, I see these buildings, and I can’t tell whether they are inhabitable or not. They look like everything in them was burned out at some point, and now they’re just shells of buildings, but then I’ll notice that there are clotheslines on the balconies, so people must be living there. Then there are buildings that actually are completely empty. They were never finished, in fact, because apparently the builders began building without the proper permits, but instead of destroying the structure once construction was shut down, they were just left there, half-finished.
I live in a really nice area. The houses are big and completely secure, and most of them are in parcos, which are sort of like loosely guarded gated neighborhoods. And yet, outside of our gate, there is graffiti all over the walls. It’s not violent or gang-related at all. Several of the messages are of love and romantic desire (very Italian, no?), but still, it’s there. It’s not even artistic graffiti. It’s just crudely spray-painted graffiti.
And as much as I dislike the trash and graffiti and bad roads and inconsiderate drivers everywhere, I really sort of admire the Neapolitans for their ability and willingness to just be exactly who they are. They don’t try to cover up their problems or relegate them to certain areas of the city. They don’t try to keep the touristy parts clean and just forget about the rest. The whole place just is what it is, and the people are who they are, and you can take it or leave it.
I want to be more like that, if not with other people, then at least with God. I mean it’s not like He doesn’t know me completely already, but I find sometimes that when I am journaling, I’m censoring myself. I might say it’s because I don’t want someone else to read it, but there’s plenty of stuff in there I don’t want people to read, so what’s a bit more? The truth is I’m trying to hide it from myself because if I don’t acknowledge it, then it’s not really a part of me, and I don’t have to deal with it. That’s what I think anyway.
But when I do acknowledge the sin in my life, it provides God with an opportunity to remind me that it’s not really a part of me, that He has made me perfect already, that He has already dealt with it, and that all I have to do is live without it. Is it really even a sacrifice to give up something you didn’t want to claim as your own anyway?
Dear Everyday Gospel,
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I haven't forgotten about you. In fact, I have a lot to say, but it's really, really a lot, and my internet time is limited, so I can't do it today. I will prepare better for next time. Things are good, though. God is good. Unbelievably good and gracious and generous and forgiving. And my heart breaks for those who don't know it. More to come...
Love,
Beth
Love,
Beth
People Are People (Even in Switzerland)
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I am always amazed, when I travel, to find that people are people all over the world. I don't know why this comes as such a shock, why I expect them to look different or have different sorts of brains or feelings, but looking around the Zurich airport, I am struck by this fact. Cultural differences occur, yes, and fashions change as do worldviews, but people are people all over the world. They have the same kinds of bodies and the same kinds of emotions and the same kinds of problems and the same kinds of pain. And they all need Jesus. And He wants all of them to know Him.
In the U.S., we go to great lengths not to step on anyone's toes or hurt anyone's feelings or give our opinions where they are not wanted, and sure, it's respectful not to be a jerk. And in cross-cultural missions, we ought to take every precaution to be sure we're building the Kingdom and not western culture. But in either case (foreign or domestic), we ought to be building the Kingdom because people are people, and we all need Jesus.
It's so weird to look around the Zurich airport and think That guy with the fanny pack – I wonder what's going on in his life, what makes him happy, how he might be hurting. He needs Jesus. And the guy behind me with his feet up on a cart, looking at his phone – I wonder who he's hoping will call. He needs Jesus too. And the girl over there napping – well first of all, I'm jealous that she's able to sleep and I'm not, but still, she needs Jesus. Because we're all people, and regardless of language or culture, we're all somehow the same sort of being. We all have broken, dead, messed up things in our lives, and we have all rebelled against the perfect, pure life of God. And we all need Jesus to restore us to life.
The Gospel is for everyone.
In the U.S., we go to great lengths not to step on anyone's toes or hurt anyone's feelings or give our opinions where they are not wanted, and sure, it's respectful not to be a jerk. And in cross-cultural missions, we ought to take every precaution to be sure we're building the Kingdom and not western culture. But in either case (foreign or domestic), we ought to be building the Kingdom because people are people, and we all need Jesus.
It's so weird to look around the Zurich airport and think That guy with the fanny pack – I wonder what's going on in his life, what makes him happy, how he might be hurting. He needs Jesus. And the guy behind me with his feet up on a cart, looking at his phone – I wonder who he's hoping will call. He needs Jesus too. And the girl over there napping – well first of all, I'm jealous that she's able to sleep and I'm not, but still, she needs Jesus. Because we're all people, and regardless of language or culture, we're all somehow the same sort of being. We all have broken, dead, messed up things in our lives, and we have all rebelled against the perfect, pure life of God. And we all need Jesus to restore us to life.
The Gospel is for everyone.
Concentration
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I am having trouble focusing today. It's taken me the past several hours to write an article that should have only taken about one hour. Then one of my editors called to wish me bon voyage, and I couldn't really think of much to say, so I just thanked her and said a lot of definitelies and I-hope-sos and I'll-be-in-touches. Then I tried to read the Bible, but the words all started running together. And then I started trying to think about the Gospel, and as you might be able to imagine, my mind was sort of blank.
And then I started thinking about how even when I don't think about God, even when I can't concentrate on what He's saying to me through His word, He's always thinking of me. He's always loving me, always sustaining me, always causing my heart to beat and my lungs to expand and contract, and if He stopped thinking of me, I would cease to exist.
So if it's been a few days since you thought of Him, or if you're having trouble wrapping your mind around anything more complex than not drooling on your keyboard, or if you're totally fine, just take a moment and thank Him for thinking of you.
And then I started thinking about how even when I don't think about God, even when I can't concentrate on what He's saying to me through His word, He's always thinking of me. He's always loving me, always sustaining me, always causing my heart to beat and my lungs to expand and contract, and if He stopped thinking of me, I would cease to exist.
So if it's been a few days since you thought of Him, or if you're having trouble wrapping your mind around anything more complex than not drooling on your keyboard, or if you're totally fine, just take a moment and thank Him for thinking of you.
Underneath My Clothes (There's An Endless Lesson)
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I'm sort of frustrated with myself at the moment, but only sort of. I was totally frustrated with myself just a few minutes ago, but then frustration with myself started getting replaced by amazement at grace, humility, thankfulness and resolve. Here's what happened:
I'm having an identity crisis because I've quit my job to move to Italy for three months and write a book. Normal people just do not do this, and although I have always (probably to a sinful degree) prided myself on not being normal, it's still a hard transition to make. If you like, you can read my other blog for more details, but it is not entirely necessary, and most of you who read this blog have probably already read that one, so moving on...
I thought I had learned the lesson of finding my identity in Christ already, and in some ways, I had. But it seems that God still has some work to do on me in that department, and for that, I'm thankful. I'm also amazed that this came as a surprise to me, and I love how He takes things a step at a time, teaching lessons in several different ways until we finally grasp the whole thing. That's good teaching right there – not trying to force the students to go too far before they're ready, but teaching them something that's just beyond their current ability so that it's challenging, but not overwhelming. And using a lot of different methods and activities to keep things interesting, engaging and intentional.
And that's why the Gospel is so great to me today: Even though it never changes, it never gets old or stale. It's always relevant to where I am, where I've been, and where I'll be tomorrow. It's always light years ahead of me, but it's courteous enough to walk beside me at my pace, a protective hand placed gently on the small of my back to guide me. It is never frustrated with the lessons I have not yet learned. It just comes up with another way to teach me, with a fun game, through reading, self-discovery or song, and when necessary, through rote memorization and drills – whatever I need at the time.
Right now, I'm realizing my identity in Christ as a byproduct of fear and really quick change. I'm not sure that necessarily falls into the "fun game" category, but I'll take it over a knuckle-rapping any day. I've had a solid grasp for some time now on the lesson that my self-worth is ascribed only by Jesus, but this is different. It's not about my value as a human being. It's about my role in eternity. Who am I, and what am I supposed to do? Not just as a profession, but relationally as well. How do I move from one step to the next on this spiritual journey?
It feels sort of like I've been wearing the same clothes for the past several years (I guess they get clean when I take a shower), and they've become so much a part of me that it's REALLY uncomfortable to take them off. And as amazingly beautiful as that new outfit hanging in the closet is, it feels different, a little itchy maybe, and stiff. And I'm not sure it's my style anyway. Can I really pull it off?
But Jesus is looking at me standing there all cold in my underwear, and He's holding up my old, comfy clothes, and like Clinton and Stacy (but not as flamboyantly or rudely), He's saying, "Seriously? This is old, dirty, torn and out-of-style. Why on EARTH would you still want to wear this when you have that incredible outfit hanging in your closet?? And furthermore, why do you even care what you put on when I've made you perfect just as you are?"
And I'm looking back and forth from the old outfit to Jesus to the new outfit, and I am torn between comfort and beauty. Now, here is where the metaphor starts to break down because I'm not talking about physical beauty at all. I'm talking about giving up what's easy and familiar for what's harder but better. And I'm talking about realizing that no matter what role I put on, I'm still the same underneath it.
And Jesus tells me exactly what my role is in John 6:29 when He says, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” And suddenly, I don't see clothes any more. I just see Jesus. And I let Him put on me whatever He wants, and I realize that I don't care if it's made of cashmere or burlap because the outfit is not me. I am not the outfit. But like I always used to tell my old roommate when she was uncertain of a bolder than usual outfit, "It doesn't really matter what it looks like as long as you work it." Which is exactly what I intend to do. Because in the words of George Michael, "Sometimes the clothes do not make the man....Freedom."
I'm having an identity crisis because I've quit my job to move to Italy for three months and write a book. Normal people just do not do this, and although I have always (probably to a sinful degree) prided myself on not being normal, it's still a hard transition to make. If you like, you can read my other blog for more details, but it is not entirely necessary, and most of you who read this blog have probably already read that one, so moving on...
I thought I had learned the lesson of finding my identity in Christ already, and in some ways, I had. But it seems that God still has some work to do on me in that department, and for that, I'm thankful. I'm also amazed that this came as a surprise to me, and I love how He takes things a step at a time, teaching lessons in several different ways until we finally grasp the whole thing. That's good teaching right there – not trying to force the students to go too far before they're ready, but teaching them something that's just beyond their current ability so that it's challenging, but not overwhelming. And using a lot of different methods and activities to keep things interesting, engaging and intentional.
And that's why the Gospel is so great to me today: Even though it never changes, it never gets old or stale. It's always relevant to where I am, where I've been, and where I'll be tomorrow. It's always light years ahead of me, but it's courteous enough to walk beside me at my pace, a protective hand placed gently on the small of my back to guide me. It is never frustrated with the lessons I have not yet learned. It just comes up with another way to teach me, with a fun game, through reading, self-discovery or song, and when necessary, through rote memorization and drills – whatever I need at the time.
Right now, I'm realizing my identity in Christ as a byproduct of fear and really quick change. I'm not sure that necessarily falls into the "fun game" category, but I'll take it over a knuckle-rapping any day. I've had a solid grasp for some time now on the lesson that my self-worth is ascribed only by Jesus, but this is different. It's not about my value as a human being. It's about my role in eternity. Who am I, and what am I supposed to do? Not just as a profession, but relationally as well. How do I move from one step to the next on this spiritual journey?
It feels sort of like I've been wearing the same clothes for the past several years (I guess they get clean when I take a shower), and they've become so much a part of me that it's REALLY uncomfortable to take them off. And as amazingly beautiful as that new outfit hanging in the closet is, it feels different, a little itchy maybe, and stiff. And I'm not sure it's my style anyway. Can I really pull it off?
But Jesus is looking at me standing there all cold in my underwear, and He's holding up my old, comfy clothes, and like Clinton and Stacy (but not as flamboyantly or rudely), He's saying, "Seriously? This is old, dirty, torn and out-of-style. Why on EARTH would you still want to wear this when you have that incredible outfit hanging in your closet?? And furthermore, why do you even care what you put on when I've made you perfect just as you are?"
And I'm looking back and forth from the old outfit to Jesus to the new outfit, and I am torn between comfort and beauty. Now, here is where the metaphor starts to break down because I'm not talking about physical beauty at all. I'm talking about giving up what's easy and familiar for what's harder but better. And I'm talking about realizing that no matter what role I put on, I'm still the same underneath it.
And Jesus tells me exactly what my role is in John 6:29 when He says, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” And suddenly, I don't see clothes any more. I just see Jesus. And I let Him put on me whatever He wants, and I realize that I don't care if it's made of cashmere or burlap because the outfit is not me. I am not the outfit. But like I always used to tell my old roommate when she was uncertain of a bolder than usual outfit, "It doesn't really matter what it looks like as long as you work it." Which is exactly what I intend to do. Because in the words of George Michael, "Sometimes the clothes do not make the man....Freedom."
Three Lessons On Opportunity
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My church has just gotten on The City, which is sort of like a Twitter/Facebook hybrid-type deal where you can post and comment on status updates, keep a public or private journal, join groups, send/receive announcements, etc. I haven't thoroughly explored it yet, but so far, my favorite thing about it is the daily Bible readings. It's great for me because the only effort it requires is the actual reading. I don't have to decide what to read or in what order. I didn't have to buy anything. I don't even have to flip pages. It's just all there on the screen for me, and I think it's designed to help you read through the whole Bible in a year. I love it.
So today, there were four passages: 1 Samuel 26, 1 Corinthians 7, Ezekiel 5 and John 6. Now, I don't know how they determine which passages to put together, but I'm going to tell you right now, God used all of them together to tell me a few things that I'd like to share with you.
So today, there were four passages: 1 Samuel 26, 1 Corinthians 7, Ezekiel 5 and John 6. Now, I don't know how they determine which passages to put together, but I'm going to tell you right now, God used all of them together to tell me a few things that I'd like to share with you.
- Just because you have an opportunity in front of you, that doesn't always mean you should take it. Free will has always meant that we have a choice – to respect the will and desires of God and serve Him or to serve ourselves. Sometimes, yes, I believe that God closes doors to opportunities He doesn't want us to take, and sometimes we have choices to make that are all good choices, and it doesn't matter much which one we choose. But sometimes, we have opportunities that we're not meant to take. I don't know that they're always as clear-cut as the choice David had – to kill or not to kill, a choice that I think should always be pretty easy – but they always require you to ask the question: Which is a step toward becoming more like Jesus, and which is a step away?
If one choice involves taking life and one involves giving it, that's a no-brainer. If one means sacrificing yourself so someone else can have life while the other means self-preservation, that's honestly harder for me to choose, but I still know the right answer in theory. And if one choice will result in Jesus being more widely known while the other may or may not, well those are the choices that require more analysis, but ultimately they're pretty easy too. - Don't take opportunities just because they worked for someone else. 1 Corinthians 7:17 says, "Only let each person lead the life that the Lord has assigned to him, and to which God has called him."
The temptation I face pretty much every day is to look at other people's lives and ask God, "Why not me?" But the reality is that He looked at me, considered my personality, my abilities, my experiences thus far and my desires, and He chose His absolute best for me personally. Jesus died for me, individually and personally. He loves me not only in the blanket sense with which He loves all mankind, but me. Personally.
A lot of people would say that I shouldn't be jealous of what other people have, but I should remember that they're probably jealous of what I have. And while it's true that other people are jealous of what I have, that's not the thing that should bring me comfort. The reason I shouldn't be jealous of what I don't have is this: It's a good thing that I don't have those things. If those things were God's best for me, He would have given them to me. The things I have are His best for me, particularly if I'm seeking to follow Him and do His will. - When Jesus comes to you, don't be afraid. The disciples in John 6 are in a boat, in a lake, in a storm, at night. And Jesus comes walking out toward them on the water, which is admittedly really freaky. I'd probably be afraid too. But I think it's funny that the thing He says to calm them down is, "It is I." I'm not really sure why I think that's funny. I just do. But I can totally relate to it, especially when it comes to decision-making. When you have to make a big decision, it sort of feels like you're in a storm at night, doesn't it? You can't really see much one way or the other, and everything's in a state of turmoil. You don't know what to do, and quite frankly, you're scared. Then an opportunity comes along and you're all "Seriously?! What is that?!" And either it's a giant wave coming to crush you, or it's the ghost of some old fear or insecurity coming to make you doubt, or it's Jesus saying, "It is I; do not be afraid."
And this is great: John 6:21 – "Then they were glad to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land to which they were going."
Done. Decision made, Jesus on board, destination reached.
that's me stepping out of the spotlight
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Mark 4
18Still others, like seed sown among thorns, hear the word; 19but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful.
So let's just say for the sake of discussion that there's a boy I like who doesn't know Jesus. And let's say that in all my ridiculous, desperate attempts to get him to love me, I realize that I have an amazing opportunity to show him Christ. But I can't show him Jesus because I'm trying so ridiculously and desperately to get him to love me. My delusions are saying, "I really want him to love Jesus," while my actions are saying, "Forget Jesus. LOVE ME!"
This is really dangerous territory. It is one (terrible) thing when my worries cause me to be ungenerous with other Christians, who will be totally understanding and gracious. But it is another thing entirely when my selfish desires and fears put me in the spotlight when people are dying spiritually and need to see Christ.
And here's my confession for the day: I don't know how to get out of the way. I don't know what that looks like practically. Maybe it has something to do with being a writer and feeling such a personal connection with my own words, but I don't always know how to separate the messenger (me) from the message (Jesus). I don't know how to be the one who shares the Gospel and let it speak for itself at the same time. But I think the rest of Mark 4:1-20 holds a key to understanding.
We are the soil, the seed is the Gospel, the fruit is the manifestation of the Gospel's work in our lives, but there's one more thing: The crop grows. How does it go from a seed to a shoot to a full-grown crop? The soil merely provides an environment conducive to growth. And the seed, though it has the potential in its very DNA to become a crop, is only the first step in the process. In 1 Corinthians 3:6-7, Paul says, "I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow."
Oh right. God is in charge. How easily I forget. It's His word, I'm His tool, that boy I like (for discussion's sake only, of course) is His soil, and any crops that are produced will be His too. When you put it that way, I completely forget that those worries and fears and psychoses even existed. Funny, I kind of forget about the romance part altogether because the Gospel is so much more important. In my life and in his.
Growing a Briar Patch
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Mark 4
18Still others, like seed sown among thorns, hear the word; 19but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful.
My Community Group finally, after a couple of great weeks doing other things, got around to studying Mark 4:1-20, a passage that has been punching me in the gut repeatedly of late. Take a moment to read the whole thing here, and then come back. It's cool. I'll wait...
Now, ok, so Jesus is talking about how the Gospel affects different people's hearts/lives, and He's comparing the people to different kinds of soil. I think we've all been all the different kinds of soil at some point in our lives, and at this point for me, there are a lot of thorns and brambles (or as we kept calling them tonight, "brayambles"). My life is in a general state of upheaval at the moment, and it's a REALLY good, exciting time, but with all the changes come a lot of worries and desires for all kinds of things including, but not limited to: safety, comfort, convenience, a bank account in the black, and an Italian boyfriend.
The problem arises when I allow all of these things to hold a position of greater power than the Gospel. When I set up safety as an idol, for example, I'm not trusting that God is good no matter what my physical health is like, and I'm not letting Him show His goodness and love to me (or anyone else through me) because I'm too preoccupied with keeping myself safe.
That, I think, is what it means for worries and desires for other things to come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful. It's not that the Gospel is too weak to break through those other things. It's that the soil (me) is nurturing the weeds and brambles (worry/idols) so that they grow while the word remains a tiny shoot, surrounded and strangled and overshadowed.
Man, what a horrific lie! And what a pitiful little fake Gospel I'm believing in if it can't even stand up to my fear that I won't find an Italian boyfriend. That is not the Gospel at all. I don't know what that is, but the Gospel is that life conquered death, that love drove out fear, that God will always provide, and that Jesus chose me. So safety, convenience, worry and wealth can just suck it, although I'm not going to lie – I'd still like that Italian boyfriend. My desire for him is no match for Jesus's desire for me, though.
I'm going to try and get at this from a whole different angle tomorrow. Because it's been getting at me from all different angles, and I love it. Until then, adieu.
New Resolve and Experimentation
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I once heard a pastor say that the Gospel is relevant in every situation, whether that means the situation can be redeemed by Jesus or that the truth and grace of God are evident in some aspect of it. I find myself thinking about this sometimes when I'm discouraged or simply bored with life – you know, when it's just easier to not notice the work that God is still constantly doing through the sacrificial death and resurrection of Christ.
Sometimes I go for days without even thinking about how incredible the Gospel is or thinking about it at all, really. I'd like that to change.
If it's true that the Gospel is alive and relevant to every situation every day, I want to experience it in every situation, every day. I want to see it, feel it, taste it, hear it, smell it, live it, and I want you to join me. I don't want to over-spiritualize everything, finding God's grace in the water temperature of my morning shower, but wherever God reveals Himself to me, I want to notice and share it with you.
I also want to invite you to share your daily Gospel experiences in the comments, or you can email me. I'd love a guest blog post every now and then.
Here we go!
Sometimes I go for days without even thinking about how incredible the Gospel is or thinking about it at all, really. I'd like that to change.
If it's true that the Gospel is alive and relevant to every situation every day, I want to experience it in every situation, every day. I want to see it, feel it, taste it, hear it, smell it, live it, and I want you to join me. I don't want to over-spiritualize everything, finding God's grace in the water temperature of my morning shower, but wherever God reveals Himself to me, I want to notice and share it with you.
I also want to invite you to share your daily Gospel experiences in the comments, or you can email me. I'd love a guest blog post every now and then.
Here we go!
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