Identity: Knowing Who We Are in Christ

The professional women sitting next to our dinner table last week gloried in their roles as nurses as they traded recent stories of pain and recovery from the hospital down the street. Yet I wondered whether they realized that nursing is merely their vocation, not the core of their identity. Likewise, my niece and her closest friends encourage one another as they share the challenges of homeschooling in their common vocations as young moms. But do they understand how fleeting this season of life will seem in a matter of a few years when their raucous, chaotic living rooms morph into much quieter empty nests?

Another young woman, whom I have discipled in the past, regularly introduces herself as “an addict” to close acquaintances, even though she has not taken a mood-altering substance in nearly four years. She understands that in her weakness she is still susceptible to temptation. So for her, retaining the “addict” moniker helps to keep her humble and realistic about the remaining potential to slip up. However, I still wonder whether she fully understands that her temptation does not define who she is as a person in relationship to others and who she is becoming as a Christian believer.

Far too often, we think of ourselves mainly in terms of what we do or how we feel about ourselves and our relationship to our temporal circumstances. Becoming aware of our position and identity in Christ uplifts us by pointing us to tremendously empowering truths and confronts us with some sobering facts.

James gives an example of this paradox when he exhorts the poor and lowly person to “boast in his exaltation”, while simultaneously telling the prosperous person to glory “in his humiliation” (1:9-10). Remember, in context, James is discussing temptation, desire, and sin. It is no mere coincidence that James drops this gem right in between his teaching about trials and temptations. Self-skewing illusions of personal grandiosity and personal loathing will taint our view of who we are before God, making us susceptible to wiles of the evil one. We must look to Christ to see ourselves rightly.

Creation and Fall

Typically, as reformed women, we are keenly aware of the danger of emphasizing worldly wealth and position, recognizing it as potential idolatry. Few of us knowingly dare to set ourselves up as empresses and cosmic judges, out from under the scrutiny of our Holy God and Creator. Before congratulating ourselves, let us be careful, lest we fall (1 Cor. 10:12).

The subtle lie that the serpent used to entice the woman before the fall remains a temptation about which we ought to be vigilant: “For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God” (Gen. 3:5a).  The distortion of the Creator/creature distinction is at the heart of much sin and most heresy. “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall” (Prov. 16:18).

The poor and downtrodden, on the other hand, perhaps more acutely understand and experience the insipid nature of the fall. Regularly reminded of the effects of remaining sin in the world and in themselves, the lowly and oppressed often struggle to grasp the inherent dignity of human beings, created in the image of God (Gen. 1:26-27).  Rather, the tendency of those of us who are poor in spirit can be to view our identities based on what we perceive we lack, rather than what we inhere.  

God created both the woman and her husband to have dominion over every living thing – except for God and one another. God said, “Let them to have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing than creeps on the earth” (Gen. 1:26).  

The irony, of course, is that a mysterious “beast of the field”, that crafty serpent, “more crafty” than the other beasts, deceived and interrogated Eve as though he held dominion over her. The serpent's questioning of Eve took precedence over God's goodness and her calling. The serpent deceived the woman into denying her calling as image-bearer of God and to falsely perceive a lack in God’s good creation. This false perception was the deception that led her to disobey the Creator’s command.

Similarly, we also fall prey to the deception of sin and temptation when we imagine ourselves as mere brute beasts, defined by “natural” desires that we imagine God gave us. In reality, deception and distortion of the imago Dei sneakily lies underneath the fig leaves of our self-made identities, because we define ourselves by that which we imagine God has failed to provide. Whether we base our identity on spiritual poverty, such as a sinful temptation toward substances or relationships, or define our identity by actual poverty or lack of privilege, we have forsaken our Divine calling as image bearers.  

Redeemed Identities

Our loving Creator, who rightly despises sin and rebellion, rescued fallen sinners from this evil, for His ultimate glory, in the Person of Jesus Christ. The Lord, our God, came to renew and restore His people to right relationship with Himself. Whether we lean toward the prideful and prosperous, who eschew the creature/Creator distinction, or toward the lowly and poor of spirit, who diminish the goodness of the image of God, if we are in Christ Jesus, we are being made new. As new creations in Christ, our story does not end when our redemption begins.

When God saves us, He enables us to walk in union with Christ. We are not yet what we will be, but we are no longer what we once were. By the Holy Spirit, we are empowered to live out our callings as image bearers again, as new creations in Christ (2 Cor. 517). James tells us:

 "Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. Of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth, that we should be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures (Ja. 1:16-18).

John Calvin wrote in his commentary on this passage that “It is no common nobility into which God extols his own children… justly are they said to be excellent as firstfruits, when God's image is renewed in them.”

When the Truth of who God is emerges to reorient our hearts and minds, we will begin to see ourselves rightly. No longer will we desire the path of the prideful, prosperous fool, setting ourselves up as mini-empresses who usurp the Creator. No longer will we see ourselves as spiritually impoverished beasts, enslaved to the sin nature and the world system.  For we died to sin and are now alive to Christ (Rom. 6:17, Eph. 2:4-5). We are righteous with the righteousness of Christ alone, the perfect Son of God (Rom. 4:5).  Let us praise Him!

Soli Deo Gloria!

Are We Called to Authenticity?

This morning we welcome Deb Welch, who blogs at All Things New, to the Out of the Ordinary team.

The quest for authenticity has seemingly grown more prevalent than ever in modern times. Justin Beiber was seeking it when he visited a church in New York City. Ann Voskamp tweeted about it. Mommy bloggers are blogging about it. And churches are forming companies and committees to cultivate more of it in their midst.

With all this popular interest, one would think that the contemporary quest for authenticity is something new. Alas, we know that there is truly nothing new under the sun (Ecc. 1:9b, New American Standard Bible).

The Ethics of Authenticity, written by Charles Taylor in the 90s, decried the negative trajectory of an inward and self-exalting focus developed by many authenticity advocates, on the one hand, and appreciated the honest and sincere intentions of adherents, on the other hand.

In the early and mid-nineteenth century, authenticity was also a bedrock among existentialist philosophers, vis a vis Heidegger and Sartre.  Sartre’s theory of “bad faith” was an aspect of authenticity that described the self-deception that comes from living as something or someone different from who you really are. As early as 1770, Rousseau, in his Confessions, argued that one's orientation toward life should come from a source within. The focus on inwardness, self-reflection, and introspection led to a space of interiority as one's guiding authority.

Who can forget Shakespeare’s notorious character in Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes' father? Polonius (the political poser, who ironically changed his spots whenever position and power were in sight), offered his son the infamous advice that would be repeated in high schools and Hollywood films centuries later, “This above all: to thine own self be true”. Never mind that this advice led Laertes to cast off values and moral conscience to madly pursue his inner desire to fulfill a personal vow of revenge. Not surprisingly, all of this resulted was his own tragic death  (Romans 6:23, NASB). As it turned out, the call to live an authentic life above all else was immanently bad fatherly advice.

As we look even further back, Aquinas argued for a “presumption of authenticity”, represented as the harmony between one’s inner judgements (including the will), outward acts, and future hope. According to Oxford seminary professor John Finnis, Aquinas’s presumption of authenticity was the underlying reason why Aquinas saw love of neighbor as the master rule of life. And if Aquinas dabbled in the philosophy of authenticity, certainly Augustine must have had something to say about it before him. Yet, whether or not Augustine specifically delved into the concept of authenticity, I’m convinced that his Confessions is potentially the best example of what true Christian authenticity, rightly conceived can be. More on that later.

All of this to say, authenticity is not a new idea, and as such, the concept comes loaded with all sorts of theological and philosophical baggage of which we would do well to be beware. For the most part, and at the risk of oversimplification, the quest by Christians to live authentically in our day follows two potential paths of thought.

On the one hand, the authenticity virtues of honesty, openness, and vulnerability are compelling.  In Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis writes about how Christians often don a mask around other Christians to avoid judgment and humiliation, but it often results in hypocrisy and destructive perfectionism. Perhaps this is best argument for the side of authenticity. It has textual support that is quite convicting in the Gospel of Matthew when Jesus speaks about the Pharisees being whitewashed tombs, "Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs which on the outside appear beautiful, but inside they are full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness” (NASB Mat 23:27). Not only did the Pharisees put on a facade out of fear of man, but it seems they were covering up their rottenness in order to hold onto their prosperous positions.

In our contemporary Christian churches, where many younger people have grown up in Christian subcultures rife with moralistic therapeutic deism, as Dr. Michael Horton calls it, no wonder the quest for authenticity has become a such a strong driving force.

But do these accepted virtues risk hiding a worse vice? For instance, an inward focus can take a selfish turn, when we say things like, “I just need to focus on me right now.” Too much authenticity can turn us into spiritual slackers.  We become comfortable with one another, soaking in our own muck, rather than being lifted out. Then we forget who we really are. 

In our huddles, are we saying sorry and being sorry, but perhaps never truly repenting? Are we confessing sins one to another, but perhaps never taking our petitions to the Lord and trusting in Him? Worst of all, if we pursue authenticity for authenticity’s sake, that can lead to a self-styled religion, where “I am that I am” is all about our very own comfortable, horizontally-oriented posture, rather than a vertically-oriented fear and awe of a holy God, who truly is the great “I am.”

We should beware of an inward search for truth and self, directed by finite, creaturely beings. It will ultimately lead to despair and isolation, even when we practice it together. Because our very identity and ontology comes from an external, transcendent creator, our ultimate reality -- our true selves and very nature -- are not inwardly determined. God tells us how we were created, what we were created for, and how we will find our greatest fulfillment both in this life and the life to come. Without Him and His Word speaking into our lives and our hearts, our endeavors to "be real" with one another will always fall short. Word-filled fellowship that lifts us up by the Spirit before the face of Christ will transform us into His likeness.

C.S. Lewis continues in Mere Christianity to discuss the metaphor of the mask in a positive way. While putting on a fake mask should be avoided, we can and should put on the mask of Christ. Even though we are not fully Christ-like right now, we are becoming more and more like Him. Lewis gives the illustration of a fairy tale in which a man is so unattractive that he can’t get any friends and is socially shunned. In order to change his appearance, he puts on a mask and wears it for a very long time. One day, he is forced to remove the mask and his face has actually been transformed into the image of the mask. Lewis’ point is that sometimes we have to start off by pretending to be what we are becoming. In future hope, we begin by putting off self and putting on Christ.

The second and better way Christians can conceive of authenticity is to consider the more technical -- and less philosophical -- definition of authenticity. If we view authenticity as "being of undisputed origin or authorship", "being faithful to the original", or "a reliable, accurate representation", we are in a much better position to see ourselves rightly. We were created in the image of God and we are being transformed into the image of Christ in our sanctification. This should embolden us to be honest and sincere with one another and free to approach the throne of grace. Let’s hold on to this reality and end the restless quest for our "true selves". Our author is the Lord Jesus Christ, and in Him we live and move and have our being.

In closing, I’m reminded of Augustine’s great example of what authentic Christianity actually might look like when we have the focus right. In his Confessions, he wrote this familiar quote, “Our heart is restless until it rests You.” So, let us rest in Christ, together.

“Let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart” (NASB, Heb. 12:1b-3)

References

Augustine. Confessions. Transl. Foley. Hackett Publishing, Second Edition. 2006.

Finnis, John. (as quoted in) Aquinas on Friendship, by Schwartz, Daniel. pg. 96.

Horton, Michael. On Moralist Therapeutic Deism. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBFqgEOCbEM

Lewis, C.S. Mere Christianity. Harper Classics. 2001.

Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/authenticity/

Shakespeare, William. Hamlet in The Penguin Shakespeare. Random House. 2016.

Taylor, Charles. Ethics of Authenticity. Harvard University Press. 1992.

Grace Incognito

This is a repost from 2013.

The ladies in my church had a get-together Sunday evening. To break the ice, we were divided into random groups and given several questions prepared by our hostess. These questions weren't the typical "What is your favorite color? What was your most embarrassing moment?" Rather her intent was to encourage us to go beyond small talk and delve a little deeper. Two of the questions were:

- Do you feel you need to portray a perfect front?

- Do you have sin in your life that you are struggling with and need prayer?

My group had a very good discussion, but there were two observations from the pastor's wife that struck home. First, we may be willing to let others know about our struggles but only after the fact. Second, we may be maintaining a front even though it's not the "I am the perfect Christian woman who has it all together" variety. It may take the form of making sure others see how well we handle our brokenness.

Does this ring a bell? It does for me.

We like happy endings and success stories, so it's easy to think experiencing triumph is the epitome of the Christian life. The prayers were answered. The sin was conquered. The problem was solved. We don't have much stamina either, so the quicker God moves, the better. If He comes through according to our expectations, hallelujah! But what if He chooses otherwise? What if the battle with sin is lifelong or the circumstances don't change? If I am only willing to share my struggles when they are over, I could be waiting a very long time trying to hold out on my own. In addition, I may like the idea of portraying the strong Christian woman weathering adversity with a brave face, but I don't get to choose the scene of my martyrdom that will show off my good side. ¹

But what if the point isn't sprinting across the finish line in record time, but knowing God in every halting, baby step along the way? So instead of grumbling, "Here we go again", my attitude could be, "Lord, thank You for another opportunity to cast my cares on You." "Thank You for being faithful and just to forgive my sins even if it's for the nth time today." Rather than feeling like a burden when asking for prayer from the church, God could be using a drawn-out situation to increase love among the saints and strengthen the bonds of fellowship.

What if grace not only grants deliverance but gives patient endurance year after year? It may not wear the champion's laurels, but be incognito, dressed in the plain clothes of the long-term struggles of life. God's grace is present and sufficient even when it's hiding in plain sight.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Cor. 12:9

1. My Utmost For His Highest, Oswald Chambers, reading for November 11.

Sanctification in the Walmart Line

It's clear from the Scriptures that sinless perfection is impossible in this life. (1 John 1:8-10, 2:1-2) We will battle indwelling sin until we die or Jesus returns, which is why Christians need the gospel just as much as those who have yet to enter the Kingdom of God. But what about mistakes? What about those silly, careless things that crop up now and then?

Life would be easier if I would always get it right. Life would be even easier if everyone else would get it right, too. For example, can you imagine how this would transform shopping at Walmart? What would it be like if there were always enough cashiers? And cashiers who were efficient? What if everyone counted their purchases so no one had too many items in the express lane? Think of how pleasant that experience would be. But I will not always get it right no matter how hard I try and neither will you or the folks at Walmart.

The fall has taken its toll, and no one is exempt. My physical body has failed me at times where I've dropped dishes due to butter fingers. My mind has gotten distracted so I've lost count when measuring an ingredient for a recipe. Although breaking a glass and miscounting cups of flour are not sins in themselves, what has been my response? What attitude comes to the surface when I'm at Walmart with 20 other people waiting for a single cashier when there are six vacant registers?

There have been times when these irritations didn't bother me, praise God, but my responses have not always been sinless. I've been impatient with others and unkind thoughts have flitted across my mind even though I kept my mouth shut. I've been frustrated when I didn't live up to my high expectations of myself. This is sobering especially when I consider what sort of person I may be in 10 or 20 years. As the saying goes, practice makes perfect, and these little instances of pride and impatience can add up to create quite a curmudgeonly woman. But it doesn't have to be this way.

"For this is the will of God, your sanctification." (1 Thes. 4:3) I can rest in this truth and the fact that the Holy Spirit hasn't stopped convicting me of sin and granting me repentance. I do not have to finish the race on my own or in my own strength. And I have hope knowing that He will renew me, turning potential irritations into sanctification lessons. Occasions for impatience and pride can be transformed into opportunities to grow in kindness and humility. Even at the checkout line at Walmart.

Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience Col. 3:12

When Church is Challenging

A little more than two years ago, my husband and I made a decision to leave our church. We'd spent 18 years celebrating, mourning, growing, and living with a wonderful group of people. We stood in the parking lot in tears after informing our pastor we were leaving. Anticipation accompanied grief, as we wondered where the Lord would providentially direct us. There were no local options; we would have to travel to find the place we were looking for. The third church we visited was located in a community 45 minutes away. It is the family to which the Lord brought us.In the past two years, we have learned some important lessons about church and about ourselves.

It has been hard.

There are many, many wonderful things about our church. Being joined with this body of believers has been good. Despite the protestations of the current church culture, difficulty and goodness are not mutually exclusive. They are often woven together inextricably. We know - we cling to - this truth. It sustains us when we might otherwise feel like giving up.

Feeling connected is one challenge we face. The daily-ness of Monday through Friday makes it easy to put relationships on the back burner. I text a couple of ladies periodically, but for the most part I am so wrapped up in my own life and family that I don't make the effort to build new friendships. I've not had to make such an effort before, but it is a glaring reality now. We have virtually no contact with our church family from Sunday to Sunday. No running into each other at school events, in the grocery store, or on the ball field. No spontaneous lunch or dinner dates. No "I was in the neighborhood" visits. The reason we sometimes feel entirely disconnected from the church community is that we are not part of its surrounding community.

Another challenge is our level of involvement. In our former church, my husband served as a deacon. We were active in the choir, in teaching Sunday School, and as members of various committees. Our daughter was a leader in the youth group. Being so active was a large part of our identity that we planned to bring with us. It didn't take long to realize that adding 1 1/2 hours to any meeting or activity is an obstacle that is sometimes too difficult to overcome, especially considering my husband spends roughly 11 hours commuting to work each week. Service shouldn't necessarily be convenient; nor should it be impractical. I fear that our lack of participation has been seen as reluctance because people don't fully understand the extent to which we are hindered by time and distance.

So yes, it has been hard. Yet we have made a covenant with this church family. A covenant that requires us to be committed church members. I thought I knew what a committed church member looks like; in the past, all I had to do was glance in the mirror. However, the Lord is showing me that my notions - while not wholly inaccurate - were far from complete. Being committed to a church is much more than regular attendance and leadership positions.

In his book What Is a Healthy Church Member?, Thabiti Anyabwile writes that the expressions of a committed member are: regular attendance (Heb. 10:24-25), peace-seeking (Rom. 14:19), edifying others (1 Cor. 12, 14), warning and admonishing others (Matt. 18:15-17), pursuing reconciliation (2 Cor. 5-18-21), bearing with others (Gal. 6:2), preparing for the ordinances, and supporting the work of the ministry (2 Cor. 8-9).

Dietrich Bonhoeffer also sets forth the ministries of those committed to the Christian community in his classic Life Together: The Classic Exploration of Christian in Community. They are: holding one's tongue (James 4:11-12), meekness (Rom. 12:3), listening, helpfulness, bearing (Col. 3:13), and proclaiming (James 5:20).

As I think about these characteristics - these charges - I'm learning that my commitment to the church is not measured by how many positions I hold or the number of committees I serve on. In fact, it's not measured by any thing I do. Rather, it is only the grace of the Holy Spirit expressing itself in my life that demonstrates my commitment to the church family where He has placed us.

"The church isn't a circle of friends, but the family of God," writes Michael Horton (source). When I first read that statement, I thought it sounded harsh. As I've continually pondered it, I've realized that Horton is exactly right. In our former church, we were more than friends with our fellow members; they comprised our entire social circle.  Bonhoeffer writes that the Christian "...belongs not in the seclusion of a cloistered life but in the thick of foes. There is his commission, his work." We had insulated ourselves from the secular world. As we've emerged from the church cocoon, the harshness of that reality has hit us with overwhelming force. We find ourselves stumbling, but reaching for God's strength all the more.

I knew joining a church that isn't local would be challenging, but I thought it would become easier with time. Two years later, my family is still wrestling. Perhaps we always will. While we love our pastor and our congregation, I must admit that if we thought of church as only a group of friends we would not have made this choice.  Knowing that our Sovereign God has joined us with this family, that we have a responsibility to them (and they to us), that we are part of a true church, and that He is sanctifying us in the process - these are what we thank Him for.   

It is easily forgotten that the fellowship of Christian brethren is a gift of grace, a gift of the Kingdom of God that any day may be taken from us, that the time that still separates us from utter loneliness may be brief indeed. Therefore, let him who until now has had the privilege of living a common Christian life with other Christians praise God's grace from the bottom of his heart. Let him thank God on his knees and declare: It is grace, nothing but grace, that we are allowed to live in community with Christian brethren.

(Bonhoeffer)

The day I had more faith in the plumber than in God

I am out of my league when it comes to home repairs, so I am very grateful for reliable contractors, plumbers, and all around handymen who can fix whatever is broken. Therefore, I knew who to call when the toilet started running for what seemed like forever before it finally stopped. The plumber got the job done for a fair price in less than an hour the following day. When all was back to normal, I offered a prayer of thanks for this gentleman, his skill, and the relief it was to turn over my problem to someone I could trust. But then this thought crossed my mind:

"You stopped worrying about the toilet as soon as you knew the plumber was coming the next day. Why do you keep worrying about the things you commit to the Lord? It sounds like you had more faith in the plumber than you do in God at times."

Ouch.

Well I was without excuse when it was put like that. It was a weight off my shoulders to leave the plumbing to the plumber. Why don't I experience that same relief when I commit my life and its cares to Almighty God? Why do I continue to stew and fret as though He hasn't heard me or I might have slipped His mind? Granted plumbing isn't quite on the same scale, but then again, this is the Triune God we're talking about. 

This is the God who:

Upholds the universe by the word of His power. (Heb. 1:3)

Is the eternal, unchanging Creator. (Heb. 1:10-12)

Laughs at His enemies and their futile plans to thwart His purposes. (Psalm 2:4-6)

Saved me. (Eph. 2:1-10)

Promised to never leave me nor forsake me. (Heb. 13:5-6)

Intercedes. Works all things together for good and will complete His work in my life. (Rom. 8:26-30)

Remains faithful even when my faith fails. (2 Tim. 2:13)

Based on this evidence, is there any valid reason why I shouldn't have faith in God and trust Him with everything? None whatsoever. This doesn't mean that life won't have its troubles, but I'm already in the safest and most secure place there is. I am in His hands and no one can snatch me out. (John 10:28-29)

So I had to repent of my unbelief. It probably won't be the last time, but I'm thankful for His forgiveness and His faithfulness to continue to remind me of the truth. 

The Lord never wastes a teachable moment. Even a running toilet.

Believers Have New Life

If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation . . . .

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked . . . 

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved . . . . (Ephesians 2:1, 5 ESV)

God's salvation, Paul writes, brings spiritual life to people who are spiritually dead. Scripture also calls this work of the Holy Spirit being born again (John 3:3-8; 1 Peter 1:23), being newly created (Ephesians 2:10; 2 Corinthians 5:17), or becoming a new self or person (Ephesians 4:24). Theologians usually call it regeneration.

Everything Changes

This pivotal transformation occurs when God implants spiritual life in someone who, to use another scriptural term, has been spiritually dead. When this change happens, says Louis Berkhof, "the governing disposition of [a person's] soul is made holy".¹ If you're familiar with Ephesians 2, you know that between the verses quoted above, Paul says that our natural governing disposition—the spiritually dead one—is decidedly unholy. A spiritually dead person is

following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience—among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind . . . . (Ephesians 2:2-3)

Before we are reborn, we are governed by Satan and our own sinful desires, but when we are reborn, we come under the dominion of the Holy Spirit. Or to put it another way, in the new birth, the Spirit unites us to Christ, who lives his resurrection life in us.

At the moment our new life begins, everything changes. Without new life, we see no need for repentance, but with new life, repentance becomes a life principle. Without new life, we have no desire or ability to follow Christ, but with new life, we do.

New Life Gives Faith

Someone who has been born again believes Christ, loves him, and trusts him. In the last post in this series, we learned God gives us the faith by which we are saved. He does this by implanting new life within us, and "conscious, intentional, active faith in Christ is [the] immediate fruit"² of this new life. Everyone who has been regenerated repents and believes, and no one repents and believes without it.

New Life Grows Holiness

What's more, regeneration brings ongoing changes in our attitudes and actions. Like faith, obedience is also a fruit of regeneration. The person who has been born again is increasingly obedient to Christ (1 John 2:29); they cannot keep on living a life of sin (1 John 3:9). Yes, sin will continue to be a problem in this life, but someone with new life keeps on growing in holiness.

Theologians call this process—the growing holiness of the one who is regenerated—sanctification. Sanctification is primarily God's work, for the Holy Spirit works within the believer, causing them to want to please God and giving them the power to do it (Philippians 2:13). But the believer has work to do, too (Philippians 2:12). The believer's effort is God-dependent effort, but it's real effort.

Out with the Old, In with the New

Fundamentally, a believer's work in sanctification is to become, more and more, what they already have become through God's regenerating work. Paul exhorts the believer to "put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life" and "put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness" (Ephesians 4:22-24).

Jesus, the one we have been united with in the new birth, whose resurrection life gives us our new life, is our example as we live out our new life of obedience. In sanctification, we are becoming conformed to his image—and the more we grow in our knowledge him, the more we become like him (2 Corinthians 3:18).

Are you a believer? Then strive to be what you already are—a new person recreated to be like Christ.

Learn More

1. Study Ephesians 2:1-10 and Ephesians 4:17-32. Read the entire book of 1 John to learn more about the life results of being born again.
2. Read up on regeneration and sanctification in your favorite systematic theology. In Wayne Grudem's Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Biblical Doctrine, chapter 34 is about regeneration, and chapter 38 on sanctification. You can also read about regeneration and sanctification online from Berkhof's Systematic Theology.
3. Read the chapters Regeneration and Holiness and Sanctification in J. I. Packer's 18 Words: The Most Important Words You Will Ever Know(previously known as God's Words).
4. Listen to Wayne Grudem teach about regeneration and sanctification (part 1, part 2, part 3).

1] Systematic Theology by Louis Berkhof, page 469

2] Concise Theology by J. I. Packer, page 158.

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This post is the latest in a series of posts on truths every Christian woman should know. Here are the previous posts:

1. God Has Spoken (posted at the True Woman Blog)
2. God Is Three and God Is One
3. God Is Who He Is
4. God Had a Plan
5. God Created the Universe
6. We Are Made in God's Image
7. We Are All Sinners
8. God Saves
9. The Son Came
10. Jesus Lived and Died
11. Jesus Is Risen
12. Jesus Is Lord
13. We Must Believe

The One Friend Who Won't Delete You

It's always encouraging to me when other bloggers write things that have been on my heart. Not long ago, Diane Bucknell emailed me with some thoughts that I knew would make a great blog post. She graciously agreed to let me post them today. You may remember that in November 2012 Diane wrote a simply wonderful post about anxiety. Welcome, Diane!

* * * * * * *  

One of my favorite I Love Lucy episodes was the one where Ricky and Lucy’s friends planned a surprise birthday party for her and pretended to forget. Lucy felt so crushed and rejected that she  joined  a band of outcasts called  “The Friends of the Friendless”.  To the beat of a drum, they marched into Ricky’s Tropicana Club singing their theme song only to be greeted by a cheering crowd of friends and a giant birthday cake. Things that make us laugh often have a  painful tinge of truth to them that we can all relate to. 

 

 I doubt there’s ever been a time in history when people could be so easily rejected by friends as they can now through social media. With a click we can  delete or be deleted by people who once were our “friends” – whether they were actual friends to begin with or not.  The ease with which we can eliminate people who offend us is disturbing.

 

Social media aside, there’s nothing new under the sun, and we know the problem of being kicked to the curb has been going on since the beginning. Abel was betrayed and slain by his own brother out of jealousy. And David bemoaned, “Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted his heel against me.” (Psalm 41:9)

 

Losing friends just seems to be a part of this fallen world and if you’re like me, there are times  it can make you feel alone, even though in reality we are surrounded by people who care for us. Maybe  it’s not such a bad thing to feel this way once in awhile because it causes us to flee to our one Friend who is always true, always available, and always willing to help us.

   

How easy it can be to neglect finding our complete satisfaction in the Savior when our life is happily  engaged with people who love and appreciate us. I think even marriage can present temptation this way when our emotional dependence on our spouse eclipses our complete dependence on Christ.      How often do we look to a spouse, children, friends, or even our spiritual leaders for that which can only be found in the Friend of sinners?

 

It is in  Christ alone  that  our deepest  longing  for love and acceptance can be found.

• He laid down His life for us:  John 10:15    
• He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows : Isaiah 53:4
• He has called us his friend:  John 15:15
• His love is unconditional:  Ephesians 2:8-9
• He promises to forgive and cleanse us of every sin:  I John 1:9
• He even  promises to forget them!  Hebrews 8:12
• His love for us  is never ending:   Jeremiah 31:3
• He completely empathizes with all of our weaknesses:  Hebrews 4:15
• He wants us to cast all our worries and cares on Him: I Peter 5:7
• He promises   His  grace will be sufficient  in our weakness:   2 Corinthians 12:9
• He promises to give us wisdom when we ask:  James 1:5 
• He is faithful to us and His mercy  is new every morning:   Lamentations 3:23 
• He never ceases to pray for us.  Hebrews 7:25
• He knows everything about us, including our thoughts before we think them:  Psalm 139 
• He has promised to use every trial we go through for our good:  Romans 8:28
• He is preparing a heavenly home and has promised to return for us:  John 14:3

What a friend we have in Jesus!

“I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee” Hebrews  13:5

Diane lives in Northern Nevada with her husband Robert and an adopted stray cat named Spurgeon. Diane and Robert have been married for 41 years and have a son, two daughters and seven grandchildren.  They attended Moody Bible Institute, and Robert has served in three senior pastorates. He is an artist by trade, and when Diane is not reading, blogging, or baking cookies for the grandkids, she attempts to manage their business, Bucknell Arts.

Foolish Words

Several years ago, I was watching my nephew’s little league game. The father of one of the boys on the opposing team was being obnoxious, and he got louder and ruder as the game wore on.

He also happened to be wearing a fanny pack. I have nothing against fanny packs; I’ve worn them myself a time or two. But I have a lot against obnoxious parents at little league games. I began to make cracks to the person next to me about “the man with the purse.” I’m not sure if my seat mate was amused by my comments, but I was.

Near the end of the game, a man a couple of seats away from me stood up. And there, around his waist, was a fanny pack. I knew this man, and I liked him. He had been within earshot of me the entire game, and had heard every one of my comments about men who wear accessories just like his.

I think this man was more amused at the situation than anything. We had several interactions in coming years, and he didn’t seem to hold it against me. Since he is no longer living, I know he’s not worried about it today. But I am still blushing as I recount this story.

I wish I could say this type of thing was an isolated incident, that I had to dig deep in the recesses of my memory to think of a time I had said something to embarrass myself. But that’s not the case. The well of stories to draw from is woefully deep, and many of them come to mind often. Just the other day I was on a walk, and the memory of something mortifying I had said a few years ago nearly stopped me in my tracks.

I struggle with what to do with these memories. Why do I seem to be so plagued with them? Is it wrong to remember them? To be so embarrassed by them?

In her book Grace Is Free, Marci Preheim refers to this phenomenon as “day-after-girls-night-out regret.” That feeling you have after time with friends that you’ve said too much.

Whether we talk too much or quietly hide ourselves in the crowd, the root of our turmoil is the same. We desire to be perceived a certain way. Our sin doesn’t bother us when it remains hidden, but when everyone sees it, we fret, withdraw, and justify ourselves.

We like to think these things are embarrassing because they are so uncharacteristic of us, but in reality, they reveal sides of us that we would prefer to keep hidden. I am more apt to embarrass myself when I’m trying too hard to be funny or clever, or trying to draw attention to myself. I don’t usually put my foot in my mouth when I’m trying to build others up. If I spend my time listening to other people, rather than thinking of the next thing to say, things go better.

I wish I had a helpful hint, or three steps to banish careless words from your conversation. Many people probably don’t need as much help as me. But I don’t have them. My foolish words will be a problem of mine as long as I am still a fool, and I am afraid that will be a very long time.

And when the foolish words come, as they do far too often, I remind myself what they are. The words themselves are not the problem, they are instead a symptom of a far larger problem: my sinful nature. I am a sinner in need of great grace. The fact that I embarrass myself from time to time is actually the least of the problem. But all that has been paid on the cross.

Someday, my faith will become sight. I will be free from the effects of sin, and I will no longer put my foot in my mouth. Will I even notice? Probably not. I will finally be, for the first time, not focused enough on myself to think about it.

It's Not About Me

Although I cooked a lot for Todd’s single friends when we were first married, hospitality isn’t something I’ve done enough of since my kids were born. I’m being stretched in this area, from the teen boys that wander in with my son to the groups that now meet in our home. Many times we’re just getting started when I realize I have a cobweb in the corner or dog nose prints on my windows. I have to swallow my pride and soldier on. I am happy to report that the sky has not fallen, nor has anyone mocked me for my imperfect housekeeping skills. It also seems that just when I get comfortable, something comes up that stretches me more.

That's how it goes when you serve. I no longer freak out about nursery duty, mostly because I’ve had some of the grossest experiences of my life there and lived to tell about it. The week of children’s camp that had me hyperventilating in the days leading up to it turned out to be fun. And the third year of children’s camp, when it was 108 in the shade and kids were wilting from the heat, well, we all got through that too.

It makes me nervous when we start surmising apart from Scripture on why God does this to us. I’ve heard many sentences that start with “I think God does this because…” that ended up making us the center of things and not him. It also sounds ridiculous to be discussing banal things like nursery duty and Junior High Sunday School when Christians are being martyred in China and missionaries are risking everything to bring the gospel to closed countries.

But when I read Ephesians 3, I’m reminded that this has always been God’s way. Paul’s writing from prison, and he’s assuring the Ephesians that it’s okay, that God’s got it all covered. The same God that gave him the grace to bring the gospel to the gentiles will enable him in his imprisonment and them as a church. He reminds them (and us) that God’s love is greater and deeper and more wonderful than we can ever imagine, so regardless of what they’re up against he’s using that to fulfill his purposes. He’s building his church and enabling his people, and through the church his wisdom is made known to a degree that even the angels are amazed at the sight.

Americans are accused of making church too complicated, and I agree that there’s truth in this. Christians worshipping in underground churches aren’t arguing over what color to paint the sanctuary. But even the simplest meeting requires acts of service. Someone has to sweep the dirt floor of the hut, bake the communion bread, and make sure there are candles to light the room after dark.

God is there where Christians gather in secret for fear of their lives. He’s also there when the nursery staff realizes they’re dealing with a particularly nasty case of rotavirus, and with the Sunday School teacher when the Junior Highers just sit with their arms crossed, scowling at the floor. He’s there when the speaker at the women’s retreat realizes that she’s not only lost her train of thought, she’s lost her place in her notes as well.

Anyone who’s been there comes out of it feeling that he or she knows God just a little bit better, but we’re mistaken when we think it ends with what we’ve learned. It’s about a Holy God, using sinful people to do a thousand little things, but letting those little things add up to a giant demonstration of his wisdom that’s so glorious even the angels are compelled respond with praise that echoes through the universe.

If I try to make that just about me, I make far too little of God.



This is an edited version of a post from my personal blog.

Help for the Path

Are we in great trouble? There is a promise that works for our good, "I will be with him in trouble" (Psalm 91:15). God does not bring His people into troubles, and leave them there. He will stand by them; He will hold their heads and hearts when they are fainting. And there is another promise, "He is their strength in the time of trouble" (Psalm 37:39). "Oh," says the soul, "I shall faint in the day of trial." But God will be the strength of our hearts; He will join His forces with us. Either He will make His hand lighter, or our faith stronger. [1]

Or, as Corrie Ten Boom said, "If God sends us on strong paths, we are provided strong shoes."

Part of the problem with trials is the uncertainty of it all. We can't fathom how it's going to work out, and we don't believe we have the strength to see it through. Setting out into the unknown is terrifying—we want to know the way. And that's what a trial is, for the most part: venturing out in the unknown.

But like Watson said, God does not bring us into it to leave us there. He will be our guide. We might not be able to see the way, but he knows the way, and he will not abandon us. He will bring us through. Often in ways we don't expect, and often not the way we would choose, but always in the best way for us.

[1] Thomas Watson, All Things for Good, page 16.

The turns in life which try our spirits

Have you ever wondered why believers still struggle with sin? Or to bring it home, why you struggle with sin? It would be so much easier for God and for all of us if we overcame sin once and for all in this life. But is it possible that in His sovereignty, He uses this on-going fight for His glory and our good?¹

Here are some thoughts by John Newton:

The Lord appoints occasions and turns in life, which try our spirits. There are particular seasons when temptations are suited to our frames, tempers, and situations; and there are times when he is pleased to withdraw, and to permit Satan's approach, that we may feel how vile we are in ourselves. We are prone to spiritual pride, to self-dependence, to vain confidence, to creature attachments, and a train of evils. The Lord often discovers to us one sinful disposition by exposing us to another. He sometimes shows us what he can do for us and in us; and at other times how little we can do, and how unable we are to stand without him. 

By a variety of these exercises, through the over-ruling and edifying influences of the Holy Spirit, 'B' [the maturing believer] is trained up in a growing knowledge of himself and of the Lord. He learns to be more distrustful of his own heart, and to suspect a snare in every step he takes. The dark and disconsolate hours which he has brought upon himself in times past, make him doubly prize the light of God's countenance, and teach him to dread whatever might grieve the Spirit of God, and cause him to withdraw again. The repeated and multiplied pardons which he has received, increase his admiration of, and the sense of his obligations to, the rich sovereign abounding mercy of the covenant. Much has been forgiven him, therefore he loves much, and therefore he knows how to forgive and pity others. He does not call evil good, or good evil; but his own experiences teach him tenderness and forbearance. He exercises a spirit of meekness towards those who are overtaken in a fault; and his attempts to restore such, are according to the pattern of the Lord's dealings with himself.²

                                                                                                                                         
1. Extravagant Grace: God's Glory Displayed in Our Weakness, Barbara Duguid, P&R Publishing, 2013, pp 51-61.
2. Letters of John Newton, Banner of Truth Trust, 1965, pg. 22. Online letter here. (italics mine)

(Adapted from a previous blog post.)

A retraction

They say with age comes wisdom. As I've grown older, I wonder if part of that wisdom is realizing all the dumb things you said when you were younger. It's funny and a bit embarrassing remembering how wise I thought I was at the ripe age of 32 and how quick I was to give advice. I meant well and never intended to steer anyone wrong, but there are many things I would retract, one of which is:

"If God does it, it will be wonderful."

I'm not saying God is not good, but my advice was a mixture of sentimentality, Bill Bright, and a dash of Job's friends. Shake well, chill, serve, and voila! - a combo that was nothing more than a well-camouflaged, more palatable version of the prosperity gospel. God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life with wonderful being what is pleasant and happy. Of course, if things aren't going well, you must be outside His will or have done something wrong, implying you have the power to derail this wonderful plan. But I didn't give the implications much thought. This was during one of the "happiest" times of my life, so all the more reason to dispense this gem. And in my naivete, weren't my present circumstances proof that this maxim was true? I fully expected the rest of my days to unfold likewise, but life never turns out according to our expectations.

My desires were the  normal, everyday hopes and dreams most women have. I didn't think I was asking too much, but God had something different in mind. To borrow John Newton's words, He crossed many fair designs and left some of those dreams in the dust. But in doing so, He exposed my self-centeredness and idolatry. Rather than wanting His glory, God was a means to my end - my idea of the perfect Christian life. This was a hard lesson, but despite the heartache, I wouldn't trade the present for the past for any price.

So after 20 years of water under the bridge and even though I may not be much wiser, I would offer this instead:

- God is good, but His goodness isn't measured by our happiness or our circumstances. The full extent of His goodness is displayed in Jesus' finished work.

- God is neither a happy-ending-Santa-in-the-sky nor a divine kill-joy who delights in crushing His children's hopes. God is our loving Father who wants to give us the best - Himself. His Spirit is working in our lives from the moment He saved us to the instant we join Him in glory. He is changing us to be like Christ and using every second of every joy and sorrow to that end. But in the joy and especially the sorrow, absolutely nothing can separate us from His love. 

- God can be trusted because the twists and turns of life don't depend on whether we got it or did it right. God is sovereign and makes no mistakes.

So if anyone from my past happens upon this, please throw out my previous advice, and pin your hope on this:

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?  Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written,

“For your sake we are being killed all the day long;we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.”

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.  Romans 8:28-39

Grieving in a Way That Honors God

I'd planned to write a post on Christians and dying well, but the days got away from me. I planned poorly; I didn't account for the thinking, thinking, and thinking some more required before the writing begins. And here I am, at 10 PM the night before my post goes live with only thoughts—and not enough of those. So I'm doing the only thing I can do, posting a quote from a book I'm reading, the book that started me thinking about dying well in the first place.

A Grief Sanctified: Through Sorrow to Eternal Hope includes the Puritan Richard Baxter's tribute to his wife written shortly after her her death, and J. I. Packer's commentary on it. (Will you rescind my membership in the Dead Guys Reading Club if I tell you I like Packer's parts more than Baxter's?)

Here are Packer's notes on grieving well. (The words are all his; I'm the one who formatted it as an ordered list.)

Grief—the experiential, emotional fruit of the bereavement event—is . . . a state of desolation and isolation, of alternating apathy and agony, of inner emptiness and exhaustion. How may such a condition be sanctified—that is, managed, lived with, and lived through in a way that honors God? No Puritan to my knowledge addresses the question in this form, but the Puritan answer would be this: 

1. Starting from where you are, do what you can (it may not be much at first) to move toward . . . thanksgiving, submission, and patience. . . .
2. Do not let your grief loosen your grip on the goodness and grace of your loving Lord.
3. Cry (for there is nothing biblical of Christian, or indeed human, about the stiff upper lip).
4. Tell God your sadness (several of the psalms, though not written about bereavement, will supply words for the purpose).
5. Pray as you can, and don't try to pray as you can't. (That bit of wisdom is not original to me, nor was it distilled in a grief-counseling context, but it is very apropos here.)
6. Avoid well-wishers who think they can cheer you up, but thank God for any who are content to be with you and do things for you without talking at you.
7. Talk to yourself (or, like Richard [Baxter], write) about the loved one you lost.
8. Do not try to hurry your way out of the inner weakness you feel: grieving takes time.
9. Look to God as thankfully, submissively, and patiently as you can (and he will understand if you have to tell him that you cannot really do this yet).
10. Feel, acknowledge, and face, consciously and from your heart, all the feelings that you find in yourself at present, and the day will come when you find yourself able, consciously and from your heart, to live to God daily in thanksgiving, submission, and patient hope once again . . . .

Grieving properly leads back to thinking properly, living properly, and praising properly. God sees to that! "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted" (Matt. 5:4). 

If I were going to add one thing, it would be this: Cling to hope. What separates Christian grief from non-Christian grief (or what sanctifies grief) is the certainty of eternal blessings to come. Focus your mind, as much as you can, on the thought that one day you will "ever be with the Lord" (1 Thessalonians 4:13ff).

Grace Incognito

The ladies in my church had a get-together Sunday evening. To break the ice, we were divided into random groups and given several questions prepared by our hostess. These questions weren't the typical "What is your favorite color? What was your most embarrassing moment?" Rather her intent was to encourage us to go beyond small talk and delve a little deeper. Two of the questions were:

- Do you feel you need to portray a perfect front?

- Do you have sin in your life that you are struggling with and need prayer?

My group had a very good discussion, but there were two observations from the pastor's wife that struck home. First, we may be willing to let others know about our struggles but only after the fact. Second, we may be maintaining a front even though it's not the "I am the perfect Christian woman who has it all together" variety. It may take the form of making sure others see how well we handle our brokenness.

Does this ring a bell? It does for me.

We like happy endings and success stories, so it's easy to think experiencing triumph is the epitome of the Christian life. The prayers were answered. The sin was conquered. The problem was solved. We don't have much stamina either, so the quicker God moves, the better. If He comes through according to our expectations, hallelujah! But what if He chooses otherwise? What if the battle with sin is lifelong or the circumstances don't change? If I am only willing to share my struggles when they are over, I could be waiting a very long time trying to hold out on my own. In addition, I may like the idea of portraying the strong Christian woman weathering adversity with a brave face, but I don't get to choose the scene of my martyrdom that will show off my good side. ¹

But what if the point isn't sprinting across the finish line in record time, but knowing God in every halting, baby step along the way? So instead of grumbling, "Here we go again", my attitude could be, "Lord, thank You for another opportunity to cast my cares on You." "Thank You for being faithful and just to forgive my sins even if it's for the nth time today." Rather than feeling like a burden when asking for prayer from the church, God could be using a drawn-out situation to increase love among the saints and strengthen the bonds of fellowship.

What if grace not only grants deliverance but gives patient endurance year after year? It may not wear the champion's laurels, but be incognito, dressed in the plain clothes of the long-term struggles of life. God's grace is present and sufficient even when it's hiding in plain sight.

Oh Lord, give me eyes to see!

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Cor. 12:9

1. My Utmost For His Highest, Oswald Chambers, reading for November 11.

A Window to Our Desires

I’ve heard a few descriptions on how sin begins. Sin begins with pride. Sin begins with covetousness. Sin begins with idolatry.

If we must trace the very root of sin, we must go to pride. We think we should be the ruler of our own lives. We think we know better than God. But if I think back to all the times I’ve done something that dishonored the name of Christ and hurt those around me, the first sign that I had was my own complaining.

We are warned in the Bible not to complain. Philippians 2:14 tells us to do all things without grumbling or complaining. Complaining indicates that we don’t really think God is doing right by us. Our grumbling and complaining tell us what we think we deserve. We think we deserve more free time, more comfort, more respect.

In my own life, when I think of things I did that brought dishonor to the name of Christ and hurt myself and those around me, the first sign I had was my own complaining—either complaining out loud to others, or murmuring quietly to myself.

I’ve heard and read discussions on ways we can stop complaining. We need to focus on God’s goodness. We need to look toward our ultimate reward. In The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment, Jeremiah Burroughs spends 20 pages listing 22 ways we can gain contentment. All of these are good suggestions.

I think, though, that we often skip right to “how to stop complaining,” and don’t focus on why we’re complaining in the first place. Our complaints show us our deepest desires. It reveals the ways we think God is holding out on us and shows us things we might be willing sin in order to attain.

I’m not going to end with a list of 10 (or 22) ways to stop complaining, as much as I personally need that lecture. But I think it helps me to think about the why behind my complaints.

My complaining tells me…

What I think I deserve

How I think God is holding out on me

What I think I need that God isn’t giving me

What I might be willing to sin to attain

We shouldn’t complain because it dishonors God and questions his goodness. But our complaints also give us a window to our deepest desires. What complaints do we need to turn over to God?

Hope that purifies

One evening after a revival service at our church, I sat in front of the window in my room, looked out across the darkness of our backyard, and begged Jesus not to return. At least not any time soon. I don't remember anything at all about that particular revival service: not who preached nor his text nor even any of his pertinent points. Evidently it had something to do with the end of the world as we knew it. I was a young girl, 11 or 12, maybe older, maybe younger, and I was terrified (terrified!) that Jesus would indeed come back as warned, soon and very soon, robbing me of a boyfriend and prom and all of the other childish dreams and aspirations that were close to my young girl's heart.

It seems silly and almost a little sad to scare a little girl half out of her wits to the extent that she could hardly sleep at night for fear of never having a first date. I will say this in defense of my younger self: I believed Jesus' promise to return. Not only that but I realized I much preferred the world according to Seventeen magazine, a realization that I'd like to think scared me as much as life without ever having a pedicure.

Today I still believe Jesus' promise to return and I pretend to be ready but the reality is sometimes I still prefer He would wait.

In 1 John chapter 3 John makes the startling statement that all who hope in Jesus' appearing purify themselves (1 John 3:3). Hoping, eagerly expecting, Christ's return is a means of purification, how? Doesn't this seem contradictory to our usual warning against being so heavenly minded to be of no earthly good?

As I consider the relationship between hoping in Christ and in His appearance and my purification, I draw a couple of conclusions. First, living in the reality of His return makes a difference in how I live. I gain eternal perspective. I understand this world is fleeting and the true treasure in not found here below but above, where Christ is. These truths are reinforced as I wait eagerly for His appearing.

Not only does this eager expectation for the return of my Savior affect the way I live, but its effect is one of purification from sin. Consider Titus 2:11-13 where Paul speaks of renouncing ungodliness and worldly passions by waiting for the blessed hope, the appearing of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. My ESV Study Bible tells me that "Certainty about the future enables constancy in the present." Certainty motivates constancy. I will see Him so I want to be like Him. These troubles are light and momentary compared to the weight of glory that is to come thus I can persevere in my fight with sin and flesh and world. Jesus will return. This hope purifies me.

I think of me as a young girl sitting in front of her window and crying and it makes me sad. I thought at the time that Jesus' imminent return would rob me of something precious that, despite me going to heaven, I would lose out. As I weighed the options in the balance I figured my earthly future of greater worth; thus I cried.

I no longer weep at the thought of Jesus' second coming but I operate under the same set of assumptions when I count the pleasures of this world as greater and more important. In this way, what I think about Jesus' return reveals what I love and what I think important. As it exposes the true nature of my heart and my heart's affections, I am purified.

Jesus' return is not a source of hope for all. He will come in judgment and where then will hope lie? Only in His finished work on the cross where He died to secure forgiveness for all who would believe. Is your hope in Him? Do you rest secure knowing He will return? Has this truth purified you? Does it affect the way you live? 1 Thess. 5:23 promises that those who belong to Christ will be kept blameless at His appearing--blameless because He paid the penalty for your sin, granting you eternal life in Him. 

May our heavenly mindedness make us of earthly good as we watch and work and wait. May our confidence in the end of this world as we know it propel us to hope, not fear, as we proclaim the truth in love. May we know our true Treasure awaits--yes and amen--and may our passion be thus directed.

Jesus is our only hope. He will return. Wait for it. Watch for it. Hope in it. By it you will be purified.

Words and The Word

A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver. Proverbs 25:11

I've been thinking about my words, both written and spoken. My pastor recently completed a sermon series on Job. Although I had read the book several times before, I winced when I listened to the advice from Job's would-be comforters. They probably meant well. They probably wanted to help him see the light. But boy were they insensitive and clueless. They also have the distinction of having their counsel preserved on the pages of the Bible as a glaring example of words un-fitly spoken.

Since those sermons, I've had a harder time writing because there's a new awareness of the weight of my words no matter how little my sphere of influence. Have I inadvertently torn down rather than built up? Caused confusion rather than conveyed truth? Have my words been more about me, myself, and I or about Christ? And have they been about the Christ revealed in the Word of God or a "Christ" defined by my experience?

As I've prayed and pondered, there's been conviction but encouragement as well. Forgiveness is available not only for sins of thought and deed but for every careless and idle word. Thank God that "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."(1 John 1:9)

Given that "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks" (Matt. 12:34), the best way to guard what comes out is to be careful of what goes in, and what is better than consistently feeding on the Scriptures? But the point of this diet is more than becoming a Bible Answer Ma'am™. The Holy Spirit uses the words He has authored to transform the source of our words - the mind and heart. His Word has the power to dismantle our excuses, expose our motives, and discern our thoughts and intentions (Heb. 4:12). His Word enlightens our ignorance and is "able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus." (2 Tim. 3:15). And by grace, our words can give grace to those who hear. (Eph. 4:29)

So my prayer is...

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Psalm 19:14

With my whole heart I seek you; let me not wander from your commandments! I have stored up your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you. Blessed are you, O Lord; teach me your statutes! Psalm 119:10-12

Believing that...

All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work. 2 Timothy 3:16-17 

The entrance of thy words giveth light; it giveth understanding unto the simple. Psalm 119:130 KJV 

When Life Tugs at Our Heartstrings

I am the youngest of four sisters. As you can imagine, there was a lot of conversation in our household. I learned to use my words early and often; it was a matter of survival.

But with the age difference, I often couldn’t keep up. When one of my sisters would boss me in a way I didn’t like and I couldn’t find the words to make my case, I always resorted to the same comeback:

YOU HURT MY FEELINGS!

It never worked. I believed such a weighty pronouncement would at least make them clutch their chests with dismay. I hurt your feelings? Oh, no! Please, please, what can I do to make this up to you?

But no. I still had to finish my supper or go to bed or simply endure under whatever injustice was being placed on my small shoulders.

I’m not four anymore, I’m forty. And you know what? I still get my feelings hurt. I’m a bit more sophisticated about it, but inside I’m still that small girl, clenching her fists and stomping her feet and railing about the injustice of it all.

Sometimes I’m just being unreasonable. I think I’m more important than I really am, and I don’t want to face things that indicate otherwise. It’s painful to be brought up short, but like the four-year-old being forced to eat her vegetables, it’s best for me and helps me grow.

Other times it’s not so clear. I offer my love or help sincerely, and end up being rebuffed. Or perhaps my good intentions simply come face-to-face with my human limitations and my best just isn’t good enough. Although it’s tempting to try to find comfort by taking revenge or lashing back, these things must be taken to the foot of the cross.

We have a Savior who understands

Hebrews 4:15 says "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin."

Even our most sincere efforts are tinged with our own self-interest. The only completely sincere person to ever walk the earth was Jesus, and he was crucified. He understands our hurt when we are misunderstood, and his death on the cross secures our forgiveness for the things we do with wrong motives.

God is glorified by our faithfulness, not our success. Sometimes our efforts produce the results we desire, sometimes not. He loves us no less when we fall short.

I am thankful for his grace and mercy.