I recall having a conversation a long time ago with a Christian I hold in some regard. I don't remember what brought it up, but we were talking about the Holocaust, specifically Hitler's role in it. More specifically, I remember the conclusion of that conversation, and it involved this person saying, "Hitler is burning in Hell for what he did."
Let's pause on that note. Now, I vaguely recall being a bit taken aback, at the time, by the forwardness of that statement. What I don't remember is if I felt a positive or negative emotion as a response.
Since then, there have been people in my life, and of course of those of friends and family, that have each acted as a negative presence in some way and degree. In each case, we've eventually seen them get "what's coming to them." That is to say that they've gotten, in our eyes, what they deserved, and if nothing else, what was necessary. And of course, there's always much rejoicing.
I'm rethinking that rejoicing now. True, in many cases, I have been personally wronged by said people, and it's a struggle for me to not get some guilty pleasure out of their comeuppance. But should we ever be happy about someone's misfortunes? Friend or enemy, God wants us to be loving, first and foremost. That includes everything between not being jealous when our friends get blessings we lack, and not being bitter when our enemies prosper. By that same token, I think it also means that we shouldn't be pleased by their misfortunes.
In multiple places in the Bible, we're commanded to pray and care for our enemies. The reasoning given is that it will "heap burning coals on their heads." Sounds downright wrathful, doesn't it? But a little research reveals that that actually is a blessing to them, not an aim to hurt.
An important thing that I've been trying to bear in mind lately is that God handcrafted each person. Such being the case, He knows their pains, daily struggles, and sins better than anyone, and He loves them all the same. We, on the other hand, don't understand all of what they go through, past or present. What we do know is that God's command is to love, as He loves. I think that includes mourning for them in their times of loss, even if we think they don't deserve it. Only God can be the judge of that.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Monday, August 24, 2015
Love Song for a Savior
Do you ever just look around during a worship service, or pay close attention to someone praying, and feel their passion? Lately I've been noticing it and getting a sense of utter abandon from them; a thing told by the joy that's apparent, not only in the words they're speaking or singing, but in their vocal inflections and body language as well. You can tell, when someone's on the brink of tears during a song or prayer, or if they just let out a quick chuckle as they speak, as though they're caught off guard by a sudden happy revelation; things like that. God is their first and truest love, and it overflows and radiates from them.
I have a confession to make. I envy those people of that. It's something of which I've experienced a mere taste, and only a couple of times; enough to make me want more of it. I've seen worship leaders actually dancing out of sheer praise, and I can't help but long to praise God so wholeheartedly. I want to be utterly in love with Him.
I think of the things that occupy my mind. Stuff of this world, largely, which matters mainly in this life. With the mental energy I spend on those things, it's no surprise that my own praise seems halfhearted. Not that all the things on my mind are bad in and of themselves; some are even important to life, while others are generally negligible. But in truth, all of it pales in comparison to the importance of living life to the glory of God.
Like with many things, I intellectually know all this. But as I've at least implied before, there's a distinction between possessing knowledge and truly internalizing it. For things like this, it's important for my life and consciousness to be fully immersed in it. I want and need to be in pursuit of God with a greater fervor than that of my greatest worldly loves and interests. He deserves no less.
Land of the Free
Not long ago, I overheard a conversation between two fellow Christians, in response to some sort of political issue that's been in the works. Actually, I overhear a lot of such conversations under those circumstances, but this time it stuck out to me. I don't recall what was said, or even what specific topic was being discussed, but that's not relevant. What I do recall is some of the thoughts I had regarding the conversation, and all those like it.
Pretty much any time you turn on the TV, you're going to hear about a huge, controversial issue that has one group or another (usually multiple, really) all riled up. This is unsurprising; things like this are the reason that formal social etiquette advises against discussion of politics. Someone always gets offended, overly concerned, or even paranoid, which ultimately causes a lot of social discord. But the thoughts I had on this were focused specifically on us Christians, as a church body.
I've been seeing an interesting fact posted and discussed a lot lately: there are 365 different Biblical instances of some variation of the phrase, "Do not be afraid." Safe to say, God considers that an important issue to take to heart. And yet, a lot of the concern about political affairs involves Christians getting overly offended or worried about the direction the country is taking with its policies. In response to non-Christians promoting and embracing what they see as progress and equality, we start trying to impose Christian values on a godless nation; people who, as non-Christians, have no reason to take such values to heart. And then we rationalize our legalism by claiming that it's putting Christianity at risk. "Do not be afraid," God says. So what do we do? We become paranoid at every sign of trouble.
I'm reminded of instances in the Bible when, politically, God's people were basically given the finger. The Israelites spent a lot of time under the political heel of first Egypt, then the Babylonian Empire, then the Roman Empire. (There might be some I missed; I'm not very good at history, but you get the idea.) And of course, they worried too, at least on the broad scale. However, there were always exceptions; the few faithful. But that's just it: those few faithful servants are examples of the way God wants us to live our lives. Lives that glorify Him.
We can look at people like Esther, Daniel, the furnace trio, John the Baptist, and the apostles of Christ, all living in times of political hardship. They obeyed the laws, at least within the confines of God's law, even when the rest of the world, it seemed, was very much against God's will. They didn't cave to the ways of the world, but they did follow the law of the land, until it conflicted with the law of God. Did they all prosper when their faith was tested and proven? No. But all of their lives did glorify God, which is the ultimate point of them.
Of course, Jesus Himself lived His life in complete accordance with God's word, all the while seeming to mostly stay out of political issues, and truly, out of the business of unbelievers. He didn't come to judge the unbelieving world (not the first time, anyway). He did, however, teach how to live life the way God wants us to live, ultimately leaving the choice to those who would listen.
As Christians, we have to acknowledge the fact that this is not our home. It's not God's kingdom, so the political direction it takes shouldn't disturb us, at least not beyond a sense of urgency about spreading the Gospel. If anything, a downward spiral into decadence should be expected.
I think the real reason we dislike the "progressivism" is that it interferes with the comfort and safety of living in a Christian-friendly environment. But we're not called to be comfortable, or even safe. We're called to be faithful and grow closer to Christ; an endeavor that's made unnecessary to our subconscious minds, because there's no real need for strong faith.
Even look at the Christians living in anti-Christian nations today. Their environment is, I imagine, not unlike that of early Christians. And their faith is undoubtedly greater than ours. It has to be, because it's tried and strengthened every day. You don't claim Christianity in a political environment that wants to exterminate Christians if your faith is weak. I'll even go as far as to submit that their faith is as strong as it is, in many ways, because of their circumstances, in the sense that it's constantly getting exercised by them. If I'm correct in that, it goes to show that in addition to being expected, a taste of real adversity may actually do us a bit of good.
Now, I won't advocate what is, in truth, the world's regression, and I myself am not strong enough to pray for such adverse circumstances. But I do think that we should take all of this in stride, as we remember that God has everything in His hands. It's for Him to judge, and for us to take on the light burden of lovingly and compassionately sharing the Gospel, without worrying about worldly circumstances.
Pretty much any time you turn on the TV, you're going to hear about a huge, controversial issue that has one group or another (usually multiple, really) all riled up. This is unsurprising; things like this are the reason that formal social etiquette advises against discussion of politics. Someone always gets offended, overly concerned, or even paranoid, which ultimately causes a lot of social discord. But the thoughts I had on this were focused specifically on us Christians, as a church body.
I've been seeing an interesting fact posted and discussed a lot lately: there are 365 different Biblical instances of some variation of the phrase, "Do not be afraid." Safe to say, God considers that an important issue to take to heart. And yet, a lot of the concern about political affairs involves Christians getting overly offended or worried about the direction the country is taking with its policies. In response to non-Christians promoting and embracing what they see as progress and equality, we start trying to impose Christian values on a godless nation; people who, as non-Christians, have no reason to take such values to heart. And then we rationalize our legalism by claiming that it's putting Christianity at risk. "Do not be afraid," God says. So what do we do? We become paranoid at every sign of trouble.
I'm reminded of instances in the Bible when, politically, God's people were basically given the finger. The Israelites spent a lot of time under the political heel of first Egypt, then the Babylonian Empire, then the Roman Empire. (There might be some I missed; I'm not very good at history, but you get the idea.) And of course, they worried too, at least on the broad scale. However, there were always exceptions; the few faithful. But that's just it: those few faithful servants are examples of the way God wants us to live our lives. Lives that glorify Him.
We can look at people like Esther, Daniel, the furnace trio, John the Baptist, and the apostles of Christ, all living in times of political hardship. They obeyed the laws, at least within the confines of God's law, even when the rest of the world, it seemed, was very much against God's will. They didn't cave to the ways of the world, but they did follow the law of the land, until it conflicted with the law of God. Did they all prosper when their faith was tested and proven? No. But all of their lives did glorify God, which is the ultimate point of them.
Of course, Jesus Himself lived His life in complete accordance with God's word, all the while seeming to mostly stay out of political issues, and truly, out of the business of unbelievers. He didn't come to judge the unbelieving world (not the first time, anyway). He did, however, teach how to live life the way God wants us to live, ultimately leaving the choice to those who would listen.
As Christians, we have to acknowledge the fact that this is not our home. It's not God's kingdom, so the political direction it takes shouldn't disturb us, at least not beyond a sense of urgency about spreading the Gospel. If anything, a downward spiral into decadence should be expected.
I think the real reason we dislike the "progressivism" is that it interferes with the comfort and safety of living in a Christian-friendly environment. But we're not called to be comfortable, or even safe. We're called to be faithful and grow closer to Christ; an endeavor that's made unnecessary to our subconscious minds, because there's no real need for strong faith.
Even look at the Christians living in anti-Christian nations today. Their environment is, I imagine, not unlike that of early Christians. And their faith is undoubtedly greater than ours. It has to be, because it's tried and strengthened every day. You don't claim Christianity in a political environment that wants to exterminate Christians if your faith is weak. I'll even go as far as to submit that their faith is as strong as it is, in many ways, because of their circumstances, in the sense that it's constantly getting exercised by them. If I'm correct in that, it goes to show that in addition to being expected, a taste of real adversity may actually do us a bit of good.
Now, I won't advocate what is, in truth, the world's regression, and I myself am not strong enough to pray for such adverse circumstances. But I do think that we should take all of this in stride, as we remember that God has everything in His hands. It's for Him to judge, and for us to take on the light burden of lovingly and compassionately sharing the Gospel, without worrying about worldly circumstances.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
The Story Ain't Over
In light of life calming down and my insecurities beginning to level out, I've had a lot of mental energy to process some things. But since I was basically doing that anyway, that energy has made me a bit restless. It's an uncomfortable feeling, when you sense that your relationship with Christ is entering a bit of a lull. But as I reflected on that this morning, it gave me some interesting things to think about.
Specifically, my thoughts this morning led back to a couple of years ago, when my journey was only beginning. Internally, I had an aim; somewhat of an end-goal, as far as where my faith would go. My goal was this: to be "right" with God. The thing is, if I could take a picture of my relationship with Him now and send it back to myself back then, I imagine it would be pretty close to what I had in mind. In that sense, I have arrived at my initial destination. Journey complete, right?
Wrong.
Part of me knew this all along. Of course, being a silly, limited human, I largely ignored certain glaringly obvious truths about faith, probably because they made me uncomfortable. That is why we ignore the truth, isn't it? At least, that's what seems to be true of me.
The similarities between a relationship with Christ and any other relationship are... well, nearly identical. At least in many respects. The one I specifically have in mind is the unending nature of them. In any healthy kinship, friendship, or romance, one thing you never anticipate at the beginning is a termination, happy or otherwise. It's never part of the plan. It happens, of course, but you don't plan for it, and when it does, it's a tragedy to some degree.
In contrast, when I began following Christ, I dreamed of the happy end, when I would be the man God intended me to be, which basically meant peacefully and joyfully following Him. What I didn't realize then was that this point, where I actually am now, is not an end at all, but a continuation. More like a checkpoint.
I had a similar revelation early on, when I discovered that the point when I truly became a Christian, in deed as well as in name, was not the happy end, but only the beginning. Now, in recognizing the relationship that is Christianity, as well as spending some time wondering why I feel strangely unfulfilled by my endgame, I'm forced to logically conclude that the idea of an endgame at all is false. I can't be "right" with God, except in my acceptance of His grace and choice to follow Him. That much is decided, but there is and will always be more room for the relationship to grow and develop.
In fact, I think that's the original intention. Even pre-sin, and by extension, post-salvation. I believe that since we were created with relationship in mind, even in a perfect world, in the state we call "heaven," the design allows, encourages, and even requires unbounded growth.
I think the reason I've been so uncomfortable with that is that it's infinite, and therefore not possible to fully grasp. Similar, I imagine, to the way that we're at first uncomfortable with the idea of God being who He is. Yet, this need not be a cause for discomfort, but rather a source of sheer reassurance: how unfathomably beautiful it is to have such infinite freedom from an infinite Creator, who loves us infinitely.
Specifically, my thoughts this morning led back to a couple of years ago, when my journey was only beginning. Internally, I had an aim; somewhat of an end-goal, as far as where my faith would go. My goal was this: to be "right" with God. The thing is, if I could take a picture of my relationship with Him now and send it back to myself back then, I imagine it would be pretty close to what I had in mind. In that sense, I have arrived at my initial destination. Journey complete, right?
Wrong.
Part of me knew this all along. Of course, being a silly, limited human, I largely ignored certain glaringly obvious truths about faith, probably because they made me uncomfortable. That is why we ignore the truth, isn't it? At least, that's what seems to be true of me.
The similarities between a relationship with Christ and any other relationship are... well, nearly identical. At least in many respects. The one I specifically have in mind is the unending nature of them. In any healthy kinship, friendship, or romance, one thing you never anticipate at the beginning is a termination, happy or otherwise. It's never part of the plan. It happens, of course, but you don't plan for it, and when it does, it's a tragedy to some degree.
In contrast, when I began following Christ, I dreamed of the happy end, when I would be the man God intended me to be, which basically meant peacefully and joyfully following Him. What I didn't realize then was that this point, where I actually am now, is not an end at all, but a continuation. More like a checkpoint.
I had a similar revelation early on, when I discovered that the point when I truly became a Christian, in deed as well as in name, was not the happy end, but only the beginning. Now, in recognizing the relationship that is Christianity, as well as spending some time wondering why I feel strangely unfulfilled by my endgame, I'm forced to logically conclude that the idea of an endgame at all is false. I can't be "right" with God, except in my acceptance of His grace and choice to follow Him. That much is decided, but there is and will always be more room for the relationship to grow and develop.
In fact, I think that's the original intention. Even pre-sin, and by extension, post-salvation. I believe that since we were created with relationship in mind, even in a perfect world, in the state we call "heaven," the design allows, encourages, and even requires unbounded growth.
I think the reason I've been so uncomfortable with that is that it's infinite, and therefore not possible to fully grasp. Similar, I imagine, to the way that we're at first uncomfortable with the idea of God being who He is. Yet, this need not be a cause for discomfort, but rather a source of sheer reassurance: how unfathomably beautiful it is to have such infinite freedom from an infinite Creator, who loves us infinitely.
Monday, August 17, 2015
Reason
For a long time, I've slaved over the idea of forgiveness. Specifically, I've wondered to myself if God could truly forgive even me. It's odd, because intellectually I know that nothing I've consciously done in my past is unforgivable, especially in light of a fact that is a cornerstone of my faith: that God will forgive all those who repent, no matter how heinous the sins in question appear in human eyes. Yet, for years I've subconsciously beaten down on myself with feelings I long ago identified as guilt.
If I'm being completely honest with myself, though, I realize the feeling from which I'm suffering isn't that at all. It's not something from my past for which I can't forgive myself. It has more to do with internal justification. Part of me is aware that the things often happening aren't fair (speaking logically and statistically), and yet my recognition of how juvenile it is for me to expect them to be so forces me to suppress my frustration, knowing full well that giving vent to those negative feelings will accomplish nothing.
As a side note, I don't think that's wrong. Self-control is an important part of spiritual maturity, so whining and stewing about things not going my way would be counterproductive. It's proven to be so for me in the past.
With that in mind, though, it's lately been my course to be proactive in this. My only partial acceptance of the truth has deceived me into believing that there's something I'm still doing completely wrong, and I'm just not seeing it. With that mindset, I try to rationalize the idea that all I have to do is figure out what that something is, change it, and allow that to fix everything. Reward for the good, punishment for the bad.
The snag, of course, is that if I find something and fix it, yet the conditions don't change, as is quite often the case, I become more confused as to why my solution didn't work, when logically it should have.
The long in short of all of this is that somewhere along the line I developed a sort of punishment complex. My mentality has been one of deserving all the misfortune and heaviness of heart I've had; a thought process that serves to explain to myself the reason for those things. I guess the notion is that my past mistakes justify all the present bad things, and so that, in theory, empowers me to preempt future pain by fixing poor behaviors now.
The obvious problem with this theory is that it leaves no room for grace, nor for God to do His work. It attempts to put me in control of my life, when in reality some things are simply beyond my control and comprehension. Such is the case with everyone.
I'm still working through this one. Because while I am intellectually aware that sometimes the negative conditions can't be solved by my actions, I'm still struggling to internalize and truly believe that fact. Something subconscious, like an instinct, keeps trying to justify; keeps looking for the solution.
This ties back to my need to trust that God has all of this under control. It's that trust that He requires as an offering from me, as a true mark of my faith.
If I'm being completely honest with myself, though, I realize the feeling from which I'm suffering isn't that at all. It's not something from my past for which I can't forgive myself. It has more to do with internal justification. Part of me is aware that the things often happening aren't fair (speaking logically and statistically), and yet my recognition of how juvenile it is for me to expect them to be so forces me to suppress my frustration, knowing full well that giving vent to those negative feelings will accomplish nothing.
As a side note, I don't think that's wrong. Self-control is an important part of spiritual maturity, so whining and stewing about things not going my way would be counterproductive. It's proven to be so for me in the past.
With that in mind, though, it's lately been my course to be proactive in this. My only partial acceptance of the truth has deceived me into believing that there's something I'm still doing completely wrong, and I'm just not seeing it. With that mindset, I try to rationalize the idea that all I have to do is figure out what that something is, change it, and allow that to fix everything. Reward for the good, punishment for the bad.
The snag, of course, is that if I find something and fix it, yet the conditions don't change, as is quite often the case, I become more confused as to why my solution didn't work, when logically it should have.
The long in short of all of this is that somewhere along the line I developed a sort of punishment complex. My mentality has been one of deserving all the misfortune and heaviness of heart I've had; a thought process that serves to explain to myself the reason for those things. I guess the notion is that my past mistakes justify all the present bad things, and so that, in theory, empowers me to preempt future pain by fixing poor behaviors now.
The obvious problem with this theory is that it leaves no room for grace, nor for God to do His work. It attempts to put me in control of my life, when in reality some things are simply beyond my control and comprehension. Such is the case with everyone.
I'm still working through this one. Because while I am intellectually aware that sometimes the negative conditions can't be solved by my actions, I'm still struggling to internalize and truly believe that fact. Something subconscious, like an instinct, keeps trying to justify; keeps looking for the solution.
This ties back to my need to trust that God has all of this under control. It's that trust that He requires as an offering from me, as a true mark of my faith.
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