Wiseman

I've been told by a few people that I have certain insights, which, it's implied, give me an understanding of Christianity, particularly the way we as Christians should be living. I often consider these thoughts to be flawed and largely incoherent, but I'm humbled by the assurances of some of my readers, whom I generally consider to be wiser than I am. I write these things out mainly to help myself process my meditations, but also with the hope that I'll be corrected in my thinking if need ever be. (Let the record show that there has been that need several times.)

All that said, even as I explore the deep things of God, like grace, faith, love, communion, et cetera, I've still most often felt that something is missing. And per the norm, the answer to that quandary is, and always has been, practically gift wrapped in front of me. Oops.

There's a heaviness I feel inside when I witness another follower of Christ living in the way I know He wants us to live. I realize now that that bitter feeling, usually mistaken for jealousy, is in truth a conviction on my heart of the life I'm not fully living in the way I ought to be living it.

One of my biggest struggles is the practical side of the knowledge I've been imparted. That is, while I know in my mind what's right, my juvenile heart tugs me selfishly in the opposite direction. And, undisciplined as I am, I cave to the easier course of action. I then proceed to live my life in denial of the harsh reality, largely without being consciously aware of it. The only indication, at that point, that there's something amiss is the unsettled feeling I get when convicted by something I can observe.

It's my hope that, with my recent recognition, God will continue His work in me through a grant of wisdom to put to practice the lessons I've learned through my studies and meditations.

Only Everything

One of the most intimidating aspects of faith to me has always been prayer. In the past, I've questioned its purpose, since God already knows what's on our hearts and minds. Furthermore, He knows what's needed, what He's going to do and allow, and ultimately, He doesn't change His mind, because His will is immutable. The only conclusion at which I could arrive is that prayer itself is entirely relational, like faith itself. More than anything else, it's an active acknowledgment of His place in our lives.

The thing that's been on my mind lately is what we should be praying about. The obvious answer is to pray about everything, at all times, and in every situation. God is always present, and He has His hand in everything, and so constant acknowledgment of that fact is something for which we should all be striving.

That's why it's silly to me, when any Christians gathered with a group, talking about prayer requests, might say they don't need prayer. God is good, life is good. There's nothing major, traumatizing, or otherwise stressful in our immediate future, and so we think we don't need to be prayed for. But that thought might be a gateway to something more insidious. We get comfortable in the blessings when things start looking up. But surely we all must know we won't always be comfortable like that. Thought of otherwise is delusional.

And yet, speaking personally, that comfort gets into my head and manifests itself as pride, and I start to internalize a sense of invincibility. Times like that, when I begin to look at my circumstances and think I'm on the up and up, I tend to become less inclined to pursue Christ, or at least do so with less fervor. I'll turn my eyes away from Him, instead focusing on my own pursuits, interests, and diversions. Those circumstances, then, become much more dangerous to my faith than would be any physical, financial, or social issues I might otherwise have.

This is why God allows us to wrestle with worldly struggles. Without them, it's too easy for us to take the credit for the blessings He's given us, at least in thought, if not in word and deed. I think this is also why it's so important to give praise and thanks to God during prosperous times, as well as praying for continued guidance through them. Not out of fear that misfortune will strike otherwise, as it may or may not regardless, but because God's rightful place is at the center of our lives, at all times and under all circumstances.

Trail of Broken Hearts

In the interest of being true to my commitment to keeping this blog real and candid, I feel like it's important to not overlook subjects that are considered taboo. For some reason, in my mind anyway, the idea of being unwillingly single is one such subject.

The truth is, it does spend a lot of time on my mind. I don't vocalize it as much as I have in the past, for reasons I'll have to save for another post, but it's definitely still there. And given as much time as I think about it, I'm often left trying to justify a desire for a romantic relationship with what's said about it in the Bible. However, being a relationship, similar to ours as Christians with God, there isn't really a hard and fast, universally applicable set of guidelines for how that's dealt with. At least not that can be verbalized simply.

On a more personally specific note, hand in hand with unwanted singleness is the concept of unrequited love. Of course, this is something we see in media pretty much everywhere. It's "romantic" and "tragic" and "beautiful," and all manner of other flowery descriptions of a great love story. But speaking from the perspective, all I can say about it is that it's painful. It's confusing, frustrating, and exhausting, and it feels unfair. That's all I'll say, because anyone reading this has probably experienced these feelings to some degree.

The thing I've been considering lately is why this sort of thing is permitted in our lives. The only conclusion I can draw is that it's here to bring us closer to God. He allows pain into our lives to bring us closer to Him. I've written before about the idea that our trials help to temper and shape us to be more Christ-like, and of course it says as much in the Bible. This, while unique in the sense that it's far more relational than other trials, is nonetheless permitted in our lives for that very purpose. In fact, I believe it does a better job in some respects than do most other trials.

The theology of human romance was first introduced to me when I was reading Hosea a while ago. I'd never known, before then, what the book itself was about, but I think it fairly nails what I'm getting at here. A basic synopsis of the first few chapters is that Hosea's wife is unfaithful to him, while he's faithful to her. The rest of the book relates that to God's relationship with His people. In short, they're like an unfaithful bride to Him.

While this is an extreme real-life example that dwarfs anything I've experienced by a wide margin, it does serve the purpose of getting me to think on those terms, which heavily affects the way I view relationship with God. In the truest sense, He's an unrequited lover. He's there to receive and love each person as His own, should they only turn to Him. I think He longs to pour out His blessings onto each of us, but too often we spurn Him repeatedly.

I doubt this is the entirety of lessons to be learned from this uncomfortable place in my life. But what I'm currently picking up from this situation is in the form of a firsthand account of a mere taste of this pain. It seems like He's giving me a faint glimpse of the way He's suffered since the fall of man (I know time means nothing to God, but bear with me). It's like He's telling me, "See? This is what it feels like when you put other things first, or just feel apathetic toward Me."

Since I have a history of such apathy, it's clear why such a lesson is necessary. My hope and prayer is that the sorrow I feel from this will further soften my heart, as my next step in walking ever closer to Him.