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.

Heart Still Beats

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.

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.

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.