I've taken an unconventional approach to lifestyle with regard to worship lately. In fact, I sort of always have, at least within the confines of my life as aimed toward God's glory. To elaborate, some might look at some of my activities, or often inactivities, and think to themselves that I'm living a lifestyle that isn't faithful to Christ. And for most of my life thus far, I might have agreed with that notion.
Having grown up for about half my life in the Catholic church, I've been exposed to a lot of their traditions. And while my family and I were never particularly devout about many of those traditions, that limited perception was just enough to puzzle me. I never understood the purpose of any of it. It was what I would nowadays consider religious, which, as I've indicated before, isn't really a compliment.
When I was a child, church was merely something we attended once a week. And it was every week; skipping it just wasn't something we did. And each week it was effectively the same. The same agenda, the same prayers, generally the same songs, and what sounded to me like the same sermon, week after week. We observed the seven sacraments, I had prayers and creeds memorized to recite collectively with the congregation, and I survived each mass by counting the routine landmarks I'd learned to recognize over the years. None of it made any sense to me, and I was positively euthanized by it. The only thing I recall lending any distinction between weeks was that there would sometimes be doughnuts and hot chocolate in the pavilion afterwards, which might make the eternal hour-long session worthwhile.
When you do something monotonous for a long period of time, but never really understand why, there isn't a whole lot in it about which to be passionate. Needless to say, that whole experience was a complete turnoff for me with regard to religion in general.
What I didn't understand, either because I wasn't taught it or it just didn't sink in, was that Christianity is alive. It's, as I've said several times before, more a relationship than a religion. As such, it can't be just a set of rituals done solely on ceremony. If it means nothing to the person, it's blindly following other people, which isn't really any better than living a life without Christ.
Before I progress, I should clarify something: I don't believe there's anything inherently wrong with Catholicism. For some people, that may be the right path. But that's only because they understand the purpose behind those rituals, and that manifestation of faith resonates with them personally. In that case, it is the organic aspect of real faith that's required for a relationship with Christ. Theirs just looks different from mine, and that diversity is a beautiful thing.
In my walk, things might not look so conventional to the strict religious types. Certainly I have some rituals and traditions to which I generally adhere. I attend church services almost every Sunday and Bible studies fairly regularly, and I keep devotionals almost every day. But I don't think those things are what indicate a healthy spiritual life with God. That being the case, missing any of those things for a day or two, or even a span of time, isn't a sign of unfaithfulness. At least not in the relationship itself. It merely shows the natural waxing and waning of activities within the confines of that relationship.
Likewise, some activities, like watching a suggestive movie or TV show, reading a questionable book, or playing a tacky game, might make outsiders wonder how I could even call myself a Christian. Especially when coupled with my woefully human tendency to sin. And of course, I try to keep my more edgy activities fairly low-profile in comparison, not because I feel I need to hide them, but because they aren't what my life is truly about. Nevertheless, when used in moderation, common ground with those who don't know Jesus lends the ability to relate to them, which is a powerful ministry tool.
My point in all of this is that a standard life isn't something to which we're called. Falling into a habit or routine of simply following the rules and rituals is something I believe could be more insidious to our faith than would be outright doubt. And although there are some things that are undebatably and literally gospel truth, the relationship itself is unique to everyone, and is prone to ebb, flow, and ultimately change drastically as it grows.
Friday, October 30, 2015
Monday, October 12, 2015
The Truth Beneath the Rose
My recent lack of inspiration and subsequent reflection about my writing has caused me to do a lot of thinking. As I've stated before, I believe at least part of the purpose behind these doldrums is to essentially put my tools in their proper place: off of the altar. But this reflection has gotten me thinking about all the things that get more or less idolized in an effort to be true to faith.
There are a lot of things that Christians as a group tend to put on a pedestal as evidence of true faith and assurance of salvation. But the fact is, our salvation is ultimately between our individual selves and God. He's the only one that knows us completely and understands every motive within our hearts. So He knows that, being human, we have an uncanny knack for taking even the most godly of earthly things and selfishly turning them to serve our own will, regardless of our initial intentions.
The fact is, the stereotypical Christian activities are not necessarily evidence of faith. There's no quantity of pious religious observation, tithing, or kind acts that provide any assurance. There's no quality of holy living or theological understanding that will earn our way. Nor can any ministry, mission trip, or humanitarian cause. It ultimately doesn't matter how often we go to church, how loudly we sing, how high we raise our hands, or how many sermon notes we take. We're saved by God's grace alone, through the conduit of our faith in Christ. The rest is gravy.
Note that none of these things are inherently bad. On the contrary, each one of them, given proper context and proportion, can be a wonderful thing. In a healthy walk, most or all of them are likely to be present, each either as a tool which helps to develop true faith, or as an effect of it. In fact, for many of these things, absence from a Christian's life could be a cause for some concern regarding his or her faith. But when they become unbalanced on the opposite end and we put too much stress on them, we effectively worship them as idols as we put them before Christ.
There are a lot of things that Christians as a group tend to put on a pedestal as evidence of true faith and assurance of salvation. But the fact is, our salvation is ultimately between our individual selves and God. He's the only one that knows us completely and understands every motive within our hearts. So He knows that, being human, we have an uncanny knack for taking even the most godly of earthly things and selfishly turning them to serve our own will, regardless of our initial intentions.
The fact is, the stereotypical Christian activities are not necessarily evidence of faith. There's no quantity of pious religious observation, tithing, or kind acts that provide any assurance. There's no quality of holy living or theological understanding that will earn our way. Nor can any ministry, mission trip, or humanitarian cause. It ultimately doesn't matter how often we go to church, how loudly we sing, how high we raise our hands, or how many sermon notes we take. We're saved by God's grace alone, through the conduit of our faith in Christ. The rest is gravy.
Note that none of these things are inherently bad. On the contrary, each one of them, given proper context and proportion, can be a wonderful thing. In a healthy walk, most or all of them are likely to be present, each either as a tool which helps to develop true faith, or as an effect of it. In fact, for many of these things, absence from a Christian's life could be a cause for some concern regarding his or her faith. But when they become unbalanced on the opposite end and we put too much stress on them, we effectively worship them as idols as we put them before Christ.
Sunday, October 11, 2015
The Valley
I haven't felt particularly inspired to write lately. That bothers me, because it's always so therapeutic to write things out. But recently it seems my thoughts have been mostly sporadic, lacking consistency and any real substance. This is disconcerting, because for the past several months I've been pretty prolific, and that's been personally satisfying.
As always, this sudden change has made me question what's wrong. Also as always, the last thought to occur to me is that nothing actually is, and this is a perfectly natural descent from a high.
So here I am in this inspirational valley, so to speak. And the timing, by the way, is perfect, because my daily Chambers devotionals have been addressing the subject of faith on mountains versus that in valleys a lot lately. The summary is that it's of the utmost importance to remain faithful in such times, because spiritual lows are the true test of our faith, rather than how spiritual we get during the highs.
During this particular low, I think it's important for me to consider the role of writing this blog; to sort of put it into perspective. It is, of course, the natural, sinful, human tendency to take innocuous things and idolize and worship them, turning them sour. The tool is only as good as its user, after all. And that's all this writing space is: a way for me to process my thinking, record my thoughts for future reference, and God willing, perhaps even help others with similar struggles.
But given the human nature, the moderate euphoria I get from composing a blog entry that I particularly like warps my perspective a little bit. I take pride in it. That eventually reaches a point when it's no longer a means to an end, but an end in and of itself. And that, of course, is wrong.
The valleys are meant to remove the things that are idolized. Perhaps not completely, perhaps not permanently, but enough to put them in their place and show us that we do still and always need Christ first and foremost. Everything else, no matter what great purpose it has served in the past, is ultimately expendable.
As always, this sudden change has made me question what's wrong. Also as always, the last thought to occur to me is that nothing actually is, and this is a perfectly natural descent from a high.
So here I am in this inspirational valley, so to speak. And the timing, by the way, is perfect, because my daily Chambers devotionals have been addressing the subject of faith on mountains versus that in valleys a lot lately. The summary is that it's of the utmost importance to remain faithful in such times, because spiritual lows are the true test of our faith, rather than how spiritual we get during the highs.
During this particular low, I think it's important for me to consider the role of writing this blog; to sort of put it into perspective. It is, of course, the natural, sinful, human tendency to take innocuous things and idolize and worship them, turning them sour. The tool is only as good as its user, after all. And that's all this writing space is: a way for me to process my thinking, record my thoughts for future reference, and God willing, perhaps even help others with similar struggles.
But given the human nature, the moderate euphoria I get from composing a blog entry that I particularly like warps my perspective a little bit. I take pride in it. That eventually reaches a point when it's no longer a means to an end, but an end in and of itself. And that, of course, is wrong.
The valleys are meant to remove the things that are idolized. Perhaps not completely, perhaps not permanently, but enough to put them in their place and show us that we do still and always need Christ first and foremost. Everything else, no matter what great purpose it has served in the past, is ultimately expendable.
Monday, October 5, 2015
The Human Stain
As I go through life, doing my best to live as Christ wants me to live, it's my overthinking nature to subconsciously try to keep track of the ways in which I fail every day. The keyword is "try," because I quickly lose count. I've gotten better at not being too hard on myself for all of my wrongs and failures, but I often still think about them.
Apart from the quantity of my mistakes, I suppose I've gotten lost in it because I've lacked perspective on what constitutes sin. Growing up I'd assumed that it was limited to any time I did something bad. I get the feeling a lot of people have that misunderstanding. But Jesus made it clear that it's much more complicated than that. It's not limited to actions. Therefore, even a hypothetical person who never acts on sinful impulses is still a sinner.
It doesn't even stop even with thoughts and inclinations, though. I think that biblically, we exist in a state of total depravity. We are born into sin, and it dogs our every step in life. This is our sin nature, from which there is no escape in this world.
These thoughts remind me of a philosophy to which I was consciously exposed several years ago, but in fact has been ingrained subconsciously for the extent of my memory. That philosophy is that human beings are incapable of doing anything without selfish motives, and so everything we do is a means to some egocentric end. Ipso facto, we are sinful, regardless of all else.
This way of thinking aligns with the doctrine of total depravity. It's also why God sees even our good deeds as filthy rags; they aren't truly done for His glory, but for our selfish gain, no matter how badly we might wish it were otherwise. In that light, everything seems pretty hopeless, and it's been one of the hardest concepts for me personally to grasp.
But I think it's through the recognition of that hopelessness that our hearts seek a Savior. On our own, we can't live life for God's glory as we're meant to, because we are so selfish, and that's because we're sinful by nature. It's virtually impossible for us to glorify God. But through our Savior, Jesus Christ, the impossible is made possible, and so His blood sacrifice provides the means to live lives that can. In short, what sin complicated, He's made simple for us.
That's why followers of Christ aren't condemned for sin. Our efforts, even in failure, are lived out of the underlying desire of Christ within us, which is to do God's will. Even when there is an outright sin in action, we're still covered by His grace, because the misdeed is only a lost battle in a mortal war against the sinful nature. We are forgiven.
Just to be clear, I'm aware that that's by no means a justification to continue doing wrong. My point here is that we're shown not leniency, but grace.
All this confirms to me that without Christ, more encompassing than just any wrongdoing, our very existence itself is sinful. However, with Him, and through our faith in Him, our lives are purified to bring glory to God. Through this, our purpose in life is fulfilled.
Apart from the quantity of my mistakes, I suppose I've gotten lost in it because I've lacked perspective on what constitutes sin. Growing up I'd assumed that it was limited to any time I did something bad. I get the feeling a lot of people have that misunderstanding. But Jesus made it clear that it's much more complicated than that. It's not limited to actions. Therefore, even a hypothetical person who never acts on sinful impulses is still a sinner.
It doesn't even stop even with thoughts and inclinations, though. I think that biblically, we exist in a state of total depravity. We are born into sin, and it dogs our every step in life. This is our sin nature, from which there is no escape in this world.
These thoughts remind me of a philosophy to which I was consciously exposed several years ago, but in fact has been ingrained subconsciously for the extent of my memory. That philosophy is that human beings are incapable of doing anything without selfish motives, and so everything we do is a means to some egocentric end. Ipso facto, we are sinful, regardless of all else.
This way of thinking aligns with the doctrine of total depravity. It's also why God sees even our good deeds as filthy rags; they aren't truly done for His glory, but for our selfish gain, no matter how badly we might wish it were otherwise. In that light, everything seems pretty hopeless, and it's been one of the hardest concepts for me personally to grasp.
But I think it's through the recognition of that hopelessness that our hearts seek a Savior. On our own, we can't live life for God's glory as we're meant to, because we are so selfish, and that's because we're sinful by nature. It's virtually impossible for us to glorify God. But through our Savior, Jesus Christ, the impossible is made possible, and so His blood sacrifice provides the means to live lives that can. In short, what sin complicated, He's made simple for us.
That's why followers of Christ aren't condemned for sin. Our efforts, even in failure, are lived out of the underlying desire of Christ within us, which is to do God's will. Even when there is an outright sin in action, we're still covered by His grace, because the misdeed is only a lost battle in a mortal war against the sinful nature. We are forgiven.
Just to be clear, I'm aware that that's by no means a justification to continue doing wrong. My point here is that we're shown not leniency, but grace.
All this confirms to me that without Christ, more encompassing than just any wrongdoing, our very existence itself is sinful. However, with Him, and through our faith in Him, our lives are purified to bring glory to God. Through this, our purpose in life is fulfilled.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
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.
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.
Thursday, September 10, 2015
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.
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.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
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.
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.
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