Who Can You Trust

With all the controversial subjects that have been cropping up on the social circles, I've been forced to consider political perspectives, which, as a general rule, I do my best to avoid. I've found that in many cases I can safely stay off of those subjects, because they aren't my business. But the problems in that reasoning arise when those issues start to directly conflict with my convictions in faith.

I could think, talk, and write myself into circles when discussing the various pros and cons of each side of those issues. There are valid reasons why they're controversial, even among Christians, who should ideally be like-minded about the approach to life and all things in it. However, my thoughts now are not about controversy.

As I've gone out and listened to the host of opinions, many of which come from the lips of trusted peers and mentors, I've returned from my mental and moral pilgrimage exhausted, and in some ways more confused than when I began searching for truthful insight. I know that, being human, every person will inevitably have flaws in their thinking. But for something as divisive as the big issues discussed at present, I'd hoped that with biblical perspectives, at least the true followers of Christ would arrive at the same conclusions. However, the only thing I've conclusively learned from my experience is that the situation is never as simple as we'd like it to be.

All politics aside, I think that God is using this experience to reveal to me a more important truth: the complete extent to which I should be trusting Him. It forces me to acknowledge the inherent flaws in humanity that result in uncertainty as to what we should do in any given situation. That uncertainty necessitates constant communion with God through prayer and Bible study, because He alone has the true perspective on reality. Therefore, He alone always knows what's right.

This comes as an answer to prayer. I have, for a while now, been meditating on and praying about my difficulty in approaching all circumstances with prayer and entrusting everything to God. In His time and His way, He is revealing to me the utter importance of taking the things of this world, even the limited understanding of my fellow Christians, with a grain of salt and leaning fully on Him.

Lost in Thoughts

I often go back and read over things I've written before, just to review. It helps me to process my thoughts a bit further than the initial notions with a fresh perspective, or to encourage me when I feel down.

As I look back on my study notes, ideas, and previous posts, I often find things that seem radical, and perhaps even unbiblical. Subsequently, I often question how accurate they are and how much truth they actually contain. I do this because in fact, much of it isn't pulled directly from the Bible, but rather is conjecture based on logic and reason. The rationale behind these ideas is centered around a couple of key theological principles; things I know to be true of God.

One is that He is both omnipotent and omniscient. He is literally boundless. Our minds can't even begin to fathom His sheer infinity. This alone is a paralyzing truth if dwelt on. I could, and often do, think myself into circles about the things of God that actually can't make sense to my mind, just because I'm too small. Things like the purpose and effectiveness of prayer, God's interaction with the world and our lives, and predestination versus free choice. These ideas spend a lot of time fueling my thoughts, and often perplexing them as my relationship with Him grows. That thinking is comforting, in the sense that I know He's greater than I can fathom, and therefore able to observe all situational factors and interact in whatever way is truly best. However, it can also be frustrating for me, as at the end of it, there's so much that I still don't understand.

That leads to the other principle: the extent to which His grace abounds, which is also too vast for us to know. Ultimately, our sole responsibility as Christians is to put our faith in Him. From that, His grace covers truly everything. The damage of all wrongs, doubts, and misunderstandings is effectively neutered by it, for as long as we're His. And again, as He alone is all-knowing, He alone knows our true relationship to Himself, and therefore who's truly faithful.

Anchoring my thoughts to these principles allows me to draw up conclusions that simply stand to reason because I know who God is, even without finding a specific verse or passage that's relevant (although sometimes I find some anyway). However, imperfect as I am, I'm sure this often puts some muddled ideas and warped perspectives of the truth into my mind.

I have no doubt that any such instances that are of importance will be adequately clarified in due time. How God decides to reveal that truth to me will vary, whether it's by a humbling correction from a peer or mentor, a convicting passage that directly challenges my thoughts, or a different means altogether.

However, in the meantime, I think my cognitive flaws fall into the category of things that are covered by grace. God knows that I'm seeking Him, and by extension, that I'm seeking the truth. In essence, He knows both my imperfection and my faith, and those two characteristics in us are the very reason that grace is both needed and extended, respectively. Therefore, when I write, or even think, I lean heavily on that grace, trusting that even if I misunderstand, God has me covered.

Routine

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.