Why I want my heart to be broken

There are times when God’s word hits me like a lead bib at the dentist.  It is in these moments that I understand the truth that “man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the Father” (Matthew 4:4).  It is in these moments that I feel foolish for ever getting frustrated that God “doesn’t speak to me,” and I realize that my longings for a booming voice of thunder from God can be satisfied each and every day by the words He is still speaking in His Living Word—the Bible.  Praise Him!

There is a short verse in Ephesians that says “figure out what pleases the Lord” (5:10).  It has always struck me as incredible that He would trust us with that task.  But the picture is so peaceful and comforting—like a dad who watches his precious child learn to walk and can only smile each time the toddler falls back down before getting it just right.  Today God spoke powerfully to me through His word, and I think I just might have “figured out” something about pleasing Him.

I’ve noted before that I am a planner.  I am a “fixer” and a controller.  I like practical solutions.  I have known for awhile that God doesn’t always work that way.  He is outside the realm of the natural, so I have to believe that His “solutions” don’t always fit within the confines of my little brain and imagination.  But despite knowing that, it is still so easy to get caught up in the action plan for how to fix things.

This is true especially in the case of sin.  I’ve noticed in my life that when conviction comes and sin is brought to light, my knee-jerk reaction is “What can I do to fix this?”  I know that in Jesus Christ my relationship with God is “fixed” from sin, but I immediately assume control of figuring out what I must do going forward to keep me from that sin.  Recently I have even deceived myself (and made this all the more confusing) by trying to make “freedom” in to a sort of plan.  e.g. “I don’t want to get too caught up in making a plan or controlling my circumstances so I am deciding to simply live in freedom.”  This might be closer to the truth (see my post on why), but it is still not what pleases the Lord if I am simply substituting “making a plan to get free from sin” with “making a plan to live in freedom”.  Neither of those address the real issue with sin.

The real issue with my sin is that it grieves the heart of God (see Ephesians 4:30).  So when I sin against Him, my heart should be broken:

“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” (Psalm 51:17)

God does not want our plans to live in boundaries or in freedom.  He wants our hearts.  And when our hearts belong to God, they should be overwhelmingly distressed by the thought of doing anything that would hurt Him.

“I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings.” (Hosea 6:6)

The solution to sin, then—when we have a full “acknowledgement of God”—will not have to be a plan.  If we are really in touch with how much our sin grieves God, we will be motivated to stay far away from it.

Why is this concept so much easier in practice on earth?  I have no trouble being motivated to act in a way that will keep me in good standing with my parents or my friends.  Why is it so much harder with God?—maybe because He seems far away?  We don’t have to literally look Him in the face every day and admit our wrongdoing (like we might have to do with friends and family).  Maybe because we are so clear about His grace and mercy that we forget that He is a jealous God who is deeply affected by our transgressions?  After all, His grace is not a robotic movement that is automatically activated after each time we sin.  He cares, and He feels, and He is hurt by my sin.

Father, let me see Your face clearly before me!  Let my closeness to You be such that I am motivated by love to do everything in my power to never grieve your heart.  And let me never lose my joy and zeal for grace, knowing that You extend it from an affectionate, feeling heart.

Here I Am

This guest blog post brought to you by my beautiful and strong friend who always listens to me, challenges me, strengthens me, and loves me graciously--Gabby Salvador:

We get so busy figuring out where we want to be and how to get there. What we want out of this life. I am always thinking how great life will be when I am a mom.  How awesome it will be when I am not struggling with this sin and can REALLY live for Jesus. How stress-free life will be when I am no longer in debt. But what I forget to consider is that none of that has any bearing on who I am and God's ability to use me in the very place He has me at this moment. It’s like I am staring at a table full of circumstances, some I want to pick up, some I want to put down. But at the end of the day, none of those things are ME. None of them have any eternal significance, so why do I spend so much of my time concentrating on them?

I want to be like Samuel: “Here I am. You called me” (3:1-10).  I want to be like Isaiah: “Here am I. Send me” (6:8).  I want to be like the unknown author of Hebrews: “Here I am, I have come to do your will” (10:9).  I want to be like Abraham, Jacob, Esau, Moses: “HERE I AM!” (Genesis 22, 27, 31; Exodus 3).  You get the idea.

Is it really that easy? I think it is. I think we must focus more on being where we are and leave the rest up to God, truly expecting Him to move, knowing that whether he takes us to the East or the West, rises us up on wings of the dawn or sets us on the far side of the sea, He will be there guiding and holding us. We need to simply be still and let him fight for us (Exodus 14:14). And that will be enough.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t have hopes and dreams, but they should never come at a cost to our ability to live life with contentment to the glory of God EXACTLY where we are. Don’t judge your present state in terms of an ideal future state. If that idea feels very abstract and far away, as it has for me, I encourage you to take a moment away from dictating through prayer what you want God to do, and sit in his presence.

"Teach me, and I will be quiet; show me where I have been wrong.” Job 6:24

This has gotta be the full life

This weekend I say goodbye to my beloved Silver Bullet.  For the past year I have been driving my family’s old Town and Country minivan.  It’s a bit humbling to be a 23 year-old young professional cruising around in a minivan (especially on the days I rolled windows down through the city pumping Lupe Fiasco) but I was so thankful to have any car to drive, and I came to love ol’ Silvia—leaking coolant, faulty door, broken hatch and all.

A couple of days ago, some of my friends/SB’s biggest fans and I took one last joy ride, and at one point we got to talking about some of our favorite memories in the van.  We all reminisced of dance parties, trips in to the city, and joyful worship in the Bullet.  When it was my turn to share my most memorable moments, I felt like I had too many to name.  But as I thought more, I realized my favorite memories were of the times when the Silver Bullet was completely full.  Full of two-too-many friends on the trip to the West End Overlook.  Full of everything I own on my move up to Sewickley.  Full of corn hole boards, fake rocks, and stage props the week of Kidz GiG.  Full of dorm room belongings (mostly LOTS of scarves) and two best friends when we moved Brooke out of her room.  The best times were always full.

It reminded me of Jesus’ words: “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10)

Beyond my minivan, I want my life to be full because that’s what Jesus promises!  I am not convinced that fullness of life is necessarily measured by the number of countries I visit, planes I jump out of, or fields I run through.  It does not have to be contained in nights under the stars or a job that I love.  It is also most likely not defined by eight hours a day glued to a computer screen and nights spent in front of the TV.

I believe fullness of life begins with a tight grip on the abundant grace that has been extended to me.  Grace that frees me to live each day and closeness to the One who died for that grace.  Let my life be full!—and let me never confuse fullness of adventure and blessings with fullness of life everlasting.

The old has gone, the new has come:

   

An Amendment to Freedom

I almost didn’t write this. 

Writing in your blog about your need to be more humble is a little bit like standing up on your chair in Starbucks and shouting, “I am about to be humble!”  I recognize that writing this post could be a contradiction in and of itself.  But I am praying God’s grace extends here because I believe I have written about things recently that could have deceived some, and I need to set the record straight.

In the short time since I have started this blog, I have claimed to “know” things.  Essentially, every post I have written has been some glimmer of revelation that I received.  And that is true.  I know that the Lord has been speaking to me and dealing with me—all glory to Him!

What the Holy Spirit has convicted me of, though, is my tendency to believe that all the things I’ve learned apply broadly to all people.  Now, let me say: followers of Christ (like myself) squirm at any hint of relativism.  Our post-modern world screams “What is true for you does not have to be what is true for me.”  And those who worship Christ simply cannot let that statement stand.  When it comes to the meaning of life and truth, I want to say firmly that there is one way, and it is Jesus Christ (John 14:6).  That being said, there are some things that Scripture speaks about as being relative.

Namely, our practice of freedom.  The word of God in 1 Corinthians punched me in the lung last night as I read about this.  I have posted much recently on the topic of freedom, claiming my freedom and subtly hinting that we all must make strides in living more freely in our faith.  But frankly, that is what works for me, and it might not work for everyone else.  I feel trapped and discouraged when rules and regulations are put on my practice of faith.  My main goal is always to run freely and steadfastly after Christ, not to try to manage all of the areas of my life that could be “worked on.”  But for some believers, that simply does not work, they desire to pursue Christ through discipline and sacrifice—and that’s okay!

A simple example here will clarify:

If I realize that I am putting more time, energy, and focus in to surfing Facebook than I am pursuing the Lord, I will recognize a need to change that.  For me, that means realigning my attention on Christ and making Him the center of my world, which will naturally lead to me spending less time on Facebook and more time with God.  I may still get on Facebook when I want to look something up or check in with a friend.  However, someone else may feel a need to completely delete their Facebook, knowing that sacrifice will allow them to draw nearer to Christ.  And that’s okay!  Because it’s really not about Facebook at all, it’s about Christ, and both of those means justify the end.  I should not assume (as I have) that all must live like me.

In 1 Corinthians Paul talks to believers about how to exercise their freedom, and it is always in the context of loving others in the best way possible.  He cautioned the new believers that “the exercise of [their] rights does not become a stumbling block” for others (1 Corinthians 8:9).  That is why Paul said “Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31)—because he recognized that it’s not about whether we eat sacrificed food or not, it’s about giving God glory!  And the real freedom in Christ is this: we can choose what we do, we must only do all that we can to give glory to God.

In whatever way we decide to practice our freedom, “No one should seek their own good but the good of others” (1 Corinthians 10:24).  Admittedly, I have been seeking my own good and discounting what might be good for others.

“We know that ‘We all possess knowledge.’ But knowledge puffs up while love builds up. Those who think they know something do not yet know as they ought to know. But whoever loves God is known by God.” (1 Corinthians 8:1-3)  

I have been “puffed up” in the things I think I know.  I want to say, I do not yet know as I ought to.  And if I have led anyone astray in my discussions on freedom or anything else I have said, I am truly sorry and am humbled before you.

Let us agree on this: make every effort to love God, in whatever way we choose, because we will be known by Him when we do so.

I am free indeed

I can think of multiple times in my life when I was trying to get free.  My spiritual life at the time would have been defined by “I’m trying to get free from X”—sin, depression, discouragement, rejection. 

I believe the enemy is powerful.  I believe the devil can establish strongholds in our lives (Ephesians 4:27) and we have a duty to get rid of such things (Hebrews 12:1).  But I think I have spent too much of my life trying to get free.

Jesus said, “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36).  Not long after He said this, Jesus endured hatred, scorn, and rejection, was beaten and bruised, and hung bloody and lifeless on a cross for my freedom.  He rose from the dead three days later, and—like that—we were free.  The curse of death that had filled the earth beginning with Adam and Eve and ensued for thousands of years after was broken, and we were free!

No longer do I need to try to get free.  I will still struggle against the spiritual forces of evil (Ephesians 6:12), and I still must fight.  I will have days where walking with the Spirit is easier than others.  I will be tempted, I will mess up, and I still will have to repent and return to Jesus.  But the fight is not to get free, it is to be free.  To live free.  The moment I accepted Christ as Savior of my soul, I was free.  And now, as I face powers that come against me, the moment I choose to accept my freedom and walk in it, I am free.

The Son has set me free, and I am free indeed!

Others > Me

If you’ve grown up in the church or have been around it for any length of time, you will know that (sympathetic furrowed brow) + “How are you doing?” has a much different connotation than “Hey, how are you doing?” does in the secular world.  Christians are always trying to get at the core of what’s really going on with each other.  “How are you doing?” actually means: “What is the status of your heart and soul?”  It’s a funny quirk, but we do it because we love each other, knowing what True Love is.

In wanting to know how we’re “really” doing, we often ask questions like What are you learning about God?...How are you growing?...What things are you working on right now?  Surely, we should always be “working out our salvation” (Philippians 2:12), striving to “become mature and attain the whole measure of the fullness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13).  So this accountability is a good thing!  I’m thankful for the people in my life who ask me these kinds of questions.

But I have discovered an interesting paradox that is also true: there is great power, freedom, and growth that comes when I focus on other people rather than myself.  Anything that I’m going through or “working on” seems so insignificant when I have the perspective of serving those around me—in fact, I nearly forget about my struggles in those times!

The other night I was face-to-face with a personal situation that has been at the forefront of my mind.  It is something I’ve been praying about and struggling through and, frankly, have spent a lot of time thinking about.  But an incredible, Divine thing happened in that moment: God had someone there for me to minister to.  All of the sudden, my energy and focus centered around serving that person and putting Christ on a pedestal for him.  And the thing that had so consumed my thoughts up until that point suddenly became not as important.  That power in my life became weak in the light of God’s compassion flowing through me in to someone else.

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves” (Philippians 2:3).  I pray that my life never becomes about me.