I can't put words to the innumerable emotions wreaking havoc in my heart and soul right now. I haven't felt this desperate and pleading in so long. My mind runs through all the questions I refused to ask because I didn't want to come across doubtful and untrusting, but I can't fight them off any more. So many questions go unanswered, and that's life. I know that. Sometimes there are no answers and sometimes I'm okay with that. But then there are the times that I need answers. Almost like I'm not going to be able to bear it if I don't get them. I never really thought of myself as someone who needed help bearing anything. My life has been one where I have learned to suffer silently. No one could possibly understand. That's a very self-righteous way to think, but it's also a very lonely way to think.
I don't like feeling lonely, I just don't want to burden anyone else. Not even my Savior. You can tell me that's foolish and I would agree. But I can't do anything differently. I don't know how, though I desperately want to. It's probably unfair to post this since I'm not being very open about what my questions are and why I have them, but I don't know where else to get this out. Does it make me weak? Well, I am weak. That's evident. Can someone be weak and brave at the same time? Brave enough to ask the questions aloud?
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Hardship Makes Character
From a devotional I receive through email...
"In all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us" (Romans 8:37).
This is more than victory. This is a triumph so complete that we have not only escaped defeat and destruction, but we have destroyed our enemies and won a spoil so rich and valuable that we can thank God that the battle ever came. How can we be "more than conquerors"? We can get out of the conflict a spiritual discipline that will greatly strengthen our faith and establish our spiritual character. Temptation is necessary to settle and confirm us in the spiritual life. It is like the fire which burns in the colors of mineral painting, or like winds that cause the mighty cedars of the mountain to strike more deeply into the soil. Our spiritual conflicts are among our choicest blessings, and our great adversary is used to train us for his ultimate defeat. The ancient Phrygians had a legend that every time they conquered an enemy the victor absorbed the physical strength of his victim and added so much more to his own strength and valor. So temptation victoriously met doubles our spiritual strength and equipment. It is possible thus not only to defeat our enemy, but to capture him and make him fight in our ranks. The prophet Isaiah speaks of flying on the shoulders of the Philistines (Isa. 11:14). These Philistines were their deadly foes, but the figure suggested that they would be enabled not only to conquer the Philistines, but to use them to carry the victors on their shoulders for further triumphs. Just as the wise sailor can use a head wind to carry him forward by tacking and taking advantage of its impelling force; so it is possible for us in our spiritual life through the victorious grace of God to turn to account the things that seem most unfriendly and unfavorable, and to be able to say continually, "The things that were against me have happened to the furtherance of the Gospel." --Life More Abundantly
A noted scientist observing that "early voyagers fancied that the coral-building animals instinctively built up the great circles of the Atoll Islands to afford themselves protection in the inner parts," has disproved this fancy by showing that the insect builders can only live and thrive fronting the open ocean, and in the highly aerated foam of its resistless billows. So it has been commonly thought that protected ease is the most favorable condition of life, whereas all the noblest and strongest lives prove on the contrary that the endurance of hardship is the making of the men, and the factor that distinguishes between existence and vigorous vitality. Hardship makes character. --Selected
"Now thanks be unto God Who always leads us forth to triumph with the Anointed One, and Who diffuses by us the fragrance of the knowledge of Him in every place" (2 Cor. 2:14, literal translation).
I find the last part about the coral-building animals to be particularly interesting. It seems that mankind takes the view that we should build up as many barriers around our hearts as we possibly can. It makes sense in a lot of ways. We want to protect ourselves from invaders who would seek to harm us or hurt us. However, we take that so far as to use our walls as an excuse to stay comfortable and unchallenged. I fear that the worst way a man or woman can live is unchallenged. How hard and proud that makes our hearts. The hardship is part of the blessing. If you never taste sorrow, how can you ever truly appreciate joy?
"In all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us" (Romans 8:37).
This is more than victory. This is a triumph so complete that we have not only escaped defeat and destruction, but we have destroyed our enemies and won a spoil so rich and valuable that we can thank God that the battle ever came. How can we be "more than conquerors"? We can get out of the conflict a spiritual discipline that will greatly strengthen our faith and establish our spiritual character. Temptation is necessary to settle and confirm us in the spiritual life. It is like the fire which burns in the colors of mineral painting, or like winds that cause the mighty cedars of the mountain to strike more deeply into the soil. Our spiritual conflicts are among our choicest blessings, and our great adversary is used to train us for his ultimate defeat. The ancient Phrygians had a legend that every time they conquered an enemy the victor absorbed the physical strength of his victim and added so much more to his own strength and valor. So temptation victoriously met doubles our spiritual strength and equipment. It is possible thus not only to defeat our enemy, but to capture him and make him fight in our ranks. The prophet Isaiah speaks of flying on the shoulders of the Philistines (Isa. 11:14). These Philistines were their deadly foes, but the figure suggested that they would be enabled not only to conquer the Philistines, but to use them to carry the victors on their shoulders for further triumphs. Just as the wise sailor can use a head wind to carry him forward by tacking and taking advantage of its impelling force; so it is possible for us in our spiritual life through the victorious grace of God to turn to account the things that seem most unfriendly and unfavorable, and to be able to say continually, "The things that were against me have happened to the furtherance of the Gospel." --Life More Abundantly
A noted scientist observing that "early voyagers fancied that the coral-building animals instinctively built up the great circles of the Atoll Islands to afford themselves protection in the inner parts," has disproved this fancy by showing that the insect builders can only live and thrive fronting the open ocean, and in the highly aerated foam of its resistless billows. So it has been commonly thought that protected ease is the most favorable condition of life, whereas all the noblest and strongest lives prove on the contrary that the endurance of hardship is the making of the men, and the factor that distinguishes between existence and vigorous vitality. Hardship makes character. --Selected
"Now thanks be unto God Who always leads us forth to triumph with the Anointed One, and Who diffuses by us the fragrance of the knowledge of Him in every place" (2 Cor. 2:14, literal translation).
I find the last part about the coral-building animals to be particularly interesting. It seems that mankind takes the view that we should build up as many barriers around our hearts as we possibly can. It makes sense in a lot of ways. We want to protect ourselves from invaders who would seek to harm us or hurt us. However, we take that so far as to use our walls as an excuse to stay comfortable and unchallenged. I fear that the worst way a man or woman can live is unchallenged. How hard and proud that makes our hearts. The hardship is part of the blessing. If you never taste sorrow, how can you ever truly appreciate joy?
Thursday, January 8, 2009
My Resolution...
is to give up...
Wait a minute. That doesn't sound right. Resolutions are supposed to be made to challenge you and stretch you. Who resolves to give up?!
Well, I do. It may sound like I am taking the easy way out, but it's harder than you think. I am giving up the prideful notion that I have any capability in myself to make my life better. People make resolutions every year to better the quality of their lives, and they don't keep them. They don't keep them because they CAN'T. It's not for lack of desire or will-power. Our will-power turns out to be quite futile, and it discourages our desires because we feel hopeless. Why am I going to do that to myself year after year? It makes no sense.
If I truly believe that Christ is sufficient to meet all my needs, then why am I struggling to "better" my life? I have fooled myself into thinking that there is something He is withholding from me. I beg and plead with him for help and strength, as if He is denying me what I need. You don't beg and plead with someone who has already given you what you've asked for. Stanford quotes in the Green Letters, "Much of our begging fails to register in heaven because it fails to spring from right relations with the Father in union with Christ in death and resurrection: in which position one simply appropriates what is already his. 'All things,' says the Apostle Paul, 'are yours. And ye are Christ's; and Christ is God's' (1_Corinthians 3:21,23)."
A. W. Tozer writes, "we are forever asking God to do things that He either has already done or cannot do because of our unbelief. We plead for Him to speak when He has already spoken and is at that very moment speaking. We ask Him to come when He is already present and waiting for us to recognize Him. We beg the Holy Spirit to fill us while all the time we are preventing Him by our doubts." I would venture to say that it is not only our doubts that prohibit, but our pride. I am sure this is true for all people, but it seems to me that especially in America we believe we are capable of so much more than we actually are. Everyone can be an all-star, the President, or make the team. We puff ourselves, as well as others, up and it makes us quite ugly people, to be honest. This gives us as children a false hope. Sure, a little boy can TRY to be anything he wants to be, but when he fails we should rejoice because now he can move on to discover what God really has for his life. I think the way we tend to do things leads to the unraveling of depending solely on God through Christ Jesus to direct our lives.
I have come to face the fact that I take life into my own hands when I ask for something that will help ME accomplish the task of making ME a better person. And it doesn't take long before I fail at it. And when I fail, I crawl back to the Lord pleading and wondering why I can't seem to fix things and why I feel so distant from Him.
All that to say, this is why I resolve to give up. I give up my "right" to a better life. I give up my pride to think that I can actually do myself any good. I give up the hopelessness that sets in after I fail. Instead, I embrace the Lord Jesus. I ask that He takes the daunting task of making me a better person. I ask that He do the work for me because I know how weak I really am. Yes, I give up... and I think that's okay.
Wait a minute. That doesn't sound right. Resolutions are supposed to be made to challenge you and stretch you. Who resolves to give up?!
Well, I do. It may sound like I am taking the easy way out, but it's harder than you think. I am giving up the prideful notion that I have any capability in myself to make my life better. People make resolutions every year to better the quality of their lives, and they don't keep them. They don't keep them because they CAN'T. It's not for lack of desire or will-power. Our will-power turns out to be quite futile, and it discourages our desires because we feel hopeless. Why am I going to do that to myself year after year? It makes no sense.
If I truly believe that Christ is sufficient to meet all my needs, then why am I struggling to "better" my life? I have fooled myself into thinking that there is something He is withholding from me. I beg and plead with him for help and strength, as if He is denying me what I need. You don't beg and plead with someone who has already given you what you've asked for. Stanford quotes in the Green Letters, "Much of our begging fails to register in heaven because it fails to spring from right relations with the Father in union with Christ in death and resurrection: in which position one simply appropriates what is already his. 'All things,' says the Apostle Paul, 'are yours. And ye are Christ's; and Christ is God's' (1_Corinthians 3:21,23)."
A. W. Tozer writes, "we are forever asking God to do things that He either has already done or cannot do because of our unbelief. We plead for Him to speak when He has already spoken and is at that very moment speaking. We ask Him to come when He is already present and waiting for us to recognize Him. We beg the Holy Spirit to fill us while all the time we are preventing Him by our doubts." I would venture to say that it is not only our doubts that prohibit, but our pride. I am sure this is true for all people, but it seems to me that especially in America we believe we are capable of so much more than we actually are. Everyone can be an all-star, the President, or make the team. We puff ourselves, as well as others, up and it makes us quite ugly people, to be honest. This gives us as children a false hope. Sure, a little boy can TRY to be anything he wants to be, but when he fails we should rejoice because now he can move on to discover what God really has for his life. I think the way we tend to do things leads to the unraveling of depending solely on God through Christ Jesus to direct our lives.
I have come to face the fact that I take life into my own hands when I ask for something that will help ME accomplish the task of making ME a better person. And it doesn't take long before I fail at it. And when I fail, I crawl back to the Lord pleading and wondering why I can't seem to fix things and why I feel so distant from Him.
All that to say, this is why I resolve to give up. I give up my "right" to a better life. I give up my pride to think that I can actually do myself any good. I give up the hopelessness that sets in after I fail. Instead, I embrace the Lord Jesus. I ask that He takes the daunting task of making me a better person. I ask that He do the work for me because I know how weak I really am. Yes, I give up... and I think that's okay.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Loving = Hurting = Fear = Why Bother?
Guard Your Heart, Don't Suffocate It
October 28, 2008 | By: Tyler KenneyCategory: Commentary
“Guard your heart” is a good command. That’s because it’s biblical:
Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life. (Proverbs 4:23)
In its context, this verse suggests that keeping—or guarding—your heart means to retain wise words and resist wicked desires. But I’m afraid some people—ahem, me, too often—use it to justify being cowardly or cold instead of loving others, because we think that “guard your heart” means “don’t get hurt.”
C. S. Lewis provides the necessary rebuke:
Of all arguments against love none makes so strong an appeal to my nature as “Careful! This might lead you to suffering.”
To my nature, my temperament, yes. Not to my conscience. When I respond to that appeal I seem to myself to be a thousand miles away from Christ. If I am sure of anything I am sure that His teaching was never meant to confirm my congenital preference for safe investments and limited liabilities.…
There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket—safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell. (From The Four Loves, as found in The Inspirational Writings of C.S. Lewis, 278-279.)
http://www.desiringgod.org/Blog/1467_Guard_Your_Heart_Dont_Suffocate_It/
Thursday, December 11, 2008
My good friend Kellie...
...is an excellent writer. Especially on this point of the "Is God sovereign, or is He not?" topic. So I am just going to post something she wrote. It speaks for itself.
In accepting a reformed perspective on God's sovereignty, I have sometimes wrestled with the deepest objection of all. Why is it that God creates us from nothing, and then ordains the introduction of our rebellion into the world only to punish us for it afterwards? He is God after all. Why did He even create the possibility of sin, pain, and death? How can He create horrific suffering and not be cruel?
In my questioning, I recognize that I have no ground to argue that God is unfair. I grasp that He holds the cards, made the rules, owns the game table, and even the house in which life is played. I would venture to say that I have accepted His power, and loved Him anyway, because I know He has the RIGHT. His goodness is not governed by the ethical obligations we answer to as human beings. He is not bound to relate to us as we are bound to relate to one another.
Ultimately, I have made an intellectual peace with His authority.
I think though, that there is a deeper, more emotional reason for trusting God's authority than a simple and cold acknowledgement that He is always right. A new idea has dawned in my mind and it began one day with the realization that God did not merely inflict suffering on His creation when He introduced the potential for sin:
GOD INFLICTED THE SUFFERING UPON HIMSELF.
That simple realization is the difference between being told to run through a wall of fire to reach safety on the other side, and having someone hold out their hand to run through the fire with you.
To step back then and consider that God is not only experiencing the hurt with us, but that He is incapable of authorizing suffering for less than perfect reasons, shows me that arbitration is the farthest attribute from His character. We in our ignorance assume there is a better way for our God to order His universe. Have we ever contemplated that He, the essence that which nothing greater has been conceived, can therefore authorize nothing besides perfection?
It occurs to me that our world of weakness, fragility, and sin will one day be a monument to the infinite power of God's redemption. Without sin, our world would appear perfect only in our own eyes. Without sin, there would never be the need for all the attributes of God we've come to know and love; His healing, His forgiveness, His grace, His mercy. Through those attributes, God has allowed us to commune with His goodness in a deeper way than could ever be achieved in a sinless world.
God's cosmological plan for the universe with its creation, fall, redemption, and eternal destiny then, is perfect. For reasons beyond our comprehension, the precise ordering of our suffering in this world is perfect as it is woven into the fabric of redemptive history.
Yet once again, and arguably most important, I must return to the understanding over and over that our suffering is a suffering he has entered and embraced. He stared down the fires of hell and experienced the torment of the damned. What is His response to that evil? He cries out, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?" and proceeds to silence the devil's demands forever. He then resuscitates the corpse of His once perfect creation one soul at a time, in down payment for the promise that one day, our world will be restored.
It is right for us to grieve and mourn the downfall of the lost, as God Himself wept over Jerusalem. It is right for us to hate the darkness and long for the day it will be conquered. Yet our consolation in grieving for the state of humanity is this: For the lost, He has never inflicted suffering on a single soul that He has not swallowed Himself. He uses the light to contrast the darkness, and in the end, wins the battle. And for the redeemed, as Spurgeon reminds us, "Remember this, had any other condition been better for you than the one in which you are, divine love would have put you there."
In accepting a reformed perspective on God's sovereignty, I have sometimes wrestled with the deepest objection of all. Why is it that God creates us from nothing, and then ordains the introduction of our rebellion into the world only to punish us for it afterwards? He is God after all. Why did He even create the possibility of sin, pain, and death? How can He create horrific suffering and not be cruel?
In my questioning, I recognize that I have no ground to argue that God is unfair. I grasp that He holds the cards, made the rules, owns the game table, and even the house in which life is played. I would venture to say that I have accepted His power, and loved Him anyway, because I know He has the RIGHT. His goodness is not governed by the ethical obligations we answer to as human beings. He is not bound to relate to us as we are bound to relate to one another.
Ultimately, I have made an intellectual peace with His authority.
I think though, that there is a deeper, more emotional reason for trusting God's authority than a simple and cold acknowledgement that He is always right. A new idea has dawned in my mind and it began one day with the realization that God did not merely inflict suffering on His creation when He introduced the potential for sin:
GOD INFLICTED THE SUFFERING UPON HIMSELF.
That simple realization is the difference between being told to run through a wall of fire to reach safety on the other side, and having someone hold out their hand to run through the fire with you.
To step back then and consider that God is not only experiencing the hurt with us, but that He is incapable of authorizing suffering for less than perfect reasons, shows me that arbitration is the farthest attribute from His character. We in our ignorance assume there is a better way for our God to order His universe. Have we ever contemplated that He, the essence that which nothing greater has been conceived, can therefore authorize nothing besides perfection?
It occurs to me that our world of weakness, fragility, and sin will one day be a monument to the infinite power of God's redemption. Without sin, our world would appear perfect only in our own eyes. Without sin, there would never be the need for all the attributes of God we've come to know and love; His healing, His forgiveness, His grace, His mercy. Through those attributes, God has allowed us to commune with His goodness in a deeper way than could ever be achieved in a sinless world.
God's cosmological plan for the universe with its creation, fall, redemption, and eternal destiny then, is perfect. For reasons beyond our comprehension, the precise ordering of our suffering in this world is perfect as it is woven into the fabric of redemptive history.
Yet once again, and arguably most important, I must return to the understanding over and over that our suffering is a suffering he has entered and embraced. He stared down the fires of hell and experienced the torment of the damned. What is His response to that evil? He cries out, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?" and proceeds to silence the devil's demands forever. He then resuscitates the corpse of His once perfect creation one soul at a time, in down payment for the promise that one day, our world will be restored.
It is right for us to grieve and mourn the downfall of the lost, as God Himself wept over Jerusalem. It is right for us to hate the darkness and long for the day it will be conquered. Yet our consolation in grieving for the state of humanity is this: For the lost, He has never inflicted suffering on a single soul that He has not swallowed Himself. He uses the light to contrast the darkness, and in the end, wins the battle. And for the redeemed, as Spurgeon reminds us, "Remember this, had any other condition been better for you than the one in which you are, divine love would have put you there."
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Relating to people = Relationship... Right?
I am struggling to relate to a lot of people in my life right now. Does that mean I shouldn't bother pursuing relationships with them? I am so confused. I don't mean that I don't want them in my life at all, it's just that I am desperate for some serious, intimate, in your face relationship and accountability, and I thought I was finding that... and I haven't... and it's discouraging. I haven't had friendship drama like this since college! I thought I was over that hurdle in life. Guess you never really get over that hurdle ever.
Ugh... ever... I think I am discovering that in life there are a LOT of hurdles we never really get over ever. And apparently that's okay. Reading Paul's words in Romans 7 are a bittersweet contradiction of hope and despair wrapped into one horribly sweet package - the human body.
vs 18 - 25
I know that my selfish desires won't let me do anything that is good. Even when I want to do right, I cannot. Instead of doing what I know is right, I do wrong. And so, if I don't do what I know is right, I am no longer the one doing these evil things. The sin that lives in me is what does them. The Law has shown me that something in me keeps me from doing what I know is right. With my whole heart I agree with the Law of God. But in every part of me I discover something fighting against my mind, and it makes me a prisoner of sin that controls everything I do. What a miserable person I am. Who will rescue me from this body that is doomed to die? Thank God! Jesus Christ will rescue me. So with my mind I serve the Law of God, although my selfish desires make me serve the law of sin.
With my WHOLE heart I agree with God's law. I do! But I don't follow it... I don't change. I don't conquer. I feel stupid, incapable, like a failure. And somehow, that's the way it's supposed to be. And I'm not alone. I'm not the only one fighting day and night. Of all people to struggle endlessly, Paul struggled... Until the day he died. So how is it that I find joy in not being able to overcome all the hurdles? I don't know. It isn't me, but Christ who lives in me. And even though my life is a mess and I fall flat every day that I breathe, I'm reminded that I can't not fail. I will always fail. And the realization of that means that God wholly owns my heart. My ability to do nothing more than suck is proof that Jesus saved me and will win the victory in me. And my struggle will continue until this earthly body dies. And if there is ever a moment I am NOT stuggling... well, that is the moment I know I am out of God's grace. May that never be.
So what does that have to do with relationship? Um... I'll have to get back to you, but I think it just means that I'm going to be okay. It means that it's okay to struggle with loving and relating to people. Grace just needs to stay at the forefront of my thinking. My heart needs to stay open to the truth spoken in God's word. It means that in His perfect timing, the Lord will bring about the desires of my heart, in spite of my self and my failures. And that's a beautiful thing.
Ugh... ever... I think I am discovering that in life there are a LOT of hurdles we never really get over ever. And apparently that's okay. Reading Paul's words in Romans 7 are a bittersweet contradiction of hope and despair wrapped into one horribly sweet package - the human body.
vs 18 - 25
I know that my selfish desires won't let me do anything that is good. Even when I want to do right, I cannot. Instead of doing what I know is right, I do wrong. And so, if I don't do what I know is right, I am no longer the one doing these evil things. The sin that lives in me is what does them. The Law has shown me that something in me keeps me from doing what I know is right. With my whole heart I agree with the Law of God. But in every part of me I discover something fighting against my mind, and it makes me a prisoner of sin that controls everything I do. What a miserable person I am. Who will rescue me from this body that is doomed to die? Thank God! Jesus Christ will rescue me. So with my mind I serve the Law of God, although my selfish desires make me serve the law of sin.
With my WHOLE heart I agree with God's law. I do! But I don't follow it... I don't change. I don't conquer. I feel stupid, incapable, like a failure. And somehow, that's the way it's supposed to be. And I'm not alone. I'm not the only one fighting day and night. Of all people to struggle endlessly, Paul struggled... Until the day he died. So how is it that I find joy in not being able to overcome all the hurdles? I don't know. It isn't me, but Christ who lives in me. And even though my life is a mess and I fall flat every day that I breathe, I'm reminded that I can't not fail. I will always fail. And the realization of that means that God wholly owns my heart. My ability to do nothing more than suck is proof that Jesus saved me and will win the victory in me. And my struggle will continue until this earthly body dies. And if there is ever a moment I am NOT stuggling... well, that is the moment I know I am out of God's grace. May that never be.
So what does that have to do with relationship? Um... I'll have to get back to you, but I think it just means that I'm going to be okay. It means that it's okay to struggle with loving and relating to people. Grace just needs to stay at the forefront of my thinking. My heart needs to stay open to the truth spoken in God's word. It means that in His perfect timing, the Lord will bring about the desires of my heart, in spite of my self and my failures. And that's a beautiful thing.
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