FAITH RE-VISITED (2): Killer Control

faithAt church, our current series is about discussing how faith grows.

In the process of Sunday sermons and weekly Small Groups, a handful of observations are rising to the surface.

Here is one of them.

TRUST IS HARD.

Whether you learn this doing some silly falling-backwards-into-someone’s-arms exercise or via more intense avenues, I have yet to meet someone who eagerly gives up control. The word “control” is key, for it summarizes the hurdle over which everyone must leap in order to arrive at a position of trust before their Maker.

driving-22959_640We are told that the odds of dying in a car accident are exponentially higher than the odds of dying in a plane crash. Even still, there is an unusual comfort derived from having one’s own hands on the steering wheel. To trust an invisible pilot, whose existence is proven only by an occasional word on the intercom feels far riskier than being at the controls ourselves. But the statistics argue that my own hands are less capable than I might wish to believe.

The statistics are not alone in making this declaration.

In his most famous sermon, Jesus urged his listeners to trust God more than they trusted themselves. His rationale? We are not worthy of that level of trust. He stated this with a simple question: “Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life or a single cubit to his stature?” (Mt 6:27)

Even in areas of deep convictions, where we possess strong desires, a simple fact remains: We are small. Temporary, finite, limited, fallen – whatever adjective you choose, the same truth emerges. We are insufficient. On an ultimate scale, we cannot be sources or providers of what we need. Said another way, self-trust is not an option.

With that in mind, Jesus provides us an example. Of course, he could have directed our gaze to himself and his before-eternity bond to the Father. Certainly his entire existence was built upon reality-altering faith. But that might have overwhelmed us. So he chose an example from the crowds, a people-of-dust model, so mundane as to be easy to miss.

LITTLE ONES

“Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” (Mt 19:14)

cute-child-1920x1080-1In the “real world”, children represent all that is insignificant. Of course, we notice their innocence, envy their purity, and squish their chubby cheeks. But those things are quaint, holding no weight in the adult world. Or so we think.

Yet addressing the adult world, the Anointed One declares, “You want to know how to trust? Look down. Consider the small ones who neither conceived nor birthed themselves. They are fed and cleaned and carried by another. They survive and thrive under the watch of eyes and provision of hands not their own.  And they are fine with this. They live out this position with confident acceptance, both appropriate and beautiful.”

And you?

  • Are you at peace with your puniness?
  • Are you content to be carried?
  • Are you satisfied with being satisfied by Another?

Those are little, large questions. And they reveal whether the spirit within us is capable of grasping the kingdom which God offers. It is not that He withdraws from those who aren’t childlike in faith; rather, it is those clinging to competence or confidence or control who will subconsciously withdraw from the kingdom He offers.

Simply put, one cannot take hold of a wondrous gift if his hands are occupied with gripping the controls.

YOUR TURN: What about you? How has God challenged your desires for control and independence? How has your trust in God blossomed as you’ve granted Him access to your life?

 

FAITH RE-VISITED (1): Can One Be Faithful Without Faith?

faithAt church, our current series is about discussing how faith grows.

In the process of Sunday sermons and weekly Small Groups, a handful of observations are rising to the surface.

Here is one of them.

FAITH AND FAITHFULNESS

A question in our last Small Group asked us who we considered a great example of faith. Who exhibited an unusual level of confidence and trust in God?  I confessed that I found that hard to answer. If it was looking for FAITHFULNESS, I had an easy list of names. Somehow FAITH changed the discussion for me. It seems riskier and more adventurous than the plodding and dutiful flavour of faithfulness.

Of course, the two concepts are linked (linguistically at the least), but I confess to experiencing more disconnect than I likely should. As said, faith appears more outrageous — it’s the believing of things unseen, the aggressively confident holding to God’s outlandish promises.  Certainly, faithfulness (in its full sense) is the act of exercising faith. However, it rolls off my tongue far more frequently as a term of steady responsibility, the long-term execution of what you know you should do.

A couple thoughts sum this up:

1) Faithfulness is likely under-valued. This “long obedience in the same direction” (Peterson’s priceless phrase) is not for the faint of heart. Fleeting affections and flighty commitments will never sustain the steadiness demanded to live by faith.

2) That said, any form of faithfulness truly worth something must be rooted in a deeply trust-filled relationship with God. Responsible task-ticking was the way of the older brother (Luke 15), yet he was revealed to be disturbingly distanced from the Father he “faithfully” stood beside.  Trust is linked to intimacy, and because of that fact: Anything less than faith-filled faithfulness comes off as mere duty, akin to a marriage that “celebrates” landmark anniversaries while being undesirably dead.

YOUR TURN: What about you? How do you observe the link between FAITH and FAITHFULNESS? Who has inspired you toward greater faith?

 

Six-Pack (51)

Six-Pack #51 marks the first one published on the new domain! But as always, it remains the (nearly) weekly spot for grabbing a half-dozen of the best “recent reads” I’ve discovered online regarding faith, ministry, or who-knows-what.

If six overwhelms, start with two. The *Picks of the Week* provide an easy starting point.

For a steady stream of such links, follow me on Twitter to the right of this post.  Sharp quotes and solid articles are tweeted 3-4 times daily.

Today’s edition:

1) Malcolm Gladwell on His Return to Faith (*PICK OF THE WEEK*)
How can one not enjoy Malcolm Gladwell? He’s original and provocative, strangely curious and curiously strange. And during the writing of his most recent book, he found his heart wandering back toward a faith he thought he’d closed the door on. Surprise!

2) What if Being Content is Ruining Your Life?
Contentment is typically sought after. What about when it begins to hold you back? Allison Vesterfelt wants you to consider.

3) Ten Reasons Church Leaders Should Further their Education
Having been impacted profoundly through my educational experiences, I need no convincing of this point. For those needing more material, Thom Rainer offers these ten reasons as starting points.

4) The Sad Cycle of Evangelical Biblical Scholarship
That title isn’t likely to merit many clicks here, but Peter Enns (a renowned scholar himself) expresses frustration here for Evangelicalism’s struggle to embrace biblical scholarship in its broadest sense. He questions a system that keeps people captive to fear. If you value learning or education or the Bible, this piece will likely intrigue you as it gives you a peek inside the world of those who shape the ideas that fill sermons and published works through our churches and homes.

5) Three Lies Entertainment Tells Us About Sex (*PICK OF THE WEEK*)
If your TV is your primary educator about sex, you’ve got a problem, Houston. Truth be told, you’ve got at least three.  Great piece from Relevant Magazine here!

6) 28 Leadership Lessons from Catalyst with Jeff Henderson
Jeff Henderson, of The Rocket Company, recently presented at the Catalyst Conference. Here were some thought-provoking nuggets of how churches work and don’t work well.

May the week ahead be filled with life, as the Father fills you with all you need!

YOUR TURN: Which link above was most worthwhile–why that one? Direct others readers to the best of the bunch. Your input makes this post better!

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Life Beyond Ourselves (Part II)

Peter-on-waterIn my last post, I noted a connection between Peter’s walking on the water and a great typing groove.

At the moment that his feet felt his weight supported by the sea’s surface, Peter entered a supernatural experience. And for all of a few moments, he lived comfortably in a realm beyond himself. But it all ended as quickly as it began, and the unraveling began with something perfectly innocent and natural: some logical questions.

WHEN FINGERS > BRAINS

As I commented last time, typing at its finest involves fingers flying faster than brain waves. In that moment, the act of analyzing my movements is the wrecking ball that destroys the speed and ease. There’s nothing implicitly wrong with thinking – it’s just that there are realms beyond understanding, where mental clutching and grabbing snuffs out the beauty and power to which we’ve gained access.

In his later years, Peter wrote (perhaps even typed at break-neck speed 😉 ) that in Christ, we are invited to participate in the divine nature (2 Peter 1). He speaks explicitly of being freed from the corruption that saturates the fallen order. But I can’t help but wonder if his mind didn’t wander back to his brief taste of water-walking. Certainly, those were some participating-in-the-divine-nature moments! And surely he recalled the ease with which he lived in those moments.

Until he began to think.

And it was his very logical thoughts forming very reasonable questions that ended what he might have later labeled as the very normal expectation of Christ’s people: Participation in the divine nature — life beyond ourselves.

MORE THAN NATURAL

By grace, God invites us into a life far too big for ourselves. As children, our mothers bought us too-big clothing, assuring us that it was really just too-big-for-now clothing. The mom-mantra was spoken over us: “You’ll grow into it.”  And we came to know that, quite naturally, we would.

But grace is hardly natural.

To be sure, God calls us into a life too large for who we are. But unlike childhood clothing, there is no natural guarantee that we will grow into what He is giving.  In fact, left to our own soundest thoughts and stablest tendencies, we will wiggle ourselves out of it.  Our doubts will be well-founded, and our concerns will seem wisely-conservative — and they will do exactly what Peter came to learn: They will lead us from the supernatural to the natural. They will do away with “beyond ourselves”, in exchange for “within ourselves” — and we will feel the loss immediately.

We live in the afterglow of the Resurrection, the age in which the Spirit responsible for the original Creation hovers over the depths once again, eager to bring order and form to every life where faith awakens.  And within my spiritual schizophrenia , my gets-it self offers my frightfully-slow self a few words of counsel:

TRUST. And direct that trust toward God’s power before you direct it toward your ability to comprehend. Getting this backward creates a bottleneck in one’s spiritual life.

GRACE. God gives it freely, but be active in pleading for receptivity to this logic-defying gift. Any efforts to create formulas or square equations will be decimated by divine grace, so let them go.  Or you can do it after God breaks your calculator.

GRIP. Loosen it. None of us are big enough to be main characters in the grand Story. There is only One of those, and we find our wondrously appropriate identities solely in relation to Him. So breathe. And listen. And respond. God is good, and you are His.

YOUR TURN: How does Peter’s sea-standing experience speak to your life of faith? What have you learned about living, by grace, beyond yourself?

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Losing Faith VII: Trading It In

This is the seventh post in a series called “Losing Faith”. All posts can be viewed HERE.

As mentioned in the first post of this series, it was a blogging friend who originally dispatched this train of thought for me. He observed how travel had played a part in the unraveling of a faith he once held.

I would echo that sentiment with an alternate angle.

TREASURE OF TRAVEL

farawayExposure to faraway lands and interactions with the folks of those places have led me to lose much of my faith as well—particularly faith in my culture, in popular Western thought, and more specifically in myself. However, those undoings only served to intensify my felt need for some form of Anchor, some Foundation upon which to construct.

There is a special pleasure to deconstruction. Who has ever carried a tool more fun than a sledgehammer? But at some point, there is need for some skilled builder to enter the scene. Creating rubble is fun, but it hardly provides a place to live.

This is my metaphor. others can grasp at their own well-fitted images. But for me, this is glove-like.

For I love to play the cynic more than most. To feign enlightenment through critique, this is the safe and satisfying life of the skeptic.

At least, it is until it isn’t.

Safe or satisfying.

My travel experiences and other life-tastes have at times fed that cynical, skeptical streak with a fresh spread of questions and rebukes toward the status quo that had both nurtured me and numbed me up to that point. Some of this caused me to grow; some just caused me to grump.

When it comes to religion, Christianity in particular, I often chuckle. I can recall a handful of conversations where speakers in attack mode unveiled their “faith-destroyers” to me. Typically, these “questions” ended with periods, rather than question marks. But punctuation aside, the tone carried a whiff of superiority silently declaring that the statement being made was surely news to me, and perhaps everyone else who ever “mindlessly” fallen into faith. In fact, it appeared certain to at least one in the room that surely no human in history had ever formulated this ground-breaking assessment of reality.

Feet in SeaNow to be sure, I learn things every day, from sources and angles of every sort. But these types of encounter cause my chuckle to rise because they suppose shallowness.  To discover that my feet touch the sand on the bottom hardly means that I’ve plumbed the depths of the sea.  It merely means I can touch where I am.  To crucify Christianity for its smallness when the “great big world” enlightens is one form of losing faith.  To move my feet in pursuit of deeper and purer waters was mine.

Though I didn’t foresee the amount of seawater I’d have to swallow along the way!

I SAY THAT TO SAY THIS

KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERAI can state with confidence that the faith I have lost along the way was a small faith.  Perhaps that is exactly why I lost it. It is easier to lose coins than cars.

In exchange for my feather-weight faith, heavy on its need for certainty and control, I am receiving a more substantial faith, rooted in dependence upon the eternal Spirit of God and a recognition of my need to keep step with Him.  This need is driven by neither fear nor threat, but by the simple recognition that moving out of rhythm with the beat that drives the universe is clumsy and costly.  I would rather sync myself to sink myself into the groove awaiting those whose stride is guided by the All-of-Life-Giver.

LOSING THINGS

I hate losing things. Misplacing keys or phone drives me almost mad. Part of that is driven by the fact that I am typically very careful with my things, seldom losing track. So when I do, it cracks my composure. Losing my faith, even the small version, has felt like that. It had grown dear to me; it was worn and comfortable from years of use.

But it no longer fit.

Perhaps it never did.