A Christian-Schooler's Game

If you've never been to a private Christian school, you might not understand what I mean when I say this: while some groups have their holy wars, we had a holiness war.

I don't know if the teachers saw it, but we all knew - there were three classes of people at our school.

There were the "spiritual kids" (the ones who checked all the boxes on the holiness list - who raised their hands in chapel, or if they were really spiritual, jumped up and down, the ones who prayed out loud in class, etc.).

There were the "decent kids" (the ones that didn't rock the boat, but weren't particularly "spiritual," either).

And there were the "bad kids" (the kids that actually got in trouble, at least once a week).

We faced constant pressure to "be more spiritual," according to the made-up list of super-spiritual things we were supposed to do.

I remember doing some of those things, but my heart really wasn't in it. I didn't really want to do them. I thought, "Maybe if I just raise my hands in chapel, the desire to raise my hands will follow. Maybe if I just join the service organization, the desire to serve others without recognition will follow."

The thing was, it never did.

I did a lot of spiritual things when people were looking, but in the everyday things, Christ was often completely absent. For example, when my mind was on boys (which was most of the time), Christ wasn't in the picture. Who I wanted to date, who liked me, who didn't like me...it was all about me, and how being liked made me feel. I never thought about how God said, "You shall have no other gods before me."

Or how about the kinds of things I said behind people's backs? Girls who trusted me...the way I would scoff at them in my journal or in front of my siblings. As long as those girls never heard what I said, I could still look "spiritual" at school, all day long. It was all about appearances. Who cared about my heart attitude?

I thought that my little list of proper, "Christian" actions would change my heart into a "more spiritual" and "more Christian" person. I think most of us did. The very heart of Christianity was lost on us.

What do I mean, you ask?

Let me first say this - I have often wondered, if I had one chance to go back to my school and speak to the students in chapel, what would I say? I've made up the speech in my head many times. Now I finally know the gist of what I would tell them:

Are you working really hard to be good? You are? Bad news - your works do not...cannot...change the state of your heart.

Do you see those people who are genuinely spiritual? The ones that actually want to read their Bibles, actually pray outside of school, and actually pursue holy lives? The ONLY reason they're like that is because God changed their hearts FIRST. Those actions that you want to imitate...those are only there as evidence of their salvation. Merely doing those actions can't save you. Only repentance - acknowledging you're a sinner who is hopeless to make yourself better - and calling on Jesus Christ can save.

Someone else has said it better than me, though, so let's look at how Jerry Bridges puts it:

"A person cannot be justified [absolved from guilt and declared righteous] without being regenerated [made a new person]."

"...I am concerned that there are thousands of professing Christians who think they have been justified, who think their sins are forgiven and that they are on their way to Heaven, who show no evidence of the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit in their lives. I fear for them that they will one day hear those awful words from the lips of Christ, 'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!' (Matthew 7:23)"

Stop asking yourself how "spiritual" you can be in comparison to someone else. This is not between you and them - it's between you and God. So if you don't see evidence of real heart change in your life, maybe the question you should be asking yourself is, "Am I really saved?"

I am not being mean nor judgmental. I'm being biblical. Paul exhorts members of the early church to do the same. I'm not saying that Christians will never make mistakes, have "dry spells," or struggle with sin. But if your whole Christian walk is characterized by a dry spell in which you engage in unrepentant sin all over the place, you would do well to remember that "not everyone who says to [God], 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven." (Can't argue with that - Jesus said it.)

To close, the reason I am telling you this is because I don't want you to leave here believing a lie. I want to see you in Heaven, someday, where we can rejoice together! I don't want you to be deceived until your life ends, and it's too late to change your mind. Think about what I said. Read your Bibles - see if it lines up. Be mad at me and call me a hater, if you must, but know that I love you, and only hope and pray that these words grow in your heart until they become reality.

An Issue of Obedience

"You were running well. Who hindered you from obeying the truth?"

A photo that may or may not represent me "running well."

Since becoming a Christian in 1999, I've read this phrase in the Bible many times. It's typical Paul - no-nonsense, straight-shooting style, telling the church at Galatia how it is. 

It hit me anew when I read it again yesterday. Here's the whole passage (Galatians 5:1-8) so that you can have the context (context is of paramount importance in interpreting Scripture aright):

For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery. Look: I, Paul, say to you that if you accept circumcision, Christ will be of no advantage to you. I testify again to every man who accepts circumcision that he is obligated to keep the whole law. You are severed from Christ, you who would be justified by the law; you have fallen away from grace. For through the Spirit, by faith, we ourselves eagerly wait for the hope of righteousness. For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love. You were running well. Who hindered you from obeying the truth? This persuasion is not from him who calls you.

For those unfamiliar with the issues surrounding this passage, Paul is criticizing members of the Galatian church for succumbing to false teaching, teaching insisting that circumcision, a necessity according to Jewish law, is necessary also for salvation. Paul reiterates that salvation is through "faith working through love," and that those who would treat it as an issue of works or law is bound by something lesser than the glorious grace of Christ, "the hope of righteousness."

I am a works-oriented person. I struggle with wanting to do Christianly things just to make God "like" me more (as if it worked that way). A reading of Galatians has, therefore, always been encouraging to me. 

And it should be encouraging! I know I'm not the only one who struggles with dependence on works in this task-driven and output-oriented American culture. However, these verses are so much more than mere encouragement - they are challenge. 

The are challenge because reliance on grace instead of "circumcision" - the works we depend on to "save" us, in whatever form they take - is not just something that will better our lives when we embrace it. It is an issue of obedience. Paul says, "You were running well. Who hindered you from obeying the truth?"

That simple statement made me realize what I hadn't been able to see my whole life past. Living by grace and not works is non-negotiable. To do anything but what God has prescribed is sin.

To do anything but what God has prescribed. It is sin for me to embrace any thought pattern, lifestyle or worldview that is not the Lord's perfect will. Oh, no! If I did not already know Christ, I would be asking, with desperation, the question that the disciples asked in Matthew 19:25: "who then can be saved?"

Recognizing all this, isn't it amazing that I can turn to the Lord in repentance and know that even in my constant, systemic, unrecognized sin, I am forgiven through Christ's blood? Merciful Lord! I only pray that my current repentance will carry through to its conclusion, and bring about a change in my mind, heart and soul. Praise be to the Holy Spirit, who convicts and guides even when we would be willful and unbiddable!

The Race for Our Humility

Dear friends,

Be encouraged today! Read this wonderful post by my freshman roommate, Emily Powell. She is a wise, godly woman and a dear friend. She writes from the perspective of a Christian philosophy major at the University of Oklahoma.

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This note is the product of the combination of my insomnia, stimulating conversations with my parents, and the current quandary of what in the world God wants me to do with my life.

There are several passages of the New Testament that give us images of running a race. We are exhorted, as Christians, to run the race with perseverance, run in such a way to get the prize, run, run, run. I don't know about you, but when I read these passages, I often get rather excited. I am called to the noble, glorious task of running the race, complete with a slow motion ending and Chariots of Fire theme song as I cross the finish line. Sadly, these images of glory are not easily reconciled with the reality of life. I'm not hearing the theme song whenever I'm having a bad day or someone cuts me off in traffic or especially when I'm told that I basically have no chance of achieving my philosophical aspirations because everyone just thinks I'm a stupid Christian. The nerve! Don't they know who I am? I'm a child of God. I've got a race to run here, people and you're making it really hard for me to look great while I do it. But I am beginning to grasp something that is very important. My frustration stems from a misconception. For we are not called to greatness. We are called to lowliness. The actual goal of the Christian life is to lose all our pride, all our glory for the sake of Christ.

However, from the time we are young, we receive a different message, a different goal. We are fed the wisdom of the world, and inevitably as well as unfortunately, some of it sinks in. One of the core "truths" the world teaches us is that we are our own gods and we should live to exalt ourselves. Now, of course, they don't come right out and say this, but it is the underlying message behind all the "believe in yourself" posters pasted across elementary school classrooms. Perhaps, the more adult version of this are "self-help" Christians like Joel Olsteen who assure us that we just have to actualize our own potential. We race for our own sakes and God is that nice teddy-bear-like guy in the sky who loves us so much He just can't wait to help us along in the pursuit of our own glorification. Beware. This is not only wrong, it is, as I am becoming increasingly aware, completely contrary to the message of the Bible.

Yet, we can easily fall prey to this, at least to some extent. It is actually quite alarming how many people ascribe to this kind of soft, fuzzy Christianity complete with a simplistic, "Jesus Loves You" Gospel. The danger of this is that we completely misinterpret and misuse the truth that God loves us. Jesus is then put on the sidelines of the race, cheering us on and saying, "just believe in yourselves!" His love becomes nothing but a bonus prize that confirms that we're really something special. We know it and we're glad God does too. This is basically nothing but worldly wisdom dressed up in its Sunday best. Don't misunderstand me. God does love us and He loves us in a powerful, unfathomable, and lavish way. However, it is not a love that elevates us. Rather, it is a love that first, brings us low and then, draws us near. If we truly grasp who God is and who we are, the knowledge that He loves us should not inspire pride, but rather, the deepest humility.
One of the main themes of the Gospel is restoration. Jesus, through His sacrifice, has restored what was lost in the garden of Eden. But what was lost? It says in Genesis 2:25 that "the man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame." Think about that, and not just literally, but symbolically as well. Think about being totally and utterly exposed and yet, knowing no shame. This was possible for Adam and Eve before the Fall because they knew exactly who they were. They were in an incredibly humble state, but they were His. They needed no covering for this was enough.

However, after they ate the fruit, "they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves." Genesis 3:7 They lost their identity in God that allowed them to exist just as they were, just as they were created to be. Now, they had to find ways to cover themselves and the shame of their exposure. I think of this symbolically. We use all manner of things to "cover" ourselves. Whether it be wealth, relationships, position, intelligence or even legalistic self-righteousness, we find ways to make sure we're not exposed and to convince the world and ourselves that we are okay. This is what is at the heart of the wisdom of the world, to dress ourselves up so we look better than we really are. We attempt to recreate, by our own efforts, the absolute peace and assurance of worth and identity that Adam and Eve had in the garden. But we cannot do this on our own! In fact, the message of the Gospel is to cast off our "coverings", our own feeble attempts at righteousness, and to merely be found in Christ.

I think that this idea of casting off our coverings is inextricably linked to the metaphor of running the race. One of my favorite pictures of the race that the Bible gives is the familiar passage of Philippians 3 where Paul exhorts us to "press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called [us] heavenward in Christ Jesus." Can't you just hear the Chariots of Fire music now? But let's back up a little bit to verse 7. Here Pauls tells us that "whatever was to [his] profit he now considers loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, he considers everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus his Lord." Beautiful, eloquent, inspiring words indeed. But what is Paul really talking about here? What is he losing for the sake of Christ? In the preceding verses, he tell us. "If anyone else thinks he has reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for legalistic righteousness, faultless." Philippians 3:4-6 Basically, the point is that, legalistically, Paul had it all. In terms of self-made "coverings," his were made of silk. And yet, he considered "them rubbish, that he may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of his own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ." Philippians 3:8-9 Paul, contrary to the wisdom of this world, was trading his high rank and reputation in order to know Christ and "the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death." Philippians 3:10

All this talk about suffering and death doesn't quite fit in with the self-glorification message of the world and my dreams of following in Eric Liddell's footsteps. And yet, this is the call of the Christian life, not to pomp and glory, but to imitate the incredible humility of the death of Christ. Think about it. We are commanded to be like Christ, but what was Christ like? As he walked to Calvary, did He grasp at coverings, at dignity, at pride? No. Rather, for our sake, He was humbled and completely and utterly exposed. Should we not, in turn, be willing to do the same for His sake? Yes, we should! So, "let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us." Hebrews 12:1 Yet, we should remember, with sobriety, that in throwing off everything that hinders, we may very well be left totally exposed, totally humiliated. We may not achieve anything particularly remarkable according to worldly standards or gain any kind of recognition. We may not gain much of anything on this side of the finish line. In fact, it is much more likely that we will gain the censure and the mockery of the world, suffering and humiliation. We might lose it all. We might have to stand exposed for the sake of Christ. If that is the price of His glory in our lives, we must be willing to pay it.

Yet, the beautiful and wondrous part of it is that, by casting off these "coverings", by forsaking the approval of man and the wisdom of this world, we are found in Christ. We belong to Him once more. We are, before God, as Adam and Eve were, exposed and yet, without shame. We are restored to that perfect state of humility, being just what we were created to be, nothing more, nothing less. Like them, we need no covering. For Christ's righteousness is our cloak, His grace our mantle. Now, freed from the need to cover ourselves, we no longer race in pursuit of our glory, but rather, we race in pursuit of our humility for the sake of His glory.

And now, I am going to bed. Or else I won't be racing anywhere for a really long time.

Dropping Bricks

Conviction is a rather fascinating thing. It's heartbreaking until you realize it is a call for rejoicing, as Nehemiah 8:9-11 discusses.

God reveals sin in run-of-the-mill activities. When he does, it's like getting hit in the nose with a brick that you tossed into the air yourself. God makes sure the brick lands on you so that you know that the sin exists.

Since elementary school, I've been known as one of the "nice people." It's been easy for me to settle into this reputation and lower my guard in my relationships, opening myself to unchecked pride and impatience with others. Lately, I've been struggling with some bad attitudes toward people, and the Lord faithfully revealed them to me today. Without him, these little black spots that dirty my conscience would go unnoticed for much too long -- after all, no one wants to admit that they deal with jealousy, bitterness, anger, etc. -- and we would just keep feeding them and impeding our own spiritual growth.

In Psalm 19:12, David prayed,

Who can discern his errors? Forgive my hidden faults.

Christ indwells us as the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit convicts us. Because of conviction, if we're willing to be obedient to the Lord, we don't have to fear that sin -- even our "hidden faults" -- will overtake us. In the past, I often worried that my faith would crumble if I didn't keep a close eye on my "good/bad list" every minute (This morphed into major legalism after awhile). I was cowering in fear, rather than pursuing the Lord and relying on him to speak to me through his power and Word as I pursued.

I am thankful for conviction, though it hurts. I'm not going to "eat the fat and drink sweet wine" right now, but I am going to rejoice over it!

Approved Of?

It's been a little while, folks, and for that, I apologize. The first two weeks  of school have been wonderful. My schedule is relatively easy -- for one thing, I have no classes on Friday, and I am actually at the Eden Clinic right now -- and all my classes (two about writing and two about ancient Greece) are enjoyable and intriguing.

I have a weight on my mind right now. As you may know, I struggle with believing that I must do things to be approved by God. For years, I've been a performer and perfectionist, accomplishing as much as possible in hopes of becoming a better Christian, a better daughter, a better friend.

As I read Titus this week, I noticed how many times believers are instructed to do "good works." The author makes it very clear that we are to do these things as a response to the gospel, not as a means to salvation or approval. It is a still a command, though. Do good works.

Chris and I were talking about ministry and marriage yesterday, and how we desire to become more missional in our everyday lives, seeking to engage and share the gospel with nonbelievers. I became quite discouraged. In my mind, a voice began to whisper about what a horrible person I am for not sharing the gospel enough. I found myself growing angry with Chris and God, feeling as if they were demanding something of me that I had to "achieve" in order to be acceptable.

That's where I'm stuck. Of course, I'm completely accepted by God. Yet, I must make an active effort to grow in the Christian life, and that means to grow in evangelism. The thought terrifies me. Does this mean I can't grow at all until I improve in evangelism? Why am I so resistant to the idea that I have a lot of room to improve here? Why do I try to shrink back from the eyes of God when the topic comes up? There is a rock sitting in my heart in this spot, and I don't know why. I love God. I want to share about him. Right now, though, I'm just confused.

What does God want of me?

The Biggest Mistake

Looking back, one of the biggest mistakes I made in my life was trying not to make any mistakes.

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Episode IV of the Krychocosm coming soon.

Making Friends is a Dilemma

Three weeks ago, I met a math grad student, probably in his early thirties, at the bus stop. He looked eager to chat--though I wasn't overwhelmingly social, I commented about the bus being late, and the conversation launched.

Kessau is a very cool, perpetually grinning guy from Nepal. After taking Perspectives on the World Christian Movement at Trinity Baptist Church, I am acutely aware of the variety of different "nations," if you will, all over the community, so meeting Kessau was encouraging. Plus, I want to get to know more families in our apartment complex.

Kessau called me awhile back, just to talk, because "he was bored" sitting in his office on campus. I invited him to a party--for Perspectives, no less!--so he could meet more people. He still calls me at least once a week, which I find amusing, because such calls are not generally appropriate between two acquaintances of the opposite sex, both married. Of course, the intention is entirely platonic--he said he'd like to have both Chris and I over "for tea and to talk" some time.

He called again today and wanted to hang out. I've been immersed in the hustle and bustle of wedding prep for my friend Aneissa, so I politely declined. He understood, and mentioned that maybe we could go out for a drink one day (the Library being his bar of choice). Again, cultural no-no.

The situation isn't disturbing to me by any means--I simply don't know how to react! Here's my thing. I want to cultivate relationships with people I can share the gospel with. Therefore, I don't want to keep turning down Kessau's invitations, especially since the Krycho schedule's not going to get much more open (mine will be, I think, but not my hubby's). Meanwhile, Chris and I spend time with Christians, for the most part. This may sound awful, but given a choice, how do I know whether I should help a Christian or a non-Christian to do maximum kingdom work? Ack! Horrible question! I wish it never passed through my mind!

I'm afraid of becoming lazy and squandering opportunities to serve God, even though I'm not even given to laziness. I'm afraid that the Holy Spirit won't step in and convict me if I grow to be a sluggard, and I'll just keep riding the downward spiral of sin.

The downward spiral of sin. Sounds like a ride at Six Flags.

Anyway, all that to say, I don't want to turn down invitations I'm "supposed to take." Actually I feel like I'm "not supposed to" ever turn down such invitations, no matter how little time I have or how strange the invitation is (read: going out by myself for a drink with a man not my husband), lest I be a "bad Christian." I know, it's awful theology, huh?

I'm sitting here feeling guilty for saying no, while realizing that I'm making a person into a project again. This is my cue, dear reader, to do something else for awhile--namely, pray, eat and read book six of Wheel of Time.

Down with you, thou green-eyed fiend!

Oh, dear reader. Why is it so easy to compare oneself to other people in so many ways--spiritually, in particular?

I have seen a dark little plant growing in my heart over the past few years: an on-and-off stubbornness against rejoicing in God's work in others. Many stories I hear and things I see cause me to share praise, awe and joy with the people involved. However...

...when the plant sends out its nasty scent, my mind turns to my own inability to "do/be anything good," and it causes discouragement, despondence and spiritual jealousy. Turning my eyes toward myself is a dangerous game.

I will not pretend that my desire to do good justifies such an attitude. Jesus instructs the crowd in Matthew 6:1 to "beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them."

Also, a verse very meaningful to me in Galatians 3:2-3, as Paul speaks to the churches of, where else?, Galatia: "Let me ask you only this: Did you receive the Spirit by works of the law or by hearing with faith? Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?"

My jealousy indicates two things.

1. I don't acknowledge that God loves me because he created me, not because I'm useful. He wants me to live for him, not live like him for others.

2. I see spiritual growth as a reward for having done something "right." I feel that if I'm not growing, or not "experiencing" God with strong emotions, I am doing something wrong (I'm sure I've blogged about this before). Those who are "more spiritual" than me must be God's favorites, right? :p

I really want this to end. How fruitless it is to strive before others to be everything to everyone. It's an impossible--and very tiring--feat! All the while, my King promises that if I seek him first, he will add things unto me, and not temporary earthly things. They will be much better than the things I thought I wanted as my will aligns with God's.

Heal my heart and make it clean, open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me!
Break my heart for what breaks yours
Everything I am for your kingdom's cause.
As I walk from earth into eternity

[Hosanna!]

The Letter Kills*

*2 Corinthians 3:6

Those who know me well know that I'm a generally punky person, and that feelings of resignation occasionally catalyze me into a sarcastic person. Over the past few days, I might describe my mood as sarcastic.

This attitude accompanies a personal legalism overhaul, which began two weekends ago, when Chris and I were visiting Colorado Springs for a friend's lovely autumn wedding.

The wheels in my head were turning as I watched wedding guests flock to the open bar and move wildly about on the dance floor. It was quite innocent, all things considered, but the sight of drinking and dancing in general prompted me to thoughts about being "worldly-wise" versus being "green." As I considered my self, I felt utterly naive and a little bit stupid. I felt like the odd one out, suddenly unable to relate to people. I felt as if I had missed out on understanding most of humanity because of my sheltered lifestyle of conservative values.

Chris saw my eyes--crowded with these things--scanning the crowd. He asked me what was up. I told him I felt as if I'd spent years trying to be "good," all for nothing. Why didn't I just give up and go crazy, tasting life as I never had before?

As we talked through it, he assured me that many Christians experience a season in which they question why they make such an effort to live righteously. I was reminded of men in the Bible who cried to God that their good works seemed to no avail; the wicked, rather than the good, were rewarded with the best lives.

In addition, I began to understand that my response was a revolt not against the Christ-likeness I so strongly believe in, but against good as its own end, which is legalism. I was and am sick of legalism, which is an excellent place to be.

Ay, there's the rub. The trick is balancing my healthy disgust with godly thought: Putting away mental self-flagellation, hopelessness and the cynicism that brings resignation and sarcasm with it.

The letter may kill, but the Spirit brings life!