Something More Than “Personal”

My tendency is to think that the struggles I face with sin in my life are something “just between me and Jesus.” Clearly there must be some sense in which this is true. I am the one responsible for my sinning; Jesus is the one to whom I must turn in order to experience the forgiveness that he has procured for me through his life, death, and resurrection (1 John 1:9). But am I right in thinking that my sin is solely something with which I should wrestle on my own, in isolation, as something of a “lone ranger” saint? Could it be that addressing sin, even in my own life, should be something more than “personal”?

In the past few posts, I have been thinking out loud about the ongoing nature of the struggle that followers of Jesus face in dealing with their sin. I have been trying to think well–think biblically–about the reasons that might account for the persistence of sinning without reducing it all to “if it’s meant to be [that is, if I am going to be personally holy], than it’s up to me!” That thinking tends toward making sanctification [the big theological term for practical experiential holiness in life] the results of “works” rather than a “grace through faith” proposition–and that is something that seems to be to be quite at odds with the Gospel.

I have suggested, in one of those earlier posts, that perhaps one of the reasons that sin persists in the life of a followers of Jesus is that he or she is approaching the sin problem as it if were to be addressed individually, without any “connectedness” to the body of Christ, the community of faith. Embarrassed as we are by sin (or, perhaps, embarrassed as we ought to be would be better), we are reluctant to be candid and open with others about our struggles. But, as we thought about this in that earlier post, the possibility was raised that without the Spirit-gifted input of others in the body, we might not find the deliverance we desperately long for.

This idea was anchored, to some degree, in Paul’s words to the followers of Jesus in Galatia:

Brethren, even if anyone is caught in any trespass, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; each one looking to yourself, so that you too will not be tempted. Bear one another’s burdens, and thereby fulfill the law of Christ. (Galatians 6:1-2)

Followers of Jesus can be “caught” in sin and the restoration needed comes through the gentle ministry of other followers of Jesus. This is one way we bear one another’s burdens.

Continuing to think along these lines, I realized that there are a number of places in Scripture where I am invited to think about the need to address issues of sin in something other than a “me and Jesus” approach. For example, in the letter to the Hebrews we read:

But encourage one another day after day, as long as it is still called “Today,” so that none of you will be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin. (Hebrews 3:13)

That is a startling call . . . if I am reading it correctly. The implication is that we can resist the hardening effects that often come through deceptive sin through our speaking into one another’s lives. In other words, I can find freedom from sin’s deception through the encouragement of others. And the flip-side of that leads me to think that I might, in fact, be stuck in the deceptiveness of sin if I do not invite or welcome the encouragement that might come to me through others.

To the degree that this is true, I need to begin thinking a bit differently about how I deal with sin in my own life. Perhaps victory over particular sins will not come simply through my personal pursuit of holiness, as I look to Jesus. Seeing as Jesus has placed me in a community of faith, seeing as the Spirit gifts others in this community of faith for the purpose of ministering in his wisdom and power into the lives of others, and seeing as I have blind spots and weaknesses that could well be addressed by the strengths and insights of others, it just might be that the growth out of my sin and into greater experiential holiness will happen only as I give myself to life lived in genuine open relationship with others.

As I begin to see this, I wonder if this is the kind of thinking that is behind the words of James:

Therefore, confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed. The effective prayer of a righteous man can accomplish much. Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the earth for three years and six months. Then he prayed again, and the sky poured rain and the earth produced its fruit. My brethren, if any among you strays from the truth and one turns him back, let him know that he who turns a sinner from the error of his way will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins. (JAmes 5:16-20)

Will my healing–perhaps physical, perhaps healing of soul–come through the effective prayers of others, others to whom I have willingly confessed my sin and my need for a fresh experience of grace? Will my turning in freedom from sin–my rescue from that which has crippled me–come through the prayerful extension of grace through others who long to aid me in that turn, others to whom I have willingly confessed my sin and my need for a fresh experience of grace?

OK . . . Wait . . . What?!?

Habakkuk, the Old Testament prophet, has a concern (as voiced in chapter one of the book bearing his name); he wants to know what God is going to do about the evil he sees in Israel. God’s reply is that he is going to bring in the Chaldeans to afflict the Israelites so as to discipline them and correct them. I can imagine Habakkuk’s internal reaction to hearing that news . . .

“OK, Lord, you are going to do something. I see that. And you are going to use the Chaldeans. But . . . wait . . . let me think. The Chaldeans are even more wicked than those, Lord, you are going to correct! What is going on here? This doesn’t sound so good after all!”

What God is going to do in the life of the nation of Israel is use the sinfulness of the Chaldeans to call Israel’s attention to its own neglected sinfulness. God will use the sin of the Chaldeans in a sinless way to call Israel to repent of her sin. Pretty amazing . . . and a picture of one of the ways we might want to think about why God permits or allows sin to continue in our lives.

In an earlier post, I begin thinking out loud about why God permits sin to continue in the life of a follower of Jesus. The Lord is at work to complete what he has begun (Philippians 1:6); he will not fail in bringing us into a full and complete conformity to the character of Jesus (Romans 8:29). And God’s work in us is not merely to get our behavior to conform, he is moving to change both our will and our living and bring both in line with his own good intentions (Philippians 2:12-13).

In this sense, in a profound way, we must recognize that our growth in maturity is not simply a matter of our own good intentions and attempts at living holy, but our growth in holiness is as much a work of grace as is our initial salvation. We press on to maturity, so far as God permits or allows (Hebrews 6:1-3).

So, why does God allow this or that particular sin, in my life, that I long to be free from to continue un-conquered? Why not bring me the freedom I believe I am pursuing? The picture of what was happening in Habakkuk’s day might provide one way to think of this (but not the only way . . . more to come in future posts).

God permitted the sin of the Chaldeans to bring the focus onto the overlooked sin of the Israelites. He did that on a national level. Could he not do that on a more personal level?

The idea? That God allows or permits “sin A” in my life even though I would like to get past it because by allowing it to continue God can use it to call my attention to my overall need for him to deal with other sin in my life . . . perhaps a “sin B” that I don’t really see or want to look at. Victory over “sin A” will only be allowed when I have come to fully own the whole problem of my sin, which includes “sin B” which I tolerate or over which I don’t feel the same distress.

Now in no way does this lead us to think that we could or should be complacent about sin. Any sin, all sin, disrupts our fellowship with God and leaves us in a state wherein we cannot experience the richness and joy of life in Jesus.

But are we willing to admit the possibility that our struggle with some particular “sin A” is perhaps not the most serious obstacle to our holiness and that God withholds the grace that would bring us victory there in order to drive us to himself in greater desperation so that he might address all our sin, even that which we either don’t see or don’t want to address?

Not Playing It Safe

It’s fascinating to see how God calls our attention to what is important through what is happening in our lives and through the conversations that we have. Don’t get me wrong–I think that God speaks pre-eminently through his Word, the Scriptures, and he desires to communicate personally with everyone who has come to experience life in Jesus. But sometimes, when I am not giving much attention to the Scriptures and when I am a little neglectful of my conversational life with him, God gets my attention through other means.

I was talking with a friend and he was sharing about how, many years ago, he visited a race track with a few other couples. They thought it would be fun, placing small bets, learning the race-track lingo, experience the thrill of the race. When it came to the final race, these four couples decided to pool their monies together and bet on the final race. But what they ended up doing was “playing it safe.” They bet on a variety of horses and on a whole range of race results.

And the result? They didn’t lose much at all. But then they didn’t make any either. Playing it safe was . . . well, safe . . . and hardly life-changing or memorable or thrilling or . . . worth doing again.

And as my friend and I were talking about this, it really came home to me how safe I tend to play things when it comes to life with Jesus.

I’m not one for risks. I am reluctant to step out into some grand adventure. I want to know what the outcome is going to be before I begin . . . and I want some assurance that the outcome will be acceptable to me before I begin. But as I thought more about that very kind of thinking, I realized how far it was from the kind of life Jesus welcomes us into.

Jesus says things like (and here I am paraphrasing):

If something gets in the way of your experience of life with me–even down to your own hand or leg–cut it off so that you don’t lose life! (Matthew 18:8)

If you try to keep and preserve your life you’ll lose real life, but if you will give up your life for me you will find real life! (Mark 8:35)

And to a rich man, Jesus announces:

Sell everything you have, indiscriminately give it away to the poor, and then you will be free to follow me wherever I go and experience life! (Mark 10:21)

All these thoughts and more have been running through my mind and heart and I realize how very “not safe” this kind of life is.

Jesus is not promising that life will turn out the way I want. He is just promising me real life. Jesus is not saying that life will return a profit to me the way I think it should. He is just inviting me to experience real life with him. He is not arguing that following him will be the “safe” thing to do. He is just explaining that the only way to really find life with him is to abandon all other options and risk everything on him, risk everything with him, risk everything for him.

And I think that life lived that way would be memorable and worth living . . . even if it wasn’t entirely “safe.”

What Did He Want?

Although I do pray, I must confess that I don’t often think much or think well about my praying. That is, I pray in a kind of “this is how I have always prayed” kind of way, without much reflection on how or why I pray the way I do.

It’s much like what happens with couples, as they settle into patterns of communication. When I counsel couples in conflict, I can often help them uncover ineffective and unproductive ways of relating. And, typically, they don’t really know why they interact the way the do . . . it’s just how they do things.

So, thinking about my praying is good. I could uncover something about how I pray that isn’t the most helpful or productive. And, I might actually end up talking better with the God who invites us into intimacy.

In an earlier post (“Praying the Intended Outcome”), I was reflecting on Paul’s prayer that is found in the first chapter of Colossians. Specifically, I was challenged by the thought that Paul was partnering with God through praying for the kinds of things that God wanted to do. No generic praying for Paul; he was specific and focused in his praying, but praying for what he understood God was intending to do.

And, as I continue to reflect on that short passage, there are a few other thoughts that have been stirring in my mind and heart about prayer.

Paul wrote:

Since the day we heard [of your faith in Christ and love for all the saints], we have not ceased to pray for you and to ask that you may be filled with the knowledge of [God’s] will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so that you will walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, to please him in all respects, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God. (Colossians 1:9-10)

Now when I think about “the will of God,” I am usually caught up with some sort of specific detail regarding what I think God might want me to do in the immediate future. Like, “Is it the will of God that I trade in my older car for a newer model?” or “I wonder if God wants me to apply for that other job or not?” It is not that such issues are not worth considering–or praying about–but as I listen to Paul I don’t think that is what he had in mind when he was praying that the followers of Jesus would “be filled with the knowledge of God’s will.”

Three times in the first chapter of Colossians, Paul makes reference to the Colossians “knowing” something. In 1:6, Paul refers to their having “understood” (same root word as “knowledge”) “the grace of God in truth.” In 1:10, toward the end of Paul’s prayer, he speaks of his desire for them to continue grow “in the knowledge of God.” Given those references–and the general tenor of what Paul is asking for from God for the Colossians–it seems to me that “to be filled with the knowledge of God’s will” is more about coming to truly grasp what God is “up to” in the world, what his overall amazing intent is, rather than merely getting some of the details about what is supposed to happen to me in the next few days.

Paul was more intent on praying that the Colossians grasp, with mind and heart, what the Gospel was, what God was doing in transforming lives, how God was invading lives to change them through the power of the Spirit and through the message of the cross of Christ, then he was thinking about whether this Colossian saint should sell his leather working business or whether those two young people should wed.

Again, it is not that the details of our lives are unimportant or that we should not bring such matters before God in prayer. But without overlooking those, it seems that what needs to become more and more the center point in my thinking is the huge thing God is doing in the world. I need to get that, and then it will be easier to make sense of the day-to-day things.

Paul wants these followers of Jesus to really grow to understand the living God and what the Lord of life is doing and why . . . and that is what he asks God to do in them.

That’s a perspective, a vantage point for life, that I desperately long to have.

This, Not That

Do you sometimes get a song stuck in your head? Maybe it’s a scene from a movie or a line from a book that continues to run through your thoughts. You want to be done with it, but it is sometimes challenging. That tune hangs on, that image stays, those words remain. What do you?

I have found that the “antidote” for such things is to find something to supplant what you don’t want. In other words, it’s not usually enough to decide “I’m just not going to think about that!” That doesn’t always do it for me. I have to decide, positively, “But, instead, I am going to think about that other thing!” A kind of mental “replacement therapy” tends to drive out the unwanted tune or image or words, replacing those things with tunes or images or words I do want.

I think that there is something similar going on in Paul’s instructions to the Philippians. He has been exploring, in his letter to them, about how to live in the expressive and exuberant joy to be found and experienced in relationship with Jesus. Paul tastes this joy, lives in this joy. And he has been writing to these friends of his to invite them and encourage them to live in this joy as well.

As he draws his letter to a close, he turns his attention to some very practical suggestions about how to live there. And he writes:

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6-7)

That’s quite a “tall order”: “Stop being anxious or worried about anything!” Paul seems to think that we could live anxiety free. He is calling for nothing short of worry-free living. And when I hear those opening words of these verses, I tend to think: “Yeah, that’s like saying, ‘Stop humming that tune that’s been stuck in your head!’ ” Easy to say, hard to do.

I am–and many of us seem to be–stuck on worry. We are almost addicted to our anxious thinking, convinced that our “concern” about the future, about what will happen tomorrow, about how we will make life work, about how we will meet our needs, is somehow a necessary part of living the Christian life. But Paul is clear: Stop that!

But what are we supposed to do in place of the worry? With what do we replace the anxiety?

Paul says: Pray. He uses a variety of words to unpack that idea of prayer, but today I just want to observe that Paul offers a “spiritual replacement therapy” for all those of us who worry or feel anxious.

Instead of fretting about the future or worrying about our woes, Paul says set your mind and heart on God and talk to Him about it all. Prayer is that–conversation with the Almighty.

I hear that . . . but I don’t often do that. Yes, I do “pray”–but my prayer is less talking with God and much more griping to God. And that is a poor substitute for real prayer.

Paul is inviting us to think differently about our worries. Rather than embrace them, we are supposed to talk with Someone else about them. Rather than let our worries run free through our minds and hearts, we are invited to herd them all together and bring them into our conversation with God. In a future post, we’ll think a bit more about what this praying is really like, but today I am captured by this simple idea:

Rather than just worry, talk to God. Rather than simply fret, converse with God. Rather than merely be anxious, speak with God.