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So, what do you want from Christianity?

Here’s an interesting question: What do you want from Christianity?

A long time ago I heard someone describing becoming a Christian as an act of “enlightened self-interest,” where we are motivated by what we hope to get out of it rather than a commitment to serve God and others. Looking at the Gospels, it seems that Jesus never turned people away for wanting something from him; in fact, it was those who didn’t want anything from him that he turned away. Even Peter’s great statement of faith, “where else would we go? Only you have the words of life” (John 6:68), speaks of Peter’s need for these words of life. So, this enlightened self-interest does not appear to be a bad thing.

Considering this, plus the fact that Christianity has, at least for many people in the west, become a consumerist endeavor—one in which we pick churches and even religions on what we perceive we need—then the obvious question becomes, “what do you want from Christianity?”

In answering this question, we could go a number of different ways. However, reflecting on Paul’s letter to the Galatians, there are two primary responses: a life under the law, with a list of requirements to fulfill, or a life of freedom. Many people, for a number of different psychological and bad theological reasons, choose a life under the law. A relative few, it seems, choose a life of freedom.

Two Gates

In Matthew 7:13-14, Jesus says

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”

Almost never do you hear this verse taught in the larger context of what Jesus is saying in Matthew chapter 7. He starts off by saying, “Don’t judge others.” Then, he speaks of the Father giving his children good gifts, merely for the asking, and teaches them what we know as the Golden Rule: treat others like you’d like to be treated back “for this sums up the law.” Immediately following verses 13 & 14, Jesus talks about false prophets, and how to recognize them by their fruit.

It seems here that Jesus is trying to teach his disciples a different way from that of the law; we don’t get by working, we get by asking. Good trees naturally produce good fruit. Take the narrow road, not the widely traveled one.

Works, or grace?

I’ve always heard the explanation of the two paths as “choose holiness, not sin,” and yes, there’s something to be said for that, even though this does not seem to be Jesus’ emphasis here. Paul says we were set free not to sin, but to live in freedom, which is not to sin.

But, which gate leads to a life of works-righteousness, and which is the gateway to freedom and grace? Is it possible that we’ve confused our gates?

If Paul’s thinking accurately represents the Gospel as Jesus intended it (which I believe it does), then what leads to destruction is relying on ourselves, and what leads to live is receiving grace as a gift—which seems to follow Jesus’ line of thinking in the prior verses.

The Question

So, the question remains: What really do you want from Christianity, a life of self-reliance and works-righteousness, or a life of freedom that comes from grace?

Written on 08 February 2011 by me under Good News with 2 Comments
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What it means to be blessed

I grew up in a church who read from the Gospels each week (along with a passage from the Epistles, and the Old Testament). Sermons were sometimes based on the Epistles, but I seem to recall more coming from the Gospels. For one thing, the Gospels were stories, and even children could understand most of them. Secondly, I suspect that a lot of the impact came from the fact that the Gospels contained the words of Jesus, not simply words about Jesus.

I don’t recall any sermons having the message that as Christians, our lives would be a bed of roses. It’s actually hard to come up with this kind of belief if you actually read the Gospels. Jesus actually promises us quite a bit of trouble, when you come right down to it. And, as he lived as one of us for 30-plus years, and ended up being tortured and killed, I think he understood what he was talking about.

One of Jesus’ most famous sermons is the Sermon on the Mount, recorded in Matthew chapter 5. In a section known as the beatitudes, or the “blesseds,” Jesus says,

3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
4 Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
5 Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
7 Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
8 Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
9 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

While some of the traits Jesus mentions are positive, such as being pure in heart, merciful and being a peacemaker, I don’t believe Jesus is saying that all of these are things to shoot for. Rather, he seems to be pointing out people who were personally suffering, or who were sacrificing their own good for the good of others. He did not meant that it is good to mourn or to be persecuted—in fact, the Lord’s Prayer teaches us to pray to be delivered from evil, which these things certainly are. While the beatitudes are promises of hope and the coming Kingdom, Jesus knew that even though the Kingdom of God was at hand (Matt. 3:2), for the present time there will be suffering.

The Kingdom of God—the rule of God—has been described as “already but not yet.” It is “at hand” or “within reach,” but yet Jesus asks us to pray that the Kingdom of God would come to “Earth as it is in Heaven.” Of course, when I was a child, this was beyond me, but yet I understood that God was in control in spite of suffering—and that at some future point, everything would be set right. Those who mourn would be comforted, and the poor in spirit would inherit Heaven. In other words, the future would more than compensate for the present.

As a parent, I understand this now, as I watched my children fall when learning to ride a bike and take medicine that was hard to swallow. It is a matter of perspective. We need to learn to see beyond the present into the future, trusting that from God’s point of view, it all works out to our good.

At times there is healing and prosperity, and at times there is suffering and mourning. God sent the Comforter because we would need comforting, and he sent Jesus to bring hope and salvation in the midst of it all. Those of us who know God understand this hope.

That’s what it really means to be blessed.

1.       When is the last time you heard a sermon from the Gospels?
2.       How have you experienced the comfort of the Holy Spirit?

Written on 04 February 2011 by me under This I know with No Comments
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Take off the blinders

A New Law

Don’t teach me about politics and Government
Just tell me who to vote for
Don’t teach me about truth and beauty
Just label my music

Don’t teach me how to live like a free man
Just give me a new law

I don’t wanna know if the answers aren’t easy
So just bring it down from the mountain to me

I want a new law
I want a new law
Gimme that new law

Don’t teach me about moderation and liberty
I prefer a shot of grape juice

Don’t teach me about loving my enemies

Don’t teach me how to listen to the Spirit
Just give me a new law

I don’t wanna know if the answers aren’t easy
So just bring it down from the mountain to me

I want a new law
I want a new law
Gimme that new law

What’s the use in trading a law you can never keep
For one you can that cannot get you anything

Do not be afraid
Do not be afraid
Do not be afraid

© Derek Webb Music

Written on 03 December 2010 by me under The Gospel Uncensored with No Comments
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Ironic repentance vs. the real deal

There are people in every church I’ve been in who need to be set free.

This is not to say that some of these churches didn’t preach grace. But sometimes, it just takes a while for grace to seep in to where change needs to happen. Grace on the surface is one thing; grace in our innermost being is life-changing.

Much of Christianity teaches that we “miss the mark.” This is true, of course. However, much of Christianity forgets to teach that Jesus has hit the mark for us.  So, rather than hearing that we have succeeded in Christ, we only hear that we have failed and that we need to do more, and try harder. Once this concept is fully rooted in someone’s thinking, it may stay with them for years, in spite of their gaining an intellectual understanding of grace.

I suspect that some people first join these graceless, “miss-the-mark” churches because they already know that they don’t hit the mark, so they fit right in. They are given some guidelines that may help them hit the mark, sometimes, and they are promised that someday they will either make the mark in Heaven, or perhaps that the mark will simply be removed. And, being beat up every week for continually missing the mark helps assuage their guilt.

That’s the only reason I can think of to explain why people actually convert to a works-oriented form of Christianity. This parody of Christianity functions something like a 12-step group: The first step is admitting you are a sinner, and realizing that you will always be a sinner. The best you can hope for is God helping you to sin just a little bit less, or perhaps it’s enough just to know you’re surrounded by people who feel as lousy as you do.

This kind of graceless thinking gets into your core, because in your core you’re already feeling like crap. It simply confirms that what you have believed about yourself is really true. Here’s the irony about converting to a legalistic version of Christianity: In some ways, because you aren’t changing how you feel about things in your core, you don’t really have to repent all that much.

To accept salvation by grace takes real repentance. What you need to repent from is the thinking that your performance actually matters, in a spiritual sense. Yes, you’re a sinner, and if you ever think you can keep God’s law, it will condemn you. Now, get over it.

What you need to repent (turn) to is the truth that Jesus performed on our behalf; he kept the law, and more than that, he conquered death (the consequences of sinning). Think of the law as a video game (only with life or death consequences): Jesus has beaten all of the levels. In essence, the game is over. And not only that, the consequences for losing the game has been removed. You are now free to play the game (just make sure you log on under Jesus’ name).

The truth about repentance

Repentance (in a soteriological sense) has never been about changing your behavior; no behavior-mod program can save you. Repentance is about changing your core beliefs. For most of us, repentance is like peeling an onion; it happens layer by layer. With the discovery of each new layer of self-reliance, more repentance needs to take place. The good news is that it’s all by grace, the great onion-peeler.

So be free—because that’s why we’ve been set free.

Written on 15 November 2010 by me under The Gospel Uncensored with 3 Comments
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Splurging Grace

My grandfather’s favorite hymn was Children Of The Heavenly Father, a Swedish hymn by Karolina W. San­dell-Berg. The 1st and 3rd verses (translated into English by Ernst W. Ol­son in 1925) are:

Children of the Heavenly Father
Safely in His bosom gather
Nestling bird nor star in heaven
Such a refuge e’er was given

Neither life nor death shall ever
From the Lord His children sever
Unto them His grace He showeth
And their sorrows all He knoweth

While the English is forced at best, it’s one of my favorite hymns, too — though I doubt I’ve sung it since I was a child, perhaps at my grandfather’s funeral. Through six short verses, it emphasizes that “nothing shall separate us from the love of God.”

It perhaps goes without saying that the father in the story of the Prodigal Son represents God, who always welcomes back prodigals with joy. As a small child, it was always reassuring to hear that no matter how “prodigal” you may be, the Heavenly Father always loves us, and there’s always plenty of grace to go around. As an adult, it seems we still need to hear that. There are way too many elder brothers hanging around to tell us we aren’t deserving, and that there’s no place for us here. We are, in fact, surrounded by voices calling us to “more” — more holiness, more commitment, more striving — with the goal of spiritual “maturity.”

Very few voices echo the father’s invitation to his two sons to more grace: “Here’s some more money, here’s a fatted calf, let’s party!” Neither son deserved a party. Neither son really knew their father or understood his values. The point was, it was enough that the father loved his sons. That was the only motivation for the father’s extravagance.

The plain truth of the matter is that we really don’t deserve God’s grace. To think we have to somehow qualify for grace is to miss the point entirely. Martin Luther, in a letter to his friend Phillip Melanchthon, tried to explain this. Phillip was trying to find the limits of grace, trying to sift through the critical voices challenging him about what was permissible and what was sin. Luther wrote: “God does not save people who are only imaginary sinners. Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly.” In other words, live boldly, do not be afraid to make mistakes and fail. We will fail, at times. But know this: the Father’s grace is more than sufficient.

There is no such thing as the proverbial “fall from grace.” If grace is undeserved, as one definition puts it, then how can we possibly do anything more to “undeserve” it to the extent it is taken away? Likewise, we are not “restored to grace,” we are restored by grace. Grace is, from one perspective, God’s love in action. And — here’s a little math lesson — as God’s love and grace are infinite, so there is never any love or grace wasted. All of the money that the prodigal wasted did not diminish the father’s bank account whatsoever; an infinite amount minus anything is still an infinite amount.

This is what the elder son failed to grasp. He had become stingy with this father’s money — with God’s grace — because he failed to see that grace is never wasted, and the supply can never be diminished. Grace is not a finite resource. When you see God pouring his grace out on someone else, it doesn’t diminish what is available for you. Rather, it just illustrates how much grace is actually available for you!

This is how the father can give the prodigal a huge chunk of money, then give him access to the whole lot of it, and still say to the elder son, “All that I have was always yours. You could have thrown a party whenever you wanted, but you were too stingy. Come, now learn to celebrate.”

Jesus never tells us what the elder son decided, or what happened to him down the road. From the father’s comments to the elder son, we can learn one important lesson: We can’t take advantage or enjoy God’s grace unless we are willing to splurge a little. We need to learn the joy of extravagant grace, whether it’s spent on us, or on someone else.

Questions:

  1. How does God’s extravagance make you feel?
  2. How do you think someone can overcome the belief that grace is a finite resource?

Written on 17 September 2010 by me under This I know with 3 Comments
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The Elder Son Syndrome

One thing I don’t remember hearing in church as a child was a sermon on the Elder Son, who appears to be something of a peripheral character in the Prodigal Son story. In fact, I was probably in my 30’s when I heard my first “elder son” sermon. This is odd when you think of it, especially considering that the elder son is a very distinct reference to those in the crown to whom Jesus was directing this series of stories.

Let’s back up to the beginning of Luke chapter 15:

The tax collectors and sinners all came to listen to Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law began to complain: “Look, this man welcomes sinners and even eats with them (Luke 15:1,2 NCV).”

It was at this point that Jesus launched into this trio of stories, The Lost Sheep, The Lost Coin, and what we know as The Prodigal Son. I think Jesus had three goals in mind, especially with the 3rd story: One, he was emphasizing to those who may have become disenfranchised by the attitude of the Pharisees and teachers how much they were valued by Jesus. He was also explaining something about the mindset of God and God’s economy. Three, he wanted to reveal to the Pharisees and teachers something about themselves.

It’s easy for most of us to identify with the foolish son. It’s also very easy for us to judge those we have identified with the Elder Son Syndrome — those who would judge us for being somewhat less than perfect and for occasionally requiring a little “extra” grace.

Over the years, I’ve found how easy it is to shift from younger son to elder son.

It happens in the blink of an eye. One minute we are humbled by the grace of God, the next we are judging the person next to us for lighting up a cigarette or displaying multiple piercings and tattoos, never mind the fact that we are engaged in and enjoying our own freedoms (for which we are being judged by the gossiping fundamentalist over in the corner).  It’s all relative, isn’t it?  We know the grace we have received, and so can rest in our own brand of personal freedoms (“according to our faith”). However, we aren’t quite so sure about anyone else, and besides, we don’t do those particular things.

The thing with the elder brother was that he had made up his own set of rules in which to operate. In his virtual reality, he worked hard, protected his father’s assets (was stingy), and assumed one didn’t kill the fatted calf on a whim. Celebrations of that nature were extravagant; the money could have gone to the temple, or to feed the poor. And, you at least waited until your father was dead to squander your inheritance.

The elder son didn’t understand his father’s economy at all. He must have thought his father weak-minded or deceived to have already given away 1/3 of his assets, especially to someone he knew to be wasteful and wanton. But to welcome the lazy bum back, and then give him the family checkbook? Was his father crazy?

I think most of us can relate to the Elder Son, and we might respond the same way given these circumstances — as least I think I would. Not only did my stupid, foolish brother get a chunk of cash, but I was left doing all of the chores (not that he actually did them, anyway). For years I’ve consoled myself with the thought that everything I was working for was mine; but now, he’s cut back in for another share, and has access to the family bank accounts!

Those of us who work hard at being good Christians — who faithfully attend church, serve in various ways, live responsible lives, and struggle daily with making ends meet — can have a very hard time with those Christians who sometimes don’t act like they understand the price of grace at all. You all know who I mean; you probably have someone in mind right now. These folks come and go as they please, spend their Sundays with their jet skis, take marvelous vacations, and seemingly live the high life, and still have the nerve to call themselves Christians. They live their lives in debt, both spiritually and physically, but there always seems to be more and more grace for them. What’s up with that? As Jeremiah complained, “Why do the wicked prosper” (Jer. 12:1)?

Even I, who has experienced so much grace throughout my life, can very easily slip into the Elder Son Syndrome and start to judge those around me. The first time I was made aware of my inner Elder Son, it literally stopped me in my tracks. I was shocked to discover that I was so quick to apply grace to myself, but so hesitant to apply it to others. I realized that I didn’t understand grace quite so much as I had imagined.

One of the benefits of growing up Lutheran is that in the liturgy every Sunday, we were all reminded of the grace we have received, and why we needed it in the first place. Regardless of how rich or poor we were, the liturgy was the great equalizer. Within the first few minutes of church each Sunday, we would say this:

Almighty God, our Maker and Redeemer, we poor sinners confess unto thee, that we are by nature sinful and unclean, and that we have sinned against thee by thought, word and deed. Wherefore we flee for refuge to thine infinite mercy, seeking and imploring thy grace, for the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ.

O most merciful God, who has given thine only-begotten Son to die for us, have mercy upon us and for his sake grant us remission of all our sins: and by thy Holy Spirit increase in us true knowledge of thee and of thy will, and true obedience to they Word, that by thy grace we may come to everlasting life, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Almighty God, our heavenly Father, hath had mercy upon us, and hath given his only Son to die for us, and for his sake forgiveth us all our sins. To them that believe on his Name, he giveth power to become the sons of God, and bestoweth upon them his Holy Spirit. He that believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved. Grant this, O Lord, unto us all.

Amen. (1958 Service Book & Hymnal)

We have memories like sieves, and we must be reminded — often — that we are in desperate need of grace, and that there is never any grace shortage, either for us or for others. God’s grace is always sufficient, wherever we happen fall on the younger son–elder son continuum.

Questions:

  1. Which son do you tend to see yourself as the most?
  2. Do you have any “foolish brothers” that test your understanding of grace?

Written on 13 September 2010 by me under This I know with 1 Comment
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Carry On, My Extravagant Son

When we hear the word “prodigal” today, we tend to think “wayward” or “wandering.” However, the word actually means “wasteful” or “extravagant.” As a joke, people will often greet someone who returns after an absence with “the prodigal returns!” I doubt very much they mean they have been wasteful, only that they were, for a time, absent. The title given to this parable, The Prodigal Son, seems to be describing the son’s attitude with regard to his father’s (and his) wealth, not that he left for a time.

The fact that we have redefined the term “prodigal” from this parable possibly shows that the emphasis that most teaching on this parable is on the son’s being lost and subsequently found. This is certainly fitting, as the parable is the 3rd in a series of three parables on this theme of finding lost things. First there was the lost sheep—the sheep was not bad or sinful, just stupid. The shepherd leaves the 99 to find and retrieve the stupid lost sheep, and he rejoices to bring him home. Next we had a lost coin; again, not the coin’s fault. The woman cleans house to find the coin, and she, too, rejoices.

In both circumstances, there was a loss experienced to someone other than the lost items themselves. In fact, we don’t even know that the stupid sheep knew he was lost; certainly the coin didn’t care. While the third story is a bit more complex, I believe there is some continuity in all three of these stories: There is a loss suffered to the main character—the shepherd, the woman, and the father. There is action on the part of the main characters to retrieve that which was lost. The shepherd left the flock to go search, the woman cleaned house, and the father ran to his son. Then, of course, there was rejoicing.

It is important to keep in mind the context for this teaching. Jesus was telling these stories for the benefit of Pharisees who were complaining that Jesus spent his time hanging with sinners; in other words, people who were “wasteful,” or perhaps merely “lost.” They thought that any “good” Jewish teacher should spend time with those who were, in their minds, not lost. Rather than being wasteful with God’s mercy and grace, the Pharisees were anything but extravagant; if anything, they were quite stingy.

One of the points Jesus was making was that God does not “help those who help themselves.” God—the good shepherd, the woman, the good father—willingly and purposefully goes after those who are lost, and invites all who are around to be extravagant with him in rejoicing at their return.

There have been many times in my life where I have been, perhaps, a bit too extravagant when it comes to God’s grace (don’t everybody yell “Amen!” at once…). And, there have been other times when I have doubted God’s extravagance, especially concerning others who, in my opinion, don’t deserve such extravagant treatment.

It often seems that God’s mercy and grace are wasted on those who don’t deserve it. But then, that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

Questions:

  1. What has been your understanding of the meaning of the word “prodigal?”
  2. Considering the definition “extravagant” or “wasteful,” have you ever considered yourself a prodigal?

Written on 10 September 2010 by me under This I know with No Comments
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On censorship of the Gospel

It happens in ways you might not imagine.  From my post at TheGospelUncensored.com:

However, the unusual thing about the Gospel is that it is typically not censored in the Western world by removing anything. The Gospel is censored — suppressed and deleted — by adding to it.

Read the full post here.

http://thegospeluncensored.com/2010/09/what-about-the-gospel-is-censored/

Written on 07 September 2010 by me under The Gospel Uncensored with 1 Comment
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When God Ran

My former pastor and continued friend, Ken Blue, calls the parable of the Prodigal Son The Greatest Story Ever Told. I am guessing that of all of Jesus’ parables, this one — found only in the Gospel of Luke (15:11-32) — has to be the most well-known. I knew is well as a child, hearing it in Sunday School as well as in church, both as the Gospel reading for the day and as a few sermon topics.

It is a truly great story. It has everything (except for a love interested): family issues, a great deal of sin, inner conflict, sibling rivalry, a change of heart, and a happy ending. (Well, sort of — the elder son still has issues at the end of the story, and as I’ll deal with in an upcoming post, it’s up to the audience to determine how that resolves.)

As with most people (as is obvious from the popular title of the story) as a child I was focused on the younger, prodigal son. The prodigal is the obvious focus, as this is who we follow in the story; we really don’t know much about what the Father and the good son were up to while the prodigal sowed his wild oats.

The story begins like an old Vaudeville joke; imagine George Burns: “A man had two sons…” Jesus, of course, was a great storyteller, and no doubt had the crowd’s undivided attention as he began (actually, this is the third in a series of three stories about the recovery of something presumed lost).

The younger son, according to Jewish law, would get a lesser portion of the inheritance when the father died. Rather than wait around for this, and obviously not placing any value in his relationship with his father, requests his share of the inheritance now. Essentially, he says, “Our relationship is as good as dead now, so let’s quit pretending.”  The father, rather than just kicking him out into the cold, agrees to the son’s demand.

The prodigal takes off and starts to party. He breaks as many commandments as he can, until suddenly he finds himself stung out, broke, homeless and hungry. He’s got a part time job feeding pigs, perhaps the worst job a good Jewish boy could imagine.

He realizes that there’s food back at his Father’s place, and he devises a plan. At this point, he still isn’t looking for relationship, nor is he looking for forgiveness. He just wants food. He knows his father’s business, and figures that his father may hire him on and let him sleep in the barn; at least he’ll be inside.

The amazing thing about this story is that if you read it a certain way, the prodigal remains a jerk throughout the story. As a child, I’m not sure I understood this part; in fact, most people don’t seem to. Most people imagine that some kind of repentance happened, that the prodigal’s “I am no longer worthy” speech indicates humility and that he is mourning the loss of relationship. However, the son’s speech could just be a clever attempt to diffuse his father’s presumed anger so he can make his pitch: “Hey, I know I blew it, so don’t preach at me. I’m not asking to rejoin the family, just let me be one of the day-laborers.”

I was a good kid, always afraid of getting in trouble or having my parents mad at me. I was, for the most part, Charlie Brown. I couldn’t really imagine why any son would act like the prodigal; that part of the story was a mystery to me. I understood, however, that the father in the story symbolized God, and that even if I did run off and do bad things, God would always be my father. He would never stop loving me, and it didn’t matter whether I was truly repentant or not; all that mattered was that I knew where my home was.

To some people, whether the prodigal really repented or not is of great importance. God will forgive you and welcome you back, but only if you’re really, sincerely sorry. Any attempt to scam God, and you’re out on your ear. You’ve got to really know that you’re a sinner, and that God by rights should be dangling you by your feet over the fires of Hell.  If you can manage to scrape together enough sincerity, God will turn back into the loving Father-God.

In truth, it doesn’t matter. Pay close attention to the father’s response — he doesn’t even listen to the prodigal’s speech! As soon as he sees his son, before he can even hear him, the father is running down the road to embrace and welcome his son home. It didn’t matter to the father why his son was coming home, only that he was within reach.

You see, the father never disowned the prodigal; the son may have wandered off, and he may have imagined that he was an orphan, but in reality he never lost his place in the family. We remain children of God by His love and grace, not ours.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Rom. 8:38,39 NIV)

Questions:

  1. How have you viewed the son’s repentance? Have you ever considered whether the son was sincere or not?
  2. Have you ever identified with the prodigal?  If so, how did you view God’s attitude toward you?

Written on 06 September 2010 by me under This I know with 3 Comments
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Even in the Darkest Moments

For children, as you may recall, the world is a very unsettling place. Parents often take the place of God for children, which is one of the reasons I believe God invented them. Parents model God to their children. Parents, though, are all too human (I’m a parent, so I am painfully aware of this fact); sometimes they let us down. However, I understood early on that while parents and other people can and will fail us, God never fails. He is perfectly trustworthy, always, even when it seems He isn’t listening.

Of course, the reality about trusting God is that you don’t need to do it — or at least it’s quite easy — when everything is going well. When we really need to trust God, it’s typically because we’re in some kind of crisis. Either we are fearful of the future, or we are fearful of the present. We find ourselves in some situation where we know we lack control, and distrust our own ability and the abilities of those around us.

The rest of the time, we probably don’t even think about trusting in God; we can take God for granted. Even when we think we are trusting God, often we are merely trusting in something we can see, and imagine that God is standing behind the scenes, pulling strings like some invisible Geppetto. For example, I can trust God for my finances because I happen to have money in the bank. If that were not the case, I’m sure I’d look at life a bit differently.

I do hate when my ability to trust in God is really tested. The first time I can recall really having my faith challenged was the day before my fourteenth birthday. We were having a terrible rainstorm, and I was in our entryway trying to keep rain from pouring under the door, when my aunt came bursting in. Within a few moments we understood that my uncle had been in a terrible car accident at an intersection about a half-mile from my house. Had it not been storming so hard, we probably could have heard the impact and could have seen the crash site (I lived on a country gravel road). Of course, had it not been raining so hard, my uncle may have seen the other car coming.

I recall sitting in our car outside the hospital emergency room, praying harder than I had ever prayed in my life that my uncle would be okay. Eventually, my parents came out to tell me he had been dead at the scene.

At that moment, I was confused. Could we or could we not trust God? Why were my prayers completely ignored? I don’t recall how I eventually worked through the issues, but I do know that my faith in God remained, even if I never understood why God didn’t save my favorite uncle.

Trust is like grace; you aren’t aware of how much you need it until you need it. The whole concept of trusting God would be moot if we didn’t have the need to trust in God. Because we live in an imperfect “world, with devils filled” that “should threaten to undo us,” as Martin Luther wrote (A Mighty Fortress), our ability to trust will be tested. This is not to say that God “tests” our faith to see whether He’ll save us or not. Rather, I think it’s like testing a parachute — you only really know it works after you’ve jumped out of the plane.

I am not claiming any kind of unique ability to trust; in fact, I’ll claim the opposite. I admittedly am a very weak and often undisciplined person. I have never been “religious” simply because I fail at it so miserably. I require loads of grace, even to get through one day. Part of the grace that I have been given is the knowledge that God is there, and that I have to trust Him, no matter what.

I am often unable to put on that strong, “man of faith” persona that some people expect from Christians. I don’t think trust requires us to be brave or strong at all. Trust by definition requires us to be weak, to recognize that we’re completely helpless without God. There are times when I am totally freaking out. I have occasional panic attacks. I have suffered from nearly every stress-related condition you can think of. However, deep down I know without a doubt that God is there, and I have no choice but to trust Him, even — or perhaps especially — in the darkest moments.

Questions:

  1. Think back to your childhood; how did you learn to trust?
  2. When has your ability to trust been really put to the test?

Written on 28 August 2010 by me under This I know, Uncategorized with No Comments
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