The spiritual journey is an inside out journey. What is on the inside (the interior dimension) determines what is on the outside (relationships and behavior).
This truth is central in Jesus' teachings. Jesus challenged his religious culture's focus on the exterior, i.e., right behavior. He rejected their behavior-based distinctions between clean-unclean. Instead, he focused on the interior dimension of life, what he called the heart. "It is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come ... (they) come from within" Mark 7:21, 23. He taught us to be aware of and to deal with this interior realm. "Why do you see the speck in your neighbor's eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? First take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor's eye," Matthew 7:3, 5. When we are blind to what is in our hearts, we are critical and judgmental of others, Matthew 7:1. Facing and dealing with our own issues frees us to be compassionate with others. Inside out: what is in our heart governs how we view and treat others.
Following Jesus, walking the spiritual journey leads us to growing awareness of the inner realms of our life. We learn to recognize our attitudes, our emotional reactions to others and to life's events, the spirit out of which we live, our moods, our needs and desires, our longings and fantasies. This awareness positions us to deal honestly with what is in our heart. It becomes the invitation to open ourselves to the Spirit's transforming work. Self-understanding and self-awareness lie at the core of the spiritual journey. They are the path that leads to spiritual growth.
This kind of self-awareness has to be cultivated. The demands and responsibilities of family and career easily distract us. We get caught up in providing for material needs, dealing with schedules, pursuing career advancement, accumulating wealth, coping with all that life throws at us, and just surviving. Any and all of these realities invite us to cultivate self-awareness, but we are generally too busy (or exhausted) to do the self-reflection that is needed. Instead, we cope by seeking comfort, escape, control.
When we neglect the interior focus of the spiritual journey, we generally substitute a different focus in our religious life. We focus on what to believe (right and wrong) and on what to do or not do (behavior, morals). We focus on beliefs and behavior because they can be measured and evaluated. We use them to reassure ourselves that we are "right" and "good." We buy into the faulty thinking that Jesus challenged: a focus on externals. A focus on externals (right beliefs, behavior, ritual) emphasizes obedience. It produces conformity. But the focus on externals can only produce surface appearances or pretense. It cannot produce the kind of spiritual growth that leads to the transformation of the heart.
It strikes me how little the interior journey is a part of popular religious life. Yet, the spiritual journey is an inside out journey. Its focus is on what's on the inside ... in the heart. The spiritual journey is about the transformation of the heart and mind through the work of the Spirit in our lives.
May it be so for us!
Tuesday, February 18, 2020
Sunday, February 9, 2020
Seeing My Enemy as My Brother
When I look in the face of my enemy
I see my brother.
These words struck me as we sang them in worship today. They stirred my thinking.
What makes someone an enemy? And how do I see "my enemy" as my brother?
An enemy is someone we view through the lens of fear - someone we see as a threat. An enemy is someone who has hurt us and has the power to hurt us again, maybe even destroy us, OR someone we think will hurt us or destroy us. We view them as a danger to us, to our position, to our status or standing, to our way of life, to me & mine. We view them as the means by which we will experience loss.
An enemy is someone we relate to out of fear. Fear shapes how we think about them and talk about them. We are critical of them. We not only criticize what they do, we criticize who they are. We think of them as wrong, flawed, no good. We depersonalize them, taking away their humanness. We see them and what they do as evil. Thus, we are justified in withholding our compassion or care or concern or any attempt to understand them.
An enemy is someone whose power intimidates us, stirring feelings of being powerless and out of control. So we keep them at a distance. We have nothing to do with them. We build walls to protect ourselves against them.
So what makes someone an enemy? Is it who they are and what they do? Is it how they use their power against us? Or is it the fear that shapes how we view them and relate to them and exclude them?
What makes someone my enemy? It seems to me that what makes someone my enemy is the fear-based way I view them. I make them my enemy by how I think about them. OUCH!
If my thinking is correct, then I have an answer to my second question: how do I see "my enemy" as my brother? The answer is in changing the way I see "the other" - changing my perception of them. Rather than seeing them through the lens of fear, I/we view them through the lens of compassion. Compassion: to feel with.
To see "the other" with compassion is to see beyond the surface, beyond the behavior, beyond what they do or how they treat us. To see with compassion is to see what motivates their behavior: their fear, their pain, their struggle, their woundedness. It is to see them out of who you know yourself to be: an imperfect, struggling human being who wants what every person wants and needs what every person needs. It is to see them as yourself.
To say the same thing in a different way: to see "the other" with compassion is to move beyond reacting to what they say or do. It is to respond out of who we are as a beloved child of God. (A reaction is unconscious, automatic, unthinking. A response involves a conscious choice.) We live out of who we are, not in reaction to who the other is or to what the other does. As long as we react out of fear of "the other," we give the other power over us, leading us to use our power against them. To live out of who we are as God's beloved child is to use our power to manage ourselves and our fear which frees us to view and relate to "the other" differently, maybe even as a brother.
Viewing the other with compassion, managing myself and my fear, responding out of who I am as a follower of Jesus rather than reacting to what the other says or does - each of these three choices requires emotional-relational-spiritual maturity. In other words, to see "the other" as my brother is only possible through the transforming work of God in my life. I/we cannot do it in our own strength. Only the Spirit can change what is in our hearts. Only the Spirit can move us beyond the paralyzing power of fear. Only the Spirit can lead us beyond being critical to being compassionate. Only the Spirit can empower us to love as Jesus loved.
We live in a time of extreme polarization, in our nation and in The UMC. That polarization indicates we a living out of our fear, viewing the other as an enemy, reacting to what the other says or does. This time of high anxiety calls for emotional-relational-spiritual maturity. It calls for a Spirit-empowered response to the other. It calls us to see our so-called enemy as our brother.
Merciful God, may it be ... in me ... in us ... in your people! By your grace, may it be!
I see my brother.
These words struck me as we sang them in worship today. They stirred my thinking.
What makes someone an enemy? And how do I see "my enemy" as my brother?
An enemy is someone we view through the lens of fear - someone we see as a threat. An enemy is someone who has hurt us and has the power to hurt us again, maybe even destroy us, OR someone we think will hurt us or destroy us. We view them as a danger to us, to our position, to our status or standing, to our way of life, to me & mine. We view them as the means by which we will experience loss.
An enemy is someone we relate to out of fear. Fear shapes how we think about them and talk about them. We are critical of them. We not only criticize what they do, we criticize who they are. We think of them as wrong, flawed, no good. We depersonalize them, taking away their humanness. We see them and what they do as evil. Thus, we are justified in withholding our compassion or care or concern or any attempt to understand them.
An enemy is someone whose power intimidates us, stirring feelings of being powerless and out of control. So we keep them at a distance. We have nothing to do with them. We build walls to protect ourselves against them.
So what makes someone an enemy? Is it who they are and what they do? Is it how they use their power against us? Or is it the fear that shapes how we view them and relate to them and exclude them?
What makes someone my enemy? It seems to me that what makes someone my enemy is the fear-based way I view them. I make them my enemy by how I think about them. OUCH!
If my thinking is correct, then I have an answer to my second question: how do I see "my enemy" as my brother? The answer is in changing the way I see "the other" - changing my perception of them. Rather than seeing them through the lens of fear, I/we view them through the lens of compassion. Compassion: to feel with.
To see "the other" with compassion is to see beyond the surface, beyond the behavior, beyond what they do or how they treat us. To see with compassion is to see what motivates their behavior: their fear, their pain, their struggle, their woundedness. It is to see them out of who you know yourself to be: an imperfect, struggling human being who wants what every person wants and needs what every person needs. It is to see them as yourself.
To say the same thing in a different way: to see "the other" with compassion is to move beyond reacting to what they say or do. It is to respond out of who we are as a beloved child of God. (A reaction is unconscious, automatic, unthinking. A response involves a conscious choice.) We live out of who we are, not in reaction to who the other is or to what the other does. As long as we react out of fear of "the other," we give the other power over us, leading us to use our power against them. To live out of who we are as God's beloved child is to use our power to manage ourselves and our fear which frees us to view and relate to "the other" differently, maybe even as a brother.
Viewing the other with compassion, managing myself and my fear, responding out of who I am as a follower of Jesus rather than reacting to what the other says or does - each of these three choices requires emotional-relational-spiritual maturity. In other words, to see "the other" as my brother is only possible through the transforming work of God in my life. I/we cannot do it in our own strength. Only the Spirit can change what is in our hearts. Only the Spirit can move us beyond the paralyzing power of fear. Only the Spirit can lead us beyond being critical to being compassionate. Only the Spirit can empower us to love as Jesus loved.
We live in a time of extreme polarization, in our nation and in The UMC. That polarization indicates we a living out of our fear, viewing the other as an enemy, reacting to what the other says or does. This time of high anxiety calls for emotional-relational-spiritual maturity. It calls for a Spirit-empowered response to the other. It calls us to see our so-called enemy as our brother.
Merciful God, may it be ... in me ... in us ... in your people! By your grace, may it be!
Speaking a Different Language
Most of us have experienced the challenge of attempting to communicate with someone who speaks a different language. Without a common language, communication is limited, at best. More often than not, communication does not happen.
I resonate with this metaphor of speaking with a different language. In different Christian settings, I often sensed I was speaking a different language from others. You would think that, as all of us were self-identifying as Christian, we would speak a common language. But such was not the case. It was as though we were each coming from a different perspective, thinking from different paradigms, and pursuing different agendas. Those differences made it difficult to understand one another.
This struggle to communicate most often came from people who thought from what my professor called man-centered Christianity. In this view of the Christian life, we are the central focus. Everything is about us. It begins with our sin. Because we had sinned, God had to do something to save us. Jesus' death on the cross was about paying off our debt so God would forgive us. The goal was to save us so we could go to heaven. Being a Christian meant being a member of a church, believing certain facts, and living a moral life. It meant measuring up to a rigid standard of expected beliefs and behavior. This kind of Christianity relies on self-effort. Guilt and the fear of judgment are common motivators.
Man-centered Christianity is a what's-in-it-for-me version of Christianity. It is the version of Christianity proclaimed by self-identified evangelicals. As a result, it is the common understanding in Western Christianity.
In my mind, this man-centered version of Christianity misses the heart of what it means to be a follower of Jesus. (See, there is an example of speaking a different language. Most people talk about being a Christian or a church member. I talk about being a follower of Jesus. In my mind, being a Christian or church member does not automatically translate into being a follower of Jesus. I've encountered too many people who identify themselves as a Christian or a church member whose lives reflect the culture in which they live rather than the teachings of Jesus. But I digress.) One of the many fallacies of man-centered Christianity is it is about us. It begins with us and is focused on us. It revolves around meeting our need so we can enjoy our reward. In this version of Christianity, the life and ministry of Jesus are boiled down to his death on the cross for our sins. It celebrates Good Friday (Jesus' death) more than Easter (Jesus' resurrection). A central fallacy is that it reflects merit-based thinking that makes our relationship with God a transaction: "if we will ..., then God will ..."
In contrast to man-centered Christianity was what my professor called God-centered Christianity. This kind of Christianity begins with God and focuses on God. It is rooted in and grows out of the character of God. Jesus came to reveal God to us. His life, ministry, and teaching are as vital as his death and resurrection. His death was not to change God's mind about us so God would forgive us. Rather, his death was to change our mind about God. Jesus came to invite us to live in relationship with God as beloved children. The Spirit teaches us the ways of God that Jesus taught (the Kingdom) and helps us grow in our ability to live them. The goal is a transformed life that is conformed to the image of Jesus, not just going to heaven when we die. Being a follower of Jesus means living the ways of God, helping to bring the Kingdom on earth, here and now. This growing and living is the Spirit's work within us and through us, not the result of self-effort. In this view of Christianity, salvation is a gift of grace. It is God's work from beginning to end. "Deserving" is not even in its vocabulary. Love permeates this version of Christianity: love as the essence of God's nature, God's love for us expressed in grace and forgiveness, and our response of love to God. The Spirit helps us to fall in love with who God is and with the ways of God.
The contrast between these two versions is stark. One is about us (what's-in-it-for-me); the other is about God. One reflects the merit-based thinking inherent to our human nature; the other, the grace-based ways of God. In one, we create God in our image; in the other, God is recreating us in God's image. One is about beliefs and behavior; the other, about relationship and a transformed life.
When we listen to another, we listen from our understanding and perspective. We also listen for our understanding and perspective. We listen for that which we already think and believe. When we don't hear what we already think and believe, it is difficult to hear what the other is saying. It is as though the other is speaking a different language. What they are saying is foreign to us. It doesn't make any sense. It doesn't fit into our paradigm of thinking. It is difficult to understand.
When we have difficulty communicating (for example, the polarization in The UMC), the difficulty suggests we are each coming from a different perspective, thinking from different paradigms, and pursuing different agendas. We are speaking language that is foreign to the other.
So, what religious language do you speak?
I resonate with this metaphor of speaking with a different language. In different Christian settings, I often sensed I was speaking a different language from others. You would think that, as all of us were self-identifying as Christian, we would speak a common language. But such was not the case. It was as though we were each coming from a different perspective, thinking from different paradigms, and pursuing different agendas. Those differences made it difficult to understand one another.
This struggle to communicate most often came from people who thought from what my professor called man-centered Christianity. In this view of the Christian life, we are the central focus. Everything is about us. It begins with our sin. Because we had sinned, God had to do something to save us. Jesus' death on the cross was about paying off our debt so God would forgive us. The goal was to save us so we could go to heaven. Being a Christian meant being a member of a church, believing certain facts, and living a moral life. It meant measuring up to a rigid standard of expected beliefs and behavior. This kind of Christianity relies on self-effort. Guilt and the fear of judgment are common motivators.
Man-centered Christianity is a what's-in-it-for-me version of Christianity. It is the version of Christianity proclaimed by self-identified evangelicals. As a result, it is the common understanding in Western Christianity.
In my mind, this man-centered version of Christianity misses the heart of what it means to be a follower of Jesus. (See, there is an example of speaking a different language. Most people talk about being a Christian or a church member. I talk about being a follower of Jesus. In my mind, being a Christian or church member does not automatically translate into being a follower of Jesus. I've encountered too many people who identify themselves as a Christian or a church member whose lives reflect the culture in which they live rather than the teachings of Jesus. But I digress.) One of the many fallacies of man-centered Christianity is it is about us. It begins with us and is focused on us. It revolves around meeting our need so we can enjoy our reward. In this version of Christianity, the life and ministry of Jesus are boiled down to his death on the cross for our sins. It celebrates Good Friday (Jesus' death) more than Easter (Jesus' resurrection). A central fallacy is that it reflects merit-based thinking that makes our relationship with God a transaction: "if we will ..., then God will ..."
In contrast to man-centered Christianity was what my professor called God-centered Christianity. This kind of Christianity begins with God and focuses on God. It is rooted in and grows out of the character of God. Jesus came to reveal God to us. His life, ministry, and teaching are as vital as his death and resurrection. His death was not to change God's mind about us so God would forgive us. Rather, his death was to change our mind about God. Jesus came to invite us to live in relationship with God as beloved children. The Spirit teaches us the ways of God that Jesus taught (the Kingdom) and helps us grow in our ability to live them. The goal is a transformed life that is conformed to the image of Jesus, not just going to heaven when we die. Being a follower of Jesus means living the ways of God, helping to bring the Kingdom on earth, here and now. This growing and living is the Spirit's work within us and through us, not the result of self-effort. In this view of Christianity, salvation is a gift of grace. It is God's work from beginning to end. "Deserving" is not even in its vocabulary. Love permeates this version of Christianity: love as the essence of God's nature, God's love for us expressed in grace and forgiveness, and our response of love to God. The Spirit helps us to fall in love with who God is and with the ways of God.
The contrast between these two versions is stark. One is about us (what's-in-it-for-me); the other is about God. One reflects the merit-based thinking inherent to our human nature; the other, the grace-based ways of God. In one, we create God in our image; in the other, God is recreating us in God's image. One is about beliefs and behavior; the other, about relationship and a transformed life.
When we listen to another, we listen from our understanding and perspective. We also listen for our understanding and perspective. We listen for that which we already think and believe. When we don't hear what we already think and believe, it is difficult to hear what the other is saying. It is as though the other is speaking a different language. What they are saying is foreign to us. It doesn't make any sense. It doesn't fit into our paradigm of thinking. It is difficult to understand.
When we have difficulty communicating (for example, the polarization in The UMC), the difficulty suggests we are each coming from a different perspective, thinking from different paradigms, and pursuing different agendas. We are speaking language that is foreign to the other.
So, what religious language do you speak?
Sunday, January 26, 2020
Understanding God's Plan
"God has a plan." Last week, I spoke to this common expression of faith, addressing it from the underlying assumption: the sovereignty of God. Most people believe God's sovereignty means (1) God is in control and (2) everything that happens is a part of God's design and will. In my blog, I reasoned that God has a purpose, not a plan. God is committed to growing us into the likeness of Christ. That is God's purpose. I also suggested another way of understanding God's sovereignty. God's sovereignty is manifested in God working in all things to fulfill that commitment, particularly in life's pain, crises, and chaos. God's sovereignty does not cause the events. Rather, God works in the midst of what happens to help us grow spiritually through our experience of the event.
This blog approaches "God has a plan" thinking from another direction.
One of the challenges of "God has a plan" thinking is that we don't know what that plan is! I've never known anyone who knows what God's plan is. In fact, "God has a plan" is most commonly expressed in the face of those events that we don't understand and can't explain. We can't see what God's plan is or how this particular event fits into it. It certainly doesn't make sense to us. So, in our confusion and pain, we say "God has a plan" as a way of reassuring ourselves that God is in control. It is an attempt to strengthen our faith when life's challenges test our faith. It is another way of saying, "God has a plan but I don't know what it is. So we just need to trust God."
It seems to me that "God has a plan" thinking can actually cause us to miss how God is at work. Let me explain.
"God has a plan" thinking keeps our focus on the event. It teaches us to believe that the way God works in the world is by causing things to happen. It trains us to expect God to cause things to happen. It leads us to pray for God to make things happen. i.e., we pray for healing or for a new job or for the house to sell or for someone not to die, etc. We pray about events ... particularly events that we want to happen ... events that we believe would be to our advantage. Have you noticed that we say "God has a plan" in the midst of an event that we didn't want to happen?!
Our focus on life's events causes us to miss where God is at work. God is at work is in us and through us! If we want to see how God is at work, we only need to look inside ourselves ... at the interior realm of our hearts and minds ... at how the event has impacted us emotionally-relationally-spiritually ... at the inner struggle we are experiencing because of the event.
God is at work in our struggle! Our struggle represents our growing edge. It reflects where life's realities confront our old thinking and old patterns. Our struggle is where we are powerless. It is our point of weakness. It is there - in our struggle - that God comes to us and meets us. It is there that the Spirit works. It is there - in our struggle - that the Spirit empowers us with a strength beyond our own ... that the Spirit teaches us and enlightens our understanding ... that the Spirit heals old wounds, cleanses old pain, and changes old patterns. It is there - in our struggle - that the Spirit matures us.
God does not cause the event. That's not how God's sovereignty works. God transforms the event and its impact on us. The Spirit works in us through the event to achieve God's purpose of growing us into the likeness of Christ. That's how God's sovereignty works ... at least as I understand it.
Do you understand God's plan? Can you explain it?
For me personally, I find more hope in "God has a purpose" than in a plan I can't understand.
This blog approaches "God has a plan" thinking from another direction.
One of the challenges of "God has a plan" thinking is that we don't know what that plan is! I've never known anyone who knows what God's plan is. In fact, "God has a plan" is most commonly expressed in the face of those events that we don't understand and can't explain. We can't see what God's plan is or how this particular event fits into it. It certainly doesn't make sense to us. So, in our confusion and pain, we say "God has a plan" as a way of reassuring ourselves that God is in control. It is an attempt to strengthen our faith when life's challenges test our faith. It is another way of saying, "God has a plan but I don't know what it is. So we just need to trust God."
It seems to me that "God has a plan" thinking can actually cause us to miss how God is at work. Let me explain.
"God has a plan" thinking keeps our focus on the event. It teaches us to believe that the way God works in the world is by causing things to happen. It trains us to expect God to cause things to happen. It leads us to pray for God to make things happen. i.e., we pray for healing or for a new job or for the house to sell or for someone not to die, etc. We pray about events ... particularly events that we want to happen ... events that we believe would be to our advantage. Have you noticed that we say "God has a plan" in the midst of an event that we didn't want to happen?!
Our focus on life's events causes us to miss where God is at work. God is at work is in us and through us! If we want to see how God is at work, we only need to look inside ourselves ... at the interior realm of our hearts and minds ... at how the event has impacted us emotionally-relationally-spiritually ... at the inner struggle we are experiencing because of the event.
God is at work in our struggle! Our struggle represents our growing edge. It reflects where life's realities confront our old thinking and old patterns. Our struggle is where we are powerless. It is our point of weakness. It is there - in our struggle - that God comes to us and meets us. It is there that the Spirit works. It is there - in our struggle - that the Spirit empowers us with a strength beyond our own ... that the Spirit teaches us and enlightens our understanding ... that the Spirit heals old wounds, cleanses old pain, and changes old patterns. It is there - in our struggle - that the Spirit matures us.
God does not cause the event. That's not how God's sovereignty works. God transforms the event and its impact on us. The Spirit works in us through the event to achieve God's purpose of growing us into the likeness of Christ. That's how God's sovereignty works ... at least as I understand it.
Do you understand God's plan? Can you explain it?
For me personally, I find more hope in "God has a purpose" than in a plan I can't understand.
Sunday, January 19, 2020
Does God Really Have a Plan?
"God has a plan" is an assertion many Christians make, especially during times of crisis and pain. Sadly, it is what is sometimes said when another has experienced a tragic loss. It is a popular answer to the question, "why did God let this happen?" Jeremiah 29:11 is often identified as a favorite verse, "for surely I know the plans I have for you, says the LORD, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope." Those who proclaim "God has a plan" are expressing faith (1) in God and (2) in God working in life's events. The statement is used to bring reassurance in the face of anxiety and fear.
But does God really have a plan?
To speak of God's plan is to speak of God's sovereignty. It means that God is all powerful and in control. Thus, everything that happens must be God's will and God's doing ... even the tragic, painful experiences of life ... because God is sovereign.
But is everything that happens God's will?
We cannot speak of God's sovereignty without also speaking of human freewill. Freewill refers to our ability to make choices. Freewill is what distinguishes us from the rest of the animal kingdom. Our ability to choose gives us the ability to influence what happens. As my professor used to say, freewill allows us to be the partial architects of our own lives.
Freewill says we have some degree of control over what happens. God's sovereignty says God determines what happens. Which is it: freewill or God's sovereignty?
Freewill requires that we receive what we choose ... even when what we choose is outside of "God's will." Choices have consequences or they are not really choices. Because God is sovereign, God could force our choice, but then we would be mechanical puppets, not humans with freewill. Because God is sovereign, God could override the consequences of our choices, but that also nullifies our freewill.
So which is it: human freewill or God's sovereignty?
The question is a typical Western question. Our scientific-based, dualistic thinking makes us think in terms of either-or. It must be one or the other. Therein is the problem.
Why must the answer be either human freewill or divine sovereignty? Why can't it be both? What would it look like for life to be shaped by both our freewill and God's sovereignty?
The ancient rabbi's taught that, in granting humans freewill, God shriveled up. The word they used is the same word used to describe a raisin. The idea was that God restrained his divine sovereignty (power) to respect freewill. God could override our will but chooses not to do so. God gives us what we choose, even when what we choose is destructive to us.
Let me say the same thing using different terms. Because God is sovereign, God is not limited in what God can do. After all, God is all powerful (omnipotent). But God chooses to limit the use of Divine power to respect what we choose. In other words, God chooses to limit God's Self. God chooses to be self-limited in order to respect our freewill.
God's self-limitation does not mean that God sacrifices God's sovereignty. Rather, it means that God exercises that sovereignty differently from what we commonly think.
As I said above, God's sovereignty, in our thinking, means everything that happens is God's will. This is the idea embodied in the belief that God has a plan. Freewill means God does not make everything happen. What we choose is a major factor in what happens. God respects our choices, giving us the consequences of what we choose. So God exercises his sovereignty in some way other than making things happen.
In the rabbi's thinking, God's sovereignty means God works in the midst of what we choose, even when what we choose is not "God's will." God does not abandon us. God promises to work in whatever happens for our good. The Apostle Paul expressed this idea in Romans 8:28, "For we know that in all things God works for good for those who love him." The good for which God works is identified in verse 29, "to be conformed to the image of his Son."
God's sovereignty is expressed in transforming our experiences, especially the painful ones. God works to transform the impact on us of what happens to us. God redeems life's pain into an occasion for us to grow spiritually into the likeness of Christ. Nothing is outside of God's sovereign power. That means, nothing is outside of God's ability to transform and redeem for our good. Nothing is wasted. (Is not this truth reflected in Jesus' death on the cross?)
But here's the key. We must choose (human freewill) to be open to what God would teach us and to how God would work through the situation (God's sovereignty). God does not automatically transform and redeem our experiences. We must choose to accept how God would transform them. We must be willing to grow through our experience of pain. The two - freewill and God's sovereignty - work together.
So, does God have a plan? I suggest that God has a purpose rather than a plan. God's purpose is to grow us up spiritually into the likeness of Jesus. And nothing will keep God from fulfilling that purpose in our lives. That's God's sovereignty at work!
Thanks be to God!
But does God really have a plan?
To speak of God's plan is to speak of God's sovereignty. It means that God is all powerful and in control. Thus, everything that happens must be God's will and God's doing ... even the tragic, painful experiences of life ... because God is sovereign.
But is everything that happens God's will?
We cannot speak of God's sovereignty without also speaking of human freewill. Freewill refers to our ability to make choices. Freewill is what distinguishes us from the rest of the animal kingdom. Our ability to choose gives us the ability to influence what happens. As my professor used to say, freewill allows us to be the partial architects of our own lives.
Freewill says we have some degree of control over what happens. God's sovereignty says God determines what happens. Which is it: freewill or God's sovereignty?
Freewill requires that we receive what we choose ... even when what we choose is outside of "God's will." Choices have consequences or they are not really choices. Because God is sovereign, God could force our choice, but then we would be mechanical puppets, not humans with freewill. Because God is sovereign, God could override the consequences of our choices, but that also nullifies our freewill.
So which is it: human freewill or God's sovereignty?
The question is a typical Western question. Our scientific-based, dualistic thinking makes us think in terms of either-or. It must be one or the other. Therein is the problem.
Why must the answer be either human freewill or divine sovereignty? Why can't it be both? What would it look like for life to be shaped by both our freewill and God's sovereignty?
The ancient rabbi's taught that, in granting humans freewill, God shriveled up. The word they used is the same word used to describe a raisin. The idea was that God restrained his divine sovereignty (power) to respect freewill. God could override our will but chooses not to do so. God gives us what we choose, even when what we choose is destructive to us.
Let me say the same thing using different terms. Because God is sovereign, God is not limited in what God can do. After all, God is all powerful (omnipotent). But God chooses to limit the use of Divine power to respect what we choose. In other words, God chooses to limit God's Self. God chooses to be self-limited in order to respect our freewill.
God's self-limitation does not mean that God sacrifices God's sovereignty. Rather, it means that God exercises that sovereignty differently from what we commonly think.
As I said above, God's sovereignty, in our thinking, means everything that happens is God's will. This is the idea embodied in the belief that God has a plan. Freewill means God does not make everything happen. What we choose is a major factor in what happens. God respects our choices, giving us the consequences of what we choose. So God exercises his sovereignty in some way other than making things happen.
In the rabbi's thinking, God's sovereignty means God works in the midst of what we choose, even when what we choose is not "God's will." God does not abandon us. God promises to work in whatever happens for our good. The Apostle Paul expressed this idea in Romans 8:28, "For we know that in all things God works for good for those who love him." The good for which God works is identified in verse 29, "to be conformed to the image of his Son."
God's sovereignty is expressed in transforming our experiences, especially the painful ones. God works to transform the impact on us of what happens to us. God redeems life's pain into an occasion for us to grow spiritually into the likeness of Christ. Nothing is outside of God's sovereign power. That means, nothing is outside of God's ability to transform and redeem for our good. Nothing is wasted. (Is not this truth reflected in Jesus' death on the cross?)
But here's the key. We must choose (human freewill) to be open to what God would teach us and to how God would work through the situation (God's sovereignty). God does not automatically transform and redeem our experiences. We must choose to accept how God would transform them. We must be willing to grow through our experience of pain. The two - freewill and God's sovereignty - work together.
So, does God have a plan? I suggest that God has a purpose rather than a plan. God's purpose is to grow us up spiritually into the likeness of Jesus. And nothing will keep God from fulfilling that purpose in our lives. That's God's sovereignty at work!
Thanks be to God!
Sunday, January 12, 2020
Close to God
I often hear people talk about wanting to be "closer to God" or feeling "distant from God." Sermons call us "back to God," implying that we had wandered away and were no longer close to God. Some speak of "feeling closer to God" because of a spiritual retreat. We Methodists even sing a hymn entitled "Close to Thee." The refrain repeats the prayer "close to thee" four times, one after the other.
What do we mean when we talk about being "close to God?" The question is framed as an issue of distance: how close to, how far away from. It is generally about feelings. "I feel ..." or "I don't feel ..." It implies that something is missing or lacking. It expresses a desire to experience God or to have some kind of God-related experience. It reflects our perception (generally a negative perception) of our spiritual situation or condition at the time.
Do we really know what we are wanting when we talk about being "close to God?"
I would like to reframe the question. The issue is not one of distance ... or of feelings or something being lacking, for that matter.
The witness of scripture, both in the Hebrew scriptures and the Christian scriptures, is that God is with us. One of our names for God is Emmanuel, meaning "God with us." The Israelites in the wilderness were instructed to build a tabernacle "so that I may dwell among you," Exodus 25:8. Once the tabernacle was completed, "the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle," Exodus 40:34. God dwelt in the midst of the people. The Temple, which Solomon built to replace the tabernacle, was known as the dwelling place of God among God's people. Drawing on the tabernacle image, the writer of John's gospel spoke of God "pitching his tent among us" (original meaning) as the Word became flesh, John 1:14. In the Farewell Discourses of John, Jesus spoke of the Spirit: "he will abide with you and he will be in you," John 14:17. He also promised "we (the Father and I) will come to them and make our home with them," John 14:23. On the day of Pentecost, the Spirit was poured out on Jesus' followers, indwelling them and empowering them, Acts 2:1-21. At the heart of John's vision of the New Heaven and the New Earth in Revelation 21-22 was God's presence in the midst of God's people: "See, the home (literally: tabernacle) of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them," Revelation 21:3. The psalmist spoke of God's presence with us as being inescapable: "Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?", Psalm 139:7-12.
Given the witness of scripture, I would reframe our struggle. It is not about distance. God is as close to us as our breath. God lives with us and in us. How much "closer" can God be?
Rather, it seems to me, the issue is about awareness ... our awareness of God's presence ... our awareness of the Spirit's movement within us ... our awareness of the Spirit's teaching us and guiding us ... our awareness of God's work in our lives. The issue is being attuned to the inner dimension of our lives, the heart. The issue is training ourselves to look for God and God's work. The issue is learning to recognize God's presence.
Note my emphasis on training and learning. Awareness can be cultivated and learned. And we are not alone in our efforts. God is not in hiding. Remember how God came looking for the couple in the Garden when they hid from God? God always loves first, reaching out to connect with us. God wants to know us. God wants to share God's Self and God's life with us. God wants to share our lives. God wants us to know the presence of the Risen Christ. God wants us to know the movement of the Spirit. God is here, with us, quietly calling and inviting.
For me, a key tool for training myself to be aware is meditation, using breath prayer. In meditation, we seek to go beyond words and thoughts. We seek to go into inner stillness and silence. I generally struggle to quieten my thoughts and clear my mind. (Our thinking reflects our desire to be in control. It is our ego holding on to control rather than resting in God and God's grace, simply trusting God.) But even that struggle (do I call it failure?) becomes the Spirit's call. My awareness of my busy mind becomes an invitation to refocus. Following my breathing, I pray, "Fill me; cleanse me." My objective in my meditation is not to be successful in meditating. Rather, my objective is to express my intent to focus on God and my desire to live with awareness of God in my life. My attempts at meditation place me in a position for the Spirit to work, cultivating that awareness within me.
There is much in life that works against our awareness of God: our full schedules and busyness, our to-do lists with their focus on doing and accomplishing, our self-reliance, our desire to be in control, being tired physically and emotionally (exhausted?), our lack of quiet time without external stimulation, our lack of genuine play, our superficial relationships.
I wonder: can we learn to be aware of God if we don't build into our schedules some personal time dedicated to focusing on God or our relationship with God? Attending worship and participating in church activities are not enough. They are no substitute for the personal time.
So, given my musings, let me suggest: Don't pray to feel closer to God. Pray to be more aware of God and God's work in your life. Then practice a time of focusing just on God, resting in God's love. But watch out what you pray for!!!
What do we mean when we talk about being "close to God?" The question is framed as an issue of distance: how close to, how far away from. It is generally about feelings. "I feel ..." or "I don't feel ..." It implies that something is missing or lacking. It expresses a desire to experience God or to have some kind of God-related experience. It reflects our perception (generally a negative perception) of our spiritual situation or condition at the time.
Do we really know what we are wanting when we talk about being "close to God?"
I would like to reframe the question. The issue is not one of distance ... or of feelings or something being lacking, for that matter.
The witness of scripture, both in the Hebrew scriptures and the Christian scriptures, is that God is with us. One of our names for God is Emmanuel, meaning "God with us." The Israelites in the wilderness were instructed to build a tabernacle "so that I may dwell among you," Exodus 25:8. Once the tabernacle was completed, "the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle," Exodus 40:34. God dwelt in the midst of the people. The Temple, which Solomon built to replace the tabernacle, was known as the dwelling place of God among God's people. Drawing on the tabernacle image, the writer of John's gospel spoke of God "pitching his tent among us" (original meaning) as the Word became flesh, John 1:14. In the Farewell Discourses of John, Jesus spoke of the Spirit: "he will abide with you and he will be in you," John 14:17. He also promised "we (the Father and I) will come to them and make our home with them," John 14:23. On the day of Pentecost, the Spirit was poured out on Jesus' followers, indwelling them and empowering them, Acts 2:1-21. At the heart of John's vision of the New Heaven and the New Earth in Revelation 21-22 was God's presence in the midst of God's people: "See, the home (literally: tabernacle) of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them," Revelation 21:3. The psalmist spoke of God's presence with us as being inescapable: "Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?", Psalm 139:7-12.
Given the witness of scripture, I would reframe our struggle. It is not about distance. God is as close to us as our breath. God lives with us and in us. How much "closer" can God be?
Rather, it seems to me, the issue is about awareness ... our awareness of God's presence ... our awareness of the Spirit's movement within us ... our awareness of the Spirit's teaching us and guiding us ... our awareness of God's work in our lives. The issue is being attuned to the inner dimension of our lives, the heart. The issue is training ourselves to look for God and God's work. The issue is learning to recognize God's presence.
Note my emphasis on training and learning. Awareness can be cultivated and learned. And we are not alone in our efforts. God is not in hiding. Remember how God came looking for the couple in the Garden when they hid from God? God always loves first, reaching out to connect with us. God wants to know us. God wants to share God's Self and God's life with us. God wants to share our lives. God wants us to know the presence of the Risen Christ. God wants us to know the movement of the Spirit. God is here, with us, quietly calling and inviting.
For me, a key tool for training myself to be aware is meditation, using breath prayer. In meditation, we seek to go beyond words and thoughts. We seek to go into inner stillness and silence. I generally struggle to quieten my thoughts and clear my mind. (Our thinking reflects our desire to be in control. It is our ego holding on to control rather than resting in God and God's grace, simply trusting God.) But even that struggle (do I call it failure?) becomes the Spirit's call. My awareness of my busy mind becomes an invitation to refocus. Following my breathing, I pray, "Fill me; cleanse me." My objective in my meditation is not to be successful in meditating. Rather, my objective is to express my intent to focus on God and my desire to live with awareness of God in my life. My attempts at meditation place me in a position for the Spirit to work, cultivating that awareness within me.
There is much in life that works against our awareness of God: our full schedules and busyness, our to-do lists with their focus on doing and accomplishing, our self-reliance, our desire to be in control, being tired physically and emotionally (exhausted?), our lack of quiet time without external stimulation, our lack of genuine play, our superficial relationships.
I wonder: can we learn to be aware of God if we don't build into our schedules some personal time dedicated to focusing on God or our relationship with God? Attending worship and participating in church activities are not enough. They are no substitute for the personal time.
So, given my musings, let me suggest: Don't pray to feel closer to God. Pray to be more aware of God and God's work in your life. Then practice a time of focusing just on God, resting in God's love. But watch out what you pray for!!!
Sunday, January 5, 2020
Epiphany, 2020
The Twelve Days of Christmas are over, giving way to the Feast of Epiphany, January 6.
By now, Christmas decorations are packed up and stored away, waiting for another year. Christmas celebrations and travel are over. We've moved on. Some of us moved on as we followed the cultural calendar. The gifts were barely unwrapped and the mess cleaned up before we were already talking about the New Year, the next celebration on the calendar. Others of us held on longer, seeking to follow the liturgical calendar with its twelve day reflection on the meaning of Christmas. Celebrating the Twelve Days of Christmas is indeed hard when everyone around you has packed Christmas away for another year, when everyone and everything around you has moved on.
As we move on from our Christmas celebration, I pray we do not move on from the hope Christmas proclaims. Hope is about what will be, but is not yet. Hope calls us to rejoice in the longed-for fulfillment of God's promises. It calls us to pursue that fulfillment today, in the here and now, in what is. Our Christian hope is not something to be boxed up and stored away to be used some other time. It is to be lived today. It must be lived today or it is not really hope.
I identify two dimensions in the hope Christmas proclaims. The two are inseparable. One leads to the other. The other is dependent on the one. Christmas stirs the hope of God-shaped lives that help to create a God-shaped world.
Christmas, in celebrating the birth of Jesus, proclaims the mystery of the incarnation, revealing what God is doing in it. Christmas celebrates how God wrapped the Divine Self in human flesh ... how God became what we are so that we can become what He is (i.e., possessing his character of self-giving, servant love) ... how God shared our experience of life so that we can share His quality of life (i.e., eternal life ... here, now, not after we die). The incarnation is about God's work of creating God-shaped lives ... God's work of creating a family of sons and daughters who possess His nature and live his ways ... God's work of creating Spirit-transformed and Spirit-empowered children who are His partners in creating a God-shaped world.
The ancient Hebrew prophets proclaimed this hope of a God-shaped world: the lion and the lamb lying down together ... the sword and spear beaten into plow shares ... a time when the nations turn to Jerusalem (i.e., God) for instruction ... a time when negotiation and arbitration replaces domination ... a time when war will no longer ravage the nations ... a time when all people will enjoy the abundance of the peaceable kingdom. In short, a God-shaped world ... a new world to replace the fractured world created by our fear-based thinking and living.
And that's where Epiphany comes in. The Feast of Epiphany celebrates the arrival of the magi as told in Matthew 2. It celebrates the inclusion of the Gentiles in the Kingdom. It anticipates a oneness restored (see Ephesians 2:11ff - Christ is our peace, breaking down the dividing wall). It, like the Christmas celebration, proclaims hope ... hope of a God-shaped world.
Epiphany celebrates light ... light that shines in the darkness ... light that drives the darkness away ... light that enables us to see what we could not see before ... light that reveals what we were too blind to see ... light that helps us know God and the ways of God ... light that shows us the way. The prologue to John's gospel, John 1:1-18, identifies the Word made flesh as that light. "In him was life, and the life was the light of all people. ... The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it. ... The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth. ... No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son who has made him known," (John 1:4-5, 14, 18).
Jesus is the Light we celebrate on Epiphany. As we walk in his light, learning and living the ways of God that he lived and taught, the Spirit transforms our lives into God-shaped lives. Our lives reflect his light. We live as God's partners in creating a God-shaped world.
God-shaped lives. A God-shaped world. Certainly, such hope cannot be boxed up and packed away. It must be lived ... here and now, in what is.
By now, Christmas decorations are packed up and stored away, waiting for another year. Christmas celebrations and travel are over. We've moved on. Some of us moved on as we followed the cultural calendar. The gifts were barely unwrapped and the mess cleaned up before we were already talking about the New Year, the next celebration on the calendar. Others of us held on longer, seeking to follow the liturgical calendar with its twelve day reflection on the meaning of Christmas. Celebrating the Twelve Days of Christmas is indeed hard when everyone around you has packed Christmas away for another year, when everyone and everything around you has moved on.
As we move on from our Christmas celebration, I pray we do not move on from the hope Christmas proclaims. Hope is about what will be, but is not yet. Hope calls us to rejoice in the longed-for fulfillment of God's promises. It calls us to pursue that fulfillment today, in the here and now, in what is. Our Christian hope is not something to be boxed up and stored away to be used some other time. It is to be lived today. It must be lived today or it is not really hope.
I identify two dimensions in the hope Christmas proclaims. The two are inseparable. One leads to the other. The other is dependent on the one. Christmas stirs the hope of God-shaped lives that help to create a God-shaped world.
Christmas, in celebrating the birth of Jesus, proclaims the mystery of the incarnation, revealing what God is doing in it. Christmas celebrates how God wrapped the Divine Self in human flesh ... how God became what we are so that we can become what He is (i.e., possessing his character of self-giving, servant love) ... how God shared our experience of life so that we can share His quality of life (i.e., eternal life ... here, now, not after we die). The incarnation is about God's work of creating God-shaped lives ... God's work of creating a family of sons and daughters who possess His nature and live his ways ... God's work of creating Spirit-transformed and Spirit-empowered children who are His partners in creating a God-shaped world.
The ancient Hebrew prophets proclaimed this hope of a God-shaped world: the lion and the lamb lying down together ... the sword and spear beaten into plow shares ... a time when the nations turn to Jerusalem (i.e., God) for instruction ... a time when negotiation and arbitration replaces domination ... a time when war will no longer ravage the nations ... a time when all people will enjoy the abundance of the peaceable kingdom. In short, a God-shaped world ... a new world to replace the fractured world created by our fear-based thinking and living.
And that's where Epiphany comes in. The Feast of Epiphany celebrates the arrival of the magi as told in Matthew 2. It celebrates the inclusion of the Gentiles in the Kingdom. It anticipates a oneness restored (see Ephesians 2:11ff - Christ is our peace, breaking down the dividing wall). It, like the Christmas celebration, proclaims hope ... hope of a God-shaped world.
Epiphany celebrates light ... light that shines in the darkness ... light that drives the darkness away ... light that enables us to see what we could not see before ... light that reveals what we were too blind to see ... light that helps us know God and the ways of God ... light that shows us the way. The prologue to John's gospel, John 1:1-18, identifies the Word made flesh as that light. "In him was life, and the life was the light of all people. ... The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it. ... The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth. ... No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son who has made him known," (John 1:4-5, 14, 18).
Jesus is the Light we celebrate on Epiphany. As we walk in his light, learning and living the ways of God that he lived and taught, the Spirit transforms our lives into God-shaped lives. Our lives reflect his light. We live as God's partners in creating a God-shaped world.
God-shaped lives. A God-shaped world. Certainly, such hope cannot be boxed up and packed away. It must be lived ... here and now, in what is.
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