Aspects of the Gospel

During the last week, I came across these three verses that I thought were good illustrations of the gospel.  Since the gospel is the heart and soul of Christianity--and something I need to be constantly reminded of--, I thought I would post them here.

"I have swept away your sins like the morning mists.  I have scattered your offences like the clouds. Oh, return to me, for I have paid the price to set you free."

--Isaiah 44:22 (NLT) 

We have sinned against God, all of us, offending Him more and hurting Him worse than we could possibly realize.  But God loved us and sent His Son, Jesus to die and pay the price for our sins, to set us free from them.  Sometimes, this is hard to believe.  Sometimes, when I've sinned, the sin seems so big to me.  I feel dirty, guilty, and unworthy of God's love.  At times like this, I try to push Him away, but He insists on being near to me.  While it's true that my sins are a big deal to God, I have underestimated how big a deal His love and atonement are.  Christ's blood covers all my sins, completely.  There's nothing left to offend Him, nothing left for me to feel guilty over, nothing left to spurn His love--Jesus swept all of that away, and now He bids me draw near to Him.

The Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him.  John would have prevented him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?"  But Jesus answered him, "Let it be so now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness."

--Matthew 3:13-15 (ESV)

 God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

--2 Corinthians 5:21   (NIV)

 But taking away our sins isn't the end of the gospel.  Some people treat it that way, though.  The other day, I talked for an hour with four Mormon guys, explaining to them that salvation was by grace alone, through faith alone, from the scriptures.  They agreed wholeheartedly that Jesus had died for their sins, but insisted on believing that it was now their responsibility to earn God's rewards in heaven by their own good works.  A lot of people have this mindset, a lot of Christians even.  Sometimes, I catch myself doing it (as I wrote in a previous post).  Sometimes, even if I'm not feeling guilty, I'll see some Christian do some good "Christian" thing--like getting baptized, reading the Bible, praying, or winning the lost--and I'll feel a little insecure.  Look what they did, I think to myself.  I bet if I did something like that, God would love me more.  Sometimes when I fail to do one of these things when I know I should, I begin to feel like I've lost His love.  But it's not true!

Christ's death does more than sweep away our sins.  It gives us His righteousness.  How extensive do you think that is?  Christ prayed and read His Bible regularly.  He gave three years of His life to public ministry, evangelizing the lost and ministering to them.  He memorized scripture.  He was baptized.  He performed miracles by His faith.  To top it all, He was God's own Son!  There is no righteous deed that He didn't fulfill, and He gives that righteousness to us.  He counts those deeds as if we'd done them.  That means I don't need to worry about not being baptized as an adult: Jesus did it.  I don't have to sweat if I miss a day in reading: Jesus has it covered.  I don't need to wonder if God would love me more as a full-time evangelist or a college student: God already loves me that much because He accounts Jesus' ministry as mine.

Now, this isn't to say that we shouldn't do good works.  Ephesians 2:10 says that God wants us to do good works and has some in mind already, prepared for us.  However, these good works are not the measure of our Christianity, nor an assurance of God's love.  If we lack any of them, though it would be good to do them, we need not doubt for a minute that God loves us with the deepest love imaginable.  We cannot earn His love by good works, and a lack of them cannot make Him love us less.

"Oh you of little faith, why do you doubt?"

Matthew 14:29-31 was the subject of today's Sunday school lesson.  We've been going through Max Lucado's Fearless and this week addressed the topic of fear of being overwhelmed by circumstances.  We talked about it with the background of Peter walking on the water.  He took his eyes off of Christ and looked at the huge waves around him, and when he did, he felt overwhelmed and afraid (and consequently, began to sink).  My Dad (yes, I'm a P.K.--a preacher's kid) asked what circumstances threatened to overwhelm us in our own lives (what "storms" we had).  Of course, finances figured prominently.  My Dad's taking care of finances for my Grandmother, who's in an assisted living facility because of her Alzheimer's.  Prices there were a little over her retirement income to begin with, and they keep rising.  At this rate, it seems, in a few years, her savings will run out, and then what?  As for me, I look for scholarships every year, but there's never enough to cover the full cost of school.  I have three more semesters left, but only (barely) enough money for one.  Will I be able to find a job or a paying internship this summer and save enough for my last two semesters?  With my youngest sister heading to college in the fall as well, will my parents be able to support my last year of schooling?

My Dad then asked a common, but nonetheless still valid question: why does God allow these storms in life to come at all?

Of God and the Gender Gap

I recently finished reading a couple of interesting books by Shaunti and Jeff Feldhahn entitled For Men Only and For Women Only (yes, I cheated and read the one for the opposite gender). Each book's aim to take a well-researched look at common gender-gap miscommunications from a Christian perspective. The basis of each book is a series of professional surveys and study groups done on women and men. Based on this research, each book tries to communicate the biggest, most common, and least understood things about the opposite gender (thus, For Men Only is “a straightforward guide to the inner lives of women,” written for their husbands/significant others, and vice versa with For Women Only). Both books were very informative. I’ve had an interest in gender-differences for some time and read a number of books on the subject, but many of the issues uncovered in these books were totally new to me. I recommend them highly, and if you’re really interested in understanding the opposite sex, I recommend reading both books since it is just as informative to read what you don’t get about the opposite sex as to read what they don’t get about your sex. For instance, in For Women Only Shaunti explains to a bewildered female readership the true meaning of the trite observation “Men are visual”--a fact of life so basic to me and to men in general that I was absolutely stunned that many women could not relate to it at all.

I have to say the most interesting part of each book was the last chapter. Here, the Feldhahns presented the results of their open-ended survey question. On each of the surveys they gave out, there was a blank space for the participants to fill in any additional complaints or comments they wished they could give the opposite gender (specifically their spouse or significant other). Here was where men could rant about control of the remote and women could complain about his facial hair, if they so chose. But the overwhelming majority of respondents chose to say something very different in that extra space. Most of the men used the space to say that the one thing they most wanted the woman in their life to know was “How much I love her” or some variation thereof. Most of the women used the space to say that the one thing they most wanted the man in their life to know was “He’s my hero” or “How much I respect him” or some variation thereof. It was ironic--considering how each gender fails so miserably at sharing their “one thing” (the top complaint among men from the rest of the survey was feeling disrespected, the top complaint among women from the rest of the survey was feeling unloved)--, but touching.

Then, I remembered Ephesians 5:25-32, where Paul begins by charging husbands to love their wives. In the process of delivering that charge, Paul delivers a stunning revelation: the union of marriage is an allegory that “refers to Christ and the Church” (verse 32). I took those two open-ended responses from the Feldhahns and Paul’s proclamation on a brief mental tour of scripture. How often to do we see God throughout the Bible (New and Old Testaments) proclaiming over and over again to His own (whether joyfully to the faithful or--as often is the case in the Old Testament prophets-- with sorrow and jealousy for the unfaithful), “I love you”? And what is it that He demands the most from His people, and the most faults them for when they fail to give it?  It is the respect (the “fear of the LORD”) that He deserves as the God He is.

What would happen if we really opened our hearts to God as He says, “I love you,” over and over again? What would happen if we really gave Him respect and reverence, replying to Him from the heart, “You’re my hero”? How many of the frustrations in our spiritual lives result from failures to do just that?

The Quest

Clips from "The Man of La Mancha."  Yes, Don Quixote (as portrayed in the movie, not so much in the book) is one of my childhood heroes.  I have loved this song "The Impossible Dream (The Quest)" for its bold inspiration since I was in middle school.  I always wanted to follow it, but never thought I could (after all, I thought God wanted me to live small--I discussed this falsehood in "Nice Guys and the Good Guy Rebellion").  Now though, if anything, I think it's too small.  For one, in the clips, I think Dulcinea says something to the effect that all that matters is following the quest, even if you fail and are defeated--that's not supposed to matter as long as you died following your quest!  Well, not to undercut the nobility of Don Quixote, but success or failure means a lot to me.  I will not give my life for a quest, or anything, without caring a great deal whether or not the quest was fulfilled and my sacrifice meaningful.  Only suicidal fools devote everything to something they care nothing about.  Still, the noble call of "The Quest" is something that resonates with me, and always has.  It is, at the least, a good place to start.  So, here's a brief response in the form of a commitment between myself and God, for "The Quest".

To dream the impossible dream,
Father, I swear to You that, as You enable me, I will have the faith and vision to believe You for impossible things, to overcome impossible obstacles by Your help.

To fight the unbeatable foe,
I swear, as You strengthen me, to resist the devil and all the forces of evil, where ever I find them, with all the strength, might, and cunning that You give me.

To bear with unbearable sorrow,
I swear, by Your grace, to be true and sincere in my heart and in my relationships with others, learning to rejoice, laugh, shout, and cry just as You do.

To run where the brave dare not go,
I swear to be brave and bold, to act with courage and valor, not giving in to fear, because I know that You are with me and You are greater than all my fears.

To right the unrightable wrong,
I swear, through Your power working in me, to confront the ills I see in the world around me, overcome them, and help others to do likewise: to leave the world a better place.

To love pure and chaste from afar,
I swear, as You make me able, to love You--my God--, my (someday) future wife, my brothers and sisters in Christ, my neighbors, and my enemies, as You have taught me: purely, righteously, actively, and passionately.

To try when your arms are too weary,
I swear to never give up, as You help me and give me strength day by day for my struggles.

To reach the unreachable star!
Most of all, I swear to reach out to You, the bright Morning Star (Revelation 2:28 & 22:16), and take hold of You--and be taken hold of by You (Philippians 3:12)--forever, through Your grace and by faith in You.

This is my quest:
To follow that star,
No matter how hopeless,
No matter how far!
To fight for the right,
Without question or pause.
To be willing to march into Hell
For the Heavenly cause!
And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest,
Then my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest.
And the world will be better for this,
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star!

Why does God love His Saints?

Here's a post for the sake of my own memory, and of anyone else who struggles with this question.  I know I'm prone to forgetting the answer to this one.

Last weekend, the Navigators of CSU had the distinct privilege of hosting Jerry Bridges, author of the book The Pursuit of Holiness, which we are currently studying.  He spoke at NavNight that Friday and then gave another speech to the student leaders the next morning.  There, he confessed that the one thing he thought was lacking in The Pursuit of Holiness was sufficient reminders of the grace of the gospel, which is central to the pursuit of holiness in a Christian's life.  He said that, in his experience, Christians had two very different ideas about why God loved them and why they stood justified before Him.  Of course, every true Christian knows that at the moment of salvation it is not his or her good works that bring God's favor.  At salvation, the great truth is that God's favor is given solely on the basis of God's grace, totally unmerited by any works.  Of course, the focus at the moment of salvation is often another moment: the moment when we will stand before God.  We know that, at that moment, as at the moment of salvation, we will be justified before God and receive His eternal love in Heaven solely on the basis of His infinite grace, not merited by our good works or lack thereof (mostly the latter!).

But what about in between?  What about in our day-to-day lives, somewhere between the Cross of conversion and the Throne of God?  Right now, if I were to ask you if God is pleased with you, whether you are justified before Him and abiding in His love, what comes to your mind?  The cross of Christ?  I confess this is not what I first think of.  What pops immediately into my mind is a checklist of things I'm supposed to do, as a good little Christian, and a list of sins I'm supposed to avoid.  Did I have a quiet time this morning?  No, well, that's minus 2.  Did I evangelize any this week?  Yes!  Well, sort of...aww, I'll give myself five points anyway.  Have I been keeping up with my prayers [Yes, I honestly think of it this way far too often]?  Well, no, not today, but I got my whole prayer list for yesterday, that's gotta be worth a point.  Have I sinned, to my knowledge, today?  Well, yeah...guess that's two off...  Have I confessed that sin and made it right with God?  Well, honestly, no.  I was waiting for my quiet time so I could get the points from that before I brought up those sinful thoughts from this morning.  Rats, that's worse than the sin was to start with: minus six.  So, in all, is God pleased with me?  Am I justified in His sight?  Does He love me?  Well, guess not, I mean, I added up my good and bad from the day so far and I got a -4.  God must be upset with me 'cause I'm such a bad Christian.  He must not love me just now.  Now, I don't doubt for a moment that I'm saved by grace and that, if, as I was adding up my -4 score for the day, I was hit by a bus, I would still go to Heaven to be with God, based on the cross of Christ--well, maybe I doubt it a little as I stare at that negative score Oh, no!  Doubting God's grace for my salvation!  No good Christian ever does that!  It's gotta be minus 15!  Now, God must hate me!--but I certainly find it difficult to believe in His love for me at that moment.


To quote a more eloquent Christian (my thanks to Jerry Bridges who shared this quote from some other writer, I think...): "I know we're saved by grace, but I'm certain we gain His favor through our obedience."  Yet there is a big problem with this day-to-day performance-based theology: we never obey perfectly, though the Spirit lives within us and gives us everything we need for perfect holiness.  All too often, we are with Paul, bemoaning our poor performance and wondering why we always seem to do the opposite of what we know we should do (Romans 7:15 & 19).  This being the case, if God's love and favor in our present lives is based on our broken obedience, God must not love us at all in this life!

God has something to say about this.  His constant reminders of His unfailing, unchanging, unconditional love (throughout scripture and daily life) overwhelm my wall of doubts.  His brazen love for me confronts my scorecard and begs the question: Is God mistaken?  What should I do, shout up to the Heavens: Hello?  Didn't you check my scorecard today?  I just added it up and it's about twenty below.  You can't possibly love me today.  It's not allowed, and certainly not in this sort of intimate incredible way, God.  Wait until I do my quiet time, go to Bible study, do some evangelism, and say some really great prayers, then I'll have a nice fat positive score again and You can love me all You want....Just not now God, honestly, You of all people should know that sort of thing is wrong!  It's ridiculous to the point of being comical in print, and yet tragic in it's reality.  Quite often when I'm conscious that I'm not living up to the image of the "perfect Christian good-guy" in my head, and yet God shows His love to me in some profound and powerful way, this is exactly the way I feel and exactly what I'm tempted to say to God.  Don't touch me now, God.  I'm a mess.  I haven't cleaned this sin out of my life.  I haven't touched up my Christian face with some make-up spirituality all day.  I'm gross.  Please don't love me, just leave me alone for now.  How about tomorrow, if I get cleaned up?  God's reaction seems to range from a bemused shake of the head to heated rage (the latter especially when I'm a real mess and the temptation to push His love away is so strong--and yet He and I both know that if I don't have His love expressed to me and held in the forefront of my mind at those moments, when I most need it, I'll be sunk.  He won't let me get away with spurning Him at a time like that [hmf, listen to the ridiculous pride of it, spurning God]).  In the Bible, by Paul, God decries this sort of a mentality: "Are you so foolish?", he says in Galatians 3:3, "After beginning with the Spirit, are you now trying to attain your goal by human effort?"  Where in the Bible does it say that the grace of God is limited to salvation and the Judgment Seat?  Where in the Bible does it say that we are to earn the favor of God day-to-day?  Rather, Galatians 2:20 says that the grace of the cross applies to our lives which we live now, in this flesh.  Yes, it is justifies us before God in Heaven, when we die, but between now and then, it does not somehow pass out of potency.  God does not extend one type of love to us on Judgment Day and another on Tuesdays.  It is the same unconditional love, the same grace based on the sacrifice of Christ, that we look forward to at the end of our lives which we receive even now (along with discipline--based in that love--and hardships).  When God chooses to share His love with us, who am I to question it and declare the cross ineffectual?  When I'm asked whether I'm in God's favor today, I should forget the scorecard and look at the cross.  Yup, it's still there.  He must love me a lot, today!


To know that the basis of God's love is our identity in Christ (which in turn is based in Christ--in the identity of God: that is to say, Of course God loves His saints, 'cause they're His and He's God!) and not our shady performance is comforting and freeing for me.  My sins, present and past, are nailed to the cross, and I need no longer be petrified of them.  When I've sinned, I can boldly confess it before the throne of God, trusting that He will forgive me of whatever it is I've done by the blood of Christ...just as He always does, Is He not the Father of faithfulness?  I need not sit around worrying that I might sin and crash into an abyss of a week, a day, an hour, or even sixty seconds without God's unfailing love.  What could I possibly do that would max out His sacrifice?  This is not to say I should not take sin seriously or I should feel free to sin all I want.  Rather the assurance of God's unfailing love should embolden me to do righteous deeds, though I know that this entails a risk of screwing up and winding up in sin (like they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained.  I've ventured nothing enough for one life!).

I'll end with this thought from Lamentations 3:22-23, on the unfailing love and bottomless grace of God in daily life:

"It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not.  They are new every morning: Great is Thy faithfulness!"

"Nice Guys" and the "Good Guy Rebellion"

So, last Friday on the Navigator's retreat, I found a book they were selling called No More Christian Nice Guy by Paul Coughlin:"When being nice--instead of good--hurts men, women, and children".  I was intrigued and bought it.  I began reading it over the weekend (I actually finished it on Monday after my return), and have been mulling over what it said for a week now.

It is, essentially, a book about the epidemic of masculine passivity.  The "nice" guy, Coughlin declares, is not really a good man.  He is driven by fear of conflict and the legalistic idea of universal politeness.  True godly masculinity is often embroiled in conflict and is often (especially in our day) socially unacceptable (Jesus demonstrated masculinity's rougher side in His heated interactions with the Pharisees--wherein He was certainly good rather than "nice").  This being the case, the "nice" guy plasters his masculinity (in part or whole) over with a facade of more acceptable "niceness."  The "nice" guy is the polar opposite of the brute.  The brute overdoes his masculine roughness because he doesn't know how to really be a man; the "nice" guy hides his masculine roughness because he's afraid of it.

I could see all this and how it played out in and was contributed to by our culture, something Coughlin spent a great deal of time on.  He also argued that many churches were contributing to the problem by de-emphasizing Jesus' rougher side, elevating virtues of passivity and politeness, and catering almost exclusively to women.  This last seriously bothers me and I've noticed it too, before I even read Coughlin's book.  Think about it.  Dig out the nearest church bulletin you can find.  Count up the number of women's events--event's catering exclusively to women, with the word "women's" in their title, just to simplify things.  I count 4 in my bulletin, which seems to be a fair average.  Now do the same for events catering to men.  I count zero, which is the same number I come up with every Sunday.  In one week, the church I attend announces 4 events exclusively for women and in four years I've only heard of 4 events offered exclusively for men.  In this way, the church merely reflects our culture, where women's support groups, advocacy offices, clubs, and scholarships are everywhere and often no equivalents exist for men.  If we want to know why women now outnumber men both at church and in the school, we need look no farther.  Sexism is coming full circle.

Now, this is all very interesting and I am very passionate about it, to be sure, but this is not why I read Coughlin's book in three days (something I never do) or why I feel compelled to blog about it now, here.  Why I devoured his book was because I was interested in what he said about the "Christian Nice Guy," the male who thought manliness was ungodly and passivity was a virtue.  I was fascinated because I discovered I was one.  Coughlin--an ex-CNG (Christian Nice Guy) himself--gives a list of questions by which a CNG can be identified.  He says, "If you answer yes to one or two, the nice guy problem is in your blood and it may well get worse.  Yes to three to five, and you're a runaway train of destruction--with a deceptive smiley face on the locomotive."  He then lists 24 questions, 5 of which are inapplicable because they address married men.  The others are as follows, along with my original answers:

Do you dismiss or never discuss parts of the Bible where Jesus isn't nice? "Yes." 

When wondering "WWJD" do you assume a gentle response? "Yes."

Do you think conflict and anger are sins? "Yes."

Are you the guy at church who never says no to an assignment, even if it diminishes other important aspects of your life? "No."

Do you think that being nice, observing etiquette, and knowingly allowing yourself to be used by others nevertheless leads people to salvation? "Yes."

Do you find yourself saying one thing to one person and something different to another? "At times, yes."

Do you smile even when you don't like what's happening to you, then rant and fume about it later? "Yes."

Do you hide your mistakes, even when the consequences are little or none? "Yes."

Do you find yourself working for abusive bosses? "No."

Do you make less money than you know you should? "No."

Do you feel embarrassed when people compliment you? "Oh, yeah!"

Are you envious when you see other men showing deep emotion? "Yes."

Do women like talking with you, but then show no romantic interest? "Yes.  0 for 4 cannot be a coincidence."

Do you think it's selfish to have your own wants and desires? "Yes."

Do you think avoiding conflict will make your life better? "Yes."

If someone is angry with you, do you automatically believe or sense that they're right to feel that way? "Yes."

Do you hide your flaws, even from those close to you? "Yes."

Does fear often stop you from moving ahead? "Yes."

Do you think being nice will make you stand out among other men? "Yes."

That's 16 "yes," where only five were required for positive identification as a CNG.  My first thought upon seeing this was, "Oh, snap!  I've got a big problem!"  I was right.  As Coughlin unfolded his description of the CNG, I saw more and more how it fit the way my life has been for much of the past 21 years.  The good news is that "nice" guy's aren't born, they're made--and as such, can be unmade: freeing the Christian good guys God made them to be.  In my case, I discovered that, looking back for the roots of my issues, I was raised a "nice" guy.  My Dad is a CNG, recovering (to some extent) from legalistic standards based on social refinement rather than godliness, and still passive about many things, including--tragically for the church he's pastoring--evangelism.  My Mom has some female variant, I'm sure, as many of her morals seem built around social taboos rather than the Bible and she demonstrates low self-worth by allowing herself to be used as a doormat--a hallmark of the CNG.  This last is especially evident whenever she's sick, debilitated by pain or nausea, and it takes a conspiracy of the whole family to keep her out of the kitchen and get her to lie down--for she insists on trying to cook and clean while she can hardly stay upright, though she knows that every other member of our family is equally capable of these tasks and have often assumed them before she can stagger in to try to take over.  While both godly "good guys" and CNG's are willing to suffer for others, their behavior and motivations are markedly different.  Good guys are willing to suffer for others when necessary, because they love as Christ commanded and see the worth of the other person, as God sees.  CNG insist on suffering "for others" when its unnecessary, not because of love for others or belief in the worthiness of others, but because of an underlying belief of the CNG that they themselves are essentially worthless and deserve to suffer even (and especially) if it does no one any good (in fact, a CNG will likely shirk from suffering for a worthy cause or in a necessary situation for fear of making things worse).  My Mom's insistence on needless suffering seems to stem from a CNG-like mentality.

I love my parents.  I think they're Christians who try hard to honor God the best they know how, but they've swallowed some CNG lies whole and passed them on to me, through their values and excessive discipline before I entered middle school.  In collusion with the culture around me, they (no doubt without knowing what they were doing) impressed upon me ideals of passivity, devalued true masculinity (which is never passive--even on the cross, no one took Jesus's life: He gave it for love of us and of the Father [John 10:15, 17-18]), and undermined my self-worth.  During my middle-school and early teenage years, I rebelled in secret against them, falling into sinful addictions--hiding them from everyone, including myself.  The damage was extensive, amplifying the CNG problem.  Sin, in my case, led not only to feelings of guilt for what I'd done, but feelings of shame for who I was as a person.  My self-esteem tanked, but I'd been raised to think that didn't matter.  I specialized in self-deprecating humor, not because I thought it was funny but because I thought it was true.  I fell to "punishing" myself by cutting myself.  I thought about suicide, but couldn't seriously consider it because it wouldn't be "nice" to others.  As it was, I considered myself a monster: loved by others only because they couldn't see who I really was, and merely tolerated by God whose great wrath at me was only restrained by my faith in Christ.  I truly believed that the only impact I could possibly have on the world was negative.  Fearing this, I earnestly prayed and sought to have no impact whatsoever.  I avoided conflict and meaningful activities because I feared them.  More than once I prayed that God would just kill me in my sleep.

But God was a hero, a real warrior rescuing me from this mess.  When I cut myself, He protected me and I never drew much blood or caused any lasting harm.  Often I could not even break the skin.  This frustrated me immensely because of my shame and self-hatred.  How dare God protect a monster like me, I thought.  But God, from the moment He began to speak to my heart spoke of love and of the worth He saw in me--His creation, His son, and the purchase of His blood.  My wrestling with that is written of in my August entry "To Walk with Him in White."  It took a while, but eventually I came around.  He never gave up on me, and eventually I started believing what He said: that I really was redeemed as a person, and was a saint rather than a monster.  I began questioning my legalistic morality and finding real godly principles to live by.  I realized God as the Lover of my soul rather than its reluctant master.  In reading Coughlin's book, all of these things, which seemed so separate in my mind came together.  I'm now committed to what Coughlin calls "the Good Guy Rebellion."  It's manifesto and creed is the Bible, including the parts where Jesus isn't nice.  It's purpose and goal is to live lives of true, genuine, godly masculinity--forsaking passivity and facades and facing down fears.  I am committed to being a real man now, instead of a just a nice guy.  I do not know exactly what that entails or what it will end up looking like, but I know God will guide me and I will end up looking more like Him and glorifying Him more.  I am excited to chart a new course for my life, especially as I consider how few have gone before me and how great a legacy these godly men have left behind.  I understand it will not be easy.  I do not ask for easy--I know my God will bear me up through all difficulties and give me victory over every obstacle.  What I do ask is that it be worth it--and I see it as the noblest cause I can devote my life to, especially today as it becomes more critical with each passing year as the epidemic of male passivity spreads and deepens.

I ask you, reader, to join me.  If you're a man, be a good, godly, active man.  If you're "nice" rather than good, find the lies you believe and apply God's truth.  Seek professional help if necessary (Coughlin found it necessary).  If you're a woman, be a godly woman (whatever that looks like: consult the Bible and godly women in your life): in addition to being the right thing to do (as if you need another reason), it encourages godly masculinity in the guys around you.  Whatever your situation, I ask that you also pray for me, and other Christian men, for it's only by God's grace, power, and love that we'll accomplish our goals and be who and what we're meant to be.

Choice

I guess when it comes to issues of predestination vs free-will, I am probably best described as a Neo-Calvinist (thanks to Chris for pointing this out).  This means that I am pretty big on predestination, occasionally bordering on fatalism (which can be deadly--haha, get it?! Fatal, deadly...okay, I thought it was funny).  I believe that everything, every action, reaction, motion, spirit, thought, emotion, particle, and variable in the entire universe is accounted for in God's plan for the universe.  Though we have free-will and may exercise it against God, He ultimately has foreseen and accounted for this as well--and would not have allowed us to do it unless somehow God could further his plan through it.

Lately, though I've been wondering if my understanding of this is too limiting.  Essentially, my previous understanding comes down to this: God has a plan for everything, we get to choose what we do, but ultimately He knows how to pull the strings on our character in such a way that He can get us to do whatever He wants.  Sounds like Puppet Planet.  I still think it's true, that God knows us so intimately that He can essentially control our decisions and reduce our free-will to a figure of speech.  However, I no longer believe that He actually exercises that power (God has a lot of powers that, for some gracious reason all His own, He chooses not to exercise--Matthew 26:33).  I admit I am at a loss for how to understand it all.  I am convinced of this much, though: that love requires free-will.  I cannot prove it, but I suspect that the reason God made a forbidden fruit in the midst of the creation He deemed "very good" is so that man would have a truly free choice.  He knew that man's love and trust would only be meaningful if man was equally capable of doubting and rejecting Him. That's a new thought for me: that God created and delighted over a world balanced, as it were, on the edge of a knife--a world where Heavenly paradise and Hellish torment were both equally possible, a world where, at any moment, man was capable of making the one choice that would usher in all the hurt, death, sin, and ruin that we have experienced since the Fall.

That is profound, but what I need to understand is more than that.  I need to realize that this is still the way God likes it.  God did not create me as puppet, and He did not redeem me to be one either.  He doesn't love puppets 'cause they can't love Him.  Where this becomes difficult to accept is in the area of personal holiness. There are several persistent sins, one in particular, that I am always frustrated with.  I realize that what's at fault is my own sinful choices, made by my free-will, so I have more than once wished that God would just strip me of my free-will in these areas.  Then, I would never sin like that again, I'd tell myself.  And, gee, won't it be great when I get to Heaven and won't be capable of sinning at all!  You may laugh.  In fact, you probably should: it is a healthy response to foolishness.  Needless to say, God never took my free-will and never will!  I realized that He wouldn't, so I made my aim the next best thing: the elusive one-time instant fix.  My prayer, it seems, was Lord, if it has to be my choice not to sin, then at least make it an once-for-all kind of choice.  Otherwise, it's only a matter of time before I screw up.  It's like J.R.R. Tolkien's one ring: if Isildur had just thrown the evil ring into the lava 500 years ago, Frodo wouldn't have to deal with it whispering the Black Speech of Mordor in his pocket.  I wanted to find a way to throw my own capacity for evil into some Mount Doom so I wouldn't have to worry about it whispering in my pocket all the time.  I tried several ways, and was considering yet more but was continually frustrated that they didn't work.  No matter how I tried to "cure" myself or be "cured," I never developed immunity to the disease.  This has been one of the major themes of my spiritual life thus far, I am ashamed to admit.

This week's study pointed out the folly of the one-time-fix for personal holiness.  In it, Jay Adams says, "You may have sought and tried to obtain instant godliness.  There is no such thing...We want somebody to give us three easy steps to godliness, and we'll take them next Friday and be godly.  The trouble is, godliness doesn't come that way."  The trouble is, love is a choice.  It's not just a once-for-all kind of choice, but a consistent choice which must be repeated minute by minute: a discipline.  If it were anything else, it would be meaningless.

This isn't what I wanted to learn from God this week (I wanted to learn an instant cure), but it is what I needed to learn.  I still believe in predestination and fate (as a self-proclaimed "romantic," I don't think it can be love if there's not some element of fate, haha!), but I now begin to understand that love is also a decision.  More, it is a discipline.  Discipline is hard.  In practicing discipline, I will fail more times than I'd like to think about.  In failing, I will commit more evil and hurt God and people more than I could bear if I could see it now. But this is necessary, for if I were not capable of failing, I would not be capable of truly succeeding.  If I were not capable of doing evil and causing pain, I would not be capable of doing righteously and bringing joy.  It is not a safe adventure He invites me into, but it is all the more worthwhile for its dangers.