Proverbs 5:15-21

I'm writing this post right now, because I really need it.  I started memorizing these verses earlier this week in the hope that they'd help me fight temptation.  Now, they're being put to the test.  The question is, do I understand them--and is my hope in them or in the God Whose they are?

However, these verses are brimming with sexual innuendo (yes, the Bible has innuendo, and God meant it that way), so this post is not appropriate for readers of all ages.  It is also not appropriate for all people, since some if it's content is controversial.

Ordinary Post, Extraordinary God

I don't really have anything to say today.  My thoughts are scattered, half-finished, unimpressive...and I have a cold.  Thus, I'm not a very great candidate for writing something meaningful in my blog today.  I want to hold off and write nothing until I feel better and something has cemented in my brain: that is to say, until I have something with which to impress you the reader, myself, and God with.

But God doesn't need to be impressed by me.  To start with, He probably isn't impressed, no matter what I do.  I mean, He's the God of the universe and I'm just a lump of tissues He made from dust on one corner of one very small rocky planet orbiting a stable but otherwise unremarkable yellow star lost somewhere in the spinning arms of a generic spiral galaxy--one among a few hundred billion of which He spoke into existence on a single day.  What's there to be impressed with, exactly?  Anything I do, He's outdone infinitely.  It's not even like I can impress Him even with my performance given my circumstances (of not being God of the whole universe), since about 2,000 years ago He came down and took on flesh and lived a life very much like my own: except that He did much better despite living in less advantageous circumstances.  So I am, in this sense, nothing for God to get excited about, even on my very best days (and this is not one of them).

And yet, He is excited about me.  Everything He says and does demonstrates that He's quite taken with me and wants me to be totally enamored with Him.  On a slow day, with assignments piling up like tissues in my trashcan (and boy are those piling up!) and my thoughts scattered uselessly in a dozen different directions, that thought stops me, makes me sit back and just say, "Wow."

How can that be?  God is seriously the most majestic, powerful, and wonderful being in existence.  He's so much bigger and better than anything or anyone we vainly imagine to love us.  He's so much better than we deserve, ever.  Yet God condescends to love us, to love me.  Me!  With my nose turning slightly red and my eyes watering and my unshaved chin itching, and my thoughts on--of all things--a smartphone commercial featuring two fighting robots.  How stupid and small and fickle I am!  And yet, God loves me.  I do not say that He loves how much of an idiot I am, fixating on these things and thinking of them rather than Him.  He loves me though, rather like a boy loves a girl who is distracted from him, staring at her from across the room as she makes crude doodles in her notebook and scratches at her zits.  Her flaws are not apparent to the boy, because he is in love with her.  God is not blinded by infatuation, but the death of His Son has purged my sin in His eyes.  He no longer sees my zits and crude sketches as glaring and repellent flaws, for by the work of His Son, applied through the Spirit, He intends to (as I run away with the analogy--not literally) give me beautiful complexion in the end, and through my hand draw masterpieces.  When I realize this, I am in awe of Him.

I could see it, perhaps, if God decided to become involved with me personally when I had it all (or nearly all) figured out.  His love would be comprehensible if it only extended to me when I felt myself worthy of it (and actually was).  But without His intervention, that will never be, and so His love extends to me even now, just as I am (though this is not the way He means me to be).  Even this would not be such a stretch if His love only covered the big picture.  If God was indifferent to my day-to-day routine, calloused to my minor ailments and annoyances, and shrugged off my temporary swings of mood, I could understand it.  He's here for the bigger picture.  He wants something from me, that's why He's here.  Once He get's it, He'll be gone.  That's the way I've looked at God a lot, I confess, and as a consequence I feel like I've lived half my life (and still often find myself) looking over one shoulder, trying to see if He's still there.  I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Him to announce that the purpose of my life just got fulfilled and He's done with me now--or far, far, far more likely, storm away from me shaking His head in disgust, deciding that His big plans are better accomplished through somebody not quite as flawed, not half as bad a failure as I am.  Sometimes, I even directly ask Him to do that in my prayers.  Sometimes, I'm so weighed down in sin and guilt I just cry out, "God, why are you still here?!  When will you take a hint?  I'm a loser, you belong with someone else.  I don't want you to leave, but you really should.  I'll never be the sort of person you want me to be.  I'll only disappoint you, so you might as well cut your losses and get out of my life now!"

He never listens, by the way.  Never.  Sometimes it frustrates me and makes me want to tear my hair out!  How can He be so persistent!?!  But He is, and the truth of the matter is, He isn't sticking around for anything I might give Him (it's not like He needs anything, anyway, is it?).  The other shoe will never drop because, quite simply, there is no other shoe to drop.  God is interested in me not for something I may or may not fail to achieve, but for me myself.  He's after my heart, right now, right here, even as I type these words (by the way, Who do you think prompted me to type a blog entry when I was feeling like crud off the bottom of a fish pond--and really wanted to post, but didn't think I had anything to say?  If your answer starts with a Go and ends with a d and has three letters, then you're correct.)  He loves my heart.  He courts it, me, in every thing.  Even the minutia of a day when I feel crummy and unremarkable.  Jesus loves me, and that is sooo remarkable!

I wish I knew Him better.  I wish I was more like Him.  I wish my life didn't always seem to be an endless chase scene with Him so purposefully and masterfully pursing me, and me so stupidly and awkwardly running away.  At least there are some good times when He corners me (like now).  I wish that happened more often.  I wish I didn't always wind up on the run again.  Being captured in His embrace is just so much better!  I suppose it will be like that forever someday.  That's what I imagine Heaven is like.  No more running, not even a desire to run or hide my heart!  Just me and Him, together forever (I know that there will be other believers up there--a lot of them!--but in that day, we will all be one and He will be the Bridegroom and we will be the Bride at the marriage supper of the Lamb).

Someday, someday...and in the meantime, He is still with me!

Life Verse(s): Ephesians 5:25-32

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the Church and gave Himself up for Her, that He might sanctify Her, having cleansed Her by the washing of water with the Word, so that He might present the Church to Himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that She might be holy and without blemish [blameless].  In the same way, husbands should love their wives as their own bodies.  He who loves his wife loves himself.  For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ does the Church, because we are members of His Body.  "Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh."  This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the Church.

--Ephesians 5:25-32 (ESV)

A lot of Christians I know have decided to pick out what they call a "life verse" from the Bible.   It's usually one of their favorite verses, but it's more than just a favorite.  Whereas a favorite verse is just a verse you find particularly striking or appealing (and, if you're like me, you highlight it in your Bible with a little colored pencil so you can read it again and again later), a life verse is a verse that--more than anything else--seems to speak directly to your life, your purpose, your mission and goal, by God's grace.

I've heard a few messages where, at one point the speaker--excited by his or her own life verse (which they've just shared)--will encourage everyone else to find a life verse somewhere in the Bible.  Every time that's happened, I've thought to myself, Well, that does sound like it would be really cool and godly.  Maybe I should do that.  So, I'd go looking through my favorite verses, but I'd never find anyone verse that was really that profound, that all-encompassing, for my life...until now.

To be sure, this is not the first time I've ever read Ephesians 5:25-32.  It's been a favorite of mine for years, but lately I've been noticing how much it and the concepts it presents keep cropping up in my life.  Actually, that's not quite accurate.  It would be more accurate, perhaps, to say that this passage, in all it's meanings, dominates (to a large extent) my inner life--and it is my desire that it would dominate there even more in the future.  Perhaps it would be best if I explained what this verse means to me and how it came to be so important to me--how it became my life verse.

I guess I first noticed this verse while I was still in high school.  At that point, was, of course, unmarried and couldn't see myself getting married for a while.  Thus, I didn't feel like much of the passage was really talking to me.  I wasn't a husband and I didn't have a wife that I needed to be loving "as Christ loved the Church."  However, that last part did get my attention: here the Bible was saying that Jesus loved the Church the way a husband (ideally) loves his wife.  I knew at that point that I was a part of the Church, and it was incredible to think that God would extend that kind of love toward me.  In fact, at the time, it was too incredible for me.  I did not, could not, at first grasp that this verse was talking about me personally and how much Christ loved me.  To me, Christ's love was something I usually viewed as more general rather than personal--since personally I was sure I was not lovable.  Christ loved Christians, and I was sort of grandfathered into that, I felt.

However, this is not so.  As I would learn later, Christ's love in it's totality really is personal, even to me.  His death on the cross cleanses all who trust Him of their sin and guilt, making them worthy to receive His love--even I have been affected this way.  Due to the individual nature of Christ's love, the passage could as well read:

Husbands love your wives, as Christ loved Aaron and gave Himself up for him, that He might sanctify him, having cleansed him by the washing of water with the Word, so that He might present Aaron to Himself in splendor, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that he might be holy and blameless.  In the same way, husbands should love their wives as their own bodies.  He who loves his wife loves himself.  For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ does Aaron, because he is a member of His Body.  "Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh."  This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and Aaron.

 Every time I see it, such as when I was rewriting those verses just now, the immensity of Christ's love for me stuns me and brings me to the edge of elation or tears (or both).  These past four years of college (going on five--yep, I'm doing my four-year degree in five), Christ has made me aware of His love for me in so many ways.  He has convinced me of it, and I have fallen in love with Him until all I really want to do is just fall deeper.

Paul was right in that last verse: the profound mystery of the union of a husband and a wife is something that speaks of the union between Christ and the Church--between Christ and every believer.  It is, I've found, the best analogy and description of how I relate to Christ in my own life.  I know it sounds cliche, but in my own life--this past year especially--I've found that the best way to describe the way I relate to God (though admittedly not the only way to describe it) is as the sort of loving relationship that exists between a man and wife (more on this in the first three parts of my Unconventional Relationship series of posts, from June of this year).

But the love of Christ for me isn't all I see in this verse.  Over the past two or so years, I've seen another meaning in it, one that speaks to the ideal relationship between a husband and a wife.  I always knew that meaning was there (it's fairly obvious), but, as I said before, it didn't stand out to me at first because I wasn't married and didn't plan on being for some time.  As it stands now, I'm still not married--I'm not even in a relationship (and never have been)--and yet something has changed.

Three years ago (approximately), God began telling me that it was His will that I get married someday--that, in some sense, it was my destiny.  At first, I did not think too much of it.  I had always wanted a relationship (well, that's an exaggeration--like all boys, I once thought girls had cooties) and figured I would get married at some point (as the only boy of my family, I realized pretty early that if our family name was to continue, it was on me to do the continuing--not that this is so very important these days).  What God was telling me wasn't so very surprising at first.  I waited around, praying about it, and expecting that one day He'd just some pretty young lady in my lap and we'd get married and it would all be fun, romance, and adventures.  Then, about a year ago, I was reading John Eldridge's Wild At Heart and came across a chapter that took a real Biblical look at what marriage was supposed to be like.  It isn't all fun and games, and from that perspective, God's promise of a wife to me wasn't some flippant little blessing: it was a mission, a calling to love another human being in a radical, sacrificial way.  A paraphrase that emphasizes this in the passage is from The Message Bible (published by NavPress):

Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the Church--a love marked by giving, not getting.  Christ's love makes the Church whole.  His words evoke her beauty.  Everything He does is designed to bring out the best of her, dressing her in dazzling white silk, radiant with holiness.  And this is how husbands ought to love their wives.

When I first saw God's promise to me in that light, it changed my outlook on relationships.  It made me appreciate that marriage wasn't just a treat God had for me: it was something He wanted me to do.  It was a command, a mission, a good work that needed to be done.  I accepted it, and it changed my life.  It grew in my life.  Over the past few months, God has been impressing me with the importance of the quest of marriage with which He has charged me.  It is not a side-quest or a mere training mission.  If I really accept this quest, this will be what my life is about: my life will be about living out Ephesians 5:25-32 with the woman God will give me as my wife.

Now, I am keenly aware that this might raise red flags in the minds of some of you.  After all, our lives are supposed to center around God, right?  As a Christian, I've been taught that one of our highest (and indeed, it is sometimes portrayed as our only) callings is the Great Commission, to go and share the gospel with the world--which is generally interpreted as meaning simply evangelism.  How can something that doesn't involve sharing the Bridge illustration with people be the point of any Christian's life?

These were the questions I've been asking myself and God during the past few months, but I find that they stem from false assumptions about the nature of marriage and the Great Commission.  To start with, it is too narrow to think of the Great Commission as simply "go and tell people 'Jesus died for your sins.'"  There are a multitude of ways to fulfill the Great Commission, and many of them don't involve speaking at all.  One of these ways is marriage.  As Ephesians 5:25-32 says, the way a husband treats his wife in marriage is to be an exact picture of how Christ treats the Church, of how He loved the Church as He offered up His life on the cross.  In other words, marriage is intended to be a picture of the cross--and thus, marriage is a possible way to fulfill the Great Commission on an individual basis.  Not only that, but marriage is a very important way to fulfill the Great Commission and glorify God.  A good marriage can effect the whole world around it, inspiring and encouraging couples and singles alike with the love it displays.  If the marriage produces children (as is usual), then this influence can continue for generations, with the children and grandchildren and even great-grandchildren being built up in their youths by the love they see in this marriage and going on to express that same love (the love of God) in their own marriages.  Marriage is a critical calling in the work of spreading the gospel and sharing the love of Christ--indeed, without it the entire human race would swiftly cease to exist.

Now, I don't say this to tell you, reader, what your life is to be about.  That's for God to decide.  There are, to be sure, a wide variety of legitimate callings out there, and not every person is called to be married.  But I know I am, and Ephesians 5:25-32 is what my life is about.

My Hope is Built on Nothing Less

Today, the sermon my Dad preached was on the importance of discernment from 1 Thessalonians 5:21 "Test all things; hold fast what is good." (NKJV).  Since the only other family who attends our church (an older couple) were out of town on vacation and my youngest sister and Mom were both at home, too sick to come, his entire audience consisted of my college-age sister Audrey and me.  He said that discernment was especially important to us.  We were (are, and have) entering a whole new world of ideas we had not yet been exposed to.  He also said that discernment was something on the decline among Christians in America in general.

He sited three examples of this.  The first was the seeker-sensitive church, which is growing in popularity these days.  Now, there's nothing necessarily wrong with a church that seeks to be welcoming to the unsaved--so long as it welcomes them so that they may hear the gospel and be saved from their sins.  Some seeker-sensitive churches have overdone this welcome and forgotten its purpose, welcoming the unsaved from every walk of life and in every form of debatchery and making them feel as though God is perfectly happy to let them remain just as they are, sins and all.  This is not the truth of the gospel and it erodes the foundations of such churches.  Second was the rise of Christian mysticism, which he held to be something totally bad.  He defined mysticism as basing one's faith on subjective experiences and feelings.  Such a faith was completely subjective and utterly immune to doctrine and scriptural correction.  If a mystic of this vein decided that God wanted him to marry his mother-in-law and sacrifice his kids to cows, there would be nothing anyone could say against it so long as the mystic "felt" that it was right between him and God to do so.  The third example he warned of was parachurch organizations, specifically in the realm of publishing.  While these organizations can build reputations for publishing doctrinally and scripturally correct books, they can be (and sometimes are) lured by the profitability of less wholesome spiritual books.  Thus, one should not judge a book by its publishing company but make a careful testing of its content as well.

I had a mixed reaction to his sermon.  I agreed, of course, that discernment is very important and that in the age of political correctness, tolerance, and diversity good spiritual discernment is going out of style.  I also disapproved of the practices of these unnamed book publishers, who, in addition to using their resources to blaze about damnable heresies, are also practicing just-plain bad business.  Publishers have an excellent opportunity for branding with thier books.  A reputation for sound doctrine and spiritually wholesome material could take years to build up for a publishing brand.  As such, it is far too valuable to be wasted by letting one heretical book slip through--especially as the heretical book will not appeal to the nitch market the publishers have so carefully courted but only the mass market where the publisher will quickly be out-competed and lose significant profit margins...followed by its devoted (or should I say formerly-devoted) nitch market, who will feel they can no longer trust a publishing brand that carries such a deplorable book (and rightly so).

Yes, I'm a business major, so I'm a nerd about these things.

My other reaction was much more personal.  When my father was describing and denouncing mysticism, he could hardly know that I, his son, considered himself a mystic.  I was appalled at the definitions my father applied to mysticism, which fit better with relativism (an altogether different matter) in my mind.  I was afraid to speak up, but nevertheless I did, in the end.  I told him that I considered myself a mystic and, although I based my faith on scripture and held to doctrine, I did enjoy many "experiences and feelings" of God.  He asked me to be more specific and, put on the spot, I was unable to answer.  I don't talk about these sorts of things hardly ever, and certainly not with people who don't seem to have anything similar in their own life (I'm afraid I'll either sound crazy or super-spiritual, neither of which I am or want to be taken as).  Even when I do talk of them, I hardly know what to say.  How does one go about putting the inexpressable in words?  It is beyond me.  In the end, my father said that my experiences and all were fine, as long as they were not the basis of my faith, since they are, at best, of uncertain origin and subject to personal interpretation--two pitfalls of which I am keenly aware.

So, as I've gone about the rest of my day, I've wondered, what is it that my faith is based on?  What function do my mystical experiences play and what role does scripture, doctrine, and the intellect hold?  I have not really sorted all these questions out.  I know my experiences, which vary widely, serve a wide variety of purposes in my spiritual life.  They comfort me, challenge me, direct me, and confirm me in my faith (more of this in "My Unconventional Relationship" series posted this June).  Yet they are not the basis of my faith.  Scripture grounds me and helps me to sort through my thoughts and feelings--to test them and hold fast to what is good.  From scripture I have learned doctrine and using scripture I have tested doctrine itself (and found some doctrines wanting).  Yet, while I hold to scriptura sola as a Protestant, I do not find that the basis of my faith is, at bottom, the Bible itself.

My faith is built on nothing less than the person of Jesus Christ, my God and Savior.  Without Him and His Spirit, the Bible is--in the end--just words on a page.  Think about it, if there is no God, or if He is not at all Who we understand Him to be, of what good is the Bible?  Of what good is the Bible even now in the hands of those who do not know and refuse to know God?  I have known far too many people who have based their faith on their ability to understand the Bible (often with the help of some supposedly divinely appointed organization, such as the Watchtower Society of the Jehovah's Witnesses or the Prophets of the Mormon Church).  These people had the Bible.  I went through the Bible with them and they read it, but when they left they did not have God.  Without the Author, the words themselves are just that: words, and any amount of studying and memorizing them cannot bring one (in themselves) to a right relationship with their Maker.

One might argue that a better basis, in light of this, is doctrine, and a correct understanding of Scripture.  Doctrines, by themselves, though, are dry.  Further, who can claim to have it all together, doctrinally?  Let me rephrase that: who can truly say they correctly understand every word of the Bible?  Perhaps some people are so bold as to make that claim, but I do not.  There is a lot there in the Bible and there is a lot I don't understand.  There are doctrines I'm not entirely sure of, such as the working out of predestination and free-will.  I know that both are real, but I've never been able to figure out just how they work together.  If my faith is built on my correct understranding of scripture and doctrine, my faith must never be complete and must remain forever dry and intellectual.

Works give our faith legs, and works of righteousness are definately something that God has prepaired for us in our spiritual lives (Ephesians 2:10), but these are not a suitable basis for our faith.  From scripture and doctrine, we know that our faith is not born of works (Ephesians 2:8-9).  Further my own experience has taught me that basing one's faith even partially on one's own work sets up an enormous burden of performance and guilt (for the constant failures of our own nature), which never lets up and from which we can never escape.  At bottom, I find that we cannot live up to anyone's standard of righteousness, not even our own and certainly not God's.  God is, further, not interested in us for what we can do for Him.  He has all the power and knowledge of the universe, after all: it's not like He needs us to do everything for Him.

In the end, the only solid basis for my faith--and the true foundation it rests on--is Christ Jesus in His own person.  God never changes, never lies, and never changes His mind, so my faith and my relationship with Him is totally secure.  It cannot be shaken because I haven't had a particular feeling of His nearness lately (though I do crave these feelings--it's impossible to describe how wonderful they are!).  It isn't broken because I find I can't understand a passage or verse (though I do want to understand what it is He's said in His Word--after all, He said it!).  It isn't lesser than the faith and relationship of someone else who's read the Bible in a year and memorized Psalms (my Christ is the same as their Christ--though I do enjoy reading the Bible over and over again and learning about Him this way).  It isn't incomplete because I don't understand every doctrine (though this can be useful) or understand some of them wrong (it is Christ that matters, Who also was preached by the apostles of old).  It isn't destroyed when I sin (though I really don't want to sin), for Christ remains sinless and interceeds for me.  Christ is further the only thing that will endure, the only thing, ultimately, worth seizing in Christianity and all the world.  As for the Bible, for all I know every copy may be burned up when this world is destroyed by fire in the end--and I don't know if it will continue to exist "when that which is perfect is come" (1 Corinthians 13:9-10).  When that time comes, I know that all our incomplete and inadiquate doctrines and understandings will surely be no more.  In that day also, works will cease (John 9:4) and be complete--and with what or how (or even if) we shall busy ourselves in the eternity thereafter has not yet been revealed.  As for my feelings and experiences, I know that these also, though pleasurable, are incomplete, a shadow of things to come.  I feel a tingle, and it is as if my LORD embraced me, but I see nothing.  I know He is there and I am partly aware of His presence, but it will not alwayse be so.  "For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face.  Now I know in part; but then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known." (1 Corinthians 13:12).  Christ will remain, and He is my hope and my reward (Genesis 15:1).

Of Hearts and Slaves

I'm not sure how to present these thoughts except as they presented themselves to me...so hang on, reader!  This may be a bumpy ride!

So, yesterday, I was talking with my good friend Denise (I'm pretty sure she wouldn't mind me mentioning her in this...I mean, does anybody read these anyway?) and we were discussing a complicated problem that's developed in the campus ministry we're a part of.  Legalism seems to have crept in and it's not isolated to any one area or one person.  One of the areas of legalism she mentioned (which I, for obvious reasons, was not aware of) was the burdensome expectations placed on married women.  Too much emphasis is placed on verses like 1 Peter 3:1, which encourage wives to obey their husbands and not enough is placed on verses like 1 Peter 3:7 and Ephesians 5:25, which command husbands to love their wives with compassion, understanding, and sacrificial devotion.  The result is that husbands commonly tyrannize their wives (sometimes doing so by simple ignorance) and the wives docilely try to just accept the abuse and submit every aspect of their lives (down to coffee-dates with their girl-friends) to their husband's micro-mismanagement.  I have witnessed this myself, which may also be why married couples in this ministry seem to fight more and love less than any Christian couples I've ever seen (and, ironically, some of their leaders think to use the "strength of this ministry's marriages" as a bragging point and a way to bolster their case for legalism...all these young marriages could meanwhile turn into time-bombs if they're not carefully repaired).

I felt for Denise, and for my other married friends.  It's not the sort of feeling one should have, feeling sorry for someone who's gotten married or fallen in love, but unfortunately, the circumstances justified it.  Pretty soon, though I was thinking of my own life.  I'm single, and have been for nearly 22 years running, but I don't plan to be forever.  In fact, it probably won't be that many years before it's my turn to wait at the altar.  What if this happened in my life?  What if people told my someday-future-wife that godliness in a married woman equated with subservience?  The thought makes my heart heavy.  Perhaps some men--twisted men--want to marry a woman who'll be a slave to their every whim (that is to say, a woman who is not a woman, but more of a pet or a toy), but the thought holds no pleasure for me at all.  I have always longed for a companion, a partner, a mate, a helper, to stand beside me--not beneath me or above me.  This is, I believe, as the Bible says it should be, as it was in the beginning (and lest the archaic "help-meet" of Genesis 2:18 should sound too subservient to you, remember that the same word for "help" is used to describe God's great interventions in the Psalms).  I know as a man leading is my assigned role.  I accept that.  But it's hard enough to lead properly (keeping the self-sacrificial leadership of Christ in mind--Who, as a leader, washed His disciple's feet) without someone trying to pressure you into tyranny.  Tyranny is never good, for Christ is never a tyrant. Further, a dynamic of tyranny and subservience in a marriage can only shut down the wife's heart (supposing, of course, that it is she who is being tyrannized).  To me, the whole point of a relationship (even and especially in marriage) as a man is to win the woman's heart.  A slave's heart, though, is shut down, imprisoned, and impossible to win.  There is no point to such a relationship, and there is no godliness to it at all.  In order to win a heart, it must first be set free.  I've never done this, but from seeing this done to my own heart by God (He is winning my heart) I know that freeing someone's heart is messy and dangerous.  All kinds of crud can come out that's been locked up and festering in there for ages, and there's no telling how or when it will come out.  It takes a great deal of compassion and self-sacrifice to lay aside your own plans for the moment in order to heal the hurt that's just been exposed.  The cost of this sort of thing is, I imagine, very very high...but the reward is even greater, for there is no greater prize than the heart of one you love.  I hope and pray that my love can understand this and not allow herself to be tyrannized.

But I speak of things I know nothing about, yes?  Like I said, I've never been in a relationship with a girl.  The only relationship I've ever been in is with my Lord and Savior, Jesus.  Remembering that brings me to wondering if these thoughts about married life have any application to my spiritual life.  I find that they do.  So often when we come to Christ, we are overawed by His divinity and offer ourselves to Him as slaves.  Often, we do this in ignorance and try to interpret harsh commands from Him to conform our lives to.  I know that once this described my spiritual life pretty well.  I would read God's Word and mostly just encounter all sorts of commands I wasn't following.  I would cringe, bow my head, and beg God for mercy, promising that I would be a better slave next time.  But Christ, in His mercy, calls us to something better.  The disciples called Him "Lord" and "Master," but He called them "friends" (John 13:14 and 15:15).  We come cringing to Him as slaves, and He invites us to sit with Him in his throne (Revelation 3:21).  We come asking for no credit, only begging not to be punished, and He gives us a share in His glory.  It seems that Christ, in His love and His humanity, is not interested in a slave any more than I am.  Perhaps all He really wants to do is walk beside us, and win our hearts.

Where David Found His Strength

I started a study into the life of King David yesterday, starting in 1 Samuel 16.  This morning, I read chapter 17, which contains the famous account of David's battle with Goliath.

Most everyone is familiar with the story of David and Goliath, at least to some extent, but for those who aren't, a brief recap.  At this point in history, the ancient kingdom of Israel was at war with the kingdoms of the Philistines.  The Philistines had just invaded and camped their army near an Israelite town.  The army of Israel had likewise camped nearby and both armies prepared to do battle.  However, at this point Goliath--a Philistine champion--came forward and challenged anyone in Israel to single combat to determine the outcome of the war.  Not surprisingly, Goliath didn't have any takers.  According the the Bible, he was a trained warrior from his youth and stood over nine feet tall.  He was armored all in bronze (with his coat of mail alone weighing 125 pounds) and armed with a sword and a gigantic spear with an iron head (which was especially intimidating since this took place in the late Bronze Age, when iron was the toughest metal known to mankind).  Not surprisingly, everyone in Israel was afraid of him and none of them dared enter single combat with him.

At least, until David came.  David was not a soldier at this point, or even king.  He was just a shepherd running an errand for his dad.  Yet he happened upon the scene when Goliath was making his boastful challenge to the Israelite army and he volunteered to take on the giant.  Since David was not a trained soldier, he was unable to go out in armor against Goliath so he instead faced him in his everyday clothes, armed only with his shepherd's staff and a sling with five smooth stones.  He went out to meet Goliath looking like a kid with a derringer going out to fight an Abrams tank.  Goliath laughed at the sight of him...and then stopped laughing abruptly as David's sling-stone found his unarmored forehead and fatally concussed him.  The gigantic warrior toppled at the shepherd boy's feet and the rest is history.

What I found interesting in my reading, though, was where each of the characters looked for strength.  Goliath  clearly found his source of strength in himself--and why wouldn't he?  The man was the flesh-tone equivalent of the Hulk!  He could have taken any man in Israel in single combat, and probably have defeated several at once as well.  In his challenge, he shouts, "I defy the armies of Israel this day," and clearly he thinks he's strong enough to do it.

The Israelites, similarly, were looking for strength in themselves and each other.  Though they were no where near as strong as Goliath, they looked to their own resources for strength for that was--seemingly--all they had.  They even used this attitude to evaluate David when he volunteered to fight the giant, saying to him, "You are not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him, for you are but a youth, and he has been a man of war from his youth."  They compared what strength they could find in themselves to the evident strength of Goliath and found themselves wanting--and thus dared not to oppose the giant.

But David is different.  Though he is nowhere near as strong as Goliath, and he is fully aware of this fact, he does not shirk from confronting him.  In the face of Goliath's incredible power, Israel quails but David remains confident.  His confidence is not foolish bravado any more than his victory is dumb luck.  His confidence and his victory come from his source of strength--which is greater than that of Goliath.  In verse 45, David reveals where he finds his strength when he answers Goliath's challenge by saying, "You come at me with a sword and with a spear and with a javelin, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied."  David does not look in himself for his source of strength.  He does not gauge his skill, fortitude, and experience against that of his opponent.  Rather, he looks to God has his source of strength.  He is confident that God will give him the victory because he believes that God will fight the battle through him--and God is far more powerful than the Philistine.  Goliath may be six feet tall, but God's vastness cannot be contained by any physical dimensions.  Goliath may be wearing enough armor to stop a bronze arrow or a sword cut, but God can stop a storm with one word and no weapon ever made is capable of harming Him.  Goliath may have the latest and greatest in iron-tipped spears, but God has the ability to unleash hail, lightning, disease, earthquakes, world-drowning floods, and firey apocalypses beyond human imagination at will.  Against such an opponent, Goliath doesn't stand a chance, and David knows it.

But what about us, as Christians in our daily lives and particularly in our trials.  Where do we find our strength?  When we face temptations or challenges or stressful situations, where are we looking for our source of power?  By what means do we measure our chances of success?

I have to say in my own life that, too often, I find myself looking for strength where the Israelites looked.  I compare the allurements of lust to my own willpower, and whatever checks and fail-safes I may have put in place (like an accountability partners).  Right now, that's a recipe for disaster: as I only have one accountability partner right now who hasn't held me accountable in months and my exhausted willpower is so often no more match for an alluring clip from the web than an Israelite soldier was for Goliath.  When under stress, I compare my work-pace and quality against the demands of an assignment and its deadline.  This, of course, increases my stress as I try to work like a dog to make up the difference--or else give up in despair.  When looking at my finances, I compare my meager income to my current and (rapidly mounting) future expenses--which explains why I generally avoid thinking about my finances.  All around in my life I face challenges that are too big for me, at least, when I look at my own strength.

I want to be more like David, who looked not at his own strength for the battle, but counted on God.  God is not swayed by lust or pornography, since He created the forms and desires these crudely twist and emulate.  God is not stressed out by the demands of my work: in seven days He created the entire universe--and He took one of them off.  He owns all the wealth in the world--and owns the world, too--and He is not afraid of my financial burden, which is puny by comparison.

Now, this is not to say that I can or should just slack off and wait for God to do everything.  This is not the way David found his strength.  He did not sit back in the camp and wait for God to strike Goliath down with a bolt of lightning while he watched.  Instead, he engaged the giant, counting on God's strength to work through him and win the victory.  So also, I must face my struggles personally and engage them, but not through a trust in my own devices.  Instead, I must attack my problems with the courage and boldness that comes with the knowledge that Jesus has already overcome them.

Why I listen: A partial response to a fan of Kevin DeYoung's "Just Do Something"

This summer I've spent in conversational intimacy with God.  Now, as a new semester approaches, I face a choice of whether or not to let this go on.  Many people do not believe this kind of relationship with God is possible, some of my friends even.  Last fall, when I mentioned hearing from God on a particular decision, one of my friends, a leader in my church, told me that was not possible: God doesn't ever work that way, he said.  He pointed me to a book he'd read which explained why God didn't: Kevin DeYoung's "Just Do Something: a liberating approach to finding God's will."

Now, to be fair, this isn't what DeYoung's book says at all.  In fact, he devotes an entire chapter to making the point that, yes, God does sometimes work that way.  He is, after all, God and quite capable of doing whatever He pleases however He wants to do it.  The Bible abounds with examples of His talking to people, whether in conversational intimacy, through the mediation of prophets or angels, or by signs and wonders.  Kevin DeYoung is simply making the point that often Christians seek to hear God for the wrong reasons, especially in decision making, and that this makes such Christians very poor decision-makers.  For this reason, DeYoung advises Christians not to wait around listening for God to tell them what to do in every situation but rather to take advantage of scripture, Godly council, and prayer to make godly decisions with the resources God has already given them.  He doesn't say that God won't give special personal direction, nor does he say that Christians should never seek it.

My friend, however, would, and apparently gets his argument from this book.  In it, four basic reasons are cited for why Christians listen for God to speak into their decision-making process.  I want to see how these apply in my own life:

(1) We want to please God: No one will argue that this is a legitimate reason for doing something, though they may disagree with what it is we're doing.  In my own life, this is definitely a reason why I seek conversational intimacy with God and listen to Him in decisions.  I want to make sure I please Him in my decisions and my daily life.  Yet this is not (when I phrase it that way) the strongest reason why I do this.  I am not afraid that the decisions I make on my own (as it were) will be so horribly displeasing to Him.  After all, while I admit I'm a sinner, I know how to carry on a "normal" Christian life without special revelation to guide me.

(2) We are timid or cowardly: These are listed separately in the book, but lumping them together makes sense.  Basically, we hesitate and ask God because we're afraid of making the wrong decision or a decision that might get us hurt.  In regard to wrong decisions, this does relate to why I sometimes seek God.  I want to make sure I'm not about to screw up, but this, I find, is the wrong reason.  I should not be afraid of making mistakes, and I find that, looking back on my life and how God has used various events to lead me to where I am, sometimes He has used learning from my mistakes as a part of his will in my life.  Therefore seeking His will in order to avoid mistakes may not be effective.  It is particularly ineffective at avoiding a costly-but-right decision, however, as I will explain.

(3) We are searching for perfect fulfillment in life: that is, we try to listen for God in our decision-making because we believe God will lead us to a charmed life of all pleasure and no pain.  This, I can firmly say, is not a reason why I listen for God in my decisions, or seek intimacy with Him at all.  This myth (and the book is right in saying it is a myth) is firmly busted in my mind.  The Bible is clear that God uses hardship to refine us and that our enemies in this world will give us no rest if we follow Him.  That is something God reminds me of often, and often I find He is right.  What He directs me to do is often not easy and sometimes painful.  Sometimes, just relating to Him at all is painful.  There are wounds in my heart I would rather let lie: they don't hurt as much when they're festering.  God, however, is sure to bring them up and do some healing (which, until it's done, hurts like none other!).  This is not why I seek Him out.

(4) We have too many choices: that is, we listen to God because we're indecisive, waffling through too many options, and we want to use God as a device to simplify things and narrow down our options, or just plain make the decision for us because we're too lazy to do the dirty work.  I admit that sometimes I do use this as my reason for listening for God.  When I do, it is selfish and wrong...and He generally doesn't answer.

I find that, really, my main reason, the one that keeps me listening, the one that will keep me listening throughout the coming fall, is that I want God to have my heart.  I guess you could call this a subdivision of wanting to please Him, but it isn't as worded in the book.  I don't listen simply because I want the end decision to please God, I want the process to please Him.  More to the point, I want my heart during the process (and throughout daily life) to please Him.  Conversational intimacy with God has and does make me aware of His presence and sovereignty in my life as I wasn't previously.  That effects my heart.  It helps me give it to Him in the moment, whether He gives special direction or leaves the decision up to me (even when I listen, He does that sometimes).  I want to give my heart to Him, to love Him, and that is a Biblical command.  This intimacy with Him helps me to do that, and so I will continue to listen for His voice.