Sanctification
Debit Cards, Silence and Hasty Vows
It was strangely silent. The kids made scarcely a noise as we drove home. They knew I was troubled by not being able to find my debit card. I was distracted by the thoughts of potential fraudulent use.
The moment the car ignition was off, my daughter sprang to the front seat to hand me a note. Words scrawled on the page explained both the hush and the tears running down her face.
“I told God I wouldn’t talk until you found your card or got a new one … I was trying to show Him my faith in Him … What if I can’t do it? … What have I done? … I’m scared.”
Perfect Friends
Do you have a perfect friend?
Perhaps you readily answered that with a ‘no’ because you’re keenly aware of their flaws, or just recognize that we’re all imperfect. Or perhaps you’re inventorying the list of people in your life that have the appearance of perfection in their ability to manage many tasks, maintain a trim, athletic figure, and exude the social graces… continuously, of course.
This week, in particular, I was blessed by several friends. They listened intently to my pain, eager to share the burden. They cast no judgement, yet willingly spoke truth, because they love me. They will continue to pray for, and with, me. My time with them leaves me feeling affirmed and spurred on to run the race marked out for me (Hebrews 12:1). Afterwards, I specifically thanked God, recognizing them each as a gift in my life. Read More
For Full Effect
Count it all joy, my brothers when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.
— James 1:2-4 ESV
“…let steadfastness have its full effect.” That little three-letter word ‘let’ startled me in this verse. It sounded so… passive. In a sense, I liked that because it evoked a picture in my mind of being wholly submitted, as if laid on the altar. Read More
Giving…With Just Cause
Should we base our tithe on our pre-tax or post-tax income? This debate occurs somewhat frequently in circles when the topic of tithing arises. I’ve asked the question, too.
Frankly, I’ve decided it’s beside the point. I find it to be a flimsy veil behind which hands are clenched tightly around dollars and ‘stuff.’ What, then, will liberate treasure from our grubby little mitts?
Commitment and Sacrifice
With commitment comes a loss of freedom. Committing to give in the form of dollars or hours implicitly requires denial of self in another area, if for no other reason than we lack infinite resources.
Sacrifice, by definition, isn’t sacrifice unless it costs something. When we give to a charitable organization, including churches, we commonly deduct it on our Federal taxes, rendering our sacrifice less costly to us. Read More
Gait Analysis: Five Faith Lessons Learned from Running
For more than six years, on and off, I’ve been battling an injury to my left foot. As someone who classifies herself as a runner, this has been a major disruption to my singular choice of physical activity. I have pursued multiple interventions: rest (temporary and prolonged), chiropractic, oral and injected anti-inflammatories, boot immobilization, taping, and physical therapy. While each mitigated the effects, none corrected the problem completely.
That’s because I continue to cause the problem with my biomechanics. My stride is shorter on my right foot than on my left so, over many miles, I spend a disproportionate amount of time on the left, resulting in stress that mimics a fracture. The only long-term solution is to retrain my gait. As a human born with Adam’s sin, my relationship with God is dysfunctional apart from the sacrifice of Christ. After trusting in Him for my salvation, His Spirit begins the work of sanctification in my life: reshaping my spiritual gait. The lessons I’ve learned from running while retraining my gait had striking similarities to the process of spiritual formation.
It’s personal:
I have had multiple running comrades over the years. Some of them have near-flawless form and rarely suffer injuries. Their good form didn’t rub off on me; I had to do the work. My fellow sojourners play a role in my salvation by sharing the truth of the gospel and inspiring me to mature in my faith. But I am not saved by their words or proximity to them: I must square my accounts with God myself through Christ.
It’s painful:
My right adductor is weak, allowing my right foot to turn out. As a result my stride is shortened, which in turn has permitted my hamstring to tighten up. My efforts to keep my feet parallel are fatiguing my puny little adductor and causing intense stretching in my hamstring. Bringing my life into conformity with Christ stretches and reshapes my mind and heart. I surrender habits, thought patterns, language and maybe even suffer the loss of some friendships when I pursue God with all I am.
It’s purposeful:
I have to focus my mental energy on every step I take. When my mind wanders, my wayward right foot goes with it. I must continuously and deliberately place my plantar with every turnover. My natural gait is defective and detrimental to my health. Similarly, my sinful nature is corrupt and costs me my life in eternity apart from Christ. Though I can do nothing to earn the gift He gave, I can strive to live a redeemed life that gives Him the glory. It will require effort and a continual submission to His will and the instruction His Word offers.
It’s about progress, not perfection:
My gait will never be perfect. I am fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14), but my body suffers under the curse of a fallen world. Every degree of improvement I make to my stride will garner me more steps that aren’t as prone to injury. Though I will never attain perfection this side of heaven, I know that with every step I move closer to Christ, He is honored and more visible in me.
It requires perseverance, but is profitable:
It will take a long time to have the new gait feel natural instead of alien. My body was designed with the capacity for running, but my form must be true to the design to avoid injury. I must be dedicated in my effort: giving up would only end in further injury, robbing myself of something I was meant to enjoy. If I persevere, the result will be less pain in my foot. Likewise, I can continue to live according to my flesh and never look any different than one who doesn’t know Jesus. But He meant for me to know and experience the abundant life of a believer abiding in Him transformed by the renewing of my mind (Romans 12). What greater gain could there be?
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3 Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.
— Hebrews 12:1-3
Let’s run! I’ll see you out there…
Thanks to Beholding Glory for hosting the link up!
Empty Handed
Help. Why (why!) is help so hard to ask for?
My husband occasionally travels for work, just two or three times a year. As a very involved husband and father, he’s always willing to pitch in for any need I have. So much so that when he’s gone, his helpful presence is definitively missed. During one of his rare travel weeks, I became aware that I had commitments to two children in three different locations on one night. There wasn’t time enough between the appointments to collect and drop off the right child at the right venue. I couldn’t pull it all off by myself, so I bit the bullet and tapped a few friends for some assistance. It was difficult to ask; I don’t like putting my responsibilities on another’s shoulders. I consoled myself with the notion that I’d gladly reciprocate in the future. They were gracious, and cheerfully arranged their afternoon and evening plans to support me.
This week, in a completely different situation, I had to ask for help again, but from different people and for different reasons. The need was much more significant, not merely a matter of being late to art class. It involved an enormous commitment of precious resources… resources that I don’t have and will never have.
I am unable to tranquilize the pain of my need with future reciprocity: I simply won’t be able to.
Though asking for help chauffeuring my kids was challenging, making this request was almost crippling. For me, the ability to reciprocate when asking for help seems to mitigate the condition of need. It makes me feel less needy, perhaps because my need appears limited in duration or nature. Where I feel able to repay, I am more willing to be indebted, if only temporarily. Where I am destitute of skill, time or money, I resist asking for help, because I am unable to give back. The pride of self-reliance, in other words, keeps me from seeking that which I genuinely need.
To receive Christ, we must, in humility, acknowledge our utter bankruptcy before God: I am sinful and in desperate need of a Savior. I have nothing to offer in exchange for my redemption from the judgment I justly deserve. I come to the Throne empty handed. And this is precisely how the Father intends it: that we are fully aware of our inability to earn the Grace, pay for the Gift. But God doesn’t stop at salvation and justification. Those events set in motion another work of the Holy Spirit: sanctification, the purifying process of becoming holy.
I struggled deeply to ask for help this week. I struggled even more profoundly to receive it. In and out of tears from the discomfort of my need, I slowly – too slowly – became aware this was something I needed to wrestle out and be purified of. God was pressing me to again be willing to acknowledge my poverty. Not for my salvation, but my sanctification. My discomfort in receiving the help I needed, but couldn’t repay, revealed a prideful independence, a lack of reliance on my Father. In humbly confessing my temporal needs to man, I would also confess my need to the Lord. The act of asking for help became a sanctifying work of the Spirit.
I want to more readily ask for help in the future, without promise of compensation, as fruit of this experience. I hope to see my needs as God’s tool to strip away another layer of my pride, purifying me and making me holy, set apart for His purposes.