From Pops' Workshop

Author: dhammerslag

  • Workshop Chapter 2: Getting Ready for the Journey

    Workshop Chapter 2: Getting Ready for the Journey

    [I am posting what I had supposed would be a book, one chapter at a time.  As this "publication" continues, you will likely need to read chapters in order, beginning with Chapter 1.]

    I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.

    John 10:10(b), The Message

    Spiritually Stuck

    For much of my Christian life, I felt like I was being cheated and short-changed by God. I felt like I wasn’t getting everything that I was owed. I was living up to my end of the bargain, but God was not coming through as I expected. I know that sounds shallow and greedy; it seemed that way to me too. I felt guilty for wanting more, but I was restless and dissatisfied with the reality of my life as a Christian.

    This feeling ebbed and flowed, sometimes strong and persistent, sometimes weak and easy to miss, but it was always present. There had to be more to being a Christian than trying very hard to be good and knowing that I was forgiven when I failed. I went to church on Sundays. I served on church committees and assisted in worship services. I gave generously of my time and money. I read and studied the Bible. I even preached sometimes. Yet my life still seemed somehow hollow and incomplete.

    Where was the new life, the full life promised in John 10:10? It was supposed to be better than I could dream of. I could certainly dream of a life fuller and richer than the one I had. My life was one of striving yet never quite hitting the mark. It was a Sisyphean existence. I knew I had eternal life. When my body dies, I will spend eternity with God. But I wanted the promised “new life,” the more and better life, here and now!

    I knew God was changing me. Slowly and surely, I was becoming a different person, but deep down inside, I felt I was missing something, missing some key that would open the door to this richer life. I felt like I should be happy and satisfied. I had a good job, three grown kids all doing great and a wonderful wife who loved me despite my many, many failings. I was active in my church and well respected. Why did I still feel restless and unsatisfied?

    The Wall

     I was banging into what is sometimes called “the Wall.” Janet Hagberg and Robert Guelich, in “The Critical Journey: Stages in the Life of Faith,” describe six stages of spiritual growth or formation. Embedded in those stages is the Wall. It is what we run into when we run out of ourselves. When our efforts are finally and undeniably exposed as insufficient, we have hit the Wall.

    The Wall represents our will meeting God’s will face to face. We decide anew whether we are willing to surrender and let God direct our lives. Once we enter this part of stage 4, either through crisis, spiritual boredom, or a deep longing, we can easily become perplexed. Although we deeply desire to give our will over to God and even believe we are doing so, in truth, we are trying to deal with the Wall in the same way we have gotten through life­ on the strength of our own will or gifts. We try everything we can to scale it, circumvent it, burrow under it, leap over it, or simply ignore it. But the Wall remains! [1]

    At this time, I had no idea that there was such a thing as the Wall, let alone its significance in my journey, but that describes exactly where I was:  perplexed, wanting more without understanding what “more” was or how to get it.

    Moving Forward

    Knowing I wanted something and not knowing how to get it, I reverted to what I did know from my professional life: I sought an expert. I asked my pastor, Graeme, to suggest a mentor for me, someone who could help me find whatever it was I was missing. He suggested that I talk with a spiritual director, Danny. That was a suggestion to be ignored. Not because I didn’t like and respect Danny; he was a pastor at another local church and he had experienced his own profound rebirth.[2]

    It was a suggestion to be ignored. I wanted a mentor, not a spiritual director. I didn’t know what a spiritual director was or did, but it was not a mentor. Since I knew that I pretty much knew everything, I ignored Graeme’s suggestion.

    It seems the Lord did not want me to ignore it. He orchestrated a series of events that led me to where he knew I needed to be to experience him in a powerful, personal way, a way that would allow him to fill the spiritual void that dogged my days. He was getting ready to lead me through the Wall and position me to receive the call he was placing on me. The first thing he did was bring Danny to my church to deliver the Sunday message.

    Danny spoke about learning to be still in the presence of God, to simply “be with God” without an agenda. He began with the well-known line from Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God!” Over the course of the teaching, he distilled the verse from “Be still and know that I am God,” to “Be still and know,” to “Be still,” and, finally, to simply “Be.” At the end of his message, Danny set aside time for the congregation to practice being still and attentive in the presence of God. He asked us to just sit quietly for five minutes and pay attention to God.

    This was a new experience for me. I prayed regularly, but my prayers were very busy. I talked to God; I did not listen to him. I interceded, asking God to act on behalf of others. I prayed for my own needs and wants (mostly wants). I prayed in tongues, an unknown prayer language. God did speak to me in my praying from time to time, especially if I was seeking his direction or revelation. But my prayers were anything but still. I never slowed down enough to just experience the presence of God within. Trying to still my thoughts and emotions and just “be” in the presence of God was difficult but rewarding. I did not capture the experience in my journal nor can I recall the specifics, but I did experience God’s presence and I was moved by the feeling of peace that came with the awareness. That was the first tentative step down the road for me.

    The following Wednesday was Ash Wednesday, the traditional beginning of Lent, a season of reflection and repentance leading up to Good Friday, then Easter. My church conducts an Ash Wednesday service each year, a time to call to mind our sinfulness, repent, and seek forgiveness. As I asked the Lord to reveal to me what I needed to repent of I became aware of a need to stop putting myself first. While I knew this was true, it was not new. I had a deep-seated sense of entitlement, a belief that, above all, I deserved to have whatever it was I wanted. I repented of my selfishness on that Ash Wednesday, as I had many times before, trying to set aside my many agendas of what I deserved to have.

    What Do You Want?

    At that time, I was working as a consultant, which meant I was on the road most of the year. On the rare week when I was in town, I tried to connect with friends. I happened to be in town this particular week, so I invited three friends, Danny, Graeme, and Mike to lunch that Friday. I figured I’d have a one-on-one lunch with whoever was available. Lunch ended up including everyone. Not what I intended, to be honest. They had all been friends with each other before I knew any of them. I wanted some quality time with one; I didn’t want it to be a party where I was sure to not be the center of attention. Thankfully, we often get what we need, not what we want. This unintended group lunch ended up being a very good thing.

    During lunch, I complained about feeling like I was always “doing” for others and not getting what I wanted. (Looking back, it seems my Ash Wednesday repentance had once again, not “stuck”!)

    Graeme asked me “What is it David wants?” The question caught me flat-footed; I had no idea how to respond. I wanted “something,” but I had no idea what. The question stayed with me. It was and still is the most important question I have ever been asked. Elizabeth Leibert points out the importance of knowing our desires, “…desires are the royal road to self-knowledge. And, as John Calvin pointed out clearly, self-knowledge is directly linked to knowledge of God.”[3] If I don’t know what I want I don’t truly know myself and, as I would later learn, if I don’t know myself I can’t really know God. I didn’t know what I wanted, so I didn’t really know myself and didn’t fully know God.  It is no coincidence that in the gospels we find Jesus asking variations of “what do you want?”  See, for example, Mathew 20:32, Mark 10:51, John 5:6, and John 6:67

    While I was wondering what did I want, both Danny and Mike suggested I consider training to become a spiritual director. Here was this “spiritual direction” thing again. Two men whom I admire greatly, Danny, a pastor and a spiritual director, and Mike, a pastor and then, the director of a church network, were suggesting not only that I try spiritual direction but that I become a director myself.

    It seemed madness. How could they feel so confident that I would be a good spiritual director? My own sense of spiritual directionless was the problem; directing others could not be part of the solution. I wanted to be “fixed”; I didn’t want something else to do. Besides, I still didn’t know anything about spiritual direction. Danny said the best way to understand direction was to try it out and offered the first session for free. I was nothing if not cheap, so a week later, I met with Danny for my first direction session.

    Danny and I talked about how I felt stuck and unable to progress in my growth as a Christian. I knew, for example, that I had a gift of prophecy, but I was reluctant to use it. I had preached a few times, and people had told me how my preaching had affected them, challenging them to look at things differently. Still, I was reluctant to preach. As we discussed those patterns, we realized that much of what was holding me back was fear, fear of being arrogant.

    A Hard Look in the Mirror

    I’m afraid that at this point, I must be clearer about what kind of person I was. I must face up to the unpleasant task of recalling and recounting the “old me.” I find it painful and embarrassing to recall and memorialize how I used to be, but I also think it is necessary. For you to understand my journey, you must understand where I started. Saying I am a “new man” may sound like a Christian cliché, but I am. Now, after my re-formation, every once in a while, I will realize how I would have reacted in some situation or another, and I ask myself, “why would you do that?” or “why would you have thought or reacted like that?’ It is like looking at an old picture of yourself and thinking, “I know that was me, but really? Why was I like that? Why would I ever have looked like that?”

    I was not a very nice person. I’d rather have you think of me as a nice, decent sort and not bring up the unpleasant fellow I used to be. However, this book is not about me – it is about what God did to and for me. It is a story of transformation. I am the thing transformed, but not the one doing the transforming. If this story of God’s work is going to have any power, you need to understand the stuff he had to work with. I must tell you what I’d rather forget about.

    I became a Christian almost 35 years earlier. Unfortunately, recognizing and accepting Jesus does not automatically mend the brokenness that so often drives our bad behavior. Being saved is not the same as being made whole.  I was saved, but my behavior was still awful. I hope I am not bursting any bubbles here, but if you think that all Christians are nice people, you probably haven’t been around that many of them, or you don’t see them outside of church when their guard is down.

    Looking back, the underlying pattern that drove my bad behavior was a toxic cocktail of selfishness and arrogance. I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it. I should have gotten my way simply because it was what I wanted. When I did not get my way, I would employ various tactics to “win.” I could debate, explaining all the reasons I was right and why what I wanted was best. I would simultaneously devalue opposing ideas and often devalue the person holding those opposing views. I was very quick to speak, offering the “right” answer. “Right” was always defined as what I wanted, what I thought would make me happy. While I was quick to speak, I was slow to listen, and I would often talk over someone else, using the strength of my personality to aggressively shut them down. I have a good mind and a strong personality. If I couldn’t win with logic, I could usually wear the other person down.

    When logic, reason, and force of personality weren’t enough, there was always Plan B: become angry and withdraw, forcing the other person to come to me seeking peace (on my terms). When I could get away with it, usually at home, I would slam doors, storm out rooms, sulk, become sullen, and limit my answers to grunted monosyllables when I could be persuaded to answer at all. I was a master of self-righteous indignation. Of course, I didn’t think of this as Plan B at the time. It was just what I did. It was a pattern of behavior I had learned and fine-tuned over time. Like so many others, I lacked the self-awareness to recognize, let alone question, how I was behaving. Sadly, those that loved me the most, my wife and children, were the recipients of the worst of my behavior. We act out the most badly where we feel the safest.

    Damage Control

    As I slowly matured in my walk with Jesus, I began to realize the emotional and relational damage I had done and was doing. How bad was I? I am certain that if my wife could have mustered the necessary finances, she would have left and taken our three children with her. It would have been a wise thing for her to do. Seeing the damage I was leaving in my wake, I began to withdraw – this time, not to get my way, but to stop hurting people. I could see my bad behavior but seemed to be powerless to change it. Since chasing my needs, wants, and desires ended up with me hurting people, I simply stopped expressing my feelings at all, lest I lapse into the hurtful behaviors that I believed I couldn’t avoid.

    I was not any healthier, but I was stemming the flow of damage. Deciding that I was the proverbial bull in the china shop, my strategy to not cause more damage was simply to not move at all.[4] That caused a new problem. God had a plan for me. He knew how he wanted to use my logical and insightful mind in tandem with the spiritual gifts he had already given me.[5] He wanted to bring my verbal gifts in line with his strategies as well. Me shutting myself down was not part of his plan. He was calling me to move in new ways and for new purposes, yet I was steadfastly determined to not keep hurting people, and the only way I could see to that was to not move at all. I wanted to be bold in my Christian walk, but my fear of being arrogant and again hurting people was holding me back. As I talked with my Spiritual Director for that first time, I concluded that perhaps arrogance is boldness that is not tempered by love.

    One of the best things about a spiritual director is they will ask you questions, even stunningly obvious questions, that you don’t think to ask yourself. Yet those questions are often pivotal. Danny asked me, “Why don’t you temper boldness with love, instead of fear?”

    That was a great question. It was a stunningly obvious question that I would never have asked myself. It led us to discuss how I experienced the Father’s love. I knew that the Father loved me. He had to; he loves everyone. I knew of his love academically, but I did not have an experiential understanding of his love for me. Without an experience of the Father’s love, I didn’t trust love as a check on boldness, something to keep me from slipping back into arrogance.

    Like most people, my early life had its difficulties. Alcoholism and co-dependence were dominant features in my childhood. Growing up, I learned a skewed version of parental love. It was something to be earned, and it was fragile and temporary. It had to be earned over and over again, and it could be withdrawn, seemingly without reason. I lacked a grid to perceive and experience God the Father’s steadfast and unchanging love.

    Danny encouraged me to seek experiences of the Father’s love, by experiencing his presence without an agenda. He asked simply that I sit quietly, expecting to experience God’s love. If all I could manage was “small sips,” then take small sips.

    You might think I got right on that. You would be wrong. I was nervous about spending time in the presence of the Father. I knew how bad I was, and I had heard how good he is.  Would a good, good father really welcome a “bad” son?  The story of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32) likely wasn’t meant to apply to one like me.

    Missing Pieces

    Perhaps I was simply stalling, but before going to the Father, I sought the right name for me to call him. “The Father” was, for me, freighted with authority and judgment. It rang like an imposed title that one is required to use; a commanded honorific a million miles from a term associated with a love relationship. I asked the Holy Spirit to guide me in knowing how I might address the Father. I settled on “Pops” or “My Pops,” as in “I think I’ll ask my Pops about that!” That was a term I had not heard until a few months previous, but whenever I would hear it, my ears would perk up, and I’d be caught by what seemed a playful, affectionate, and yet personal address. I’d find myself wishing I had someone I thought of as “my Pops.”

    The next Sunday, Pastor Graeme’s message was on “Coming Back to Abiding in God’s Presence.” He talked about how when we are not in God’s presence, we are out of place, not where we belong. When we are not where we belong, we cannot be who we are supposed to be.

    A key point of the message was that the devil’s main objective is to have us out of place—not where we belong. His goal is not to have us sin. He is only interested in our sin because when we sin, we go into hiding, removing ourselves from the presence of God, as Adam and Eve did in the Garden of Eden (Genesis 3:8). We separate ourselves from God. The devil doesn’t really care whether we sin; it is just the most expedient tool to put a wedge between God and us. God doesn’t move away from us, but when we sin our guilt and shame motivate us to move away from him. We grab our fig leaves and head for the bushes.

    Being out of place is a pretty good description of how I felt: out of alignment, out of balance, and out of place. I was beginning to realize that my feeling like “there has to be more” was being driven by being out of place, by not being in the Father’s presence. My soul was hearing the distant voice of my Pops, calling to me as he did to Adam and Eve, “Where are you?” (Genesis 3:9). All these events led me up to the point of sitting in God’s presence, seeking an experience of the Father’s love. I don’t think anyone could have predicted what that simple exercise would lead to.

    [1] Hagberg, Janet O.; Guelich, Robert A.. The Critical Journey: Stages in the Life of Faith (Page 114). Sheffield Publishing Company. Kindle Edition.

    [2] Danny Mullins’s book, From Darkness to Light (At His Feet Ministries, Inc., 2013), is his chronicle of how he came to know the deep, intimate, healing love of Christ.

    [3] Liebert, Elizabeth. The Way of Discernment (Kindle Locations 694-695). Westminster John Knox Press. Kindle Edition.

    [4] To be clear: that was my intention, yet often I found myself still causing hurt and emotional damage.

    [5] Yes, God gives spiritual gifts to the broken and the “works in progress.”  It has been my experience that gifts are given based on our desires for them, not our sanctity.

    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

    Keep Reading: Chapter 3

  • Workshop Chapter 1: Introduction

    [I am posting what I had supposed would be a book, one chapter at a time.  As this "publication" continues, you will likely need to read chapters in order.]

    When the most important things in our life happen we quite often do not know, at the moment, what is going on.  A man does not always say to himself, ‘Hullo! I’m growing up.’ It is often only when he looks back that he realizes what has happened and recognizes it as what people call ‘growing up.’ 

    Lewis, C. S. Mere Christianity. HarperCollins e-books. p. 177

    This book is an account of how I came to understand the extent of God’s love for me and the purposes for which I had been shaped and am being shaped. I share my journey of healing, growth, self-awareness, and understanding. I hope that it will inspire and encourage others on their journey.

    The visions I saw and the conversations I had with the three persons of the triune God were recorded in my journal as the events unfolded over about six months. Except for collapsing and combining some events, I have remained faithful to my contemporaneous notes.

    One of the remarkable aspects of my experience is that I didn’t understand what was happening at the time it was happening. I knew something was happening, but I didn’t understand what the something was. At the time my journey was unfolding, I knew nothing of spiritual formation and transformation. In the years since I first visited Pops’ workshop, I have learned much. I completed a two-year certificate program in Spiritual Direction and am now a Spiritual Director myself. I have learned much about spiritual formation that I did not know then. I have gained insights into what was happening with my soul as I spent time in Pops’ workshop. I will do my best to share those insights in the rest of this book.

    Not knowing what was happening inside me was a grace. Had I studied and learned all that I now know I would have been suspicious that I was making up the things I experienced. Sometimes, we can move forward only through ignorance and naiveté. Had I understood the breadth and depth of the journey I was starting, I would likely have quailed and turned back. Learning after the fact has deepened my gratitude for the remarkable way the Lord called me out of my spiritual prison and brought me into the light and life of his love. He did it in a way and with a timing that kept me from fearing,  doubting it, or rationalizing it away.

    You are on a journey of relationship.

    Each of us is on a journey with God, whether we know it or not. You may not even be sure he exists. You may believe in God but not that he has any particular interest in you. You may be so far down your road that the journey I recount here recalls an old memory for you. No matter where you are on the road, you have a journey to take, a journey to your unique experience of God, where you can experience the depth of his transformative love for you and learn the holy purposes for which you were made. If you are not yet on such a journey, I hope you will be inspired to begin. If you are already on the way, may you find encouragement to continue! If you know well his love for you, perhaps you will find the inspiration to go even deeper; there is always more.

    My experiences of God were distinctive to me. God spoke to me in the ways I would respond to. Your way of experiencing God will be tailored for you and will necessarily be different than mine. The Lord meets each of us in ways that allow us to see, hear, feel, and know him.

    God desires that we know him. His intention in creation was that we be in communion with him. The Bible tells us, in Genesis 3, what God’s intent is for us at the time of creation. There we see God walking among his creation, conversing with Adam and Eve as we converse with each other. But man falls prey to Satan’s deception. Adam and Eve’s love is turned and twisted away from God and toward themselves. They break the divine order. When, in their shame, they go into hiding, God misses them and seeks them (Gen 3:8–9).

    Each of us, in our sin, also hides from God. Some of us stir up a smokescreen of business. Others hide behind rigid religious practices. Many, like me, have spent years erecting walls to protect ourselves from the wounds we experienced as we grew; but those walls can also remove us from God’s presence. Yet, God’s original design for us, and his desire to be in a love relationship with us, is not lessened by our sin or by our attempts to hide. He desires that we live in an intimate community with him, even in our humanity and brokenness. The strength of God’s desire is nearly incomprehensible: he sent his son to die so that we might have our relationship with him restored.

    In the same way that Moses lifted the serpent in the desert so people could have something to see and then believe, it is necessary for the Son of Man to be lifted up—and everyone who looks up to him, trusting and expectant, will gain a real life, eternal life.

    “This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life. God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again. (John 3:14–17 MSG, emphasis added)

    He is and always has been pursuing us.

    Hearing God.

    God has spoken to me personally and directly. Some readers may be put off by the idea that God would speak to us as individuals in that way. If that is the case, this book will be a challenge for you. Nonetheless, we are designed to hear from God. Throughout the Bible, he speaks through dreams, visions, thoughts, impressions, and sometimes as a voice that seemingly is audible only to us. He still speaks in the same ways. Even our feelings and emotions can be the Lord trying to get our attention. Regardless of how he is speaking. We need to learn to attend to what he has to say.  Hearing God is not focus of this book.  If you would like a helpful discourse on this topic, I encourage you to read Dallas Willard’s Hearing God: Developing a Conversational Relationship with God.

     I have been hearing God’s voice for several years; that was not new to me. However, I learned that I didn’t really know him, and I didn’t really allow him to know me. I needed to learn important truths about who he is and who I am.

    Take a companion on your journey.

    My journey of discovery was precipitated by spiritual direction and the practices of meditation and contemplative prayer. While many tools and disciplines can lead one to a fuller and deeper experience of God, meeting regularly with a Christian spiritual director is enormously helpful. With God all things are possible, but a journey to experience him is much improved and generally more fruitful when you have a fellow traveler in the form of a spiritual director. For me, seeking spiritual direction was pivotal and seminal.

    Whether you seek the accompaniment of a director, another trusted companion, or choose to travel on your own, my prayer is that you will be inspired to make the effort to know and be known and take the risk to experience the Lord in all his goodness and allow yourself to plunge into the endless depths of his love for you. It is a gateway to the new, full, true life you are meant to have.

    I am not a theologian.

    Finally, a word on theology. I have great respect for good theology and for those who have studied long and hard to be theologians. I do not pretend to have theological expertise and have not tried to align my experiences with any particular theological viewpoint. In particular, my experience of the Trinity may not align with your theology of the Trinity. Do not let that trip you up. God showed me what I needed to see and taught me what I needed to know to get past the things that impeded my relationship with him and to learn the lessons I needed. His goal was not to give me a tidy theology. If some point of theology causes you to discount the reality of my experience, set it aside, and later, when you are done reading for a while, spend some time with the Lord and allow him to resolve (or not!) the discordance for you.

    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

    Continue Reading…Chapter 2
  • Is Discernment Hard or Easy?

    Is Discernment Hard or Easy?

    I have started reading a new book on discernment. I am only a little way into the book, but it raises a question in my mind: “Is discernment easy or hard?” Before we talk about the ease or difficulty of discernment, we should be clear about what we mean by “discernment.” For me, a good operational definition is “being aware of God’s activity in our daily lives and being aware of his desire for us and how he may desire us to act, in matters large and small.”

    Discernment shouldn’t be hard. The model of God’s interactions with us, as seen Eden, is one of regular, easy presence and conversation. Genesis tells us that God would walk in the garden in the cool of the evening; Adam and Even had to go out of the way and hide to avoid encountering God! Just before his crucifixion, Jesus reassured his followers that they would not be left alone:

    But when the Father sends the Advocate as my representative—that is, the Holy Spirit—he will teach you everything and will remind you of everything I have told you. … When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth. He will not speak on his own but will tell you what he has heard. He will tell you about the future. 14 He will bring me glory by telling you whatever he receives from me. 15 All that belongs to the Father is mine; this is why I said, ‘The Spirit will tell you whatever he receives from me.’

    John 14:26, 16:13-15 (NLT)

    Through the ministry of the Holy Spirit, God will continue to teach, convict, and encourage us, guiding us into all truth.

    Hearing God and being aware of his actions and desires in our lives should be easy and natural for us. Yet for most of us, this is not the case. Two factors make discernment much harder than it should be: We don’t really expect that God will be present to us and we fill our minds and environments with so much “noise” and other voices that we effectively drown out God’s voice.

    To the first point, even when we can convince ourselves that God can we present to us, we still function as if he won’t show up in my life! We set up a bit of chicken-and-egg problem for ourselves. We don’t expect to hear God, so we aren’t likely to be paying attention and really trying to hear. Not listening, we will not hear, and that reinforces our idea that God will not be present to us. The more we don’t expect, the more we don’t pay attention; the less attentive we are, the less we discern.

    Here is a challenge. Set aside time each day to just listen. Begin with prayer, perhaps confessing your doubts that God will “show up” and inviting his presence. Then just be still and listen. This can be enormously hard for many people; start small. Five minutes is a good starting place. Set aside your doubts and spend five minutes being present to God and allowing him to be present to you.

    As to the noise and distractions we surround ourselves with: come back in few days for “part 2!”

    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

  • New Colors or True Colors?

    This morning, I watched a news program that took us to Aspen, Colorado, to see the stunning reds and golds of the namesake aspen trees as Summer gives way to Fall and Fall to Winter. I was reminded that trees don’t really change their colors in the fall. The brilliant hues we flock to see are there all along; they are hidden by the chlorophyll green required for photosynthesis. As summer ends, the chlorophyll is drawn back, revealing the reds, oranges, and golds that were there all along.

    That can be a way to look at our spiritual growth. We are made in the image of God, bearing his likeness. As the green of a leaf covers and hides the stunning vibrancy of fall colors, the way the world forms our souls, covering the vibrant life with God we are meant to enjoy. Jesus offers us the power to strip off the influences of our upbringing, our culture, and even our inner rebellion so that we become the beautiful creations we were meant to be.

    to put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.

    Ephesians 4:22-24 (ESV)

    I know that this illustration, if thought of as a metaphor, breaks down quickly. The tree needs its green leaves to take in the sun’s energy so it can survive. We do not need the world’s influences that camouflage our souls. The changing color of aspen leaves is a harbinger of the tree preparing to become dormant for the winter season; the opposite is true for us: when we allow Christ to restore our true colors, we are healed and can enter a new season of vibrancy.

    The power of the image stands: without us intending it or even knowing it, the influences of the fallen world work to mask and cover over the life we are meant to have. As you see fall colors appearing, pause for a moment and ask yourself, “am I living my real life, the life of joy, peace, kindness, humility, and love that I was created to have?” If the answer is no, it may be time to think about what is covering up the splendor already within you as a child of the living God.

    Photo by Kadri Vosumae on Pexels.com

    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

  • Our Times Have Always Been Uncertain

    Our Times Have Always Been Uncertain

    I began writing this post nearly seven months ago, in early May 2020. The world seemed to be coming apart with Covid-19, deep social and racial divides, and profound economic hardships. Since then, things only seem to be getting worse. Certainly the Covid-19 pandemic is worse. The US election laid bare the persistence of our deep social and political divides.

    Back in May I set this aside, telling myself that its time was past. I could not have been more wrong; I had fallen into the trap of thinking that we would soon be back to our normal, predictable lives. The truth is our lives may have had a comfortable routine, but they were never predictable.

    This year some new phrases became prominent in our conversations: “unprecedented times, ” “uncertain times,” and “new normal.” Our use of these phrases implies that believe that prior to 2020 our times had precedent and we could be certain of what would come next. When we say “new normal” we are saying we have arrived at some new equilibrium point where we can once again predict what tomorrow will bring. We are fooling ourselves.

    Our times have always been unprecedented, uncertain, and different from our perception of normal. Each day we live is different from any other day we have lived; it is absolutely unique and in that way unprecedented. You have never lived a day where you knew with certainty what would happen. I am not just being pedantic and playing games with semantics; I am trying to make an important point. We have lived our lives as is we were in control when that has never been reality.

    If we seek stability and certainty, we must end in one place: God. God does not change (see Hebrews 8:13, James 1:17, and Isaiah 40:8 for a few of many examples). In Him we have certainty and predictability. If we keep our eyes on Him we can anchor ourselves to an immovable rock in a sea of change, uncertainly, and turmoil. We sill have to live in our tumultuous world, but we don’t have to be undone by it; we can have an unchanging, loving God who “causes everything to work together for the good of those who love [Him] and are called according to his purpose for them. ” (Romans 8:28, NLT)

  • Praying the Lord’s Prayer in Our Time of Unrest

    Praying the Lord’s Prayer in Our Time of Unrest

    Pray then like this:

    “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.
    Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
    Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.
    And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

    Matthew 6:9-13, English Standard Version

    Monday evening, during my evening prayer time, as I was praying The Lord’s Prayer, my spirit was quickened to the power and importance of applying Jesus’ model for prayer in this particular moment, when we, as a society, are in turmoil in the aftermath of the homicide of George Floyd in the custody of the Minneapolis police. The Lord’s Prayer, common to every branch of Christianity can be robbed of its place and power due to our familiarity with it; we know it so well and have said it so many times that we often hurry past it, not allowing it to speak to us, even as we talk to God. I believe it has much to teach us today.

    Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.
    He is our father, not my father, not their father. God is the father of us all and we are all his children: black, white, brown, or any other color or race; Jew, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, and every other faith or no faith at all. We are all children of the one Father. That is a reminder and a lesson we need today.
    Father, help to remember that everyone is my brother or sister, that we are all children of the same father.

    Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
    What are we asking for when we ask for God’s kingdom to come to us, for his will do be done here on earth? We are asking for a kingdom where the supreme rule is extravagant love: love that is sacrificial, unmerited, and unconditional. When we ask that God’s will be done on earth we are asking that we “cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow’s cause.” (Isaiah 1:16-17, ESV) We are asking that “justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” (Amos 5:24, ESV) I need to remember that asking for God’s kingdom and that his will be done means that I need to be an agent of that kingdom and divine will; I need to love with God’s love, learn to do good, seek justice and correct oppression.
    Father, my actions and attitudes show that I desire my kingdom and that my will be done. Forgive me and renew my heart, mind and soul; align my desires with your will!

    Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.
    Many of us learned the latter part of this petition as “forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us” or “forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.” No matter the formulation, the troubling implication remains: in this prayer we ask God to give us the same measure of forgiveness as we give to others. The debts I owe God are many; I do not love as I should, I desire my will and way, not his, I am too willing to look the other way and let injustice go by unnoticed and unchallenged, especially injustice done to others. I have much to be forgiven. Do I forgive others? An easy test for me is to ask, “am I judging?” If I am judging, then I am setting myself up to forgive only when I think someone merits forgiveness. I certainly do not what the Father to have that same meager level of forgiveness to me!
    Father, forgive me for not loving as you love, for not crying out against injustice and correcting oppression; forgive me for desiring my will over yours. And forgive my lack of forgiveness to others; fill my heart with your Holy Spirit, replacing my judgments with your love and forgiveness for others.

    Lead us not into temptation
    What are my temptations? It is a long list. I am tempted by a spirit of fear; I fear that we have gone too far, that the tears in our social fabric cannot be repaired; I fear for my safety and security. I am tempted by a spirit of apathy, a desire to bury my head in the sand and pretend nothing is happening. I am tempted by a spirit of judgment, judgment of the police, our leaders, the protesters, and the rioters. I am tempted by a rationalizing spirit; I am tempted to convince myself that my fears, my apathy, and my judgments are all reasonable.
    Father, show me my temptations for what they are: reactions to my persistent attempts at running my own life. By your spirit, replace my temptations with a desire for your will and your kingdom.

    but deliver us from evil.
    There seems to be no end of evil in the world today; you can have your pick of villains. Yet as I ponder the words “deliver us from evil,” I can’t help but think about the evil in our own hearts. :I need to be delivered from a heart that would rather judge than love, a heart that fears instead of trusting in God’s power and goodness, a heart that would rather look away and not confront injustice. That is the evil I need to be delivered from today.
    Lord, I do want to be delivered from all evil, but especially today, break any power the enemy holds over my heart. Teach me to hear his deceits for what they are. Do not let me become ensnared in webs of judgement, hopelessness, fear, and apathy.

    Featured image by Fibonacci Blue at https://flickr.com/photos/44550450@N04/49940390081, licensed under the terms of the cc-by-2.0.

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  • Spiritual Lessons from The Lord of the Rings: Be Like Sam!

    Spiritual Lessons from The Lord of the Rings: Be Like Sam!

    This is the third (and, I think, last) in a series post on Spiritual Lessons from The Lord of the Rings. For a bit more background, see the previous posts, “Don’t Be Like Denethor!” and “Listen to Gandalf!”

    Of all the characters so artfully drawn in The Lord of the Rings, Sam could seem the most unlikely source of inspiration. He is not a lordly ruler like Denethor or a powerful and mysterious wizard like Gandalf. Sam is a simple Hobbit. Even among Hobbits, he is seemingly of little account. Frodo was the brave ring bearer. Pippin and Merry become warriors. Sam begins as a gardener and works his way up to be Frodo’s servant. He is drawn into the epic adventure only because he is conscripted after he is caught eavesdropping on a private conversation.

    Yet we are well-advised to attend to Sam’s virtues. He is brave and loyal. He is a steadfast and true friend. Sam does what needs to be done even when it is not what he wants to do, and even when it places him in grave danger. Though seemingly simple, he is drawn to beauty and the numinous. Sam never gives up. He always presses forward. He knows there is good in the world and that it is worth fighting to preserve it.

    Sam has one more virtue, which may be the fruit of all the others: Hope. That is what caught my attention as I was re-reading The Lord of the Rings.  A particular passage caught my attention and stuck with me. Sam and Frodo are in the heart of Mordor, Evil’s realm. The landscape is befouled. Enemies surrounded them. They know that there is no path back for them, even if they should succeed in destroying the Ring of Power. While Sam stands watch so that Frodo might sleep, he has this insight:

    Far above the Ephel Dúath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master’s, ceased to trouble him.

    Tolkien, J.R.R. The Return of the King: Being the Third Part of the Lord of the Rings. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Kindle Edition.

    Given where we find ourselves today, with government shut-downs, sheltering in place, economic uncertainty, and ever-mounting numbers of Covid-19 cases and deaths, it is easy to lose hope. We can forget that our “Shadow” is only a small and passing thing and that there is light and beauty forever beyond the shadow’s reach.

    Hope, as we use it here, does not mean “wish,” as in “I hope to see Paris one day” or “I hope you feel better soon.” In Christian thought, hope has a deeper, more solid meaning. It is one of the three Christian virtues, along with Faith and Love (see 1 Corinthians 13:13). Our hope looks forward with expectancy, knowing that our Father loves us and that he is in control. Hope combines our desire to be cherished and cared for by God, with faith that it is so. We know that things may not go the way we would like them to, but our Hope is the God who loves us. It is our expectation of Good winning out in the end.

    As much as we are able, try to be like Sam. It is easy to see the darkness; any newscast will show us how grim and fraught with danger our time is. But we can allow beauty and love to smite our hearts. Spend time with God not only asking for our safety and security but also asking to see his beauty and to know, deep in our hearts, his love for us. As Sam, looking up from the darkness around him, perceived beauty and hope and thereby found peace, we too, by shifting our gaze away from our darkness and looking instead at God’s goodness, love, and beauty, can find peace for our souls.

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  • Spiritual Lessons from The Lord of the Rings: Listen to Gandalf!

    Spiritual Lessons from The Lord of the Rings: Listen to Gandalf!

    This is a second in a series post on Spiritual Lessons from The Lord of the Rings. For a bit more background, see the first post, “Don’t Be Like Denethor!”

    If you are a fan of Tolkien’s novel, this second lesson may seem self-evident: Listen to Gandalf! For those who haven’t read “The Lord of the Rings,” or perhaps haven’t read it recently, Gandalf is a Wizard. In Tolkien’s work, that means a bit more than what we think. Gandalf is a wise and powerful being, dispatched to Middle Earth (the setting of the novel) to aid men and other mortals in their fight against Sauron, the embodiment of Evil.

    Early in the story, Gandalf is advising Frodo, encouraging him to undertake a perilous and possibly futile mission to combat the growing specter of Evil. Frodo is a hobbit from the Shire, a bucolic backwater that, unbeknownst to its inhabitants, has long been sheltered and protected. As Frodo becomes aware of the growing danger and what may be asked of him, we have this exchange.

    ‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo.

    ‘So do I,’ said Gandalf, ‘and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.

    Tolkien, J.R.R.. The Fellowship of the Ring: Being the First Part of The Lord of the Rings (p. 51). Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Kindle Edition.

    In our time of global pandemic, it is easy for us to empathize with Frodo. It has been generations since our world has experienced such global upheaval. No one is safe. All countries, regions, and classes of society are in the same boat. We find ourselves, like Frodo, suddenly aware of a grave danger that we struggle to understand and feel ill-prepared to deal with. It is not surprising that we should wish Covid-19 need not have happened in our time.

    The words of Gandalf offer some reassurance and a challenge. The reassurance is that our wish is not a sign of weakness. Even Gandalf, ancient, wise, and wielding great power, wishes the same. The challenge is for us to decide what to do with the time that is given us. That is a key question: What are we, living in this pandemic, to do with the time given us?

    Tolkien’s friend and fellow author C. S. Lewis offered us a helpful answer. In 1948, England, along with most of the world, was gravely concerned with the very real likelihood of being attacked with nuclear weapons. Lewis wrote an essay, “On Living in the Atomic Age,” where he provided an answer to the question of “what shall we do with the time given us?”

    If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things—praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.

    Lewis, C. S.. Present Concerns: Journalistic Essays . HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

    In Lewis’ day, the threat was just that, a threat. We are living with the effects of the pandemic, yet we are also under threat. How long will it last? How bad will the economy get? Will I get it? Will someone I love?

    What shall we do with the time given us, a time of pandemic and its social and economic dislocations? We should do “sensible and human things.” We should get along with our lives as best we can while responsibly protecting ourselves and others from contagion. We should love our families, our neighbors, and our communities. We should eat and laugh and pray and offer support. We cannot choose how we feel, but we can choose what we think about and dwell on. Let us not let Covid-19 dominate our minds. Let us focus on being the best husbands, wives, parents, friends, neighbors, and Christians that we can be.

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  • Spiritual Lessons from The Lord of the Rings: Don’t Be Like Denethor!

    Spiritual Lessons from The Lord of the Rings: Don’t Be Like Denethor!

    I am a pretty big fan of J. R. R. Tolkien’s novel, “The Lord of the Rings.” I usually re-read it once a year a so. I had started in on it early this year and as I was finishing the third volume as the Covid-19 pandemic was ramping up. I found myself drawing some fresh wisdom from Tolkien that applies in our current situation. One of those lessons is to not be Denethor.

    For those who haven’t read “The Lord of the Rings,” or perhaps haven’t read is recently, here is some background. The central story is a quest of Good against Evil. As in real-life, many characters are mostly good, but have their failings. Such is Denethor, the Steward of Gondor. The once mighty kingdom of Gondor, ruled for many, many years by stewards, is the last hope for the forces of Good. Denethor is a wise, strong and brave leader of men. However, as the peril to the kingdom grew, he dared to use a Palantir, a “seeing stone” that allowed him to see events that were happening far away.

    None of this sounds too bad. However, Sauron, the embodiment of Evil and the enemy of Good, also had a Palantir and due to the strength of his will he could use it to limit what Denethor sees and influence how he interpreted what he saw when he dared to use the Palantir. Denethor sees only the massed forces of evil arrayed against him and does not see others who are coming do the aid of Gondor. As the war begins and Sauron’s forces attack Gondor, Denethor believes the cause is hopeless and burns himself alive.

    Don’t be like Denethor. What was his mistake? He over estimated his own strength. He wrestled with the enemy and with his own doubts and grief in secret. He thought that he could go it alone and did not avail himself of the council of others who could have helped him see through the enemy’s half truths and deceptions. Instead, he grew more and more despondent and discouraged as he was fed a steady diet of half-truths carefully shaded reality.

    How do we avoid this mistake today, especially as we struggle to adjust to ever-shifting realities of life in a pandemic? Unlike Denethor, we must not isolate ourselves. It is natural and normal to have fears and anxiety. However it is madness to think we can walk this out on our own. Our enemy, the ultimate Evil, Satan, is happy to have discouraged and fearful. He is likely encouraging in us feelings of anxiety and hopelessness. He does his best work in the darkness, when we share our fears with others we bring them into the light, where Evil is greatly weakened. Sharing our feelings on social media is not the solution. We must share at the heart level with a friend who we can trust to safeguard our hearts.

    We also must share our hearts with Jesus. He is the most compassionate, understanding friend we have. He has suffered far more than most of us will ever have to endure and knows what we were going through. He knows our hearts, our fears, and our hopes and loves us. I invite you to join together with other Christ-followers to share your burdens together in prayer with Jesus.

    When we try to “tough it out” and do it on our own and isolate ourselves, when we do not share our hearts with others, and with Jesus, whether due to shame or pride or any other reason, we are falling into Denethor’s mistake. Yes we need to stay physically separated. We do not need to be spiritually and emotionally isolated. Don’t be like Denethor.

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  • One More Question To Ask Ourselves in the Face of Covid-19

    One More Question To Ask Ourselves in the Face of Covid-19

    Less than a week ago I shared Three Questions to Ask Yourself in the Face of Covid-19. Those thoughts focused on recognizing what God may be inviting us to, what our temptations are, and what we might learn about ourselves. I concluded that post with the admission that I had not been sitting with the Father with those questions.

    As I have now taken my own advice and pondered those three questions I learned much about myself. I learned that my temptation in this time is to double down on my attempts to understand and control the situation. Needless to say, that is not fruitful, especially not what we think we know is constantly shifting. My need to know and to understand can be an enormous distraction.

    This level of self-awareness is no doubt something the Lord was inviting me to. However, He desires to help me let go of my desire to master the situation, and as that happens, a new question presents itself: How does God want to use us in this time of fear and doubt? What gifts and talents has he given you that he might call you to use in this time. Are given wisdom? Share it. Are you given faith? Lend your faith to those whose faith is wavering. If you have a gift of healing, by all means heal the sick. Do you have a prophetic gift? Use your gift to convey God’s truth to those who need to hear it.

    We have an enemy. He wishes us harm. We could debate whether he causes our illnesses, but there is no question that he uses the hard places we find ourselves in. Our enemy desires that we stay focused on ourselves and not ask how we can effectively be Jesus’ body and earth to those who are suffering and lost. He wants us on the sidelines and out of the game.

    We have a choice. Do we stay focused inward, being concerned mainly with ourselves, or do we ask: “Lord, how do you want to use me to help a hurting world?”