From Pops' Workshop

Category: General

  • Rethinking The Law: Courtroom or Classroom?

    Rethinking The Law: Courtroom or Classroom?

    When you read “Law and Gospel,” what comes to your mind? In my initial formation, I learned that Law and the Gospel were connected in a quasi-symbiotic relationship. The Law was there to convict us. It laid out the impossibly high standard for righteousness, a standard we could never meet. Its ultimate purpose was to show us our wretchedness and our need for a savior.  The Gospel was the other side of the same coin. We were in line for eternal punishment due to our transgressions, but the good news of the Gospel was that Jesus paid the price for us, wiping the slate clean.

    I didn’t think about this much; I just accepted it as dogma. The few times I thought about the Law/Gospel dynamic, some things didn’t line up for me. Jesus saves us from the burden of the Law, but he seemed to be laying down a whole bunch of new laws: “You have heard it said…but I say to you….” If his atoning death and resurrection saved me from the law, what is the point of more law? Then we get to Paul and another raft of rules for us to follow.

    I also wondered what Jesus meant when he said that he didn’t come to abolish the Law but to fulfill it. And why should I care about him fulfilling the law if he was about to render the whole question moot, and I would be let off the hook if I believed the right things and had “enough” faith?

    “Blessed is the man
                 who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
    nor stands in the way of sinners,
                 nor sits in the seat of scoffers;
    but his delight is in the law of the LORD,
                 and on his law he meditates day and night.”

    Psalms 1:1-2 (ESV)

    What do we make of the sentiment in Psalm 1, that we are blessed when we delight in the law and meditate on it day and night? When we in the West think about law, our minds almost always go to crime and punishment. Laws tell me what I must not do or not fail to do if I want to avoid punishment. Law, while often needed to maintain order, is coercive. We follow it not necessarily because we think it is good but because we fear punishment.

    The Hebrew word torah is rendered “law” in the ESV, but it can also be rendered “instruction.” The Expositor’s Bible Commentary reminds us that torah (the law) primarily signifies instruction from God. It is an expression of revelation, not regulation and religion.[1] If we can shake off our fixation on law being what we must do to avoid punishment and instead see it as instruction, it indeed becomes a lamp for our feet and a light for our path.[2]

    The difference between a legal mindset and an instruction mindset turns out to be an important one that can ultimately influence the kind of people we become. As we read scripture, we “hear” it through a lens that reflects our mindset. Is God “laying down the law,” or is he showing us how to stay on the path that leads to him?

    As a simple experiment, consider Jesus’ telling his disciples, “Judge not, and you will not be judged.”[3] What is your natural inclination when you read that? Is Jesus giving a “law,” saying if you judge others, I will judge you? Or, is he giving wise instruction for kingdom life, telling us not to judge because it is bad for those we judge and bad for us. judging is condemning and condemning hurts those we judge. They are likely to hurt us back, so it is just a bad idea all the way around.[4]

    Once you shift from the legal mindset to the instruction mindset, you will start reading much of both the Old and New Testaments with new eyes. And that reading will drive how you think about God. Is he a God who mainly wants us to know how wretched and hopeless we are? Is he petty and vindictive? Is that a God whose nature is love? On the other hand, a God who gives us guidance and instruction is a God who loves and cares for us. He is a God who wants the best for us, even when we don’t know what is good for us.

    Our conception of God will, of course, influence our relationship with him. The judicial God pushes us toward self-reliance. We are driven to measure up, make the mark, and, hopefully, avoid punishment. We fall into an adversarial relationship – us vs. God. He imposes the law on us, and we had better follow it. At the end of that road, we find a transactional system where we try to make God accept and love us by obeying his Law, or at least trying really hard. The God who gives instruction out of a loving heart invites us to become reliant on him, knowing that he cares for us and wants the best for us. We do not try to earn our way into his heart; we are already there.

    Finally, how we think about God and our relationship with him predicts what we will become; we become like the God we worship. If we worship a judgmental, condemning God whose focus is enforcing his standards on us, we become like that God: angry, judgmental, and eager to impose our standards on others. We become incapable of following one of Jesus’ few direct commandments, that we love each other.[5] When we worship a God who instructs us out of his love and care for us, we become like him: caring, compassionate, and letting love be the master in our relationships with others.

    When you read about “the Law” in scripture are you being summoned to a courtroom or invited to a classroom? If we are focused on law we try to moderate our behavior in a vain attempt to measure up, or, worse, to try control God in some weird quid quo pro where we can put him in our debt. We keep God at arm’s length, managing our own lives as best we can.

    When we realize we are in God’s classroom, we embrace our union with God; we look to the Lord of life, who saves and heals us.  We follow him and his instructions for living in his kingdom and gaining the life he intends for us.

    Jesus came to save, not to condemn. He really isn’t looking for better-behaved sinners. He came so that we can have life and have it to the full.[6]

    [1] Expositor’s Bible Commentary, vol 5, p 54

    [2] Psalm 119:105

    [3] Luke 6:37

    [4] I borrowed this interpretation from Dallas Willard’s excellent, “The Divine Conspiracy.”

    [5] John 13:34-35

    [6] John 10:10

  • Good Friday Reflection

    Good Friday Reflection

    Walking into pain.
    Accepting humiliation.
    Entering the darkest of dark nights.

    Betrayed.
    Forsaken.
    Abandoned.

    Righteousness submitting to injustice.
    Brutal torture borne that we might know Love.

    Love that washes feet.
    Love that heals.
    Love that weeps.
    Love that is merciful.
    Love that forgives.
    Love that redeems.

    Love that dies.

    Dying that we may serve.
    Dying that we may heal.
    Dying that we may know joy.
    Dying that we may show mercy.
    Dying that we may forgive.
    Dying that we may love.

    Dying that we may be one with you.
    Never forsaken.
    Never abandoned.
  • Sunrise

    Sunrise

    One:
    It is so very dark. I know that you’ve been out in the light. Can you tell me about the light? What is it like when the sun rises?

    Two:
    We’ve talked before about the light and the breaking of dawn; I don’t think there is much I can tell you that you haven’t heard before. You really need to experience it. If you’d like to come and walk in the desert and experience the sunrise, I am happy to accompany you.

    One:
    I’m not really comfortable going out in the dark; it doesn’t seem like I would be safe. Can’t you go out and wait for the dawn, and when it is fully light, come and get me?

    Two:
    I wish I could, but one cannot jump from the dark to the light here. You have to go through the transition from darkness to light. I know the dark is frightening. Almost everyone is more or less scared of the dark. But we will go slowly, and I will be with you. I’ve walked with many as they move from darkness to light. You may be uncomfortable, but you will be okay!

    Two:
    I am glad that you have decided to brave the dark so that you can walk in the light. Now that we are here tell me: how are you doing?

    One:
    I am afraid to move. What if we step off the path?

    Two:
    We don’t need to hurry; we will go as slowly as you would like. Be still for a moment. What do you notice?

    One:
    I think I hear things out in the darkness. I am a little scared. What is it I am hearing?

    Two:
    Could it be the sound of the world waking up? It might be rabbits and squirrels venturing out for the day, or you might hear birds stirring in their nests while they wait for the light.

    One:
    Yes! Yes! That is what I am hearing!

    Two:
    That means that we are on the right track; dawn is coming. Can you hear those sounds as heralds of something coming and not something to fear? As you do that, pay attention to what your other senses tell you.

    One:
    Hmmm. I think that maybe it is starting to get a little bit lighter?

    Two:
    Is it? Can you see any further ahead than you could? How does the sky seem to you?

    One:
    Oh. Yes, I can definitely see more than I could before. The shadows are not as deep and dark as they were; I can make out the shapes of trees and bushes quite clearly now. And yes, the sky is a bit lighter. Instead of black, I see a deep blue, and at the horizon, I think I see a bit of gray.

    Two:
    It sounds like you are starting to see light. When you are ready, let me know, and we will move on.

    Two:
    We’ve been walking a bit now. Let’s rest here. What are you noticing now?

    One:
    Wow, the clouds! Before, the clouds were grey, but now they are tinged with colors.

    Two:
    Can you tell me more about the colors? How do they make you feel?

    One:
    They are soft pastels: pink, orange, and purple. I think I see blues and yellows as well. It is hard to say I they make me feel. Happy, maybe, but more than that. I think I am feeling a sense of peace.

    Two:
    Why don’t we just sit and watch for a few minutes? I wonder what happens next.

    One:
    That seems silly; I just told you what I am seeing!

    Oh…Wait! I do see something happening; the colors in the clouds are changing. Even as I am watching, they are becoming more intense and brighter. There is hardly any gray in the clouds anymore. This is amazing!

    Two:
    It is wonderful, isn’t it, how the light brings so much color and beauty. I am glad that you are noticing it. Take a minute and look around. What does the sky behind us look like? What do you see in the landscape now?

    One:
    I can’t believe this: the colors are in the sky behind us. Even where there are no clouds, the sky is purple and pink. And I am starting to see the colors of the plants around us as well. I can see yellow and red flowers and shades of green in the foliage. And the shadows are almost gone. Now I can see birds and rabbits scurrying in the underbrush. That must be what I was hearing before.

    Two:
    As we move from the dark to the light, it is important to look around ourselves frequently. You’ll see lots of unexpected things! The sun is almost up now. It may be tempting to stay here, but let’s go on up to the top of the hill, shall we?

    Two:
    Well, here we are at the top. I wonder if we are close to the sunrise.

    One:
    I’ve already seen a lot that I never expected. If I am honest, I am feeling a bit disappointed now. The beautiful colors are fading. The sky looks more blue, but the lovely colors are almost gone from the clouds.

    Two:
    I see what you mean. It can be hard to let go of something, like the parti-colored clouds; especially if we don’t know what is coming next. We can’t really hold on to what was. Let’s rest and see what is next.

    One:
    I really like the beautifully painted clouds. Why do they have to fade?

    Two:
    It is in their nature to fade. They herald the sunrise, but they are not the sunrise. The sun cannot rise without whitewashing the clouds. But if you are willing to press into what is next, I think you will be glad you did.

    One:
    I think I see something new. It looks like there is a line of bright gold on the horizon. It looks like the sky is on fire! It is getting hard to look at. Is that the sun?

    Two:
    Not yet, but soon. Look around you again. What do you see? What do you notice?

    One:
    I see so much more detail now. The colors I thought were bright before are really bright now; they are vibrant. Even the shadows are brighter. They are still there, but they don’t hide anything anymore. They are no longer shadows; now, they are shades.

    Two:
    Look to the east again.

    One:
    I see it! I see the sun rising! I can’t really look at it; it is too bright. It is incredible, each moment more of it is revealed. I am feeling its warmth, too. It feels like everything that was dark or asleep has come to life.

    Two:
    I am glad you were able to experience the sunrise. Now it is time for us to go back down the hill, back home.

    One:
    I know we are not going back into the darkness, but it will get dark again, won’t it?

    Two:
    Yes. It will get dark again. And the sun will rise again. It will be a while before it is dark again. For now, enjoy the warmth of the sun and the brightness and newness of the world around you.

    Now that you have seen the sunrise, do you think you will experience the darkness differently?

    One:
    I think so. I hope so. I want to. I will remember the sunrise.

    Will it be just like this the next time it rises?

    Two:
    No. Each sunrise is different. Sometimes, there is almost no color in the sky; other times, the sky is completely filled with impossibly vivid reds and oranges. But remember: the “show” is just the preamble, the herald of the coming sun. You may rightly delight in seeing it, but the sun is what warms us and feeds our souls.

    One:
    I like that. Knowing the sun will rise again will help me bear the darkness.

  • Thinking About Repentance

    Thinking About Repentance

    Thinking about repentance seems natural during Lent. In liturgical traditions, the Lenten season is forty days preceding Easter. It commemorates Jesus’ forty-day fast in the wilderness before he began his public. It is a time of reflection and introspection. A discipline of self-denial during Lent can drive our introspection as we learn just how weak our wills really are.

    As we come to grip with the weakness of our wills, our thoughts often turn to repentance. Jesus begins his ministry by declaring: “Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand.” How do you hear that declaration? We may hear it as a veiled threat: “You better shape up and fly right because God is coming. You don’t want him to be mad at you.” I heard it that way for many years. But perhaps, rather than imagining Jesus scolding us, we could hear him offering us an invitation: “God is doing something great; his kingdom is here! Pay attention so you don’t miss out!”

    Our common understanding is that repentance means being sorry for our sins and determining to “do better.” That fits the mindset of hearing “repent!” as a warning. Here our experience of repentance can be embarrassingly bad. We find ourselves repenting over and over and over again, often repenting of the same sin. Or, if we manage to get a particular sin “under control,” we find that five more have popped up to take its place.

    A perpetual struggle to make ourselves better cannot be all God has in mind for us. In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus is confronted by the religious leaders about his disciple’s lack of adherence to ritual practices. In Jesus’ response, he tells us that it is what comes from inside us that defiles us (Mark 17:18-23). Our outward behavior, while it may be quite awful, flows out of an inner, corrupted heart. To stop the sinful behavior, we need to address our inner life.

    When we look at the language used in the New Testament for “repent” or “repentance,” we see that it means something much deeper. It means turning around and heading in a new direction. It means taking a higher mind or a new decision. This understanding of repentance points us back to addressing our inner life. In his book “A Long Obedience in the Same Direction,” Eugene Peterson put it like this:

    “Repentance is not an emotion. It is not feeling sorry for your sin. It is a decision. It is deciding that you have been wrong in supposing that you could manage your own life and be your own god;”

    Peterson, Eugene. A Long Obedience in the Same Direction. 2nd ed., Intervarsity, 2000. p. 23.

    This understanding aligns with Jesus’ teaching in Mark’s gospel. It also aligns with the message of scripture from Genesis to Revelation. The root of our problem is our surrender to our sinful natures (Gal. 5:19); God wants us to be cured and remade from the inside out:

    • He will write his law on our hearts. (Jer 31-33-34)
    • He delights in truth in our inward being (Ps 51:6)
    • He tells us to take up our crosses daily, denying our sinful natures so that we are not enslaved to sin. (Lk 9:23, Rom 6:6)

    Jesus does not want you to have a life that looks okay, even though it is not; he wants you to have a great life, a better life than you can imagine. He wants to give us new life, kingdom life; not our old life with the ugly parts better managed. He wants you to take up your cross and let go of your life as you have been trying to manage it.

    On Ash Wednesday, we are reminded: “From dust you came, and to dust you shall return.” We are created and sustained by God; We depend on him utterly. We really do need to get over ourselves. We are not God; our desire to be God is THE sin that leads us into all sin.

    The root of our problem is that we are rebels, and God is not looking for better-behaved rebels; We are called to surrender to the loving God who stands waiting for us, wanting to give us the best life possible.

    Now we can see the call, “Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand,” not as a warning of impending doom but as a grace-filled invitation to lay down our rebel arms in favor of the loving arms of the Father.

  • Swimming

    Swimming

    The Lake is immense, deep, and still. I cannot guess its size or its depth. I am drawn to it; I desire to somehow be “with” the Lake and be as close to it as possible. Initially, I get only as far as the shore; I am content with being near the Lake. I see its shimmering surface. I hear the gentle sound of waves lapping up against the shore. I smell its watery scents. My desire is not satisfied, but I am not ready to get any closer.

    I want more. I take a boat and experience the Lake, albeit indirectly. I experience buoyancy and the unsteadiness of the boat on the water. The air is different out on the Lake; it is more still yet alive with things unseen. I strain my ears, trying to hear whispers of invitation that seem to be around me. Leaning over the gunnels, I peer into the depths of the Lake. They are at once clearer and more mysterious. I am closer to the water but still apart from it. I will not lean over far, lest I fall in and am lost in it. Neither will I row out too far from shore, fearful of losing the way back. I row back to shore.

    The more time I spend near the water and on the water, the more I want to be in the water. I wade into the water, experiencing contact with it and feeling its wetness. I feel the gentle tug of eddies and currents around my legs. Not content with wading, I try my hand at swimming: I go fully into the water. The water surrounds and upholds me. I dive down, wanting to be as fully in the Lake as possible. It is exhilarating, but soon, I must come up for air. I cannot swim for very long; my limbs tire, and I must return to the shore. My time swimming leaves me wanting an even closer communion with the Lake.

    I return to the water time and time again. Then, all at once, I notice a remarkable transformation has taken place. Somehow, I have become liquid. I do not know when or how it happened, but where I was once flesh and bone, I am now liquid. I have not lost my shape; I still have arms and legs and hands and feet. My body and my face are still “mine,” but now they are liquid.

    Entering the water, I join with it; I become of the same substance. The Lake is not a place I visit; it is my home. I become one with the water, yet I am not dispersed or diffused – I do not lose my identity. In my liquid state, I am never chilled or tired; I never need a rest. I am still “me,” and I am also part of the Lake.

    I can dive below the surface and never need to come up for air. I move naturally and easily with the flows and currents in the depths of the Lake. I can exercise my “self-ness” and go against the currents, but the more I am “liquid,” the less I find that appealing. If I chose to, I could return to the land as a solid creature, to only look upon the Lake, apart from it, no matter how close I got to it, but why would I?

    This work, “Swimming,” by David Hammerslag, is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/

  • The Wagon

    I journey each day on a horse-drawn wagon. It is a fine wagon, and I do all I can to ensure that I will go smoothly to my destination. I pack the wheel bearings with grease. The horses are well-shod and seem to be well-suited to their task. Their harnesses and traces are all in good order. I review my map and carefully plan my route.

    Yet, each day ends the same. I start off sure of my driving and my direction. No matter how diligently I apply myself to driving the team and following my route, I always end my day in a ditch or discovering that I am badly off my course, or both. It makes no sense. I am doing everything I can and I am getting no closer to my destination.

    One evening, as I sat in my frustration, a man appeared and offered to trade his horses for mine. I was suspicious of his offer; his horses did not appear to be at all tame or suited for harness.

    He was frank. His horses are not tame, and they will have their own heads. Yet he insists that his horses will stay on the road I must be on and take me to where I should be going.

    Unsure of this offer, I tried a mixed team: some of his horses and some of mine. Two calm, tame, if ineffectual, horses paired with two determined, not-quite-tame horses resulted in disaster. I could not drive at all and nearly lost my wagon in the chaos. I spent the next day repairing my wagon and the night considering my options.

    With the dawn came clarity of thought. The way I had been going was getting me precisely nowhere. What did I have to lose? I took the offer, giving up my horses and harnessing his to my wagon. I am still doing the driving. I am still in the same wagon. But I find that the horses seem to know the way. They do not grow more “tame.” Some days, their wildness causes me to let the reins go slack, close my eyes, and hold on to the bench for dear life. They take my driving, no matter how inattentive or timid, and translate it into the direction that draws me ever nearer to where I was meant to be going.

    Where I was meant to be going; that is the really odd thing. The further I journey with the new team, the more I realize that I am not going where I thought I should be going — I am going where I am meant to be. I do not know where that is, but with each day the countryside improves and the way becomes easier. I pass through lush green meadows and cross gentle streams easily. I do not know where, exactly, I am going, but I know it will be good.

  • Discernment, Self-Deception, and Redemption

    Discernment, Self-Deception, and Redemption

    It is funny how mortals always picture us as putting things into their minds: in reality our best work is done by keeping things out.

    C. S. Lewis, “The Screwtape Letters”

    “Should I retire?” That is a question I asked myself repeatedly over the last several years and intensely earlier this year before deciding to retire. I was well paid and enjoyed many of my co-workers, but the work was decidedly unrewarding and frustrating. My wife and I had been conservative with our money and had set aside a sufficient nest egg to allow retirement financially. By any natural measure, I could retire, but the question remained, “Should I retire.”

    While I was asking myself this question, I was also asking God the same question: Should I retire? I want to tell you that I was as intentional in listening for the Father’s will as I was in listening to financial advisors, but I wasn’t. I would love to let you know that I spent more time praying about my decision than checking (and double-checking) retirement account balances, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t cutting God entirely out of the picture; I really did want my decision to reflect God’s will. And I wanted to retire!

    Writing today, five months after I turned in my notice and set aside a lucrative career, I wonder about my discernment process. Was I aligning my choice with God’s will, or was I trying to convince myself that God wanted what I had already settled in my mind? Was I seeking guidance or an accomplice?

    Many excellent arguments pointed to retirement, but they resulted from human reasoning, not discernment. I was much more interested in enumerating justifications for the answer I wanted than hearing what the Father would say about it. Our minds and our ability to think and reason are gifts from God. It would be foolish for us not to use them. And it is a capital mistake to confound reasoning about what will be good for us (we think) with discernment. The Apostle Paul did not rely on cleverness and his powers of persuasion; he relied on the Holy Spirit. (1 Cor. 2:13)

    If discernment is not thinking our way to a conclusion based on what we know about God (for example, that he wants good for me), what is it? Let’s use this definition: “being aware of God’s activity in our daily lives and aware of his desire for us and how he may desire us to act in matters large and small.” That sounds simple. Apparently, it is not: A quick search on amazon.com yields over two thousand Christian titles on “discernment.” That is a lot of thought and writing on something that sounds simple.

    Discernment Should Not Be Hard

    Hearing God and being aware of his actions and desires in our lives should be easy and natural. Yet, for most of us, the opposite is true. Discernment, which should be a matter of course for those indwelt by the Spirit, can nonetheless be hard for us to put into practice. When I reflect on my retirement “discernment,” I am aware of four necessary things for discernment and can see where I struggled with most of them. Those four things we need are:

    1. Believing that God loves us and desires the best for us
    2. Believing that discernment is possible; that is, we can hear and understand what God may be saying
    3. Being open to hearing an answer that is not what we want to hear
    4. Waiting for clarity

    Believing That God Loves Us and Desires The Best For Us

    This one should be dead easy for us. It is hard to imagine a Christ follower who believes God does not love us and desires the best for us. However, we trip ourselves up when we confound our idea of what is best for us with God’s. We can set ourselves up to “discern” the answer we have already decided is best.

    Our capacity for self-deception is enormous. Physicist Richard Feynman said, “The first principle is that you must not fool yourself — and you are the easiest person to fool.” We are primed to see, hear, and believe things that align with what we already believe to be true or simply want to be true. Psychologists call this “confirmation bias.”  We tend to notice, interpret, and remember things in ways that align with our values, beliefs, and desires.

    When I did seek the Father’s heart, I operated under the confirmation bias trifecta. I desired the answer “yes.” I wasn’t happy working; God wants the best for me (I easily assume that to mean he wants me to be happy in my work); Therefore, I believed God would want me to retire. Finally, I valued kingdom work and ministry above piling up ever more wealth in my barns (Luke 12:16-21).

    Notice the trap here. Everything I desired, believed, and valued is good and right, but that doesn’t mean they should set my course. The problem is that our internal bias can leave us spiritually deaf. I would have been wise to invite trusted others into the discernment process with me, people who are unlikely to share in my confirmation bias. Ecclesiastes 4 speaks to the folly of going it on our own, and Jesus promised to be with us when two or three are gathered in his name (Matthew 18:20).

    Believing That Discernment Is Possible

     The model of God’s interactions with us, as seen in Eden, is one of regular presence and easy conversation. Genesis tells us that Adam and Eve could expect God to walk among them in the garden in the cool of the evening; they had to go out of the way and hide to avoid encountering Him! (Genesis. 3:8)

    We duly note that was before the fall. Man was banished from the garden. God no longer walks among us as he did with our first parents. But in Jesus, God became Emanual, God with us. He once again walked among us, and just before his crucifixion, he reassured his followers that we would not be left on our own; through the Holy Spirit, he will continue to be with us:

    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. He will bring me glory by telling you whatever he receives from me. 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)

    He not only walks with us and talks with us, but he makes his home with us (John 14:23). Through the ministry of the Holy Spirit, God will continue to teach, convict, and encourage us, guiding us into all truth.

    Paul took the active presence of the Holy Spirit in and with us as natural and expected:

    • The Spirit of God dwells within us. (Romans 8:11)
    • God reveals truth and wisdom through the Spirit. (1 Corinthians 4:10)
    • Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit. (1 Corinthians 6:19)
    • The Holy Spirit will help guard the truth entrusted to us. (2 Timothy 1:14)

    I find the scriptural witness to be clear. We do not have a God who keeps himself and his desires for us hidden. But the journey from head to heart is perilous. I knew God likely had a lot of interest in my decision to retire. Yet my fickle heart seemed not to believe that he cared much one way or another. My head said, “seek to know the Father’s will;” my heart said, “you are on your own here.”

    I have had rich, transcendent, even mystical experiences of God. I know God can be present to us, but I still functioned as if he wouldn’t be present in this instance or as if I already knew his heart, having reasoned my way to that conclusion. Certainly, my desires and biases came into play. I would have been well served to have spent time meditating on the scriptures noted above to help move my head-knowledge about God’s guidance down into my heart.

    Being Open To Hearing An Answer That Is Not What We Want To Hear

    When we approach discernment as an exercise in confirmation, it is much harder for us to apprehend what the Lord may be saying to us. My mind was pretty well made up; I wanted to retire and knew I could retire. If God was saying, “not now, not yet,” would I have been willing to hear that? Letting go of our desires is quite hard.  Ignatius of Loyola, in his Spiritual Exercises, begins with the First Principle and Foundation, which concludes with:

    In everyday life, then, we must hold ourselves in balance before all created gifts insofar as we have a choice and are not bound by some responsibility.   We should not fix our desires on health or sickness, wealth or poverty, success or failure, a long life or a short one.  For everything has the potential of calling forth in us a more loving response to our life forever with God.

    Our only desire and our one choice should be this: I want and I choose what better leads to God’s deepening life in me.

    David A. Fleming, S.J.: A Literal Translation & Contemporary Reading of the Spiritual Exercises

    The ability to want only what will draw us closer to God or to want only what he wants for us needs to be our table stakes in discernment.  I did not begin times of discernment by affirming my desire to choose what would deepen God’s life within me; I should have. Instead, I started with wanting God to want what I wanted.

    Waiting For Clarity

    Patience is a fruit of the spirit (Galatians 5:22).  It is a fruit that I often lack, especially in discernment. When I want an answer, I want it now. I don’t want to wait. Yet waiting is a crucial component to our discernment that enables the other three. When seeking an answer, I should seek the wisdom of others; that will take time. I must prayerfully remind myself of God’s spirit dwelling within me, offering counsel and wisdom; that will take time.  I need to reset my expectations, asking the Holy Spirit to help me want only what God wants for me; that will take time.

    Often, we seek discernment in a time of trial or when we are making a significant decision. As hard as it may be, those are exactly the times we need to slow down, invite others into our discernment, carefully examine our biases, and pray for the grace to trust God above all, especially above our own wisdom.

    Redemption

    Reflecting on my “discernment,” I can see how I hamstrung the process. What would the answer have been had I approached discernment in a healthier way?  I cannot know.  I do know that most, if not all, of the myriad kingdom activities I had planned and used as justification for my decision have not come to pass. I also know that latent anxiety has come to the fore since my retirement, so I suspect I did not move according to the Father’s heart and timing.

    But all is not lost. We serve a redemptive God who will work in and through our missteps and mistakes. He does not leave on our own. I am seeing new ministry opportunities that I would never have expected and much different than I imagined. I hope I am still learning my discernment lessons, and I am trusting that whatever God has in store for me will ultimately draw me closer to him. Will I have the retirement that I could have enjoyed had I truly discerned the Father’s heart? Probably not. But God will use even our mistakes when we turn back to him.

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

    Featured image: by Ana Municio on Unsplash

    A note to readers: For quite a while I have restricted my posts to chapters of “In Pops’ Workshop.” There are still more chapters to come, but I am also posting general blog posts (such as this one) as well.

  • 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)