Living faith

Our faith is not a static, unchanging thing, an acceptance of truth that springs fully formed into existence and then remains at that state of being forever. Rather, because it involves a relationship as well as an intellectual acceptance, and because even that intellectual acceptance must be continually renewed and strengthened to survive the natural changes of our emotions, bodies, and environment, faith must be living and dynamic. If we do not feed it with truth, or support it against the weight of negative emotions, or encourage it with reminders of the work of God in our past, it will eventually wither and decrease, and in so doing will draw our hearts away from God. For faith is what pulls us toward Him; it is the tow-line reaching from our hearts to His. Thus, if we neglect that cable - if we fail to make it fast around our hearts, or if we allow the storm to fray it and choose not to repair the damage - our pull toward God will not be as strong, and we will find ourselves drifting in the seas. And without His guidance, our souls are very likely to run aground or capsize: in short, to shipwreck.

So, then, it is crucial for us to intentionally nurture and build up our faith. How do we do this? First, and most essentially, we choose to believe. Critical thinking does not injure faith, but dogmatic skepticism will. So having come already to the conclusion that Christianity is true (as we must have, if we've reached this point of strengthening and maintaining our faith), we need to approach the Bible, Christian teachings, sermons, songs, and so forth with an attitude of belief - of receiving all that is true and that we can understand into the depths of our hearts, of accepting those truths with willingness to change our attitudes and actions in response to them. All the outward signs of faith, the Bible studies and Scripture memorization, the regular attendance at church, will not strengthen our faith if we have hardened our hearts to their influence. But of course those things are also important! They are the means by which we take in the truth that will strengthen our faith.

When we have set our wills to believe, and are feeding our faith a steady diet of truth from the word of God, we are in a good position, but nothing in this world is secure. Our emotions may rise up in a storm too great for our will to resist, and threaten to sink our little ship of faith, or our circumstances may seem to belie God's promises of everlasting love and faithfulness and scatter secret doubts and falsehoods into the midst of our faith. This, I think, is when it is extremely important to have the support and encouragement of the church - the community of other faithful Christians willing to help us make it through the rough waters with our ship intact. Outside the emotions in our head or the situations in our lives, they can keep reminding us of the goal towards which we're sailing, and encourage us with their glimpses of the glory and beauty of the One we're following on this voyage even when we can't see Him ourselves.

Conversely, we have the privilege and responsibility of so encouraging our fellow Christians in their faith. As the book of Hebrews says, "exhort one another daily, while it is called 'Today'" (Heb 3:13). In other words, we should give encouragement at the moment we see it is needed, and even if we don't know that it is needed, instead of postponing it for some more convenient future time. Our encouragement of others should be a regular part of our lives - an outpouring of our love for them as our brothers and sisters in Christ, which desires to see the growth of their faith and their knowledge of God - not something we do sporadically or for special occasions. We must not take faith for granted, ours or anyone else's - it is something worth fighting for, and therefore something that must be fought for if it is to endure.

Waiting in unknowing inaction

Sometimes beauty and peace come from waiting, from hidden times of refining and maturing, from taking the long road through desolate places - from passing through the darkness and the pain instead of skirting around it. On the other side, one finds that there has grown within him a new depth and strength of character, a patience and endurance he never had before, and with that endurance new reserves of hope and faith.

We never want to wait. The months of engagement before a wedding, though full of joy and excitement, can be almost tortuous at times because of the heights of anticipation, the constant pushing forward as though by sheer will power the days can be made to go past more quickly. When we have had an interview for a job or a school or a scholarship, the time spent waiting to know what the decision will be is charged with impatience and anxiety - as we say, we can't wait to hear back. Whether we want something or fear something, the time before we obtain our desire or before the dreaded moment arrives seems unendurable. Even if it ends with bad news, we want it to be over, so we don't have to wait any longer, so we don't have to wrestle with worries and dreams, hopes and fears: so we can know what is to be, and act accordingly.

Waiting feels like inaction. Passivity, helplessness, lack of control, inefficiency - all these words describe how it feels to be forced to sit back and wait. There is no more preparation to be done, no more actions to take; all that is left is to wait. And so we wait fitfully and uncomfortably, even angrily, chafing at the bit. But maybe waiting can be a blessing and a gift, despite its unwelcome appearance. Because waiting demands inaction, a cessation of all our frantic planning and activity, it offers us a chance to rest. Because it holds us captive in a state of unknowing, it gives us an opportunity to learn to trust the God who does know what the future holds. We can choose to wear ourselves down with worry, or we can choose to wait with patience, to endure the pain of not knowing and not being able to do anything about it, and in so waiting to deepen our trust and strengthen our character and our faith.

This means war

I have to confess that sometimes I live as if I were a materialistic naturalist.

By this I mean that I think and act as if matter is all there that there is, and as if all things can be explained naturalistically and thus all problems can be solved naturalistically. I remember that I have a spirit as well as a body (although I don't always think about it very much), and I remember God who is the uncreated self-sustaining Spirit, but I don't give much though to angels or to demons. Most emphatically, I act as though angels and demons have no influence over my life or over the world I live in. Considering that we're in the middle of a spiritual war, with the eternal destinies of human souls at stake, that's probably not a good attitude for me to assume. But I honestly haven't thought about spiritual warfare very much at all, beyond some vague idea that the whole thing is a nice metaphor for being a good person and a diligent follower of Christ.

Over the past few days, having had the issue brought to my attention from at least three separate sources, I've been thinking that maybe it is more than just a metaphor. I don't like thinking that way! The thought of malicious spiritual beings bent on my destruction, active and unseen in the world around me, is extremely unsettling. I like this world where what can be seen or otherwise scientifically verified is all that exists, besides God - where all things proceed by natural laws, and known inputs lead to known outputs, and nothing is out of place or uncontrollable. It is very comfortable, you know? Acceptance of a spiritual reality is in a sense truly a release of control, because while we can often control nature we cannot control the actions of spiritual beings whose very existence is only tenuously revealed to us. For someone like me that is absolutely frightening.

But when I seriously look at the Bible I see that, despite my fears and despite my ingrained way of thinking, there is a real spiritual war going on. In 2 Corinthians 10 we see Paul saying that even though we are in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh, but fight with weapons that are mighty in God for "casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God." Similarly, in Ephesians 6 he tells us that we are struggling against the "rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places". So the armor that he tells us to wear in the following verses is more than a metaphor - it is truly spiritual armor that protects us in this war in which we find ourselves. I think that may be one of the purposes of the book of Revelation, actually - to show us the reality of the spiritual war that is going on all around us, so that we might be strong in battle instead of ignorant sheep wandering towards slaughter.

Coming to Revelation, though, one finds more than just a vivid picture of the reality and significance of this spiritual war. We see that the war will end, and we see that God will win, and we see that all things shall be made new in beauty and glory and peace. Essentially, we see that there is a hope to live for, because of the greatness of our God! It might be frightening and unnerving here and now to think of fighting and struggling with evil spirits in our everyday lives, but it doesn't need to be, because of the power of our God and our confidence that He is indeed on our side. If we have placed our faith in Him, He holds our souls safe even as we fight on the front lines of the war.

This almost makes me want to laugh in the face of the demons! Ha! Bring it on! My God is greater than you and you are doomed and already defeated! I'm not afraid of you, or anything you can do, because God is on my side! I'm not sure that is the most beneficial or humble response though... :) One thing is certain, though - it is better to live and fight and be vigilant against sin in the strength of God then to passively cower in fear and try to make everything comfortable and controlled.

Bonhoeffer: living by faith

Tonight I finished listening (for the second time this week) to Focus on the Family's truly excellent radio drama of the life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, which closes with a quote from one of his letters from prison:

"It is only by living completely in this world that one learns to live by faith. One must completely abandon any attempt to make something of oneself, whether it be saint, or converted sinner, or churchman, a righteous man, or an unrighteous one, a sick man, or a healthy one. By this-worldliness I mean living unreservedly in life's duties, problems, successes and failures, experiences, and perplexities. In so doing, we throw ourselves completely into the arms of God, taking seriously not our own sufferings, but those of God in the world, watching with Christ in Gethsamene. That, I think, is faith. That is how one becomes a man and a Christian." - Bonhoeffer, Letters from Prison

Listening to the account of his committed faith in the face of doubt, opposition, and the fear of torture and death, I was deeply challenged. I like to think that I serve God well - that I strive to love and follow Him, that I desire to seek and obey Him - but my faith is nothing compared to the faith of men and women like Dietrich Bonhoeffer. So many trivial and insignificant things even in this good life I have now make me anxious or afraid! How could I hope to have the faith and the courage needed to live out of trust in God like he did, when I am beset by fears here and now? If trials come to the Christians in America like they to the Christians in 1930's Germany, will I be one who lives in integrity and faith, or will I be like the countless people who submitted to and participated in evil because of fear? If I one day have the privilege of ministering for the gospel in a third-world country, will I be able to hold my witness boldly and without compromise if there is persecution or opposition?

Looking at Bonhoeffer's quote, I think my course of action is clear. Here and now, I must live as God has called me to live. When fear rises in my heart, whether the cause is significant or trivial, I must take that fear to Christ and move on trusting Him. I must not let those fears dictate the extent of my obedience to Christ. And I must embrace any suffering, however great or however small, that He sends into my life, because He sends it for my sanctification, that through learning to trust Him in those sufferings my faith might increase and I might know Him more. This means being disciplined and vigilant in my walk with God and in all the daily details of my life, to endeavor to perform those details according to His will and for His glory, instead of according to my plans and to glorify myself. If I want to do great things for God and truly honor Him with my life, then I can't just sit back, go my own way, do my own things, and expect for it all to somehow just happen. I have to press into Him, to push forward, to aim upward, to seek Him in everything I do - and as Bonhoeffer pointed out, to do so in the midst of the problems, successes, and failures of this life (as opposed to some ideal life that I might picture in my head).

When some people think of pursuing God whole-heartedly - and of this pursuit being an important and even essential part of the Christian faith - they worry about legalism. Somehow striving to obey God must mean that you're trusting in that obedience to earn you God's favor and salvation, in their minds. I suggest that it might rather be a response to God's love and grace and a result of seeing God in His power and glory. If He is truly our God - our Lord, our Master, our King and Creator - then oughtn't we obey His commands? If, on top of that, He has redeemed us from death and loved us unconditionally through our sin, rebellion, and disbelief, don't you think that rationally we owe Him our very lives? When all we have is from Him, how can we hold it back for ourselves instead of giving it up to Him? This is not legalism; this is living as child of God. Grace does not excuse our sin; rather, it enables us to live righteously.

May we walk, then, in the grace that is from God and in faith in Him, in whatever He brings to our lives. Doing this now, when life is relatively easy, prepares our hearts to follow in faith when life becomes much harder, and brings glory to the Lord we love.

Samuel and the stone of help

The people of Israel were terrified of the Philistines. The memory of their last conflict with them, more than twenty years ago, still lingered in their minds with a bitter and mournful taste: the ark of the Lord had been captured, the two sons of Eli the priest had been killed in the battle, and the old man himself had died on hearing the news. The ark had been returned after the Lord plagued the Philistines, but He'd also killed some Israelites because of that ark, so it wasn't a guarantee that the Lord would be on their side.

This new priest Samuel, however, truly knew God. In addition to being the priest of the Lord, he was a prophet, and the Lord let none of his words fall empty to the ground. So when he told the people of Israel that God would deliver them from the Philistines if they would stop serving other gods and worship Him alone, they listened even though their fears  still lay close to their hearts. While Samuel prayed on their behalf, all the people gathered together to repent of their idolatry and sacrifice to the Lord, and they fasted in the sorrow of the hearts as they realized the depth of their sin.

But as they gathered together in repentance, the Philistines thought they were gathered as a threat and a council of war, and in the confidence of their might they marched upon Israel, in whose hearts fear once again rose up. In their fear, however, they turned to the Lord their refuge and their strength, and He heard their cries and the prayers and offerings of His servant Samuel, and even as the Philistines drew near for battle He thundered against them with power and terror so that they were overcome by the people of Israel. He did not require strength or might or skill from His people - simply hearts that sought Him.

Then Samuel took a stone and set it up at the place of the battle and called it Ebenezer, which means "Stone of Help", as a memorial to the strength of the Lord in the help and defense of His people. The Philistines were not completely overthrown - this was still years before the famous story of David and Goliath - but it was important for them to commemorate the work of God as it happened, in the middle of the process, acknowledging His favor and grace even before the time of fulfillment. In the old language of the hymns we sing,

"Here I raise my Ebenezer
Hither by Thy help I've come.
And I hope by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home."

And we sing these words even though we might be in a place of sorrow or fear, and even though the home at which we seek to arrive seems incredibly distant and our hearts are weary and weak, because we have seen His help. He has been with us as He has been with all who have walked before us in our faith, and we can look to our memorial stones, the Ebenezers we establish at the times of great grace when His working is clear, to remind us that there is still a reason to trust Him when His help seems far away. I know I have many of these (one is an actual stone, which is neat; some are just memories), and in remembering His past faithfulness I am encouraged to trust in His present and future faithfulness, just as the people of Israel through all their future struggles with the Philistines might have been encouraged whenever they walked past or remembered this Ebenezer that Samuel established - when they returned to God and He fought against their enemies on their behalf and liberated them from their oppressors.

Being seen by God

I get kind of scared when I think about God always watching me, always seeing me even down to the depths of my heart and the hidden places inside me. I mean, He is good and holy and just, and there is so much in me that is bad, and so much in addition that is just weak and useless and cluttering. Sigh. I don't know why He would want to see down into those places! Doesn't it disgust Him, to see what lies inside my heart? Does He ever regret redeeming me and adopting me into His family, when the price was so high and I am so worthless even after all He has done for me and in me?

But look at how Nicholas of Cusa writes about it:
"... Thou never ceasest most lovingly to behold me, yea, even the secret places of my soul. With Thee, to behold is to give life; 'tis unceasingly to impart sweetest love of Thee; 'tis to inflame me to love of Thee by love's imparting, and to feed me by inflaming, and by feeding to kindle my yearnings, and by kindling to make me drink of the dew of gladness, and by drinking to infuse in me a fountain of life, and by infusing to make it increase and endure." - The Vision of God

How do I change my way of thinking so that it is more like his? How do I consistently cause myself to perceive God as loving, regarding me with care rather than in judgment? How do I find joy and gladness in the knowledge that He beholds me? Sometimes I do have that gladness in the assurance of His love, but other times I just get scared or afraid or feel like a failure, falling short of what He desires from me. So what distinguishes those two times? In the first, I am choosing to trust Him, to lean upon Him, to look on Him in faith; in the second, I don't trust Him, I want to be perfect in my own power, and I am focused on myself and my shortcomings rather than on Him in His glory and goodness. So I should spend more time in the first mindset, if I want to spend more time in that incredible joy which comes from feeling the presence and love of our Lord! Even when it is emotionally hard for me, I should do my best to cultivate faith and practice trust in the God whose love is far greater than I can comprehend.

The Kingdom comes

I am filled with sadness over the way the world goes, and where it goes, and how it hastens toward evil in the name of good. It's hard to write when there seems to be so little hope.

The problem doesn't lie in a single law, or even in the multiplicity of laws and policies that have accumulated through the years. At one moment the government is regulating adoption in a way that has caused several faith-based agencies to close down rather than go against their consciences; at another they are mandating "free" contraception (including morning-after pills) in a way that will similarly affect those Christian hospitals that desire to serve and provide health-care in accordance with their moral standards. The root of the problem is not in those policies, but rather in the worldview that birthed them, in the ideas and beliefs held by so many people in our nation. Those ideas - that children are an inconvenience rather than a gift; that marriage is a convenient manmade institution rather than a sacrament designed by God; that personal pleasure and convenience are higher goals than self-sacrifice, submission, humility, and love - those ideas have consequences, and we are beginning to see and understand what those consequences will be.

So what ought we to do? Well, first of all, we pray. We pray without ceasing for the hearts and minds and souls of the people of our nation, our city, and our community. More mundanely, we continue to pay the taxes that are required of us, because we are to render to Caesar what is Caesar's, even if those taxes are used for something we disagree with. No one supports the use of their taxes 100% (one could argue that this was particularly true for the people to whom Jesus was speaking). And finally, because we are in a country where we can lift our voices to try to change things, we should not be silent, and because we have a free will and a conscience we ought to make the choice to do what we believe is right, no matter the cost. Just as someone could be a conscientious objector to a war, so we can object on conscience to abortion and contraception. If we are mocked and misunderstood, so be it. Many through history have suffered ridicule and mistreatment for causes far less worthy.

On those issues and on others which have come up before and will arise again, it so often seems that there is nothing that can be done but quietly resist, and suffer in the resistance for the sake of Christ, if God so deems us worthy. It may not seem like things will ever change, or that the world will ever get better. But still we can endure because we know that the victory is already won, hidden though it may be by the fogs and black mists of this world of sin. We cannot often see clearly here, but we can trust with a faith that goes beyond sight. In that faith lies the hope that we will need to cling to when all seems dark and desperate.

In the words of an old children's book, Tales of the Kingdom (as best as I can remember them):

"How goes the world?"

"The world goes not well. But the Kingdom comes!"

Risking the leap

Sometimes life seems like a wager. We don't know anything with certainty, and yet we constantly have to make choices about out thoughts, actions, and beliefs. We can amass piles of arguments and evidence to support what we say we believe, but our verbalized creed doesn't always match what we really believe in our hearts about things like who we are and how the world works and whether or not there is a god. It is tempting sometimes to give up and just live life however we feel fit at the moment, because we can never really know for sure what's right anyways - but on the other hand, we tell ourselves, we only get one life, so we don't really want to waste it. It can be stressful to deeply want to know what reality truly is and how we ought to live in it and to be faced with the realization that there is no way for us to know these things beyond a shadow of a doubt.

But you know what my answer is, to the doubts and the shadows and the uncertainties? Bring it on!

I'll take the dare.

I'll risk the leap.

I'll chance the odds.

Part of the thrill of living lies in the seeking for truth, and part of the excitement of loving lies in the striving for knowledge. This life is about yearning and questioning, seeking and asking and searching. Even in our relationships with other people there is no way to fully know the other person and no certainty that what we think we know is true - but part of the joy in loving them comes from getting to know them more deeply and truly. So with the philosophical and theological questions of life: there is no way to fully understand the world and God and humanity and all the countless aspects of how all things work individually and relationally, and there is no certainty that what we think we know is true - but part of the joy of living and asking questions comes from ever discovering more and more about the truth.

Not knowing

My sister brought up a really good question Wednesday morning when I was talking with her briefly online. Well, she didn't actually pose it as a question in so many words, but it was a train of thought that had no conclusion, which is essentially a question :)

Basically, she wondered how it was possible to have a relationship with God when there is so much we don't know about Him. As in, how can she get up in the morning and have a conversation with Him when she's been up late into the night wondering about His very nature and character?

That's a hard question. But I want to turn it around. How can she hope to learn more about His nature and character if she doesn't get up and have a conversation with Him? If that seems harsh, think about what it would be like if God were just another human being. You could stay up all night with your mutual friends discussing His character and nature - wondering whether He is trustworthy, whether or not He loves people, whether or not He is merciful or just, and so on - but if none of you are really sure, or you all have different opinions, than honestly the best way to get to know what He is like is to interact with Him.

I wouldn't have married Paul if I'd just heard about him and talked about him with other people. Yes, a lot of them would have said wonderful things about his nature and character, but I wouldn't have been convinced that they were true unless I had spent time with him personally, getting to know his heart and being able to observe his love, compassion, and wisdom in action. I think it's similar with God. I have to interact with Him and get to know Him personally to grow in my certainty that He is who He claims He is in the Bible: a good God, a righteous God, a God of love and mercy and grace, who is infallibly faithful and true. And as my personal relationship with Him grows, so does my confidence in His character and nature. No skeptic's question could shake me now, because I know Him so deeply and thus trust Him without reservation, just as I know Paul so deeply and trust him so much that no one could make me question his faithfulness to me (it wasn't always this way with either God or Paul - trust - which is faith - takes time to grow).

It was the collective mound of evidence that led me to start wanting to get to know God intellectually, and the hope of peace and love that led me to start wanting to know Him emotionally, but now that I know Him it is He Himself that keeps me wanting to know Him more. My faith is grounded in reason and a search for truth, and can provide a reason for itself, but it is centered on personally knowing God and His love. And so while discussing and debating His attributes is a very good thing to do - it sharpens my mind, challenges my faith, and opens my eyes to truths I'm missing or lies I've believed - the only sure way to get to know Him is to spend time with Him like I would spend time with anyone I wanted to get to know more deeply.

I trust in Your deliverance

This is from one of my favorite psalms:

"I love the Lord, because He has heard
My voice and my supplications.
Because He has inclined His ear to me,
Therefore I will call upon Him as long as I live...

For You have delivered my soul from death,
My eyes from tears,
And my feet from falling.
I will walk before the Lord
In the land of the living."

Psalm 116:1-2, 8-9

I do choose to trust You, God, to deliver me now and always as You have delivered me in the past, and to hear me when I cry to You as You have always heard me before. You will not forsake Your child in times of trouble and sorrow, for You are always faithful.

Could You just fix me now?

Yesterday, I was angry at God. I don't think I am angry at God very often, because for me to be angry at Him means that I have decided in my own head what is right and good and loving and have judged Him for not doing that. Usually I do a better job of trusting Him - being confused and bewildered and hurt, but coming to Him for comfort rather than in anger. But I didn't want comfort yesterday. I didn't want to be held in His love or to rest in His mercy or to find strength in His grace. I just wanted Him to do what I have prayed so long that He would do (which is to get rid of the darkness and depression that I tend to struggle with).

I'm not quite as angry today but I still don't want comfort. I want change! I want my heart and my mind to be transformed, for the struggle to completely disappear so I won't have to constantly wrestle with it! And you know what? I can't do that on my own. I've tried, and I know! Fixing myself just isn't feasible, and every time I try I am left feeling more and more like a failure. So I'm dependent on God for this, and because I obviously can't control Him either I'm stuck waiting for Him to act in His timing and plan (which I know intellectually is better than mine, but I still don't like waiting!).

As I keep thinking about this, though, this one particular passage keeps coming to my mind (who knows, maybe God is trying to make me listen...). I identify with Paul when he says, "Concerning this thing (which he describes as a "messenger of Satan to buffet me") I pleaded with the Lord three times that it might depart from me." It feels a bit self-exalting to say that I identify with Paul in something but I don't mean it that way. I just want this darkness to go away forever, and I keep pleading with God to take it away, and He doesn't seem to be doing so. Maybe He wants me to learn that when He says "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness," He means it and it is true. That's a hard verse to live by, though. Sometimes I think I would much rather be fixed and not have to depend on His grace quite so much! But this idea of His strength being made perfect in my weakness - I like that part. I like the thought of His power resting on me, and His glory shining through me. So I'm going to try to keep putting my struggle in this light, whenever it feels too strong for me, and remember that His strength is there in my weakness. I don't think just reading this verse is going to fix anything, but maybe it will help encourage me to press on in faith.

Why?

Why is it so hard, sometimes, to believe the things that God has said?

Why is it so hard to believe that He loves me when I see that He suffered and died for me, out of love, so that He could be reconciled to me and I could be His child?

Why is it so hard to believe that I am covered by the righteousness of Christ and set free from the condemnation and wrath of God when He has told me so many times in His word?

Why is it so hard to believe that He looks at me as His beloved and precious treasure when I have felt His arms holding me with comfort and strength in the midst of my bewilderment and sorrow?

Why is it so hard to believe that I am forgiven and that He is not angry at me when time and time again He has been there for me and with me in the darkness and the pain?

Why is it so hard to believe the truth that could set me free from the lies that torment me, when I have no reason not to trust that my God is unfailingly faithful and true?

"God is not a man, that He should lie... has He spoken, and will He not make it good?" (Numbers 23:19) But I still find it so hard, sometimes, to believe the things He says.

Nearsightedness

Finally, after at least six months of delay, I took myself over to the opthamologist's office this morning to get my glasses repaired. I ended up having to schedule an appointment for an eye exam and will get an entirely new set of lenses and frames because my current frames are irreparable, but that's beside the point. The point is that for a brief period of time my glasses were not with me but were in the hands of another person in another room where I couldn't see them or have access to them. Effectually, I was rendered rather blind for this period of time! I am extremely near-sighted and even with my good eye I can't see clearly more than six inches in front of my face (my bad eye is significantly worse).

When my vision is that bad and I don't have my glasses, I find myself actually feeling afraid, even when I know where I am and there is nothing threatening in the environment (my opthamologist's office is a very quiet and peaceful place). If I let myself, I'll even start breathing more quickly than normal, and I tend to hold on to something near me, like a table or counter, and keep my eyes focused on something close enough to see clearly. It is, at least for me, a rather stressful experience.

I noticed an analogy in it today, though. Maybe (I thought as I tried to keep my mind off my inability to see what was going on around me) my spiritual and emotional fears have a similar root cause. That is, maybe I am afraid of things like failure and rejection because my spiritual eyes have become nearsighted and I'm not using my glasses (the glasses of prayer and time spent with God in His word) to help me clearly see the bigger picture of His plan and the things of eternity. Honestly, I think that if I were able to more completely follow Paul's injunction in Colossians to "set [my] mind on things above, not on things on the earth", I would have far fewer fears in life. Maybe I wouldn't be so afraid of the people I love rejecting me, because I would be more assured of the unconditional and sufficient love of Christ holding me up through all trials and sorrows. Maybe I wouldn't be so afraid of failing in little everyday things (like cooking a good meal) because I would be more confident in the knowledge that I am perfect before God through the righteousness of His Son.

And maybe, if I weren't so filled with fears, I would be able to think of and reach out to other people more, because I wouldn't need to work so hard at protecting myself - and that would be a very good thing indeed.

As if every promise from Your Word is not enough

If you listen to Christian radio on a regular basis, you're probably familiar with Laura Story's song "Blessings". I know I've heard it many times! Today I listened a little more closely to the lyrics, though, and all of a sudden this song that had just been another nice song had me almost crying as I drove to work.

"We pray for wisdom
Your voice to hear.
And we cry in anger when we cannot feel You near.
We doubt Your goodness,
We doubt Your love,
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough.
And all the while You hear each desperate plea,
And long that we'd have faith to believe"

It is so true! When I'm struggling with sins I can't conquer, or feelings I can't control, or desires I know I shouldn't have but can't get rid of, I start to get angry with God. I'm like, I have come to You about these things so many times, so why am I still struggling with them? Are You still there? Do You still love me? And I do this despite the countless times that I have felt Him holding me in the midst of sorrow and protecting me when I have felt utterly alone and helpless. The testimony of the Word and of my own life is that God is unfailingly faithful, unconditionally loving, and unalterably righteous, and that He will never leave me or forsake me (Hebrews 13:5), and it seems to me that trusting Him to be those things will cause joy to bloom even in the most barren and desolate times.

By faith...

I've been thinking about some things my fiance said this morning about faith. He read Hebrews 11 (the "faith chapter") and found it really encouraging and inspiring because there are so many examples in there of people who had faith in God in hard times when they couldn't see what lay ahead. God calls us to have faith in Him - to trust in Him when we don't understand why He is allowing things to happen the way they are, and to choose to obey Him even when we can't foresee or are anxious about the consequences of that obedience. He calls us to lay aside fear and instead live by faith (the two don't dwell together very comfortable, in my experience).

In return, He gives us these assurances (among others; these are the two we talked about): that He will reward those who seek Him and that He is not ashamed to be our God. The first gives me confidence that I can leave my future in His hands and focus on following and knowing Him rather than on making sure my life is and will remain comfortable and well planned-out. The second gives me incredible joy! When we come to Him in faith, even though all our insecurities and flaws and sins trail along with us, He will not turn us away or hide His face from us. He loves us! He is not ashamed to call us His children.