The Value of the Unapplied

My home church, Redemption Tempe, does a very good job of applying faith to all areas of life. Over the past few months, they've gone so far as to interview a different individual every week during the service about their vocation and how they seek to behave in that vocation in light of their faith. We've had people representing occupations from fields such as athletics, medicine, education, and construction, and it's been very interesting and thought-provoking! One thing I have noticed, however, is that most of the people interviewed work directly with or for the good of other people: even the researcher interviewed a few weeks ago was an MD studying pediatric cancer, and there have been no artists of any type interviewed. While I know (from other events and from speaking with the pastors) that Redemption believes any vocation can be used for the glory of God and has intrinsic value, I have seen in other Christian circles a definite desire to justify any vocation or endeavor by directly linking it to some application for the good of humanity or the spread of the gospel.
For example, in this paradigm, the study of literature or history might be perceived as having value only insofar as the lessons derived from that study enabled one to better serve others or impact society. Music and the arts might be considered worthwhile only if centered on explicitly Christian themes, intended for use in church, or used for healing or comforting. In my own vocational sphere, science is often seen as "good" only when it is clearly bound to some clinical application or environmental good. The broader Christian community smiles upon things like diagnostic lab sciences; research into different diseases and their detection, treatment, and prevention; evaluation of food and water pollution; research into cleaner technologies; and projects to make clinically and environmentally relevant discoveries and tools available to underprivileged areas. The so-called "pure sciences," on the other hand - research simply for the sake of knowledge and discovery - are ignored or seen as less valuable, along with what I'll call pure art - art for the sake of beauty, truth, and creation.
It is not incredibly difficult to understand this way of thinking. People in the church believe (correctly) that our primary call in life, regardless of our vocation and talents, is to love God and to love others. It can be hard for them to see how reading a classic novel, painting a portrait, or studying the social habits of bees manages to accomplish either of those things, and so they consider them to be of lesser value. With some impressive mental gymnastics and a good imagination they might be able to find some connection between those occupations and practical relevant service to others or to God, but the link will always seem slightly tenuous and unreliable, casting a shadow of doubt on those activities and the people who pursue them vocationally.
Is this an appropriate way to view different callings and careers? When choosing a vocational path, should we be careful to select something with at least the potential for that sort of practical application in service to others? I have at least one friend who consciously made that a part of his career choice planning, and I went through a lot of soul-searching along these lines myself, trying to force myself to fit into a medical profession simply because of its potential to benefit others and open avenues for sharing Christ. Since then, though, I've come to believe that this is an incomplete way to evaluate vocation, and that what it ultimately amounts to is Christian utilitarianism.
What do I mean by that? Well, in secular philosophical utilitarianism, things or activities gain worth or moral standing in direct proportion to the quantifiable good or happiness they produce. This can be construed in terms of either personal happiness or social good (which is essentially the greatest amount of happiness for the greatest amount of people). Christian utilitarianism in its popular and loosely defined manifestations eschews personal happiness and satisfaction as a justifying end, but embraces the social good as a justifying end, adding to the definition of the social good things like freedom of religion, access to the Bible, and faith in God. Sometimes this social good is elevated to the primary end, even eclipsing what the catechism says is the chief end of man: to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. Maybe this happens because the social good is a much more visible and quantifiable pursuit - I don't know. In any case, it can be very frustrating for someone who works in a more abstract field, whose vocation does not tangibly or directly impact issues of physical/emotional well being, poverty, social justice, education, missions, and so on, to try to justify their vocation and find lasting meaning in it, because of the strength and prevalence of this paradigm within the church.
What utilitarianism excludes is the concept that things are or can be "good-in-themselves" - that is, things do not necessarily require a justifying end to be valuable and worthwhile. Or, to put it another way, the joy of exploring and discovering more of God's creation is a good thing whether or not any clinically or agriculturally relevant application is ever made because of it. A piece of music or work of art is worth creating and delighting in because of its innate beauty or the truth it represents, whether or not it is explicitly Christian, or whether or not a lesson or parable can be drawn from it, and even whether or not it is ever shared. These things are not "less than" because they do not have a justifying end planned as part of their purpose and execution. They are simply good because of what they are: good because in pursuing them we reflect God's joy in creating beauty and order and glorify Him by probing the depths of that beauty and rejoicing in Him in it. That may be all. But it is more than enough.
I want to encourage the church to remember what the chief end of man truly is, to reflect on the woman in the Gospels whose sacrifice of worship was praised by Jesus as a beautiful act even though she could have used those resources to provide for the poor, to dwell on the countless unnecessary but wonderful things God Himself created. It is a good thing to devote our lives to the service of others, and I believe it should be our posture towards others in general even if it is not specifically related to our vocation. But it is not the only worthwhile thing, or even the greatest thing. The greatest thing is to glorify God, and one way we can do that is through immersing ourselves in the beauties of His creation, learning more about it, meditating on its complexities, imaging His creativity in our own art and invention. Our vocations may not be acts of service, but they can still be acts of worship, beautiful, valuable, and worthy of the time and diligence we invest in them.

Marriage in the Church

An acquaintance of mine recently remarried. She's a friend of mine on Facebook because I know her family well, but I'm not particularly close with her. She and her new husband look incredibly happy together, and all of our mutual friends were congratulating her on her wedding. But I didn't. Honestly, I'm confused by the whole situation. I don't know why she divorced her first husband (or even if she initiated the divorce). I do know that she still seems passionate about following and serving God, and probably is a lot better at those things than I am. It just gnaws away inside me that this is her second husband, that the vows she made the first time around have been broken, and that the community around her - the church community, the Christian community - spoke no words of sorrow or rebuke over the brokenness and is now publicly rejoicing in her new marriage. I don't know her story, and knowing her family I doubt that this divorce was entered into lightly, so I don't want to judge her specifically. For all I know, her first husband was abusive and unfaithful. But it makes me think. And in general, I see the church rejoicing at the beginning of marriages (which is all well and good) but sitting back silently when those marriages falter and fail.

Marriage is not strengthened when divorce is accepted.

The institution of marriage is a good thing, a God-ordained thing, meant to bring joy and sanctification to the participants and designed to represent the relationship between Christ and the church. So it is both natural and fitting that the church community should (in general) rejoice and celebrate the coming together of two people in marriage! But the intent and design of marriage necessitate boundaries and limitations to it. We would not rejoice if a father tried to marry his daughter, or if a man tried to marry multiple women, or if a friend tried to marry someone we knew to be abusive; those of us with more strictly Biblical views would also not rejoice if a man tried to marry another man, or if a Christian tried to marry an unbeliever. Some of those marriages act against the first purpose of marriage by destroying the spouses' joy or by making it more difficult for them to walk with God and grow in their faith; others work against the second purpose by twisting that imagery and distorting our understanding of the relationship between God and us as the church. Seeing the immediate and temporal happiness of the individuals entering into one of those skewed marriages might make it natural for us to want to rejoice in their coming together - but it might not be fitting if the relationship is inherently flawed.

One could respond that all relationships are flawed to some degree, and that no marriage adequately represents the relationship of Christ to the church, and I would of course agree. My own sin puts strain on my own marriage every day, eats away at my joy and my husband's joy, and dims our marital reflection of Christ. But incest, polygamy, and homosexuality are insurmountable obstacles to accurately reflecting the relationship between Christ and the church, no matter how happy and committed the individuals may be. On the other hand, a mismatched marriage would have the essence and character needed to reflect that relationship, and thus not be inherently flawed, but it may be unwise for a myriad of reasons. So I think the church should be firm about rejecting the first type of relationship (those which are in essence unable to reflect the full Biblical imagery of marriage) and should counsel against the second type but provide as much support as possible to those already in the midst of one (so that a bad situation might possibly redeemed, and the significant sin or area of discord used as a catalyst for sanctification and increased faith).

Divorce is difficult for me, however, because I'm often unsure of which category it falls into. Clearly, it destroys entirely the Christological imagery of marriage. Christ will not "divorce" or abandon His church, and our lack of faithfulness will not tear apart the relationship either. But I know that after a divorce people can go on to do great things and become great men and women of faith, and that God will even use the divorce to draw them to Himself. And the church should play a role in that redemptive work. Our judgment of the sin should not push the sinner farther away from Christ; rather, we should seek to respond in a way that pulls the sinner deep into the love whose depth and length and width and height are said to be beyond comprehension. The challenge is to do this well without compromising the truth that divorce hurts individuals, families, and society, Christians and unbelievers alike, by twisting our understanding of Christ's commitment and love for us.

So should I rejoice in a remarriage following divorce? I have, once, when the man remarrying had been abandoned by his wife in middle age for no reason other than her own feelings and whims. But even then I wondered if he should have let her go or if he should have continued to pursue her in love as long as possible, like Christ pursues us when we turn to our idols of comfort or power or respect. It's not a black and white issue, and I think culturally we are inclined to prioritize happiness over commitment. We might say that we value redemption more than atonement... we encourage people to simply move on and start over instead of taking the time to wrestle with and repent of the past. When someone vows before God to be committed to another person for a lifetime, and shoulders the mantle of reflecting God in one particular relationship just as he or she has endeavored to reflect Him as an individual, it is a serious matter. It is not to be entered into frivolously. That is why the whole church stands together (or should, at any rate) in witness to and support of the couple making those vows. It is an equally serious matter when those vows are broken, and yet the church does nothing. We rejoice when the oath-breaker stands a second time to make those same promises to a different person than before - but do we provide the counsel and support needed to make sure that this time the promises will be kept through the hard times once the swell of romantic love has ebbed away?

It breaks my heart to see so many marriages foundering on the shoals of life, to see the church dimming its warning lighthouse beacon, to see her members laboring on the shore to pick up the pieces instead of helping steer the ship to safer seas, or throwing together hasty and poorly-built boats instead of taking the time to construct sea-worthy vessels before sending them out from port. Should we be there to help people rebuild after a divorce? Of course. But we should be working even harder to keep that shipwreck from happening in the first place, instead of just counting on the skills of the rescue team. Our marriages are not simply private contracts that only hurt or help the individuals directly involved; they are also public statements of the nature of Christ and His relationship to His people, and we as the church need to fight for them, stand beside them, and give them the supplies and guidance they need to sail safely across the ocean of time.

Appearances and realities

So many of the psalms are like Psalm 3 - a cry to God for help and a testimony to His love and faithfulness. But what stands out to me as unique in this psalm is the end of verse 2: "Many are they who say of me, 'There is no help for him in God.'" Despite all that the psalmist knows to be true of God, the thoughts and words of those around him still have an impact on his life; like Job's wife, they make it harder, by their lack of faith, for him to remain faithful.

God is our salvation and our shield, our glory and our comfort, through any and all circumstances, as the rest of Psalm 3 goes on to say with beauty and power, but it doesn't always appear that way on the outside, to other people. To them, when we are going through some sorrow or trial, it may seem as if God has forsaken us or does not hear our cries. And even though we know that God is faithful, and that He has some good purpose for what we're going through, the naysayers around us can make it even more difficult for us to endure with faith and hope than it would have been in any case. When that is the case (and hopefully, if one is in a good community of believers, it is not often the case!), I think the example of the psalmist here is a good one: he reminds himself of God's power and past faithfulness, holding onto God - clinging to God with all his might - when all the world around him is trying to tear him apart or to make it seem that God is not who He has declared Himself to be. He finds strength for the present trial in the memory of the love and goodness of God he has seen revealed time and time again, and he refuses to let the feelings of the moment defeat the eternal truth that he knows, no matter how many voices weigh in on the side of those feelings.

The Seat of the Scornful

In Psalm 1, the blessed man is described as one who does not walk in the counsel of the ungodly, stand in the path of sinners, nor sit in the seat of the scornful; that last phrase is one that has often confused me and given me cause to think and ponder. What I'm coming to think is that the scornful, or the mockers, are those who practice the soul-destroying art of flippancy in the Screwtapian sense. They are those who look upon good, noble, and virtuous things with a cynical and contemptuous gaze, or with open disregard for what they would call the foolishness and futility of those things. And to sit in their seat is to look at life from their vantage point and through their eyes. In some way I feel that this attitude of scorn toward life is one of the most dangerous and destructive things in the world, both for the individual who holds it and for the society around that individual, but it is incredibly difficult for me to express this importance with words of enough meaning and strength.

There are things in this world that are of primary and utmost importance, things that characterize our humanity and serve as the rich soil for our roots or the sky which healthy growth strives to reach. Some of these things are the innocent and fundamental aspects of physical and temporal life in the midst of all God's creation - things like hard work, marriage, babies, beauty in a flower or a mountain or the face of a woman, strength in the arms of a man, and the fellowship of believers worshiping God together. Others are the good and glorious principles and virtues that stretch through eternity and underlie all that is worthwhile in temporality - things like the love and grace of God, justice, righteousness, honesty, compassion, holiness, and judgment; the high praises of God in the mouths of His saints as they wield the two-edged sword of His word; all that is lovely, pure, noble, praiseworthy, and of good report.

But the destroyers of civilization - no, let us call them the destroyers of humanity - attempt to cut away at the reverence and value we ascribe to these things, and they do so with mockery, scorn, contempt, and the overriding derision of elite and enlightened opinion, first, and then of public opinion more broadly. If we cast away those things, however - if we trade in laziness and entitlement for diligence and hard work, for instance, or falsehoods and manipulation for honesty and faithfulness - what will we have left? There will be nothing left worth living for; there will be nothing left that is characteristically human in the majestic and beautiful sense of humanity for which we were all created, which we may one day hope to see, and which we as of yet can still see occasional glimpses here and now. By making those good and virtuous things objects of mocker and scorn, we lose both the rich soil of a godly and honorable temporal life and the high and glorious heavens that soar in the eternal visions and aspirations of one who seeks to know and follow God. Stunted and weakened, we wither inwards in petty sins and quiet despair, having barred the door of our hearts to both life and joy.

Treasure hunt

One of the dangers inherent in developing a skill, gaining experience, or having a talent is that one may come to consider it only in terms of the potential it holds for obtaining power and admiration. That is, self-centered ambition and the lust for power may reign in one's heart instead of a willingness to serve for the good of others without recognition. This is most clearly a problem in ministry settings. For example, someone who has served as a Sunday school teacher for 15 years might inwardly begin to crave recognition for her work, and to resent the chair of the Christian Education committee who hasn't served as long as she has but has more power and gets more attention; if she allows this desire for recognition to have its way, she will replace harmony and trust on that ministry team with conflict and bitterness. But it is not limited to ministry, and I'm sure you could come up with examples relevant to your own experience! In any situation where someone in a subordinate position believes themselves to have more skill or experience than the person over them, there is great temptation for this kind of resentment, and anyone who has not felt it in themselves is a far better person than I am.


In God's way of doing things, however, all of this is turned on its head. The One whose example we are supposed to follow, though He had the most complete and legitimate claim for authority and recognition of anyone in the universe (being all-powerful and all-knowing rather help with that claim!), chose to serve those who were by any objective standard lower than Himself, genuinely and simply, without complaining or boasting. So, likewise, the Apostle Paul tells us to consider the needs of other people as well as our own needs, and to think of other people better or more worthy of esteem than ourselves - because if we think of others in that way, instead of allowing ourselves to think we are superior, it is far easier to love and serve them with a willing heart. So, again, Jesus told His disciples that those who are greatest among His children are those who lay down their pride and lust for power to serve the least of those around them.

The goal, then - the great adventure of life - is to discover and act upon the opportunities we have to serve those around us. It is like a treasure hunt, where each act of service is a priceless jewel, and the lowliest and most ignored labors are the most beautiful gems of all.

You will come again tomorrow, won't you?

In Kierkegaard's discourse To Be Contented with Being a Human Being, he has a lovely little illustration of the difference between an attitude colored by anxiety and an attitude of contentment and trust:

"If a girl in love said to her beloved when he came to visit her, 'You will come again tomorrow, won't you?' - there would still be some anxiety in her love. But if, without mentioning tomorrow, she threw her arms around his neck and said, 'Oh, thank you for coming today' - then she would indeed be altogether assured about tomorrow. Or if there were two girls, and the one said to her beloved, 'You will come again tomorrow, won't you?' and the other said, 'Oh, thank you for coming today' - which of the two would be more convinced that the beloved would come again tomorrow?"

Kierkegaard's point is that if we are worrying about something in the future, it shows that we do not have full trust and assurance in the person responsible for that something. If we are fully and completely trusting in that person, we need not even think about the future, much less worry and question about it. We can instead delight with gratitude in the present moment. So if someone trusts God to provide for him, then even when he has no money for the next day's needs he can thank God for supplying his needs for this day, and let the future rest in God's hands. This kind of genuine unshakeable faith can be seen in the life of George Mueller, a Prussian pastor in England during the mid 1800s, who opened orphanages in Bristol in response to the great need he saw there, eventually becoming able to care for 2000 children at a time in these homes. Because he carried out this work without asking anyone for money (and because he didn't even accept a salary for himself from his pastoral position!), choosing instead to rely completely on God, he was able to see God provide countless times, in countless ways. People would donate money just as it was needed, or in the exact amount required; once, when they had no food at all, he still gathered all the children together to give thanks for breakfast - and donated food arrived just as they finished their prayers.

For most of us today, Mueller's situation is far from the actual experience of our lives. But we still have needs, and we still have worries - in fact, it seems that worries do not decrease even when needs do! For my husband and I, right now, those worries tend to be about planning and decision-making as we're both at the beginning of career paths with a multitude of options in front of us for both those careers and the family we want to have someday. It would be easy to worry, for instance, that Paul won't be accepted to a PT school and our lives will remain in limbo, or that he will be accepted and I won't be able to get a job after the move, or that we would find ourselves unexpectedly pregnant. And I have worried about all those things, and I've poured out my anxiety and questions to God many times - but while it is good to take my anxieties to Him, I need to do so with an attitude of trust. Only when I truly trust Him can He actually calm the worries and fears in my heart. When my heart is content in Him, responding with joy and gratitude for the guidance and provision He has given me today, convinced that He will continue to lead and provide in the future - then, and only then, will I be able to find peace from my worries.

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.

Fighting for joy

Sometimes in the midst of life it is difficult to see the big picture. Life is often compared to a journey or a path, through which we are traveling, but it can frequently seem more like the endless futile circles of an eddy off the main course of a river: coming from nowhere, going to nowhere, and doing nothing meaningful in the interim. If it is a path, we don't seem able to see either the progress we've made so far or the goal ahead, and maybe even the direction the path is going.

When we feel this way - or at least, when I feel this way - it can be incredibly easy to lose hope. The past feels hopeless first because it is unchangeable, but also because it can seem to be a lost and straggling road, meandering through worthless endeavors in pursuit of meaningless goals, and because so often we feel that God has done nothing in our lives through all those years - that we have not grown, that we have not born fruit, that He has not accomplished any of that transformational change in which we find life, joy, and love. Burdened with the weight of past futility, it is hard to find reason for hope in the present; even when we do something well, when life is full of happiness and light, when the people we love have the same love for us in return, and when we feel close to God and excited by our deepening relationship with Him, the curse whispers in the back of our minds: "It is a passing dream; it is all an illusion; in the deepest core of reality, no one loves you and nothing you do will ever amount to anything." If we listen to that diabolical voice, it will veil the eyes of our heart to the goodness of God and murder the happiness and love we so deeply desire to know and to share. And it will begin to poison our hope for the future as well, by making us believe that in our truest being we are utter failures, worthless creatures incapable of ever achieving the great and beautiful visions we once had.

How can we, as Christians who are commanded to rejoice always, fight against this vision of the world and of ourselves, against these emotions that threaten to destroy whatever true hope there actually is for our lives? The first step, which seems too obvious to mention for those who have never been there, but which may appear almost impossible to those who are overwhelmed with this sense of futility and despair, is to desire joy. It is easy to say that we desire joy - after all, who wouldn't choose joy, light, and love over despair, darkness, and pain? But look at your heart and your mind in the middle of the black mood. When the little merry whispers come bringing you news of great joy, do you want to listen to them? Do you choose to listen to them, or do you push them aside so you can hold on to the darkness and the anger? I realized this week, for probably the first time in my life, that I am often doing just that - thrusting away the very light and love that my heart is crying out for, so that I can hold on to the blackness in my mind. And if we find ourselves choosing, my friends, to hold on to the hatred and the pain, then we have shown ourselves capable of choice in those moments of seemingly overwhelming despair. We are not thoroughly overwhelmed; we are not left without hope. For we still can choose.

After wanting joy, then, comes the desperately difficult task of choosing joy in every moment that the darkness tempts us. This is where we learn to be vigilant against sin (for despair is a sin, since it sets itself up against the true hope that is in Christ), to strengthen our wills and minds and bodies in fighting for the kingdom (for even these small battles in our minds, that seem to have no larger meaning or value, are battles waged for the kingdom of God against the power of sin and Satan), and to trust more deeply and completely in the grace and love of our Lord. This is where we discover the power of truth and the wonder of joy, the strength of hope and the might of faith, as we employ them in our service as weapons of war and see our foes defeated before us - and it is where we discover the riches of the grace of God as He forgives and restores every time we fall before them. He is the ultimate conqueror, after all, and will lead us in triumph; He will not forsake us, He will not stop loving us, and He does not consider us failures, no matter how purposeless our lives may seem. In Him, if we choose it, is joy unending, joy that is stronger than any pain or blackness. It was not idly, as an impossible ideal, that Paul wrote for us to rejoice always in Christ, and we can fight to grasp and keep that joy, vibrant and strong and beautiful, in our lives. And so we must fight, if we are to know and to follow God.

Silently waiting

As the year advances and Paul and I are still waiting (endlessly, it seems) to know for sure where we'll be in the fall and what this next year will look like, it's been hard for me not to be anxious or impatient. So I found in this verse both encouragement and peace:

"Truly my soul silently waits for God;
From Him comes my salvation.
He only is my rock and my salvation;
He is my defense;
I shall not be greatly moved." - Psalm 62:1-2

That first line in particular stands out to me, and I think the word "silently" is especially important. What it implies is that in our waiting (for God's direction and timing), we ought to stop all the complains and questions that rise up in our minds, and to put an end to the anxiety and impatience that dwells in our hearts. Then, when we've cleared all that away, there is space and energy left to genuinely trust God with the peace and calm of a little child.

Honestly, it's rather liberating to trust in this way. The little moments I manage to actually trust, instead of just stuffing the worries deeper inside or pretending that everything will be work out exactly the way I want it, are really awesome, because it lets me out of the confinements of my own fears and uncertainties into the full breadth and depth of God's faithfulness and sovereignty. Instead of hearing only my own anxiety or impatience going around in my head over and over again, my heart in its quietness can hear the truth and love God speaks to me. He is my rock! When all else is unknown and uncertain, He is who He is, unchanging and eternal.

Small servants of a great God

In Christianity, the things we naturally value and prioritize are continually being upended and overturned by things we might consider weaker, lesser, or more simple. We see, for instance, that knowledge and intellectual standing, though it wins us approval and acclaim from both the church and the world, is incomplete and can even be a hindrance if not accompanied by good works of love and service. We find that power is not to be sought after, because in our weakness we learn our great need for the grace of God, humility and dependence are allowed to bear fruit, and our hearts grow near to Him. We read that

"God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty, and the base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are" - 1 Corinthians 1: 27-28

So I think the chance to write, or to say, or to do something undeniably great or profound - something that will attract attention and garner respect - is often a temptation from which we ought to flee. I don't mean that we shouldn't attempt to do great things for God, or share the insights He has given us about life or from His Word, but I do mean that we should often do these things in a sort of secrecy, not letting our right hand know what our left hand is doing: saying and doing what is right, because it is right, regardless of who or how many notice or how they respond. It is often easy to do something challenging and hard when we are winning praise and admiration for our effort; it is not so easy to do the same thing when no one notices we are even trying, and gives us only scorn and discouragement when they do notice. But in the second case, we learn to rely on the strength and approval of God instead of men, and we learn to swallow our pride and our ravenous hunger for attention and recognition.

And think about it. Do we really want to be the wise and the mighty in this world? Do we want to grow so great in the eyes of our fellow men (and often ourselves) that we forget how small we are in the presence of God, or begin to avoid His presence for the precise reason of avoiding that feeling of smallness? Do we want, in the end, to be put to shame by the weak and foolish things, by the people we have despised in our own self-absorption and upward climb? Wouldn't we rather humble ourselves now, and share in the glory of God later, when we will be free of the miserable burdensome urge to claim that glory as our own? He Himself, though by nature and by right the most glorious Being in all infinity, became small and weak and despised, that by descending into the lowest parts of the earth He might raise up us all to be with Him in glory. If we long to know Him more and to become more like Him, then it only makes sense that we too ought to descend into humility and lowliness, to serve when service is hard and inglorious, that we might be like our Lord and Savior. And as He who descended is also He who ascended into all the heavens, so only when we descend with Him into suffering and death - the death of our own pride and self-centeredness - can we truly ascend into liberty, beauty, and glory.

He Regards the Lowly

One of the things that interferes with our relationship with God is our own pride. Pride is what makes us resist or resent God's grace (or our need for that grace) and makes it difficult for us to accept God's love for us - we dislike the necessary admission of our weakness, imperfection and sin that accompanies grace, or we believe that our sin is too great for even His love and forgiveness to cover. Either we exalt ourselves or we make God less, when we walk the path of pride. And because we very much do need God's grace, because His forgiveness is far more than sufficient to cover our sins, and because His love is unfailing and unconditional, our pride puts us out of sync with reality. Eventually, keeping our heads and hearts in a dream world will result in colliding with something in the real world that we didn't see because it didn't exist in our delusions. That is, if we base our lives on perceptions and principles that don't align with reality, the disconnect and the tension will in the end lead us to pain and despair. After all, wherever God is not, despair takes root - and a proud heart has pushed God out.

For we have a great God who works in very different ways than a great king would. A great ruler in this world will usually seek out or allow into his presence those who have some special distinction or merit. A championship sports team, for instance, or the winners of a scholastic competition, or other heads of state or their ambassadors, might be allowed to meet the President. An average soccer mom from the Midwest would most likely be laughed at by the security guards if she tried to visit him at the White House! The greater the power and glory of the ruler, the less likely it is that the poor, normal, lowly people of his country will actually be allowed into his presence. It is an honor, after all, to see and meet someone so highly respected, and it is natural to expect that one ought to earn that kind of honor. And then, afterwards, one has every right to be proud of the achievement that merited the reward. But in the Psalms we read that,

"Though the Lord is on high,
Yet He regards the lowly;
But the proud He knows from afar." - Psalm 138:6

God is far greater than any earthly ruler, and yet He doesn't demand that we earn our way into His presence. He doesn't accept only those who have done great things or have some special distinction or notoriety to capture His attention. In fact, He does almost exactly the opposite! He gives grace to the humble, and lifts up those who do not exalt themselves. When He became a man, He lived among the poor and the oppressed, and rejected those who were mighty in this world. His desire for us is not that we should strive to win His favor by our own merits - first, it is impossible, and second, it centers our minds firmly on ourselves: we must always be thinking about what we are doing and how we are doing and whether or not we are good enough. He wants us to let go of our pride, of our need to earn His approval and make ourselves good enough, so that we can once more sing in tune with reality, and come to know Him deeply and genuinely in humility.

Walking in our faith

Sometimes I think we over-intellectualize our faith. Instead of learning from and applying the basic, simple, understandable meanings of the scriptures we read, we try to probe ever more deeply into the text - to see new insights that maybe no one else in our circle had seen before, or to build up theories and systems of doctrine. And sometimes it is good to search more deeply into the passages, to gain a fuller understanding of the words, their context, and their application: to use our minds to seek after the knowledge of God through His word. I think, however, that it is not always beneficial. C.S. Lewis once wrote about the dangers of theoretically and intellectually understanding a passage without equivalent practical and personal understanding - of having one's head filled with knowledge and ideas, but not having trained one's hands and feet and heart in the disciplines of obedience, service, and love. It can make us think we are farther along in our growth in the faith than we truly are, and it can begin to plant in us the seeds of spiritual pride. As Paul writes,

"Knowledge puffs up, but love edifies. And if anyone thinks that he knows anything, he knows nothing  yet as he ought to know. But if anyone loves God, this one is known by Him." - 1 Corinthians 8:1-3

It can be easy for certain types of people to acquire knowledge of the Bible and appear wise and mature in their faith, while in their heart drifting away from the foundational truths of the gospel, and in their life still needing to learn how to live out of the love and grace of God. I speak as one of these people, honestly. Acquisition of knowledge, in any sphere of my life, comes easily and is enjoyable, so it makes sense that I would delight in that part of the Christian life and begin to neglect other aspects of the faith! But God has redeemed and desires to transform our entire being, not just our minds. He wants to change our hearts, that they might learn compassion, mercy, forgiveness, and empathy. He wants to change our mouths, that they might learn to speak with truth and grace, to encourage and uplift and edify, to forego biting scorn and sarcasm. He wants to change our hands, that they might learn to give from love (of God and of others) rather than from duty, that they might labor not for our own good, but for the glory of God and in service (however menial or unpleasant) to others. He wants to change our feet, that they might not carry us to places of pleasure, comfort, and entertainment, but to places where the darkness of sin is powerful and the need and suffering of our fellow human beings is great. He wants to change our will, that it should no longer be bound by our stomachs, or our sexual desires, or any of our natural sinful tendencies, but instead be freely following Him. God wants us to grow in our knowledge - there is no doubt or argument about that - but this growth of knowledge should be informed by our love of God and of others, and it is only a part of the growth and change that He desires of us.

So as we read, let us also seek to apply - not in the typical Bible study meaning of that word, that rarely leads to true and lasting change, but in the sense of honestly striving to live in obedience to the commands of God, by His grace, and from a foundation of love. When we read, let us first seek to know and understand God more, and then seek to discover how we ought to be living with and for Him in our faith! And if we find that a certain path we have chosen does not honor Him, or if we find that we have been ignoring or neglecting certain aspects of our faith, then we should immediately step off that path or begin to cultivate those aspects of our faith. Our reading and studying should be for the purpose of following God more closely, not for the sake of being the one with the most knowledge and the deepest insights. The Christian faith is profoundly this-wordly, to use Bonhoeffer's language; it calls us to live completely in the world, even though we are not of the world - to genuinely love, to sacrificially serve, and to wholeheartedly obey - to walk in the truths of the gospel, not merely to know them in our minds.

Finding love

From Sherry Turkle, the author of the book Alone Together, about the effects of the rise of personal technology on human society and relationships (I found the quote at the Futurisms blog at New Atlantis, but the whole interview with Turkle at IASC is also worth reading):

"People are so vulnerable and so willing to accept substitutes for human companionship in very intimate ways. I hadn't seen that coming, and it really concerns me that we're willing to give up something that I think defines our humanness: our ability to empathize and be with each other and talk to each other and understand each other. And I report to you with great sadness that the more I continued to interview people about this, the more I realized the extent to which people are willing to put machines in this role. People feel that they are not being heard, that no one is listening. They have a fantasy that finally, in a machine, they will have a nonjudgmental companion."

Isn't that truly what people want? We want someone who will love us unconditionally, regardless of what we say or do - someone who will be there when we need a friend, listen when we need to talk, and make us feel as though we have some value and worth. In the hidden depths of our hearts, we're terrified of reaching the end of our lives only to realize that we have accomplished nothing meaningful and are going to die alone and unloved. If we can have some kind of affirmation and companionship as we go through life, it helps to assuage those fears, and if we look to some non-human source for that affirmation and companionship, whether it be animals or robots, we can satisfy our emotional needs (or at least dull their ache) without having to endure the risks, pains, and fears of human relationships and meaningful work.

Ultimately, of course, pursuing intimacy and meaning in that way is bankrupt; it may give us comfort for a time, but it stifles our emotional growth and prevents the deepening and maturing of our hearts, and in the end we are left unfulfilled and despairing. But as my brother wrote (in an unpublished document; you can read more of his writing here):

"We are a world devoid of love, a shadow land, hiding itself from the true light, and so we must cast open the windows - no, tear down the very roof. Love is the great irony, the caustic force that banishes the dark and drives out the meaningless. [...] The answer must be to love and love only. The answer must be to live from love, for all action to emanate from love."

What I see in the desperate terrified longing of so many people in our society, in the deep desire for intimacy coupled with the intense fear of pain and worthlessness, is an open invitation to live out the love of Christ in our world - to be the human being who listens to the sorrows and worries of our neighbors, who stands with them through their joys and their troubles, and who loves them unconditionally and without condemnation. In a world where everyone is withdrawing to the comfort and convenience of computer-mediated relationships and robotic companions, we can change lives and bring the gospel into our communities simply by loving, always loving, in all that we do, with genuine, face-to-face love.

Apologies and One Thought :)

I apologize for writing so infrequently these past two weeks! I have most certainly had thoughts and ideas, so that can't be my excuse this time; I have also had plenty of time, especially this past weekend, so business isn't a suitable reason for my absence either. But my thoughts have been the type that end up written in the margins of my Bible - short (only a sentence or two at most) and centered around a specific verse, and thus requiring much expansion before becoming suitable for the blog. And my time has been spent with people, in large part, and creating things with my hands for the other smaller part. In essence, I've been more immersed in the real world around me, more connected to the people in my life and more in touch with the physical realities and rhythms of the created order - and I think this is a good thing, although I still think I should have spent a bit more time writing down some of my thoughts for the blog!

Anyway, here is one slightly longer thought that has been slowly taking form in my mind. It seems to me that one of the dangers inherent in Christianity is losing one's balance spiritually - prioritizing the spiritual and intellectual aspects of the faith over the physical, or vice versa. For someone like me, raised in very Bible-centered churches, and naturally intellectual, it can be easy to neglect or forget about the more physical qualities of my life and faith: to think, imagine, theorize, read, and meditate, without serving, giving, loving, and shaping the world around me. We have spirits and minds, to be sure, and we must use them to the best of our ability for God, but we also have bodies, and we have an equal duty to use them in service to and worship of God. If we think otherwise, and consider those bodies a mere hindrance and source of evil, we have left the path of Christianity and taken up Gnostic doctrine! God created matter and gave us physical bodies - hands and eyes, dexterity and strength - and He desires us to make good use of those bodies: to use the talents and skills within them to shape and tend and labor, as Adam and Eve were intended to do in the garden. So it is not a waste of time to make things that are beautiful and useful and good, even though that making might not in itself necessarily seem to be very important in terms of faith. It is not a waste of time to love one's family in a very physical way, by doing their laundry, keeping the house clean, and making good food for them to eat. It is not a waste of time to build or sew or craft, as God has given you time and skill, if the work is done as a labor of love, to make something beautiful for a good end (where good does not necessarily equal grand or noteworthy, but is very often simple and small though filled with virtue, purity, and loveliness, as in Phil. 4:8).

Worldliness

"...the most insidious temptations to 'worldliness' today do not necessarily come in the form of enticements to sexual dissipation, or even to complicity in socio-political oppression, but rather in the form of the suggestion that it is possible - and indeed 'normal' and expedient - to go about our daily business in the world without giving much thought to God." - Craig M. Gay, The Way of the (Modern) World: Or, Why It's Tempting to Live As If God Doesn't Exist

This quote makes me want to read the whole book! I might need to make a special trip to the Phoenix Seminary Library to find it, but I think it would be worth it. However, the quote on its own holds a lot of truth and provides much to think about. Rather than defining worldliness (the state of being of the world as well as in the world, to borrow from the famous Scriptural passage) by a set of actions or some behavioral standard, the author defines it in terms of the attitude and perspective of our hearts and minds - and since those things are what inform and motivate our actions, I think they provide a good foundation for an understanding of what exactly worldliness is.

As I've been reading through some of Paul's letters, I've noticed this perspective on the meaning of worldliness as well. While he does give the churches practical lists of actions that reflect godliness, he also lays heavy emphasis on the importance of having our hearts and minds set on other-worldly things, on matters of eternal consequence and origin. As he wrote to the Colossians,

"Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth." - Col. 3:2

In the entire previous chapter, Paul had warned the Colossian church to be vigilant lest the traditions and philosophies of the world affect their faith and walk with God - to make sure that the basic beliefs and patterns of thinking common to the world (that is, to sinful man in himself) were not allowed to crowd out the truth of the gospel and the entirely different perspective that must accompany it. How were they to stand guard and do battle with those influences? By setting their minds on things above - by focusing their thoughts and the meditations of their hearts on the things of God, on eternal and heavenly matters, by gazing on Him and seeking to know Him. And if they did not? Well, in Philippians, we are given an illustration of what it means to choose to set our minds on things on the earth, instead of striving toward God:

"For there are many who walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ: whose end is destruction, whose god is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame - who set their minds on earthly things." - Phil. 3:18-19

To become of the world - to let our thoughts and fears and aspirations be centered around earthly things - is to become an enemy of the cross of Christ. He died that we might die to the world in Him; He was raised that we might be raised with Him to new life, to a citizenship in heaven, to an inheritance imperishable. When we choose to go through life not thinking about God, not living by the principles of the gospel, not concerned about how our new life and new identity ought to affect us here and now, we are choosing to ally ourselves with the world, and to set ourselves up in opposition to Christ. And if that is the posture of our heart towards God, then it ultimately doesn't matter whether or not we follow His moral standards flawlessly or work tirelessly for the creation of a better world. We will still have chosen this world - temporal, created things, that fail and pass away - over the uncreated, timeless Lord who gave His life that we might know Him and dwell with Him in glory and love for all eternity.

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.

Secondhand Lions

I've decided that it's much harder for me to write when I'm feeling sick. My mind gets foggy, and complete and coherent sentences run circles around my feebly grasping mind, making the formation of understandable thoughts and arguments considerably more difficult. Also, my spare time tends to be spent sleeping instead of thinking, so there are fewer thoughts to write about in the first place. However, one thing I do manage to accomplish with great regularity when sick is to watch Secondhand Lions. It's by no means what I would classify as a great movie, but it is definitely a good one, and its unique and innocent blend of reality and fantasy is perfect for those days when I want a relatively peaceful fun movie to occupy the time not spent in sleep.

One aspect of the movie, though, has always bothered me (if you haven't watched the movie, don't read further; I don't want to accidentally give anything away). At the relational climax of the movie, one of the older men tells his nephew, the main character, that things like goodness, justice, honesty and love are worth everything, while power and money are worth nothing. So far so good, right? But then he goes on to say that a man should believe in those good things, and believe that they are worth more than power and money, even if it isn't true, and that bothers me! Those things are worth believing in because they are true, because they come from the God of truth; their value is not independent of their truth status. So every time I come to that part of the movie I cringe a little, and wish they had written that part of the script differently.

Tonight as I watched the movie, however, I realized something. The uncle is wrong when he says that truth doesn't matter, but there is a grain of truth in his error, and it shows in how his advice is applied in the movie. The nephew is faced with a situation in which two opposing stories have been presented to him about his uncles: the story that they told him about their past, in which they lived with courage, justice, and love; and the story that several other characters throughout the movie have suggested, in which the uncles were thieves and ultimately cowards. The nephew has no way to determine which of these stories is true, but he is forced into a position where he has to make a choice. In that situation, would it be better for him to believe in the goodness and honesty of these two men (since their purported deceit and criminal actions have not been proven), or to believe that they lived for the pursuit of power and money (since, after all, they have quite a lot of money from some unknown source)? More generally, is it better to believe that a person acted with good intentions and can respond to a given situation with justice, honesty, and compassion, or is it better to believe that they acted with the intention to hurt and would respond to confrontation or rebuke with deceit, malice, and self-centeredness?

Let's look at the question from another perspective. When you or I make a mistake, say something that unintentionally hurts someone else, or do something sinful, do we automatically assume that we are full of spite and that our every action and word is deliberately hurtful or malicious? Do we assume that the worst possibility is, in fact, the reality about ourselves? Usually, unless we know without a doubt that the worst possibility is truly the reality (and sometimes even then), we do not. We give ourselves the benefit of the doubt, so to speak, because we want to believe that our actions are motivated by goodness and integrity even when they may not appear that way. And why do we want to believe this, when the evidence could be taken in a negative direction as easily as a positive? Simply, it is because we love ourselves. Because we love ourselves, we don't want to believe that we are as bad and nasty and small as we appear, and we want to become better.

Well, we are commanded to love each other as ourselves. If in loving ourselves we find ourselves wanting to believe in our own courage, justice, and honesty whenever reasonable evidence arises, then we should be doing the same for other people. We shouldn't desire to discover that their actions are motivated by malice, or interpret their words in a way that portrays them in the worst possible light. Instead of assuming that someone is intending to hurt or offend, when that is not the only plausible assumption, we should assume that they misunderstood, or didn't hear, or some other explanation of a more innocent sort.

One advantage of looking at other people in this way is that it encourages those good things in our own souls. When we are actively looking for goodness, love, honesty, and justice in other people, it motivates us to cultivate them in ourselves, and helps us to mentally dwell on those positive and praiseworthy qualities. Another advantage is that it helps keep us from unjust anger towards others, because we are not assuming that they intended to hurt us, and are thus far less tempted to bitterness, grudge-holding, and revenge-seeking. So while it is sometimes very necessary to acknowledge the sinfulness of another person's intentions, it is in most circumstances much more helpful to assume, when such an assumption is possible, that they are not so evil and miserable as they might seem - to believe, even though you cannot know that it is true, that they are acting with justice, goodness, and honesty.

Alright, hopefully that made some sense :P Like I said, I'm sick and I'm having a lot of trouble putting thoughts and words together. If I said anything that seems totally wrong, please allow me to claim the mental fog of sickness as my excuse :)

Sharing happiness

Last night, the church in whose kids' program I volunteer had a pine car derby race for the kids - they buy kits a few weeks in advance and get to carve and paint the cars, and everyone has a great time. Anyway, I was watching one of the first-graders who happened to be sitting near me, who had a decently fast car. When his car sped down the track for a win, he would burst with happiness - fist in the air, big grin, etc. - and his brother would congratulate him and his mom would cheer. It was really sweet! But what really struck me was that a little later, when the older kids raced and his brother's car won a race, he responded with the same incredible expression of happiness. There was no difference; whether the joy of the win belonged to him or to his brother, he exploded with excitement and delight. His brother and mom were the same way, cheering with equal enthusiasm no matter who in their family happened to be racing and doing well.

And as I watched them I thought, this is how we're supposed to be. As members of the family of God, this is how we're supposed to act and feel towards one another: to be genuinely happy and delighted when someone else does well and is excited, just as we are happy when we ourselves do well. We don't need to quench our joy at our own successes - we need to expand and increase our joy at the successes of our brothers (and sisters!) in Christ, so that whenever one of them finds victory or success or answered prayer, we can burst with the shared happiness on their behalf.

Thoughts on marriage for my 9-month anniversary

For marriage, as indeed for life as a whole, I feel that there is one primary (though two-fold) purpose: to know God more and, being in Him, to become more like Him. Practically, what this means is that our own pleasure is not the purpose of marriage. We marry someone we love and whose company we enjoy, with whom we share similar interests, beliefs, and visions for life, and with whom we expect to be able to cultivate happiness - but ultimately the end for which we ought to strive, in marriage, is most emphatically not our own personal temporal happiness or fulfillment. In a word, the purpose of marriage is sanctification.

When I was single, I noticed how many of the resources for singles focused on God's use of that time of life to draw one closer to Him - to help us learn, variously, to trust in Him more, to be content with the situations in which He places us, to deepen our faith in both large and small things, to give of ourselves wholeheartedly and passionately for His work, to develop godly character, and so on: essentially, to sanctify and refine us through the "fire" of singleness. Similarly, when I read the old classics of the Christian faith (and I mean the very old classics!), I found that most of them were written by vocational celibates (such as monks) for other vocational celibates, and singleness was praised because of its ability to be used by God for our sanctification. And I thought as a single and still think now that this is very true. God will indeed use our singleness to teach us about Him, to draw us closer to Him (often by giving us no one else to turn to), and to generally shape us into the person He desires us to become.

But what all those messages left out, and what I felt seemed to be missing in most of the marriage resources I was given when Paul and I were approaching our wedding, was that God continues this sanctification process in marriage. Just as He will use the unique challenges and opportunities presented by singleness to grow our character and deepen our relationship with Him, so He will use the unique challenges and opportunities presented by marriage. The situations will be different, and the ways in which He will change us will very likely be different, but the overarching purpose will be the same: our sanctification. God desires to make us holy, so that we can be with Him in joy and glory instead of fear and condemnation, and in this life He is working out in us through the Spirit the righteousness that He gave us in Christ. Whether we are single or married, He will use the circumstances in which we find ourselves to transform us for our good and His glory.

I must admit that I wouldn't have thought of this idea of marriage as a means for sanctification unless I had read it in a book given to us by an older couple I knew in college, titled Sacred Marriage. But this book is the only one that has even mentioned, much less developed, the idea, and I think it is important for those of us who are married and thinking about getting married. It should give us cause to examine our motivation for marriage in the first place - are we seeking marriage to obtain physical pleasure, emotional security, or companionship, or are we seeking it because we feel God is leading us in that direction and has a purpose for it in our walk with Him? Once married, it should inform the priorities that we create in our relationship with our spouse: do we use them for our own pleasure (whether blatantly or through more subtle hinting and manipulation), or do we strive to put his or her needs first, even when that entails self-denial? Do we see their weaknesses as insufferable flaws, or do we learn to show them (consistently and constantly) the same grace that God shows us? Do we try to ground our identity on their approval and on our perception of their love for us, or do we find our meaning and worth in Christ and from that established and secure identity begin to truly love our spouse without a continual search for their validation? Do we expect our marriage to be perfect, and fix blame and condemnation on either our spouse or ourselves when struggles arise, or do we expect those struggles and learn to work through them together, edified and strengthened by the grace of God?

Essentially, the question to ask in marriage (and maybe in any venture of life) is whether I am making any given choice for the glory of God and out of my new life in Christ, or whether I am making that choice for my own convenience - to obtain my own desires - and out of my old life enslaved to sin. If throughout each day I consciously strive to take the former path, I will be employing marriage for its intended purpose in my life: my sanctification. But if I fail to be vigilant and intentional, if I choose not to seek God in those situations that marriage has brought upon me, I will throwing away those golden opportunities God would like to use to draw me to Him. By His grace, I hope that my marriage to Paul will truly be a means for both of us to learn to walk more closely with our Lord, and grow in our knowledge of Him and in the fruit we bear in our lives.

Lingering in beauty

Being a Type-A personality (that is, continually striving for perfection and efficiency), it can be hard for me to do anything slowly without becoming frustrated. Naturally, I don't sit back and enjoy the beauty and peace of a simple moment - I identify a task, complete the task as quickly and as well as I can, enjoy the sense of fulfillment at its completion, and then move on to the next task.

But those simple moments can hide some incredible beauty, and I think it is worthwhile for me to make the effort to slow down and linger in them while they last.

For example, on Friday afternoon I bought a bag of black beans in bulk, and needed to transfer them from the little plastic bag to a glass jar for pantry storage purposes. Now, these little plastic bags they use in the bulk sections of stores are really quite flimsy, and when I've tried to pour beans directly from the bag into a jar in the past beans have gone flying everywhere. Nevertheless, because it feels so much faster, I typically do it that way anyway, and just try to be especially careful. On Friday, however, for some reason, I decided to scoop the beans out and into the jar with my hands. It felt slower, because I could only pick up a certain amount at a time (not a full double handful, lest I risk dropping them) and then had to funnel them delicately into the jar (not too quickly, lest they bounce off the mouth of the jar). But as I let the beans fall from my cupped hands into the jar, I felt the smoothness of their skins and the firm curvature of their shape as they jostled against each other and against my hands. I saw the dull gleam of their black matte exteriors, and the ever-changing shadows between them. I heard the gentle rhythmic rain as they fell onto the glass and then onto each other. And for a moment, my shoulders relaxed and my mind quieted, and the simple beauty of the action filled the room with peace.

So, my goal for this week: to take more time to notice these moments of beauty that God has placed in even the most seemingly trivial aspects of our lives, and not just to notice them but to linger in them, to let their peace seep into my heart. It is true that these moments are purely of this life, completely temporal - but God created this world, and temporality, and He can use it to teach us about eternity and craft us in His image.