Acknowledging need

"It is easy to acknowledge, but almost impossible to realise for long, that we are mirrors whose brightness, if we are bright, is wholly derived from the sun that shines upon us. Surely we must have a little - however little - native luminosity? Surely we can't be quite creatures?
"For this tangled absurdity of a Need, even a Need-love, which never fully acknowledges its own neediness, Grace substitutes a full, childlike and delighted acceptance of our Need, a joy in total dependence. We become 'jolly beggars.' The good man is sorry for the sins which have increased his Need. He is not entirely sorry for the fresh Need they have produced. And he is not sorry at all for the innocent Need that is inherent in his creaturely condition. For all the time this illusion to which nature clings as her last treasure, this pretence that we have anything of our own or could for one hour retain by our own strength any goodness that God may pour into us, has kept us from being happy. We have been like bathers who want to keep their feet - or one foot - or one toe - on the bottom, when to lose that foothold would be to surrender themselves to a glorious tumble in the surf. The consequences of parting with our last claim to intrinsic freedom, power, or worth, are real freedom, power and worth, really ours just because God gives them and because we know them to be (in another sense) not 'ours.'" - C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

This is not the way I naturally think, and I don't think it's the way most other people think either.We are ashamed of our Need, even our Need for God; we wish to be independent beings, possessing something utterly our own which we can then give to God and to other people. In fact, we don't want to admit that we are dependent on God, not just because of our sin, but because we are His creatures, the things He has made and whose life He sustains. I love the analogy in the first paragraph above: we want to have some light of our own, to shine bright with the goodness of our own being, instead of simply reflecting the light of God. But since we are His creatures, even if light did shine forth directly from us, it would still be His light that He put within us in the first place.There is nothing we can offer Him that He did not give to us, and because we are fallen we tend to need His help and encouragement even in that act of giving. And that is hard to accept, so I tend to fight it - I try to prove to myself, through continued efforts to be perfect, through the accumulated praises of people around me, through my own self-assessment in every situation, that I am a being who can live without Need and give freely of what is inherently my own to God and others: in other words, that I am a being like God in that I am my own self-sufficient person characterized by Gift-love rather than by Need-love.

But of course this is not true! So the fight becomes a lesson in failure and discouragement, or in self-righteousness and pride, depending on how the battles of the moment are progressing. In either case, there is no true delight, freedom, or consciousness of value. How could there be, when I am trying to live outside the constraints of reality? As Lewis wrote above, the false belief that we are self-sufficient, independent beings is what bars us from experiencing happiness. It imprisons us in continual striving for inherent personal perfection, in lies (believed in the heart if not spoken), in competition even with those we love the most, in the desperate fortress of pride faced with defeat. Having proclaimed to ourselves that we are Need-less - without Need of any sort, and particularly without that Need of God that infiltrates our whole being - we begin to feel that we are needless - meaningless beings without any greater purpose or worth. The One whom we need even to be truly ourselves is the same One who has made us able to meet the needs of people around us, given us a purpose and a meaning for our lives, and thus bestowed upon us greater worth than we could have ever made for ourselves. The One before whom we are utterly powerless, and upon whom we are dependent for life itself, gives to us His power, that we might live by His strength and do greater things that we could ever have imagined for ourselves. And the One who is a fountain of joy and love, apart from whom we are dark and hate-filled little creatures, will, if we will let Him, cause that fountain to spring up in glory within our very hearts, giving to us that which we could never earn or make for ourselves, but in the act of giving making it truly ours in Him.

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.

Sin and sanctification

There's a part of me that values worldly prestige and esteem - part of me that wants to have a job that looks good to the people around me, and that wants my husband to also have such a job, so that people will look up to us and value us for our success in meeting these very worldly priorities. It was this part of me, a couple years ago, that was happy when Paul decided to pursue physical therapy instead of teaching, because medical professions carry quite a bit of esteem in this white-collar, upper-middle class system of rating. It is this part of me that wants a higher degree (particularly a PhD!), just so that I can be more respected according to those same rankings. And while I don't think this is a very large part of me, it is certainly there: a desire to build my life around temporal pursuits in the hope of winning the approval and esteem of people who generally don't even share my worldview and values, and a thirst for the acclaim and admiration of created beings rather than the Creator, over fleeting rather than eternal things. In essence, that part of me has fallen for the lies and temptations of the world, and wants to chase after that tantalizing golden apples it proffers instead of keeping to the course and running for "the goal of the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus" (Phil. 3:14).

What concerns me is that I wasn't even aware of this desire until very recently, when a chance conversation brought it into glaring relief. Before then, if you had talked to me about the issue, I wouldn't have said that I valued that esteem or that I thought a white-collar job more worthy or meaningful than a blue-collar job (or that I ranked careers even within those categories); I would have told you that what mattered to me was honoring God with one's life and following Him on whatever path He chose, whether that included worldly riches and acclaim or material poverty and social scorn. But secretly, inside me, the desire for acclaim - the hidden pride, to give it its true name - was influencing my decisions, my thoughts about life, and my attitudes toward different options, while I remained largely ignorant of its existence and strength. It makes me wonder what other sinful attitudes, what other misaligned priorities, are hiding inside my heart!

What's encouraging, though, is that God did bring it to my attention eventually. If we knew all of our sinful traits and desires at once, it would probably be so overwhelming that we would despair of ever overcoming them! Instead, then, God works at our hearts slowly, gradually bringing our sins to light and conforming us to His image. He does want us to be perfect, with a great and terrible perfection mirroring His own unassailable holiness, but as He leads us to that place He guides and shapes us with loving, gentle hands. So a new realization of sin, or an increased awareness of the patterns and attitudes of our minds and hearts that are not in accordance with God, is not a reason for despair; rather, it is a reason for gratitude and increased trust in God's grace, because it is evidence of His Spirit's work of sanctification advancing forward into more areas of our life. As He brings the dark things in our hearts into the light of His truth, we can be assured that He will also bring them to defeat and destruction according to the same power by which He rose from the grave!

So it gives me hope that God is pointing out this hidden pride and desire for the world's esteem in my heart. It is not a good thing for it to be there; if left untouched and allowed to infiltrate into the foundations of my life and identity, it would center my heart on temporal and perishable things, draw me away from deeper knowledge, obedience and love of God, and disable much of my potential for serving and witnessing for God in this life. That is what any sin will do, given the opportunity, and this particular sin is one that attempts to attach one's love and vision to the world instead of to eternity. But it is a chance for me to experience and find joy in the grace and sanctifying power of God. By grace He brings sin to light; by grace He continues to love us despite that sin; by grace He enables us to find victory over that sin, even if it is only for moments at first; and by His great power He will someday present us to Himself fully perfect, completely purified from that sin and all other sins, blameless and holy before Him in love.

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.

Death and life

I think that my mind dwells too readily on death. Sometimes when my heart is full of pain and weariness I think about my own death, and it seems like a doorway of hope into a world of beauty and light. Other times, when my heart is full of need and fear, I think about the death of the people I love because I dread losing them. The slightest thing can go wrong in a schedule and my mind will wonder if they've had a car crash and I'll never see them again - or they can go in to the doctor for a cold or a minor problem and I worry that they'll have cancer or some other incurable disease and I'll have to begin the long process of saying goodbye. Anyway, I don't know if it's altogether good to be thinking of death so much, at least in the ways in which I think of it. Death isn't something either to be sought out or to be feared, I think.

To seek death is to forsake life - to deem all that life holds insufficient and worthless, to spurn the plans of God, to declare oneself the ultimate authority and power while simultaneously feeling utterly helpless and insignificant. It is the fight - the last desperate stand and even the apparent victory - of pride and the desire for self-sufficiency against the seemingly insurmountable obstacles of life and the unconquerable and undeniable faults and sins in oneself. It appears courageous to take that step into the utter unknown, but it is equally a cringing mournful fear of the perceived pain and hopelessness of life.

To fear death is to be attached to the comforts of life at the expense of the greatness of life. It demonstrates a willingness to remain half-human, absorbed in trivial pleasures, blinding oneself to the breathtaking visions and dreams of life because of the risks they entail. It is to see a narrower world than that which exists in reality - to see only the separation for a time and fail to see the reunion of eternity, to acknowledge only the pain of today and not the joy of forever. It is to think, in incredible pride, that one's own pain and suffering in this moment outweighs all the other purposes for which God is calling a person (oneself or another) out of this world.

In both cases there is a lack of trust in God and an attempt to control one's own life apart from Him. Neither reflects those timeless words of the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Philippians: "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain." He did not go wildly forth seeking his own death in his own timing, because he knew that God had a further purpose for his life here on earth, and likewise he did not limit what he ventured for the gospel in fear of the possibility of death. He risked death because he wanted to live for something greater than himself.