The popular Christian understanding is that we walk by faith, not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7). On this point I do not disagree. "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1) By faith we yearn for Christ's return, the fulfillment of all Scripture, and a coming eternity without sin or pain.  So what merit is there to walk by sight? For the anxious (yours truly) there is a tendency to conjure various untruths about what's not there, unleashing a type of paranoia. A downward spiral ensues, often accompanied by a sea of unproductive thoughts. Taking clear stock of reality is necessary to stem these fears. Separate fact from fiction. Refrain from entertaining what's not there. Cling to Scripture as truth. Cycling through these reminders keeps me grounded and choosing faith (oddly, as I walk by sight). 

Certainly, the outstanding point to be made here is that of faith. And when faith ultimately gives way to sight, what a glorious realization that will be!

These words quoted by Elisabeth Elliot from an old English poem comprise such a markedly simple (yet truthful) resolution for those paralyzed by the plethora of choice that lies before them. I've been in this place on several occasions, the most jarring of which was right after college graduation. This was the first time in my life when the next thing wasn't already neatly prescribed. And yet this was the first of many such times where I had a choice before me and no signs pointing from heaven that made the choice obvious. Proverbs 16:9 says, "The heart of a man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps." This verse has become a valuable truth in the midst of not knowing what's next, yet at the same time wrestling with so much I have wanted to do. It sets me at ease to do the next thing. And doing the next thing has allowed me to examine more closely what's before me, and I have never lacked for something to do. The idealist/perfectionist in me wages war against finding something better in search of the elusive sublime - perhaps because doing the next thing seems too obvious, or mundane.

I take comfort, as Elliot did, in these words:

Many a questioning, many a fear, Many a doubt, hath its quieting here. Moment by moment, Let down from Heaven, Time, opportunity, Guidance, are given. Fear not tomorrows, Child of the King, Trust them with Jesus, Do the next thing.

Do it immediately; Do it with prayer; Do it reliantly, casting all care; Do it with reverence, Tracing His Hand, Who placed it before thee with Earnest command. Stayed on Omnipotence, Safe 'neath His wing, Leave all resultings, Do the next thing.

Looking to Jesus, ever serener, (Working or suffering) Be thy demeanor, In His dear presence, The rest of His calm, The light of His countenance Be thy psalm, Strong in His faithfulness, Praise and sing, Then, as He beckons thee, Do the next thing.

Let's admit it. The era of the selfie has not revealed anything new about human nature. Within each of us is an inherited selfishness from birth (1 Corinthians 15:21-22). To declare that "He must increase but I must decrease" (John 3:30) is admittedly hard to replicate. In Galatians 2:20, the Apostle Paul's offers his perspective:

"I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."

From this I learn:

1. My old self has been crucified. The gospel makes its statement in my life by declaring who's in charge. The old is gone, and the new has come (2 Corinthians 5:17).

2. Yet my current state is the flesh. The flesh is still a part of me. There is a choice, nevertheless, to live by faith. We put to death the deeds of the flesh through the help of the Spirit (Romans 8:13)

3. I'm loved - and if that's not enough, Christ demonstrated His love by giving His life for me. And the Father so wonderfully reminds us that we are His - "See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are." (1 John 3:1a) Knowing we are loved compels us to live not for ourselves but for Him who for our sake died and was raised (2 Corinthians 5:14).

What fascinates me about the soul is that though it is of immaterial essence, it has very real activity. In my attempt to demystify the soul, I dug through the Psalms (indulge my geekiness here). The soul can be both an active agent and passive recipient. It is capable of the highest praise and the depths of despair. More than anything, there are pleas for its deliverance. And it has to be directed to praise (as I have been learning as of late). Here is a compilation of its various activities (separated roughly by the positive/negative): +

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I had a best friend growing up who happened to be better than me at everything. For so many reasons I wanted to be her. She was the essence of cool, and I was just trying desperately to follow. I knew for many reasons that I would never quite match her, but I could sure as heck try. All that trying left me disappointed, questioning why I had seemingly less to work with. It wasn’t fair. Comparing ourselves to others stops us from running the race that is set before us - one that is in plain view, but our unwillingness to journey it stops us dead in our tracks. I am still derailed by the ugly game of comparison. It can get me as far as questioning if God even cares about me (just the other day, in fact). Believing that lie is a slippery slope, leading only to self-pity.

Dear runners, let us throw off that sin that so easily entangles so that we may run this race with the endurance it requires! (Hebrews 12:1-2)

[Originally posted 4.15.06 - cf. 1 Corinthians 15] Today is a special day.  Without today life’s finality reaches its most dreaded conclusion.  What’s more, I am amongst those who are most to be pitied, for all that I have hoped for has been revealed as nothing more than mere fairy tale.

If today is not true, then all that life amounts to is the immediate present.  And it therefore follows that I’m justified in my right to indulge myself in all the pleasures of my senses–that is, to eat, drink, and be merry, until all I’m left with is the reality of my mortality.  If it weren’t that He has set eternity on our hearts, there wouldn’t coexist this persistent longing, such that our hearts are restless until we find its fulfillment.

If there wasn’t victory to be had, then the voices in my head to quit this race are something worth giving in to.  If I didn’t believe in something more, and that this something more has resulted in my ultimate hope in this desperately broken world, then this has all been in vain.

But I’m assured this hasn’t been.  What do you believe about today?

I've learned an excellent way to love is loving the things that other people love. I think of Christ and his admonition to Peter to feed His sheep. Peter, grieved by the thrice repeated question of his love for Christ, misunderstood the point (John 21:15-19). For Christ, to love Him is to love the very things He loves. I hope to love like Christ does. I cannot pretend to have gotten close, but as I attempt, there are particular causes that have become near to my heart. One of them is not a popular cause of advocacy in my city (or elsewhere for that matter), but one that makes me weep and say this is a grievous thing to which I must respond.

The cause I speak of is that for the unborn child. That God holds human life in the highest regard is apparent throughout Scripture, from the very creation of man in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). It is inconsistent to say that a life in the womb is anything less than human. "For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb." (Psalm 139:13) We celebrate this week leading to Easter that Christ was the one who died to give us life. What more powerful act do we need to realize that God loves humanity?

I have stood alongside good friends who have steadied their faith through difficult and also lost pregnancies. I am confident not one of them would say that they felt anything less than love for that unborn child. Early in my teaching career, a student approached me with vague tears, and I uncovered that the root of her tears was an aborted pregnancy. Her grief was inconsolable, and I realized abortion could never be the idealized solution of its advocates. When I lived overseas and my language was good enough to recognize that they were playing abortion commercials on the bus, my heart broke over the mechanized, routine taking of human life. There are over 13 million abortions annually in that country alone.

What breaks your heart? Is it something that also breaks the heart of Christ?

I often go about life waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. I proceed on a downward spiral of thoughts, believing I'm doomed to a less than desirable fate. I dread the future, anticipating the supposed misery to come. Oddly enough, I can be perfectly optimistic for your life, but completely pessimistic about mine. It makes little sense, I know. Thankfully, there are gracious reminders that the God of this universe is somehow mindful of me (Psalm 8:4). I had one of those moments the other week. That God would reveal Himself so specifically in the dailyness of my routine shook me from my self-loathing, and reminded me that in faith, I can still pray for the desires of my heart - that is, when we pray for a fish, he does not give us a serpent (Matthew 7:10). After all, He is the Father of all good gifts! No bait and switch here.

There is an innate badness in each of us called sin. Though I state this matter of factly, I realize sin is a loaded term. Not all agree with the assessment of the human condition as sin. But, most would agree, things are not the way they are supposed to be. Sin is key to understanding salvation. We cannot come to recognize Christ as Lord and Savior without first acknowledging that we are messed up, and the only way we are made right is in the death of Christ, who condemned sin once and for all, giving us new life and freedom.

As wonderful as our salvation is, there is a tendency in the church to misunderstand sin.  Here are problematic views:

1. Legalism. This view believes that we we must make up for sin on our own - either through punishment or by doing good.

2. Licentiousness. A fancy word to say that we disregard any accountability to sin and indulge it fully.

These extreme views undermine the work of the gospel. To take sin seriously is to say that we have missed the mark of God's holiness, but we are not our own Savior. Neither is it to say that our sins are so grave that we merely give into them. We were bought with a price, so let us relish this, but not underestimate the offense of sin. To view sin properly is to say that we are absolutely wretched, but unconditionally accepted. I at times cannot wrap my head around this, but when I do there is such freedom!

There's a tension in me that craves uniformity with my peers, but at the same time is restless for more, something bigger than myself. Case in point: I wasn't the typical business, engineering, or science major, but chose liberal arts. My mainstream job in marketing turned into a 10+ year career in teaching English as a second language, a profession of nomads and save-the-world types. I left a perfectly decent job and promotion for the missions field. I entered seminary and finished a second masters degree. I'm unmarried and give lots of my time to the church. On a good day, I'm thankful for my journey. On my bad days (which seem to outweigh the good), I'm painfully aware that I stick out, and that mine is a road less taken.

I sometimes lament the urge that keeps me restless. But as much as I tout being alone, I know that I am surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses - many throngs of others who have contended for Christ's sake and have given up far, far, more than me. No more self-pity. Back to the race.