I’ve been writing about, praying
about, and thinking about “life in the Spirit.” That’s what the Christian life
is all about. I’m not going Pentecostal (not that there’s anything wrong about
that), and my focus isn’t on “spiritual gifts” or “speaking in tongues.” These
indeed have their place (or had their
place, if you’re of the cessationist breed), but “life in the Spirit” goes so
far beyond such things. It’s for this reason, after all, that St. Paul
criticized the Corinthians’ obsession with a Spirit-filled life manifested
primarily in spiritual gifts and speaking in tongues. Life in the Spirit is
life in union with God, life characterized by God’s presence and power,
inside-and-out, a life marked not by bubbly speech but by daily death to self
and life unto God. Life in the Spirit produces those very things which the
human race is in dire need of: love, joy, peace, et al. In 1 Corinthians 12,
Paul tells the Corinthians, “Yes, God gives the church all sorts of spiritual
gifts! But not everyone has the same gift. You’re eager in your pursuit of
gifts, but you should be desiring the higher
gifts.” The Corinthians, of course, were all about vouching their spiritual
maturity in their spiritual gifts, so “higher gifts” is appetizing. “And this
is what I’m talking about,” Paul says, launching into the classic text quoted
at weddings every single day, and the most known of all Paul’s writings, 1
Corinthians 13.
“Life in the Spirit” shouldn’t be
reduced to spiritual gifts, and certainly not tongues. These really are gifts
from God, but the greatest gift from God, the prime “gift of the Spirit,” is love. This sort of love—a sacrificial,
self-giving love that places the interests of other people over against the
interests of oneself—is the kind of love Paul’s talking about, the sort of love
that should characterize the church, the sort of love that will identify those
who really belong to God. Anyone, of course, can love their family and friends.
Jesus was honest about that much. The proof that this love is in our lives
comes when we love our enemies, when we put their interests before our own,
when we sacrifice ourselves and give of ourselves for their benefit and well-being rather than our own. When I say I want
my life to be filled with the Spirit, I mean I want him to live in me and turn
me into a truly loving person. When I say I want to walk by the Spirit, I mean
that I want love to be the characteristic manifestation of my life. I want to
love with the love of Christ, a love that is self-giving and others-seeking.
That’s the love that Christ displayed on the cross, that’s the love that
characterizes God’s love for us, and that’s the kind of love God demands of his
people. This sort of love isn’t natural; it’s super-natural, in the sense that
to really embody and be consumed by this love, we need to have someone else
come and do surgery on our hearts. I speak, of course, of the Spirit—and that
takes us right back to what the “Spirit-filled life” is all about.
Thus I’ve been praying that God
will cultivate within me the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience,
kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control. This fruit goes
beyond mere externalities: they’re all about transforming character. Anyone can
show love to a stranger, kindness to an enemy, gentleness to a neighbor; this
fruit isn’t so much about what we do
but about who we are. This fruit is
itself a signpost pointing to what genuine human living is all about: those
transformed by the Spirit are a different sort of person in the world, and it’s
saddening that the Christian life has been reduced to a works-based religion
founded on moral precepts and wearing certain behaviors around certain people
rather than submission to God, conformity to Christ, and being filled with the
Spirit. As I’m praying for these things, I find myself tested. That’s how it
works. I pray for patience, and suddenly my patience is sorely tested all day
long. This testing is critical to the growth of such fruit, for as gold is
tested and purified in the fire, so our discipline and diligence in the midst
of testing strengthens the fruit in our lives. Really, I wish God would just
grant me this fruit, absent the struggle, but if the fruit is to truly be a
part of my character, a struggle there must be.
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