Friday, January 17, 2014

YAK: postscript


Technically "Young Adult Group" would be abbreviated YAG instead of YAK, but because (1) YAG just sounds weird, and (2) Yaks are one of the coolest species of bovines on the planet, I'm transgressing technicalities. The group was cancelled yesterday because of icy roads, so in place of the usual "post-script" (of which this is the first, so who would know?) I'm pasting the questions from Wednesday night FOCUS group (I erroneously believed they were for the Young Adult Group, since I failed to read the entire email). 

What lies are you prone to believe about God, about others, about yourself, or about the faith experience? What perpetuates those lies? One of the biggest "lies" I'm prone to believe is that I'm not forgiven of my sins, that God does hold them against me. Mandy S. said the other day, "When life is hard, we often wonder what we've done wrong." I pay attention to my life, I know my sins, and I know I fail more than I would like to admit, and when life sucks, it's easy for me to look at my life, the inconsistencies between faith and practice, and deduce that life sucks because God is punishing me for not "making the cut" so-to-speak. Don't get me wrong: I'm not hiding any awful skeletons in my closet, but the demands God makes on our lives trickle down into every facet; it isn't just about our behaviors, nor even about our thoughts; it goes down even to our motivations, even our inclinations. Sanctification is a lifelong project between God and man, and to anyone who wrestles as I do to continually put to death the old self and put on the new self, I would cry out "Grace!" But I'm harder on myself.

What truths associated with our faith do you need to be reminded of most often? The truth about forgiveness, of course! (Is this not a repeat of Question #1?) I know that I'm indeed forgiven, that the atonement has defeated the evil in my life, even the evil in my heart. God doesn't pretend I'm perfect, or that my sin isn't a big deal; forgiveness isn't God "turning a blind eye." In forgiveness, God deals with my evil by defeating it, thus restoring the relationship. The evil in my life and heart is defeated, and by virtue of Christ's victory on the cross, forgiveness is mine and I have a renewed relationship with God. This isn't by virtue of my own efforts, but by virtue of Christ. For once we too were foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another. But when the goodness and lovingkindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by his grace, we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life. I am justified, in good standing with God; God and I are no longer enemies. I am his child, and he loves me, is considerate towards me, and he has my best interests at heart. When life sucks, it isn't because I've screwed up, it isn't punitive, it's just the nature of life, what life looks like in "this present evil age," life in the tension between Easter and Consummation. In hard times, I mustn't cringe from God as if he is displeased with me and treating me harshly; I must run to him, as a child runs to his loving father. THESE truths are truths which bear repeating and reminding in my life.

How can you be more intentional about speaking truth to your Christian brothers and sisters more regularly? (1) ASK. St. James is clear: "We all stumble in many ways." All of us who are in Christ carry our burdens, wrestle with sin, and have difficulties in our faith. Period. Even St. Paul confessed his own struggles, and he pleaded with God to remove difficulties from his life, but God simply replied, "My grace is sufficient for you; my power is made perfect in weakness." There's a "cult of perfectionism" that's taken root in the Western church, spreading like a pandemic through our congregations. We're made wary of sharing our struggles, of being transparent, so that those who are open about their burdens are often seen in a negative light, and those who yearn to be vulnerable know quite well that the church likes to shoot their own wounded. The best way to know what someone's struggling with is simply to ask; I've found that people are quite willing to share, to relieve themselves of the burden, if only giving it a voice. (2) If I'm asking others to share their struggles, I must be willing to share mine. The law of love isn't complete if we fail to share one another's burdens, and being someone to whom people often come for advice and help in their struggles, I face the very real temptation of not giving them the same courtesy. All too often it's easy for me to simply give advice and insight from a position of assumed authority; it takes a real man to admit his own failings and shortcomings, a real man to meet the suffering in their suffering and share in it with them. (3) If I'm wanting to speak truth to my Christian brothers and sisters, I must be willing to speak truth. Truth is often incongruous with comfort, and it's difficult to look someone in the eye and call them out on their sin, to tell them what they'd rather not here. Often we go to someone looking for comfort, but what we find, rather, is truth being spoken to us--and it can be the opposite of comfort at times. Truth is liberating, but it can be painful. The truth may lead us to sorrow, but often it's a sorrow laced with joy and hope.

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