But What About Grace?

A friend once told me that he could sum up the religious teachings of his childhood in two words: “Do better.” Denouncements of worldly sins, warnings of what would happen if he gave in to temptation, and constant guilt trips for not practicing a consistent “quiet time” with God eventually formed within him a sense that he wasn’t doing enough. That he wasn’t enough. And the only way to get right with God was to renew the commitments he’d made and broken a hundred times and do all of the things the church told him he should do.

Does this sound familiar to you? Because it does to me. And based on my observations and conversations with many who grew up in the Christian faith, I’d say this experience is not uncommon. For many, the big takeaway from growing up in church is that they’re not good enough, that they’re not living the way they should, and that they need to do better if they want any hope of having a relationship with God. This should not be so.

One of the most foundational, unique, and beautiful aspects of the Christian faith is that it is not a merit-based system. While we tend to think of the world in terms of achievement, effort, and stratification, God calls us to instead practice humility, submission, and equality, and to recognize that none of us is able to succeed at life on our own, but only when we rely on him. This is a radical break from the way we’ve been taught the world has to work. This is magnificent. This is the gospel.

At the center of the Christian message is God’s grace, his undeserved favor towards us. He doesn’t have to love us. He doesn’t have to want what’s best for us. He doesn’t have to give us the opportunity to do life with him. But he does. His grace is offered freely to each and every one us. And that is a precious, precious thing.

I’m afraid that in trying to communicate the good news of God’s grace, the church has become too focused on the natural complement to it: the reality of humanity’s fallenness. It’s true that we’re all broken. We each do things that are wrong, that hurt others, and that go against the will of God. And we need to understand this fact. But the focus of the gospel is not on our brokenness; in fact, it isn’t on us at all. The focus of the gospel is the amazing grace of God that can heal the brokenness we all feel inside ourselves and experience externally.

Of course, grace isn’t the end of it all. It’s only the beginning of our life with God. Once we’ve accepted God’s grace and committed our lives to following him, then the real work of following his will begins. There are still things that we’re called to do—things that our faith compels us to do—and do them we should. But in the midst of all the doing, there is still grace. Grace isn’t in the end, but it will always have the last word.

Because even while we’re trying to live life God’s way, we’re still imperfect. God doesn’t save us once and then expect us to do the rest on our own. God’s grace saves us from our brokenness, but salvation is a process that won’t be complete in this life. And we can’t do it by ourselves. Grace is a continual gift that constantly picks us back up when we fall, heals us when we need it, and calls us to carry on.

God’s grace calls us to become better, but not by our own doing. We become better (that is, more like God) by letting go of the false narrative that we can do it ourselves and instead allowing God to work in us. When we choose to look at salvation and sanctification in this way, it takes a lot of pressure off of us and allows us to extend grace to ourselves as well.

So whenever and wherever we share God’s truth with others, may we always err on the side of grace. May we never leave people thinking that the gospel message is that they should do better. May we instead always leave them with the impression that God loves them, that he wants to know them, and that he wants to heal them and make them new. That’s grace, and that’s the gospel I want to share with others. It’s my hope and prayer that you will do the same.

Security

Over the past couple of years, I’ve been thinking a lot about what really matters to me. What are the things that I absolutely must have in my life? What drives me? Some of them are obvious: love, belonging, physical necessities, a certain level of comfort. Others I talk about fairly often on here: compassion, fulfillment, faith. But there’s one that I haven’t addressed overtly, and I feel like now is the right time.

For me, one of the most important elements of a healthy life is a sense of security. I went years without recognizing the value of this attribute because I had no idea what life was like without it. (The fish/water analogy comes to mind.) But once I experienced what it’s like to live without feeling secure, I realized just how much I need it. I realized how badly we all need it.

Security is what allows us to thrive. Really, it’s a prerequisite for us being ourselves. You know how you can’t fully express yourself in situations where you feel uncomfortable? Imagine that, but in every moment of your life. That’s what living without security feels like. When we don’t feel secure, we can’t be ourselves; when we can’t be ourselves, we can’t grow into the people we’re meant to be. Insecurity stunts us.

Some of you already know what I’m talking about. Like me, you’ve been there. Others have been fortunate enough to avoid this particular trial thus far. But I imagine that each of us will face deep feelings of insecurity at some point in our lives, and so I think it’s valuable to consider briefly what exactly security it is. Because if you aren’t searching for it right now, you might be one day. You might as well know what to look for.

We each of have a different understanding of what security means. Here are a few concepts of security that I’ve either bought into myself or heard from others:

• physical safety
• knowing and being confident in oneself
• a social safety net
• predictability in one’s routine
• a financial nest egg
• the absence of risk in one’s life

The truth is that security means different things to different people, and one’s definition of feeling secure might change over the span of their life. I’m not here to tell anyone what their definition of security should be. But I have thought a lot about what it means to me, and I think it’s worth sharing.

When it comes to feeling secure, I used to value predictability above everything else. I craved routine. Every morning when I woke up, I knew exactly what my day would look like: where I’d be at any given time, what I would eat, when and how I would relax. I had it nailed down. And for a time, that gave me a really strong sense of security. I never had to wonder about much because everything had already been decided ahead of time.

But of course, something like that can’t last forever. I’m still a big fan of routines, but I know that real life isn’t always so straightforward. Once I got out of school and started working full-time, my schedule got a little more chaotic and a lot less easy to predict. As a result of that and some other changes that came about at the time, my sense of security was shattered, and it took me a while to find it again.

But over time, I’ve gotten there. Now, I’m learning to be more secure in myself and my own mindset rather than relying so much on external forces for security. I know who I am and what I’m capable of, and I remind myself of my past accomplishments when I consider pushing myself to the next level. I’m also not afraid to thrive in my comfort zone a bit, improving myself and gaining more confidence when I need it. Plus, I just like myself. I’m proud of the person I’ve become and am becoming. A good deal of my security comes from inside of me now.

And the other major portion comes from those I surround myself with. One of my biggest sources of insecurity is my fear of being alone, not temporarily but in a more general sense. But the older I get, the more I learn that the important people will always be there. No matter what I do or what circumstances life throws my way, I know that those I care about most are behind me. I’ve found a life partner who’s committed to standing beside me, supporting me, and loving me through thick and thin, and I find security in knowing that. I’m loved; I have support. That’s more than enough for me.

I’ve found that security is ultimately about putting my focus on the right things. It’s not about circumstances, because those change all the time. They can drastically change in an instant. But when I trust in myself and in the connections I’ve made with those who matter the most to me, I can rest easy knowing that no circumstance could ever change that. When I look away from the unpredictability of life and instead focus on the stability of the love I receive both from myself and from others, I feel safe.

I’ve found the things that make me feel secure, and they’ve helped me thrive and grow in ways I never thought possible. I’m in a good place now because I’ve found my sense of security in the midst of the insecurity of life. It is my hope that each of you do the same.

Thanks for reading this week’s blog post! Now, I’d like to hear from you: What does security mean to you? Where are you at on the journey to feeling secure? Let me know in the comments or on social media. Until next time!

The Hard Work of Forgiveness

I don’t listen to a ton of music, but every once in a while, I come across an album that just captures me. I almost get obsessed with it. I’ll put it on repeat and listen to it so many times that I memorize every word, every instrumental break, and every transition on the record. I saturate my mind with it until I finally, eventually, maybe get it out of my system.

I recently experienced this phenomenon with an album called Solar by Christian hip hop artist nobigdyl. His music is catchy and fun for the most part, but there’s a depth to everything he does that draws me in. The track that has particularly stuck with me is one towards the end of the album called “Close.” It’s a very personal song in which the artist openly confesses his sin and the pain that it’s caused. Upon listening, I was struck by its honesty and vulnerability. So I put it on loop and really let it sink in.

nobigdyl. directs the first verse towards his wife. He confesses that he’s been keeping secrets from her, going so far as to say that he put his vows to the side. His sin has led him to the brink of suicide. In his despair, he tells his wife that she would be better off without him, that she should leave him and move on.

And then we get a beautiful image. His wife grabs him by the face. He can feel her wedding band pushing into his jaw. She tells him she isn’t going anywhere, no matter what he’s done. Then, looking into each other’s eyes, they have this conversation:

I said, “Baby girl, you don’t have to take this.”
She said, “Boy, you’re gonna have to face it.”

When I heard that line, I was blown away and a little confused. The verse seems like it’s moving towards forgiveness, and then it suddenly ends with the victim telling the perpetrator that he’s going to have to deal with what he’s done.

It happens in the second verse, too. There, the artist is talking to God about his struggles and his feelings of inadequacy. He feels completely lost, and he knows it’s all his fault. Suddenly, he feels the Spirit of God speaking to him, assuring him that all the bad things he’s done are already forgiven by Christ’s work on the cross. Then they have this exchange:

I said, “Lord, I cannot repay this.”
He said, “Boy, you’re gonna have to face it.”

I forgive you for what you’ve done; you’re going to have to face it. These statements may strike you as contradictory at first. They certainly did me. That’s part of the reason I listened to the song so many times. And the more I listened and reflected on it, the more it made sense.

We often think of forgiveness as letting people off the hook. Letting things go. Forgetting that the offense ever happened. We think that once someone says, “I forgive you,” that’s the end of it. What’s done is done, and there’s never any need to address it again. I’m not so sure.

This viewpoint portrays forgiveness as the end of a journey. Something bad has happened, it’s been worked through, and now it’s time to forgive and forget. Maybe that works for some people. But in my experience (and, if I’m not mistaken, the experience of this artist), forgiveness is much less the end of a process than it is the beginning of one.

Forgiving someone doesn’t happen once they’ve made things right. After all, if things have already been made aright, what is there to forgive? Grace isn’t meant to be withheld until it’s earned; otherwise, it’s no grace at all. Really, it’s meant to be the first step of many.

When we choose to forgive someone, we aren’t saying that what they did is OK. We aren’t saying that we’ve healed from the effects of their actions. We aren’t saying that every part of the relationship has been restored. Instead, we’re saying, “I’m not giving up on you because of this. Together, we’re going to do the hard work of fixing the damage that you’ve done. I’m here.”

Ultimately, forgiveness is costly. It costs both the person forgiving and the person being forgiven. Rather than ignore what happened or just give up altogether, both parties are choosing to face the reality of their situation and deal with it head-on. To confront the underlying issues at play, fix the problems rather than the symptoms, and heal the hurt through time and togetherness. It’s probably the most painful way forward, but it’s also the one that leads to reconciliation. As the chorus of the song says,

I wanna hold you close.
I’ll never let you go.
Come let me in your arms.
I wanna hold you close.

Forgiveness costs a lot. But it’s worth every bit, because it’s the only way to truly find healing and wholeness in this life. Whether it means fixing mistakes that we’ve made or offering grace to a loved one who’s wronged us, may we each choose to do the hard work of forgiveness, today and every day.

Why I’m Doing This

Every once in a while, I like to check in on what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. I want my time and priorities to reflect what I believe and value, so it’s important for me to evaluate from time to time. I do this with my work, my relationships, my hobbies, and more. It helps me stay focused. And I think that now is as good a time as any to apply this practice to my blog.

This site has taken many forms since its creation. As I’ve grown as a person, the blog has evolved in turn. Its format, topics, and schedule have varied drastically over the years, and I think it’s gotten to a point where I have a pretty good idea of what it is (at least for now). At this point in my amateur blogging career, I’m trying to do three main things with my writing.

I write to share what I’m learning.

First of all, I just want to share with others the things I’ve learned and still am learning on my own journey. I’m a fairly introspective person, so putting my thoughts and reflections into a written form is helpful for me. And through sharing online, I’ve learned that my writing can be helpful for others as well. I’m really grateful for the opportunity to take what I’ve learned and offer it to you, and I don’t take it lightly.

They say it’s best to learn from the experiences of others so that you don’t have to go through them all yourself. I’ve had my fair share of both success and failure, so I hope that others can learn from my stories as I share them. If my writing can help one person learn something they wouldn’t have otherwise, that alone is worth it to me.

I write to encourage others to think theologically.

There are a lot of ways of looking at different situations. Some people are optimists, while others are pessimists. Some are practical, others idealistic. Sometimes, a topic needs to considered from a bird’s-eye view, while other times, a more zoomed-in, nuanced approach is necessary. I think all of these approaches have their merits, but none of them have any value if they don’t take into account the ethical, moral, and theological issues at the root of every situation.

Here, I’m speaking specifically to those who, like me, claim to follow Jesus Christ. To my readers who don’t, I hope you find my writings on theology to be valuable, but I understand if they don’t always connect with you. Much of my writing now is inside communication from one Christian to many others, and all I’m trying to do is ask the simple question, “What does God think of this?” It’s not always an easy question to answer, but we’re called to wrestle with it day in and day out. I’m here to do the hard work, and I’m here to remind the church to do so as well.

I write to share compassion and call others to do the same.

I’m convinced that what the world needs right now is more compassion. If we each took the time to consider life from other peoples’ perspectives rather than getting so caught up in our own experiences and opinions, we’d each have a much more wholistic and beneficial outlook. The value of taking into account the experience of another cannot be understated. It literally has the power to change the world.

So I challenge myself to practice compassion in everything I do. From daily encounters at work to major news stories and everything in-between, I do everything I can to see things from the perspectives of others, and it’s made a huge difference in how I live my life. That’s why I talk about it so much here. Not only do I need to remind myself constantly of my commitment to practicing compassion towards, but I also want everyone else to know the fulfillment that comes from it, too. There’s nothing like it. I hope that through my writing, I can continue to share more and more compassion and see the effect that it has on me, on you, and on the world at large.

We’re all works-in-progress. I don’t claim to have life figured out any more than anyone else. But here I am, a work-in-progress, sharing my journey with my fellow works-in-progress in hopes that we can learn from each other, challenge each other, and together create a better, more compassionate world.

That’s my goal with this blog. I’m proud of what it’s become, and I appreciate you for coming along on the journey with me. Whether you agree or disagree on an issue, whether you love a particular post or hate it, whether my articles make you think or just make you think I’m weird, I’m glad you’re here. I’m going to keep working towards these goals with my writing, and I hope you’ll continue to join me here week after week. I’m not going anywhere; I know why I’m here. So let’s do this.

Our God Majestic

I spent last week at a church camp in Orange Beach, AL, with my church’s youth group, and we had a great time. The worship leader was a musician named Stephen Miller. He and his band performed a lot of the typical worship songs, ones that most people there would instantly know and be able to sing along to. But my favorite songs were his originals, the ones we had to learn throughout the week. One in particular, called Our God Majestic, really spoke to me, so I thought I’d share it with you.

Hope is not always an easy thing to hold on to. We each constantly face the temptation to fall into the trap of discouragement. And I’ve been keenly aware of that struggle lately. My heart is heavy, the world seems like a pretty dark place, and I honestly don’t know that it’s going to get better anytime soon.

That’s why I’m so thankful for this song and the encouragement that it’s been to me. The lyrics, especially the first verse and chorus, have reminded me of truths that I really needed to hear, and I’ve been singing the lyrics over and over and over.

Every nation, every throne upon your shoulder.
Every government will bow to your command.
Even as the hearts of men are growing colder,
Your promise will stand.
Your promise will stand.

No matter how evil the powers that be in this world might become, God is still in control. They are still subject to him. He has chosen to allow evil and brokenness to have their reign for a time, but they are not the final word or authority. God is, and everything that takes place is doing so within the context of his divine plan. The powers that be in this world are only temporary; their reign will end.

After all, believers are not truly citizens of any earthly nation, and we don’t truly serve any earthly ruler. We belong to the kingdom of God, which is a different kind of kingdom with a different kind of king. It doesn’t rely on violence, hatred, or control to exercise its power. Rather, it is based on love, peace, and freedom. No matter what the nations of the earth may do, I know that I belong to a greater kingdom that is coming, and when it does, all will be set right.

It feels like the hearts of many are becoming cold. Like humankind is becoming callous to the atrocities taking place in our world. Like desensitization has completely set in and we just don’t care anymore. Like we’ve lost our collect sense of morality and compassion. But I can rest in the fact that God’s kingdom will always stand, and there will always be those who stay true to it and its principles. I can’t change others on my own, but I can be an agent of change in the world by seeking to make his kingdom a reality in my life. And if I put my effort towards this goal, then my work won’t be fruitless.

We take heart, for the Lord is here.
Our God majestic is greater than our fears.
There’s nothing broken that he can’t heal.
Our God majestic will wipe away our tears.
You’ll wipe away our tears.

God’s presence offers us a comfort unlike any other. We never have to be discouraged or afraid because no matter where we go or what situation we find ourselves in, he is always with us. And if he is with us, then he will take care of us. There is nothing more fulfilling or assuring than doing life with him.

He can’t protect us from every bad thing that happens. There are natural consequences of the world’s brokenness that simply cannot be avoided. And there are other evils that could be avoided but aren’t. Regardless, God can’t shield us from every pain, but he can heal us from every pain. He can heal me of the hurt I’m feeling. He can heal my loved ones of everything they’re going through. And he can heal every person who is oppressed, abused, neglected, and cast aside of the trauma and heartache forced upon them. My heart breaks for them, and even though there’s very little I can do for them, I can rest in knowing that God is with them, ready and willing to heal them of even the most tragic of pain.

And in the end, that’s exactly what he’ll do. He has an ultimate plan for the world, and that plan will come to fruition. When it does, all of the pain and suffering that we endure will be forgotten in light of him, his presence, and his healing. In the end, God will set all things right and make all things new. He’s able to do so, and he will in his time.

So if you’re like me and struggling with feelings of discouragement or hopelessness, I hope you’ll give the song a listen. It’s packed full of truths that we all need to hear from time to time. Maybe it’ll be an encouragement to you. It certainly has been to me. Thanks to Stephen Miller for writing and performing such a wonderful song. If you get a chance to listen to it, I’d love to hear what you think!

That’s all from me this week. Thanks for reading, and I’ll see you next Tuesday.