“If we were made for relationship with God, why do we often feel lost and distant from him?”

I was recently invited to read and weigh-in on Ken Wytsma’s new book The Grand Paradox: The Messiness of Life, the Mystery of God and the Necessity of Faith as part of the Patheos Book Club. The author describes his book as “a frank conversation about the true nature of the Christian faith” seeking to address the question: “If we were made for relationship with God, why do we often feel lost and distant from him?” The problem with the ensuing 210-page discussion is that our sin isn’t a major part of it. In fact, it's barely mentioned. The reality, though, is that our sin plays a major role in the matter.

“And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience—among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.” (Eph. 2:1-3)

 We come into this world spiritually dead. A symptom of our spiritual deadness is a rebellion against God, a hatred of his authority over us. Like everyone else before us, we didn't want a relationship with God. We wanted to be our own gods. And this disease of sin blinded our eyes so much so that we actually believed that we were okay and that life apart from God was not only possible but preferred!

“But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved.” (Eph. 2:4-5)

The Spirit of God has made our souls alive, and he dwells within us. For the first time, we are able to see things as they truly are: the rebellious self-worship that oozes from our core, the glorious perfection of God, our deserving of an eternal death sentence, and our receiving unmerited and eternal love from our heavenly Father in condemnation's place. But...we are not yet loosed from the grip of our old selves, not completely (though we will be). Thus, the table is now set for the grand paradox:

“For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. …For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. …For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.” (Rom. 7:15-23)

 The grand paradox, then, is this ongoing war between our old selves who hate God and our new selves who love God. Jesus' call to "repent and believe in the gospel" is now rightly understood as continuous and central to our existence, not something that happens once and for all when we come to faith. As the Spirit of God enables us to see and confess more of our sin and ask our loving Father to transform us, he is faithful to “forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). God lovingly and supernaturally humbles us in the face of our sin and his love for us; it sobers us up, so to speak. 

How does this practically impact our daily lives? The Gospel actually incentivizes us to be honest and open about our sin and shortcomings with God and one another. To do so is evidence that we have believed the Gospel in the first place, evidence that we are not counting on our own efforts to earn right relationship with God, evidence that we believe that the work of Jesus on our behalf is sufficient, evidence that we love and trust God.  

"There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit." (Romans 8:1-4) 

The Joy of Work!

Great reminders that work doesn't have to be drudgery. There is something innate in us that affirms the dignity, value, and significance of work. We were made for this. Merry Christmas! 

CF Alum Mark Casper on identity, fear, and calling...

Reposted from Mark's blog Sons and Orphans: 

Big Wheels, Fearlessness, and My Brand New Blog

When I was a kid, I was fearless. No hill was too steep, no tree too high. Ok, so maybe my dad was a safety freak and made me wear a six-inch-thick styrofoam helmet whenever I Big Wheeled it.  But still, I was fearless. Not just when it came to Big Wheeling, but in every area of life. Nothing seemed too risky or too dangerous. I didn’t care about the opinion of others, nor for the consequences of failure. I lived fully and whole-heartedly in every moment. Many children live this way. Maybe it’s because they’re young and naive. Or maybe it’s because children innately know they are unconditionally loved and accepted.

Sons & Orphans

The older I get, the less inclined I am to do anything that could result in failure, rejection, disapproval, or mediocrity. It just seems risky, like putting all your chips on the table. The uncomfortable truth is, I spend most of my life seeking the approval of others or fearing their disapproval. I live like an orphan, trying to be good, do good, and prove my self worth—both to God and others.

In her book, Nothing Is Impossible with God, Rose Marie Miller describes her life as an orphan in this way:

The gospel was not my working theology: Mine was moralism and legalism — a religion of duty and self control through human willpower. The goal was self-justification, not the justification by faith in Christ that the gospel offers. But, as many people can tell you, moralism and legalism can “pass” for Christianity, at least outwardly, in the good times. It is only when crises come that you find there is no foundation on which to stand. And crises are what God used to reveal my heart’s true need for him. (4)

Rose Marie Miller’s husband, Jack, characterized her self-justification as orphanhood: “you act as if you are an orphan. You act as if there is no Father who loves you” (11).

• Orphans have to take care of themselves.
• Orphans want to be accepted, to belong.
• Orphans feel condemned, guilty, and unworthy before God and others. 
• Orphans live on a succeed/fail basis, are performance-oriented. 
• Orphans are anxious over felt needs: relationships, money, health. 
• Orphans tend to compare themselves to others—leading either to depression or pride. 
• Orphans cannot depend on anyone, cannot be weak. 
• Orphans crave to be taken in and loved but doubt they ever will.

I have long lived with an orphan mentality. This is why I have been afraid of writing. The thought is strange, even comical, since most of my life I’ve been told I have a gift for it. Yet, over the years I have shied away from writing. Why?

Fear of rejection. Fear of failure. Fear of mediocrity.

Ironically, I think sometimes we are afraid of using our gifts. It feels much safer to do things we are not naturally good at or haven’t put much time into. For those very reasons, we give ourselves lower expectations in these “ungifted” areas. Failure isn’t as soul crushing because it wasn’t “our thing” in the first place.

This is why I’ve been afraid to write. Since I have some natural ability in it, I expect more of myself. I fear what will happen if I actually pour my heart and soul into a piece of writing. What if it gets rejected? What if people say it’s garbage? What if someone is much better? If I’m not approved or affirmed in the very thing people say I’m “good” at, where does that leave me? It’s amazing how easily we confuse our performance and our work with our identity.

Yet deep down I know I am called to write. Since I was a boy I’ve always had a passion for stories and storytelling. It’s simply how God has wired me. And thankfully, because of his unfathomable mercy towards me, I know that my identity isn’t tied to my work. I am free to live, love, and work whole-heartedly, giving all that I am to all that I do with the understanding that my worth, future, and identity aren’t tied to my performance. I am free to fail. I am free from the burden of being at the top of my field. I am free because Jesus secured my identity as a son of God through his perfect life and obedient death on the cross.

Therefore, with this in mind,  I venture out into the blogosphere. I hope to use this blog to share book reviews, movie reviews, and my random thoughts on life this side of heaven.

With all that I am,

MC

A letter to your younger self...

...Lastly, I’m not giving you the details on the wins or the losses. Not tipping you off about the heartbreaks or the big victories. Part of the fun is not knowing how the story goes. But, if someone is interested in you in 27 years, that’s a decent sign that there’s a good story here. (Or … things didn’t pan out and you went directly into journalism). Either way, enjoy it all!

Work hard. Make us proud.

Older You.

The above is an excerpt from retired NHL great Brendan Shanahan's letter to his younger self. (Access the entire article here) The letter is an entertaining read, and the whole idea is an interesting concept, especially for Back to the Future fans. 

So how would a letter to your younger self read? What would you include? What would you leave out? How has it proved beneficial to not know where you'd end up as you've journeyed along thus far? What changes would you make? What would you have avoided? Who would you have listened to? What would you have taken more seriously? What were you wrong about? What was worth it? 

Now think about receiving a letter from your older self. After writing that letter to your younger self a few minutes ago, surely you now realize that between now and when you become your older self, there are a few things that are definitely true: 

You do not know everything. 

You do not have all the answers. 

Pain/hardship is necessary for growth. 

It would do you well to take yourself less seriously. 

If you need life to work out in a specific way to be happy, then you will be unhappy. 

Our Charlotte Fellows have an opportunity to hear a letter from people to their younger selves on a weekly basis at Roundtable, where men and women from all ages and walks of life share with the Fellows what they've learned thus far about God, work, family, love, life, and community on their journey. What a gift! 

Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand. (Proverbs 19:21)

"When I Get Where I'm Going"

Current Charlotte Fellow Emily Ann Higginbotham writes about a recent experience at work...

Being an intern at a financial firm has given me incredible exposure to the ins and outs of wealth management. It has also afforded me prolonged exposure to the copy machine, the supply closet, and a never-ending amount of envelopes to stuff. With the company’s annual symposium coming up, my last few weeks have consisted of mailing out invitations, creating nametags, and preparing packets for clients to have at the conference. For the last several days, I have primarily functioned as a one-woman packet assembly line. A dozen sheets of paper stretched out over a long table, my task was to walk down this long table, picking up one sheet after the other, and neatly placing them into a packet with a couple’s name written across the front.

After an hour or so, I thought to turn on some music to help pass the time. As I set my Pandora station to “Brad Paisley” I was not prepared for what happened next. Although I had been handling the same sheets of paper for what seemed like an eternity, I began to actually read what was written on each sheet, conference breakout sessions with titles like “How to Create a Digitized Will”, “How Alzheimer’s Relates to Financial Planning”, and “How to Prepare for Estate Planning”. Simultaneously, I took note of the unusually somber songs playing on my Pandora station – songs about growing old, losing loved ones, and preparing for eternity. I was overwhelmed!

In a moment, God had given me the gift of connecting my seemingly small and mundane work with his immensely purposeful and perfect work. I was no longer blind to the small but significant role he had called me to play in the lives of these people. I was helping offer comfort and peace to people facing aging, Alzheimer’s, and losing loved ones. Couples who had spent a lifetime together were now navigating strange and unfamiliar territory together, and it was too heavy for me! I felt led to pray for these people by name, praying for their financial situations, their marriages, and their relationship with their Creator. As Brad Paisley’s “When I Get Where I’m Going” washed over me, I couldn’t believe that I had let weeks go by without giving a single thought to the lives of these clients I was serving.

Walking down the assembly line again, I realized that this revelation hadn’t changed my job responsibilities at all – after all, I was still in a room by myself, stuffing papers neatly into a packet. My job had not suddenly become more riveting. My work still felt like work. But in God’s grace, if just for a moment, He had given me a glimpse of the bigger picture. And I felt such freedom in knowing that even when we can’t see it – God is using our work to bless others. All of a sudden I didn’t mind as much that my work was menial or repetitive, because God had met me in the mundane to tell me that my work mattered to my employer, our clients, and that, most of all, it mattered to Him.