Advice

…tell me a story

/ mhowellw
woman reading book to toddler

Photo by Lina Kivaka on Pexels.com

Sometimes, when I don’t know what to write, or when it has been an eternity since I have attempted to put any semblance of a story together, I have to reenter the deep forest of stories and inhale the fresh pine scent of the poetic beginnings I love.

Such as:

“My wound is geography. It is also my anchorage, my port of call.

I grew up slowly beside the tides and marshes of Colleton; my arms were tawny and strong from working long days on the shrimp boat in the blazing South Carolina heat. Because I was a Wingo, I worked as soon as I could walk; I could pick a blue crab clean when I was five. I had killed my first deer by the age of seven, and at nine was regularly putting meat on the family’s table. I was born and raised on a Carolina sea island and I carried the sunshine of the low-country, inked in dark gold, on my back and shoulders.”

— Pat Conroy, Prologue, The Prince of Tides

Or

“I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice — not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother’s death, but because he is the reason I believe in God; I am a Christian because of Owen Meany. I make no claims to have a life in Christ, or with Christ — and certainly not for Christ, which I’ve heard some zealots claim. I’m not very sophisticated in my knowledge of the Old Testament, and I’ve not read the New Testament since my Sunday school days, except for those passages that I hear read aloud to me when I go to church. I’m somewhat more familiar with the passages from the Bible that appear in The Book of Common Prayer; I read my prayer book often, and my Bible only on holy days — the prayer book is so much more orderly.”

— John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany

Or:

“When Augustus came out on the porch the blue pigs were eating a rattlesnake — not a very big one. It had probably just been crawling around looking for shade when it ran into the pigs. They were having a fine tug-of-war with it, and its rattling days were over. The sow had it by the neck, and the shoat had the tail.

— Larry McMurtry, Lonesome Dove

These rhythms of language remind me of the musical nature of words, how each one has its own unique key and tone and pitch. And how, when they are placed together in the right order, they create a symphony of setting, character, situation, and movement that paints the canvas of the mind.

Stories evoke fear, love, suspense, hope, and even grief. They are mysterious organisms moving us purposefully towards unexpected conclusions. But blogging, wrapped in the sepia tones of its journalistic origins, often strips away the joy of story by exchanging mystery for facts and narrative for bullet points.

Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt once said, “The human mind is a story processor, not a logic processor.” And I have to agree with him. Story emerges universally in all children. It is the language that teaches us at a young age how we ought to understand the world, its social conventions, and our values. And it is the meta-cognition of adults, the primary way, other than experience, that teaches us about the complexity and purpose of suffering and the various ways we can respond to it, whether that is through grief, friendship, love, revenge, hope, or sacrifice.

Story helps us make sense of life. It interprets other’s intentions towards us. It creates new narratives for ourselves. It describes our shared history. It brings cohesion to religion. And it engages the mystery of our own journey to discover our place within life’s unpredictable themes and throughlines.

Story is a powerful tool. Yet few of us bloggers, including myself, leverage the power of story and the way it is structured to convey our messages. Instead, we believe that the best way to communicate with our information-saturated audience is through the expedient path of numerical and/or bulleted lists. This style may work well if you are limited to a word count or if you are delivering a PowerPoint. But if we writers want to explore the intricacies of a singular idea, we must eliminate the bullets from our writing as much as possible.

Bullets are only acceptable when used to support a point, but are not acceptable as a substitute for a point. Thus, you can have a blog that has a list of 50 things in support of a single idea. But you should not have a list of 50 things as a list of 50 separate ideas. Thus, a blog called “How to Take Charge of Procrastination” could be acceptable if the author uses his list like bass notes to support a budding melody. But the same article would be unacceptable if the list is the focal point of the article. Such a construction is ultimately unhelpful to a reader. It is synonymous with saying, “Here are 100 things you didn’t know about [blank].” Informational? Yes. Instructive? Perhaps. But helpful? Unlikely. Few people can discern what the song is supposed to sound like when all they have is the drumbeat alone. There must be more to the article than a mere list of advice, suggestions, or instructions. There must also be resonance or depth.

Bullets gravitate towards simplicity. Points are thought-out expressions of ideas and concepts. If you want to make a difference in people’s lives, don’t be reductionistic. Be reasoned. Every writer knows the adage: show, don’t tell. The same is true here. Readers seeking help or guidance need to know both the path to hope and healing as well as how to do it. Thus, show them the way to truth. Bullets/lists rarely do this, prioritizing breadth over depth. But what good is it to the reader if the writer can list 100 ways to do something but provides little depth to these ideas? Such an article only flexes the writer’s creativity while encouraging a “kiddie pool” life.

Think about it. In a 1000 – 1500 word article how much real estate is allotted to explaining each of the points in the list? Not much, if you’re honest. A 1500 word article, for example, that has an introduction and a conclusion, plus a body of seven bulleted points will receive about 160 words a paragraph. If you have more to say, say it. But do so in an article dedicated to fleshing out one singular point. If you discover that you don’t have more to say than the small 160-word paragraph you’ve crafted, then chances are that the reader is receiving only a superficial knowledge and a superficial benefit from what you are trying to say. Consider the possibility that you may need to learn more about this point before writing about it. If you are a blogger of non-fiction, as many bloggers are, then you must learn to not only enjoy writing but also researching. This will give your article gravitas and will allow you to curate the best information for your readers. Many bloggers can no longer conceive of how to explain “how to do [blank]” without using a list. Such thinking is a major problem in modern blogging because it has given the illusion that the list somehow gives the article authority and gravitas when, in fact, it may only give it length. To write with research is power. To write without research, however, is to offer your reader a potential pile of poo.

Instead, be a writer who uses “shorter” posts to their advantage. I do not mean shorter as in length or word count. I mean shorter as in the number of ideas explored in a single post. Such writing may lead to posts that have only one point each, but if you create depth around each point you have, you will discover that you: 1) create more posts for your blog,  2) develop credibility with your readership as you explore the fathoms of truth on each topic and 3) reduce what I call “blogging burnout” where, after only a year or so of writing, you feel there is little left in the creativity well and begin wondering if you’re as a big of a fraud as you feel. (To be honest, this is exactly why the number of my posts on this blog have tapered over the years, much to my chagrin).

What does depth look like? They look like explanations, yes. But a cold, hard examination of facts is as bland as yeastless bread if it does not have a person and their struggle attached to it. Articles built around people and their journey through the trials you are exploring pull back the proverbial curtain on whatever you are writing about and demonstrate the what, why, and how of an issue as well as the applicability of the advice you are offering. This, of course, is where a firm knowledge of story structure comes in handy. Where stakes can be raised, a journey can be explored, and a conclusion can be given that resolves the story being told. Sometimes story-structured articles will not highlight a person but will use the structure to explore the heart and struggles of the target audience, always making the reader a potential protagonist.  The most important tool to use in creating depth to a story-structured article, however, is building tension.

Raising tension is not just for fiction. It is required for non-fiction too. Without tension there is no desire to continue reading, to see how it ends. This desire must be in your reader if you want them to finish what you wrote. And a list is a poor answer to a whodunit?

Why?

Because this is the same thing they get everywhere else in life. They want a gift that offers life, not a law (i.e., a list) that offers fear, doubt, self-condemnation and a sea of regret. They want the truth that radicalizes life, not to-do’s that challenge one’s willpower or self-discipline. But before they can have any of this, they must know what is at stake, see how attempts to overcome this may fail, as well as how success may be obtained. Readers may prefer to read a list-oriented article because of its efficiency, but they will remember the story-structured one because they will have emotionally engaged with it.

In short, Holden Caulfield said it best at the end of The Catcher in the Rye:

“It’s funny. Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.”

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We are All Theologians

/ mhowellw / Leave a comment

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Dear Friend,

I was excited and intrigued the other day when you sent me a text message that stated you were feeling God’s call to be a theologian. I think this is exciting and wonderful and a glorious thing and would love to talk to you more about it in detail. But first I have some preliminary things I want to say.

First, please be aware that we are all theologians. From the most strident atheist to the most devout moralist to the most humble evangelist, all of us humans participate in the study and analysis of God, His attributes, and His relationship with the universe.

The atheist does this through denial. He examines the evidence to the best of his ability, analyzes God, the premises established regarding God’s character, and how God is to relate to the universe (particularly on an individual level), and he denies the existence of a supreme being. For him, something else is more valuable in this universe than any proposed god, particularly a Christian one. For some that is the universe itself. For some it is science. For others it is hedonism. But whatever it is that they decide to attribute supreme value to, then that thing becomes the object of their study and analysis and the defining framework for their lives. In other words, it becomes their god.

The moralist is only slightly different. Like the atheist, moralists have examined the evidence and done some analysis as well but they have concluded that there is a supreme being; however, they may or may not agree that this god is the Christian god. The moralist’s approach this supreme being, though, through the lens of works, not denial. They believe that it is the accumulation of good deeds that gains the favor of the supreme being, so they spend the majority of their lives performing good works in an attempt to outweigh all the bad that they have also done. Moralists, it must be pointed out, can be avid students (or followers) of other religions or they can be non-religious altogether. It doesn’t really matter, because their god is not the supreme being that they acknowledge. It is themselves and the good works that they can accomplish. And they spend their lives organizing their lives around this central ideal.

The last category of theologian, I would argue, is the Christian. This is the most difficult position to maintain, not because there is no evidence to support their position but because they are called to do everything in their lives in such a way as to make Christ appear more valuable than anything else.  Christians are called to live their lives defiantly. To organize their lives around the central principle of “whether through my life or through my death, I will endeavor to display Christ as not only supremely valuable to me but to also make His value and His perfections publicly seen and experienced so clearly through ALL that I do, that He is recognized as supremely valuable over all.” (Php. 1:20-21; 1 Cor. 10:31) Such a calling is both convicting and conforming at the same time. For as we seek through our lives to make others see and experience the supreme value, worth, and desirability of God, we find ourselves constantly being challenged to release the selfish ambitions of moralism and the intellectual conceit of atheism so that we may, in humility, put on the mind of Christ and conform more and more to His image (Php. 2:3-8).

We Christians are theologians of a different stripe. We are not called to love ourselves. We are called to love the Lord with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength. Because we are self-centered people we do love ourselves, as is pointed out in “Love your neighbor as yourself.” But this is not a command to love yourself. It is a command to love your neighbor. It works off of the assumption that you do and you will love yourself and that this selfish, self-centered action can teach you how you ought to act towards others. Indeed, Jesus paraphrased this command in the famous Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” (Matt. 7:12)

“Christians,” He seems to be saying, “as you study and analyze the attributes and character of God, as you make Him the center of your life (and not yourself) love God so passionately that your love for Him overflows into your love for others…Remember, you are God’s representative on this earth and He makes His appeal to the lost through you.” (2 Cor. 5:20)

Therefore, my dear friend, I would ask you to please consider what you mean when you say, “God is calling me to be a theologian.” If you imagine a theologian to be a deep thinker about God or a seminarian or even a pastor/priest of some kind, that’s all well and good, but please do not fall into the trap of being so intellectually or morally invested in Christianity that you fail to actually apply or live out the truth of the Gospel among the lost. Good theologians are not only good students or good citizens. They are people of defiant faith. The ones who stand up against the tide of a post-truth culture and create a fixed reference point for all those seeking land in a fluid-truth society.

Good theologians are not ashamed. They are full of courage so that Christ is always honored in their body, whether by life or by death (Php. 1:20). They hear the edict, know the consequences of honoring God, and say, “I am trusting in God, and regardless of whether I die or not, I will only worship and serve Him.” (Daniel 3:17-18) Such faith can be found throughout both the Old and New Testaments as well as in modern examples, such as Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who faced down the Nazi regime and its horrible atrocities with a steely will and the Word of God.

Make no mistake, my friend, if God is calling you to be a theologian, He is calling you to action. He is calling you to take the Word and show the world how it is not only an efficacious and viable option for life but how it is the supreme framework for living. The absolute truth among many choices. Be aware that such living comes prepackaged with danger and suffering as well as with rewards and the eternal echo of “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

God may be calling you to learn more. He may be calling to live better. But please, be the theologian who also “plays the man,” (2 Sa. 10:12) facing down the evil within this world, and making the value and the glory of God shine brightly within the encroaching darkness, whether it be by your life or your death.

Go with God,

Mark

A Little Nudge

/ mhowellw / 2 Comments

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Yesterday we prayed that God would remove the spirit of slothfulness within us. That we would use the days He has given us well and that He would help us live an unwasted life.

But let me ask you: How did you follow up on this today?

Did the love of God overflow into actions for God? Did you look at your Sunday and postpone what should have been done so that you could take a nap? Or watch Netflix? Or play a video game?

Did you think about the prayer we prayed yesterday, consider the time you have left, and ask, “What can I do today? How can I spend today for God’s glory?”

I don’t ask this because I want you to feel guilty.

I ask this because, personally, I failed.

I went to church today. I read my Bible. I prayed. But when I looked at my backyard, I thought, “I’ll get my son to do that later.” And when I realized that he wouldn’t have time, I thought, “Well, it can be postponed at least one more week.”

Umm. No, it can’t.

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And when I considered the letter I got from my HOA a week ago about alleged mildew on the side of my chimney, did I go buy the Spray and Forget like I knew I should?

No. I didn’t.

You know what I did instead?

I read a few pages out of Eric Metaxas’ book Martin Luther, told myself I should finish writing a new blog post on the marriage blog I have, and then…

I turned on my computer, logged into the website of my favorite baseball team “just to see what the score was” and wound up watching the last few innings of what turned out to be an incredible ballgame.

By the time that was done, it was almost supper time. I knew my wife had been feeling ill all day and that I would most likely be in charge of cooking, but it was late now and I had NO idea how to make a chicken pot pie.

I mean, I could try.

I’m smart.

I could’ve probably done it, had I bothered looking for the recipe. Instead, I ordered pizza for the family, watched an episode of Seinfeld, and used a piece of key lime pie “to erase that thirsty feeling pepperoni makes in your mouth.” (No, really.)

And that’s when I finally slowed down my procrastinating long enough to hear a still, small voice remind me about yesterday’s post, specifically about how I had typed the following words as a sincere prayer to my Lord: “Kill the spirit of slothfulness that has strapped itself to my soul.”

I wanted to say, “Hey. That’s not fair, God. Using my words against me?”

But I knew He’d just shrug and say, “You prayed for this.”

And He’d be right. Because that’s the way it is with prayer.

Prayer is not only a problem I lay at God’s feet to resolve but also an invitation He lays at my feet to become more involved in His work. Prayer is not a package I drop off at God’s post office. It is a process of God shaping my heart so that I may publicly demonstrate His goodness and perfection to others.

It is not a singular event I engage in for five minutes every morning. It is an unceasing, persistent pleading, an intentional listening to the Spirit’s urgings, and a fearless obedience to follow Him wherever He may lead.

But, prayer is also failing.

It is staying in the boat while others walk on water. It is being lazy when we should be at war. It is loving ourselves more than we love God. It is exchanging infinite joy for finite pleasures, water for dirt, holidays for prison, and it is fueled by rationalization, justification, intellectualization, and good ol’ procrastination.

Yet, God still looks at us and says, “You wanted this change…So, let’s change.”

Prayer is confession. It is repentance, an intentional turning away from all that has trapped us in sin. It is working out our own salvation with fear and trembling. In short, prayer is a daily battle.

So, if you’re like me, and you failed today at what you prayed for yesterday, look at your calendar for tomorrow. Look at your wants and your needs. Pull up in your mind who you will be meeting with at work and the deadlines you have to meet.

Spread your day and your fears and the tauntings in your mind out before the Lord like Hezekiah, begging God to take your day and use it for His glory (2 Kings 19:14-19). To incline your heart to His testimonies, not for selfish gain. (Ps. 119:36) For there will be many enemies to fight, the most cunning of which is ourselves, but although the day will be a battle, “the victory belongs to the Lord.” (Pr. 21:31)

 

 

Quick Thoughts: The Death of Billy Graham

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When I was a child, there were three giant figures within Christianity: Mother Teresa, Pope John Paul II, and Billy Graham. And regardless of what occurred in the world, I always felt that these three (though separated by thousands of miles) continually worked together through prayer and faith to secure the mainsail of Christianity. One dedicated her life to the poor. One led nations and people in the way of Christ. And one preached the Gospel so unwaveringly that millions accepted Jesus as their Savior and Lord.

Each one, I knew, prayed continually for the souls of mankind and worked in their own way to ensure God’s kingdom expanded, not their own.

But time, as it always does, eventually collected Mother Teresa as well as Pope John Paul II. Only Billy Graham remained in these last decades as the One who prayerfully stood in the gap interceding for both the lost and the saved. For me, there was always security in that knowledge, for I knew that “the prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” And I was confident that when he prayed, miracles formed like thunderclouds on the horizon.

That is why it saddened me so much when I heard of Billy Graham’s death on Wednesday.

He was a man I admired. He was a man I listened to and read. But, if I’m completely honest, he was a man I relied upon.

Who will lead us now, I prayed that morning during my devotional.

Then I remembered: Isaiah’s answer was “Here am I. SEND ME!” Ananias’ answer was “Yes, LORD,” when told to go that murderous man, Saul. And Christ made it very clear that no one who puts his hand to the plow and turns back is worthy to be His disciple.

In other words, it is not up to another. It is up to all of us. We Christians have not lost our leader. Our leader is Jesus Christ. We have only lost a great man of God. A compass who continually showed us the way to God.

Now, it is our turn. We are a people who have been commanded to “Go”. And it is time to put our hands and feet to the task. To pick up the loose cords and secure the mainsail again. To rise up as one in Christ by devoting ourselves in prayer for revival and awakening in your country and by faithfully following the Spirit’s leading to accomplish the task assigned to you.

It is up to us now to ensure that the generation behind us does not forget who God is or turn to false idols. It is up to us to preach the Gospel both from the pulpit and through our lives. Good behavior cannot be simply enough. It must be clear. There is only one way to heal your brokenness and that is through Jesus Christ our Lord.

So, I would like to challenge you to pray this year for revival within your country. Billy Graham will no longer be doing it for you. The mantle must be picked up by us.

The End of Fear

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Fear ends where redemption begins. Once you are no longer your own but belong to God, rest and security can finally belong to you. Fear is only reserved for those who are still in charge of themselves and their future. And why shouldn’t it be? No man can see the future nor control all the variables to accomplish his will 100% of the time. Uncertainty, doubt, and fear will certainly surround the shadowed sight of man, for, despite one’s cleverness, they will always, inevitably fail.

But once your life no longer belongs to you, once it has been redeemed by God, fear is no longer necessary. Continue reading →

Letting You Hunger

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The idea of God letting His children hunger seems anathema to most people. How could a loving, good God allow those whom He loves to go without food? Such an act seems cruel, neglectful, and abusive. But this is not where the verse ends.

Lately, I have had several clients come to my Christian counseling practice with one over-arching question: “How could God have let ______ happen?” Honestly, it’s not an easy question to answer. But not because the client has begun to question several characteristics of God, including His goodness, His love, or His sovereignty. Such characteristics are immutable truths about God and as such, they do not change or cease to exist due to one’s lack of understanding. Rather, the question is difficult because the client seems to almost always be implying, “How could God have let this happen to me?” This takes the question out of the general will of God and into the specific will of for that person. And aside from having a direct word from the Lord regarding His will for that life, I have no answer that can suffice.

What I can say, however, is this:

  1. He allows us to hunger — When we think of hunger we often think of it in wrong ways. Our concept of hunger is often a mild rumbling of our stomach. A reminder that we need something to keep us alive, energetic, and healthy. But in this verse “hunger” actually means “famished” or “voracious.” It is the type of hunger that pushes us to our limits. The type that forces us to think of nothing else except satisfaction through food. This type of hunger is a desperate hunger, an “I’ll do anything to stay alive” type of hunger. It is the hunger that strains our will, focuses our mind, and engages our spirit to the degree that all we can think about is how to meet our need.  To some, it would seem unloving to impose such a hunger upon the one whom you love. But can we, who ground our children from privileges to discipline them regarding earthly things, truly cast aspersions upon God when He similarly disciplines us over spiritual things? We should not be perplexed that spiritual discipline is more visceral and more painful than earthly discipline. For experience shows us that whether we require discipline for a physical, social, moral, relational, or spiritual area in life, the removal of something valuable in our lives always produces a pain that is equal to, but never greater than, the area of life to be improved. For example, the pain associated with exercise is equal to the physical area of life, but it is not equal to or greater than the level of pain one experiences in the relational area of life when a girlfriend breaks up with you or a loved one passes away. Each pain produces its own type of challenges and its own type of “hunger” to transition a person from unhealthy to healthy functioning. Since spiritual transformation is the highest order of these areas of life, it often requires the highest level of focus (or pain) to produce change. Such growth may be self-imposed but when it is not or is refused to be, God intervenes and creates a hunger so singular in focus only He can satisfy it.
  2. He allows us to hunger in order to humble us — According to the Strong’s Concordance, the word translated as “humble” in this verse of my Bible can also be translated as “to depress (either figuratively or literally).” In other words, there are times when God presses us down into the mire of life on purpose. Sometimes, as we say in the South, we need that smile smacked off of our face. Not because God does not want us to be happy. But because He does not want our happiness to be in the wrong things. Therefore, He creates circumstances that strip away the things we have relied on for security and sustenance and replaces them with need and hunger. For God knows that when we experience these basic urges, our hearts will abandon temporary pleasures and will recalibrate with an eternal focus. In short, humility subordinates itself to God. It does not use personal wisdom to provide its need for love or belonging. Rather, it seeks sufficiency in God’s wisdom and yields itself to God’s guidance as well as His provision. Humility does not believe that life ought to be emptied of pain. Rather, it realizes that if Christ (who was perfect) suffered in taking on our sin, we (who are imperfect) will suffer in taking on His righteousness and being done with sin (1 Pet. 4:1). Finally, humility knows it still has more to learn and actively seeks to do so. Humility points its eyes downward so that its heart may always be pointed upward. Only through hunger that creates humility can one begin to see the insufficiency of temporary desires and the sovereign goodness of eternal ones.
  3. He allows us to hunger in order to feed us unknown food — When manna first fell from Heaven, the Israelites were so confused by what it was they could derive no name for it more clever than the question on everybody’s lips: Manna (which literally means, “What is it?”) God’s wisdom in this act of providence showed the Israelites that the sustenance of God extended beyond anything within the realm of normal human experience. He could have created oases in the desert with fruit trees bulging with produce. Or He could have spontaneously created a plethora of vegetables for them to gather each day. But such miracles could have been written off as “coincidence” or “good fortune” and would not have helped His people.  But when God created an edible, sustaining food out of the morning dew that could satisfy the needs of approximately 2.5 million people every day, He proved that His hand and His work are superior to anything that nature, luck, or man could provide. The lesson for us, therefore, is that when the man-made bread(s) of your life finally expires, and the desert looms before you, when death seems certain and doubt clouds your mind, God will provide for you an unknown food. As with the Israelites, it may take the form of something familiar but it will be unusual as well. It may look bread (a job), but taste like honey (a purpose). It may feel like flakes or wafers (uncertainty) but have enough consistency to be baked or boiled (predictable and trustworthy). In short, God will give you the one food you have forgotten since the day Man chose to eat the one food that was forbidden. He will give you … Himself. And the more you consume, the more you will know

    The Lord is the everlasting God,
        the Creator of the ends of the earth.
    He does not faint or grow weary;
        his understanding is unsearchable.
    29 He gives power to the faint,
        and to him who has no might he increases strength.
    30 Even youths shall faint and be weary,
        and young men shall fall exhausted;
    31 but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
        they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
    they shall run and not be weary;
        they shall walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:28-31)

  4. He allows us to hunger in order to teach us how to live — The purpose of letting His children hunger, per this verse, is so that we may know “that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.” (Dt. 8:3) One would assume that such an insight would seem self-evident. But consider the implications of this truth. If God created all that we see and all that we know through the power of His spoken word, then there is nothing that we rely on for life that did not originate within the mouth of God. Not our job. Not our bank account. Not our family. Not our joy nor our purpose nor our hope. He is the one who creates. He is the one who blesses. He is the one who takes away. And He is the one who redeems. To live outside of this knowledge or in denial of it is foolishness, for there is no other position that Man should possess other than one of dependence and worship. Yet, so many believe that they are responsible for their success. That it was their hard work or their ingenuity or their charm that won their success, their accolades, or their spouse. But when such things have been stripped away completely, when one experiences humility and has received the blessing of an unknown food, one begins to die to reliance on the sufficiency of self and to replace it with the life of dependence and joy that God intended him to live. Thus, we are admonished to “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding” (Pr. 3:5), to “cast your cares upon the Lord and He will sustain you” (Ps. 55:22), or to embrace the truth that “to live is Christ and to die is gain.” (Php. 1:21). There is only one way to live and that is by relying on all that proceeds out of the mouth of God.

There is, therefore, a process that God takes ourselves through in order to refine us and to recalibrate our hearts to His original purposes:

Be hungry.

Be humble

Be fed.

Be dependent.

Slug or Sent?

/ mhowellw / 1 Comment

“Six days shall work be done, but on the seventh day…You shall do no work. It is a Sabbath to the Lord…” (Leviticus 23:3, ESV)

There are several ways to relax: Netflix, movies, reading, watching sports, being on the internet, eating out, window shopping, playing an instrument, writing, singing, drawing, dancing, bike riding, gardening, walking the dog…the list goes on and on.

The problem is Continue reading →

Daffy Duck and Doing Good

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Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.

Heb. 13:16, ESV

Doing good. Sharing. These are things we learned to do in kindergarten. They are what most people would consider “basic moral principles for living.” And they are encouraged across multiple cultures as well as religions. So why is something so universally accepted deemed a sacrifice? Wouldn’t a lifetime of practicing these characteristics make them not sacrificial but habitual? An act of desire, not duty?

Apparently not.

I think what the apostle Paul is getting at is that we human beings are by nature selfish. Like Daffy Duck in the above cartoon, we cling to our stuff, proclaiming, “MINE! MINE! MINE….I’m a happy miser” instead of sharing what we have and doing good. It takes self-discipline, empathy, and compassion to deny ourselves all that is ours and willingly give it to others. Whether that thing is something material or whether it is something immaterial (like a talent or ability), we struggle to selflessly release what we have and share it with others.

Why? Because on some level we always want a form of reimbursement. Some want money.  Others want fame and a life of ease. While still others desire recognition, a returned favor later in life, or even the little warm fuzzy feeling that comes with helping another person in need.

But this venal currency is useless in the kingdom of God.

Echoing Christ’s statement to “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” the author of Hebrews strikes at the heart of normal human behavior and calls us to exchange reimbursement for pleasing God.

Such end goals make our actions sacrificial.

For as long as we strive to balance what we have given with what we will receive, we remain in a continual state of self-centeredness with a morality that asks, “what’s in it for me?” But when pleasing God is our goal, God receives and transforms our self in His image. No longer do we pursue some form of self-glorification. Instead, we lay aside the self so that the beauty and perfections of Christ shine through our good works and ignite the people of this dark world to lay aside their selves to do the same. (Matt.5 :15-16)

This is the ultimate good: when we share what we have in Christ with another person. It is not only about obeying a certain list of do’s and don’ts or following a moral code of loving your fellow man. It is more than that. It is about proclaiming through our actions and our choices who Christ is and what He has done for us. It is about giving Him the glory at the expense of ourselves. It is about exchanging the “MINE! MINE! MINE!” for a life that proclaims “HIS! HIS! HIS!”

Starting Over

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So, it’s two weeks into 2018. And if you’re like me, the fresh promise of a new year has already soured within your mouth. You started out well. You even felt enthusiastic. But by now the budding resolutions for self-improvement have quickly frozen beneath the arctic blast of winter realities.

That may sound melodramatic, but I mean every word of that sentence. Literally. Continue reading →

The Glory of Prepositions

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God abides in us to perfect His purposes through us. This is an interesting and a comforting thought. This God of love lives in us, stays with us, and flows through us to accomplish His desires. But we are not passive partners in this process. We have our own role to play. And this role is primarily practiced through the act of obedience.

But, if you’re like me, obedience can sometimes be a slippery thing. For years I used to flounder in frustration when reading verses like Proverbs 3:5 (Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding) or 1 Cor. 10:31 (Whatever you do, do all for the glory of God). These types of verses seemed to excel in telling me what to do but appeared to fail in explaining how. It felt as if God had wedged me between my desire to do the right thing and my ignorance of the process.

But God had done no such thing at all. In fact, when I looked at these types of verses more clearly, I realized that in every instance God had provided a hidden instruction so that my obedience could be carried out as He intended. The answer, though, came in those small connecting words we often overlook in scripture. Tiny words that race past our eyes and hide within the shadows of metaphors and expansive revelations. These are the words we imagine revolve around the center of a sentence’s solar system, while in reality, they are the stars whose gravity holds all of the other words together and maps the circuit of the ideas within.

What are they?

They are the prepositions. Words like “in” and “with” and “for.” And without them, no Christian can ever obey God.

Consider the following:

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” – Php. 4:13

“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.” – Eph. 2:10

or

“Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me…apart from me you can do nothing.” – John 15:4-5

Obedience can never be done without the prepositions. In fact, it is the prepositions that empower the obedience. If we are honest, we know we cannot do what God commands us to do in our abilities alone. But when we embrace the belief that it is Christ working in and through us, we can boldly step out and proclaim, “With God we shall do valiantly; it is he who will tread down our foes.” (Ps. 108:13) This gives a whole new dimension to prayer and obedience. For once we have completed the process of following and have synced our heart and mind up to God’s so that we know His will, He command to go and do changes our requests from scavenger hunts to discover His will into requests to perform His will. We can step out in power and in confidence because it is He who is doing the work, not ourselves. Like an arrow shot from the archer’s bow, we do not set the aim or the trajectory or the target. Our objective is to only fly straight and true, piercing the bullseye according to His will.

Thus, obedience in Christ is not only praying in the name of Christ but it is also acting in the will and the power of Christ. The man who forfeits the opportunity to obey the calling of God because he is unable to accomplish the vision in his own strength is both missing and understanding the point all at the same time. He is so close to the adventure of God he teeters on the edge of understanding and faith, but he is so focused on himself that the distance between his usefulness and impotence in Christ has become immeasurable. If he would accept that God only wants him to be remembered as a useful tool and not a glorious building, then he would be able to yield himself to work in the strength and will of the Carpenter’s hand. But the one who does not empty himself of grandiose visions of glory or depressive visions of failure can only experience God’s desires for his life as an observer, not as a participant. His heart is focused too much on what he believes he can do in himself.

But God does not want us to obey within the the limitations of our abilities. He wants us to obey within the infinite realms that His prepositions provide “so as to live the rest of the time in the flesh no longer for the lusts of men, but for the will of God.” (1 Peter 4:2) For since we have been crucified with Christ, the only thing that should remain in the obedient servant is a willingness to be used and a hopeful expectation to see God do immeasurably more than we could ever ask or imagine (Eph. 3:2).

Remember, when God calls us to obedience, He calls us to future action. Sometimes that action is milliseconds in the future (will you defend your faith or deny that you know me?) and sometimes it is months or years in the future (lead my people out of Egypt and into the Promised Land). Either way, our faith must rest in God’s future grace in order to propel our obedience. Too many times we want to focus on the now because that is the one aspect on life’s timeline we can control. But God is a god of tomorrow as much as He is a god of today. Our faith need not be in what we can control now but in what God is controlling next, whether it be seconds or eons to come. If we cannot trust that God is there (in the future) as well as here (in the present) we cannot believe the calling and vision He has placed on our lives will be fulfilled. Everything will be left up to random chance. But a God who lives in the future is a god who calls us forward.

He is a god who secures the outcome in the power of His might. He is a creating god, ensuring the chaos of today is ordered into the fulfilled promises of tomorrow. A god of the future is a trustworthy god. An unsurprised god. A victorious god. And an unchanging god. He has no need for variance because as a god of the future, He has no need to react.  He is always out in front of us, creating, planning, coordinating, and inviting exactly the right person(s) to accomplish His purposes, of which we are a part. As an elected member of this future god’s tribe, our job is not to worry about today (for He has planned this day and its events from long ago) nor is it to ask about the what-ifs of tomorrow (for He has already arranged those outcomes as well). Our job is to boldly follow this god into the future He has designed and to exchange our anxiety for security. When we work in Him and with Him and for Him we no longer need to question what will happen. We only need to seek the when.

In this way our obedience demonstrates that “we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who have faith and preserve their souls.” (Heb. 10:39) For we know that whether our obedience leads to another event that fulfills God’s plans or a death that glorifies His name, we will always be stepping into the future with God.