Your Focus

Going to church is hard for me sometimes. Singing songs about God's loving care occasionally feels disingenuous and even painful, like a punch to the gut. Sometimes the sermon doesn't connect for me or I'm tired. As an introvert, it takes energy to interact with people. And with travel and a nasty cold that landed on 2 consecutive weekends, I haven't been to my church's Sunday gathering in a month. I felt awkward and a little anxious heading there yesterday.

But, whether the feeling hits as I walk in the door or as we're finishing our last song, I'm always glad to have come. Yesterday was no exception.

We looked at Romans 12. My pastor invited us to see the life described there as the real story we're called to live, not an ideal to aspire to that pulls us back from the edge and evens us out. And in a fresh way, it dawned on me all over again - the rules and commands aren't the focus. 

It's so easy to make the to-do list the focus. My brain's hardwired that way. Our culture teaches us we don't deserve what we don't earn. When I make them the focus, I'm working up to meeting those standards so I can eventually live the life God wants me to. But if I focus on God's presence and work, and view those commands as the means to living life with him, suddenly there's a lot of freedom in my heart.

Several years ago, Aggie InterVarsity spent 3 weeks in corporate prayer and fasting with other Christians at A&M. I was feeling tired and weak physically, of course, but also spiritually and emotionally. During that time, we did an outreach at Blinn, a community college right down the street. A student came up to me and asked if she could pray for me (!). Afterwards, she told me I just needed to wait on the Lord for strength. I was a little annoyed with her naivete. That sounded great, but how do I actually do that?

Now, armed with a little more experience in spiritual disciplines and a better perspective, I realize I had it backwards. I was focused on the how as the goal. The fruit we bear tells us whether what we're doing is working. The commands in Scripture tell us what to do and how to do it. But the point is living with God. I get to do more and more of that by living out his commands, not as a reward I've earned after I do his commands.

One of my 30 by 30 goals - purple hair!

Lately, I feel like I'm coming awake in some new ways. It's fun and a little strange. I've had some fantastic spiritual formation training and space to learn from others through InterVarsity over the last year and a half. My husband Kyle applied for grad school over winter break, which precipitated a lot of discernment about jobs and life for both of us. And for my 30th coming in October, I made a list of 30 stretching things to do. I've only finished 3, but I'm in the process of 5 more and I'm just having fun! Thanks for following me and supporting me in the process!

Becoming Like the Father

I've finished The Return of the Prodigal Son. I'd read it before, probably 6 or 7 years ago, when I was starting full-time ministry. I loved it. And I loved it again, reading for the Staff Director Spiritual Formation Group I'm a part of with InterVarsity.

Nouwen shares that God calls us to come home, like the father invites his two sons to do in Luke 15. But Nouwen's last section about the Father threw me a little the last time I read it. He contends that after we've answered the call to come home, God calls us to grow from sons into fathers. We're invited to be welcoming, compassionate gospel-bearers that bless our spiritual children.

That sounds spot on with the the rest of the Bible. But I'd never read Luke 15 with that interpretive lens before, and I think I took "becoming the father" as a goal to aspire to, instead of an invitation to look forward to after I'd fully accepted and lived into the invitation to come home. It was much more freeing to read this time.

We studied the 3 parables Jesus taught from Luke 15 this last September at Crossroads, our new student retreat for Texas Gulf Coast InterVarsity chapters. And because I still had the vague memory of the book floating around in my head, I felt a little pressure in our Small Group study to point out that we can identify with the father as well as the sons. I don't think the handful of students I was with resonated, and I felt like I was tacking something on.

SFA and Aggie InterVarsity at Crossroads

Now it makes sense - most students haven't responded to the first invitation. So the second invitation isn't on their radar yet. And for some, like me, that might be a good thing. Praise God that he doesn't open up the whole plan to us, but instead invites us to trust him one step at a time. "Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation (1 Peter 2:2)." When we skip developmental steps and bite off more than we can chew, we tend to choke. Praise God that he also knows how to handle that too!

No Explanations Necessary

Last night, I tossed and turned. I've got a cold, and every few minutes I found myself needing another sip of water or another tissue. To distract myself from discomfort and lull myself to sleep, I grabbed my Kindle to read Ch. 3 of The Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen: 

Although claiming my true identity as a child of God, I still live as though the God to whom I am returning demands an explanation. I still think about his love as conditional and about home as a place I am not yet fully sure of... God remains a harsh, judgmental God. It is this God who makes me feel guilty and worried and calls up in me all these self-serving apologies. Submission to this God does not create true inner freedom, but breeds only bitterness and resentment.

Nouwen explores Jesus' parable in Luke 15 and the painting Rembrandt created in great detail, sharing his own journey throughout the book. Before finally falling asleep, my foggy brain had a moment of clarity. As a perfectionist, I often go to bed planning a more productive, more awesome day than the one I just finished. I make excuses for why I didn't accomplish enough, pray enough, love enough. And as I reflect on how I've walked with God, I think, "Well, at least I'm learning." At least I'm not falling into exactly the same traps, doing "better" than I was a few years ago, recovering from my screw-ups faster. Instead, a grace-filled mindset invites me to think, "Thank you God for teaching me!"

Being sick last night, that cycle was interrupted - I just couldn't psych myself up for the next day and certainly didn't feel bitter towards myself about resting. I did wish I had spent more time praying to God. But instead of feeling regret for that, I realized this whole process of learning isn't something I need to claw my way upward through. 

Perfectionism, as twisted as it is, has one thing right - perfection is a good thing. But perfection isn't something I push myself to achieve; it's a gift I am receiving even now from my Father because I keep returning home as his daughter. I don't need to offer up learning and growing as an apology for falling short. It's always good when God interrupts the status quo to show us how our thoughts and actions have kept us trapped in sin and death and invites us back home to experience his love as the pure gift that brings freedom, no explanations necessary.