Negotiations

These have been tough days for blogging. Several areas of my life are being simultaneously renegotiated, and the process has demanded and is still demanding my full attention. While God's hand is visible in some of these areas, I am praying for faith to see His work in others. Therefore I will walk by faith and not by sight (II Cor. 5:7) as I work out my salvation with fear and trembling (Phil 2:12).

The layout of my days and my nights has changed significantly over the past few weeks. It feels as though I'm slowly transferring all of the pieces of a puzzle from one table to another. I know that they all fit, but I'm having trouble remembering how. Blogging is one of those pesky pieces that now refuses to fit.

It seems as though I am emerging, somewhat reluctantly, from what has been a rather solitary season of my life. My vocation and my church have both thrust me out of my introverted self in decisive ways, but I suspect that even bigger changes are ahead. Ministry, accountability, relationships, community--As I see these things on the horizon, I remind myself that "the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that one has died for all, therefore all have died; and he died for all, that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised" (II Cor 5:14-15). From now on, then, I must regard no one according to the flesh.

Since blogging has been, in part, my way of preserving solitude while reaching out in ministry, I'm not sure how it will fit into the new equation (in which solitude is dissolved into new opportunities for ministry). I trust the work that the Lord is doing in my life. Now, Lord, grant that I may say with Luke, "But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God."

Pillar of Cloud, Cloud of Chenille

I had planned to spend some time with the Lord last night, but those good intentions were first deflected by a rubbery bagel and then totally obliterated by a cloud of chenille.

There has been little time this week to tend to my soul, so I thought that my few free minutes would be best spent reading. I set aside an hour with my Puritan Paperback (The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment by Jeremiah Burroughs) and a cup of coffee. Burroughs writes, "So far as your heart sinks and you are discouraged under affliction, so much you need to learn this lesson of contentment." This seemed like an unreasonable contention, and I resisted in my heart. "Of course I'm discouraged under affliction," I thought. "Any sensible and honest person would be. That doesn't mean that I can't still please God."

I went to the counter to pick up the bagel that I'd ordered to-go. "Sliced but not toasted," I requested mechanically. I hate toasted bagels. They taste crispy and warm for about 90 seconds and then they turn to rubber. The cashier was a bit absent-minded, and I had a premonition that he might botch the simple request. But I held my tongue and thought sanctimoniously, "Just be content, Michele. It's not a big deal." Take that Jeremiah. I can be content without your little directive.

Then I fumed about it--a bagel!--the whole way home. It was no longer a matter of being sensible or honest. This was about something much closer to the heart. And since I've really been trying to avoid my heart lately, I decided that it was time to get busy. That would give me some time to think about my sin before carrying it to God.

There's been a chenille throw on my loveseat for two years. I applied an ugly mascara stain to the fabric about a year ago in a crying fit. It's bothered me ever since, but it took an avoidance strategy to make me actually do something about it. So, instead of going before the Lord with my confession, I did laundry. My plan was just to do the laundry first, but I should have known that my priorities would establish my plans.

My perceptive readers may already suspect what transpired. I did, in fact, put the chenille throw in the washing machine--along with an assortment of clothing that included my favorite blue jeans.

Thirty minutes later, salmon colored floss had erupted from the machine and was fast overtaking the laudry room. After running through two more cycles and throwing away a couple of expendible items, I was right back where I started. My circuitous journey through a roll of quarters left me with dirty laundry and a discontented heart. The evening seemed to me such a perfect picture of futility, and I chose that futility over the pursuit of God.

Truly, a discontented heart cannot please God. For discontent reveals a lack of faith in the Lord, his justice, his steadfast love, his provision, and any of the food he provides "in due season." Hebrews 11:6 says, "Without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him." My anxious and demanding heart believed that its reward would come by my own industrious hands, the work of which came to naught.

I remember how the Lord guided the Israelites through the wilderness with a pillar of cloud by day; it seemed like I got a cloud of chenille by night. Truly, the Spirit came as the light that reveals. But revelation alone will not transform us; we also need empowerment. Would you pray that the Lord would grant me repentance in and for my hard heart and that he would teach me and enable me to learn contentment in all things?

The Amazing Grace of Self-Knowledge

Please, please read this post from Paul Tripp. I hope to have time to comment later on his reflections from Psalm 51.

In the meantime, here's a taste:

So, since sin is by its very nature deceitful, we need help in order to see ourselves with accuracy. Another way to say this is that personal spiritual insight is the result of community. We don't get it all by ourselves. We need ministry of two communities in order to see ourselves with the kind of surgical clarity with which David speaks in this Psalm. First, we need community with God. He's the ultimate opener of blind eyes. Through the convicting ministry of the Holy Spirit we begin to see ourselves with accuracy and become willing to own up to what we see. But the Spirit uses instruments and this is where the second community comes in. God employs people in the task of giving sight to other people. For David, that was the prophet Nathan. With the skill of a seasoned pastor, he got inside of David's defenses and told him a story designed to engage his heart and stimulate his conscience. Through the words of this wise man and through the lens of this simple story, David's heart broke as he saw who he was and what he'd done.

Seasons

We spend a lot of time and energy wondering how we can control the seasons of our lives. Whether those seasons are gauged by age, marital status, financial or vocational status, or some other marker--we recognize them as they ebb and flow around us.

I am encouraged by this reminder from the new book by the GirlTalkers, Shopping for Time:

Scripture provides ample evidence that God sets the boundaries for each season. God determines when one closes and a new one begins. He is in complete charge and sovereignly rules over each season of our lives. And his purpose for our lives in each season cannot be frustrated.

The season is changing around me right now; In fact, I can hardly keep pace with the falling leaves. Will you bear with me and pray for me as I strive to make the necessary preparations? Will you pray that I will quietly know the path of preparedness that is pleasing to God and will reject the one that merely imparts security to man?

God Moves in a Mysterious Way

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

Lyrics by William Cowper. Bob Kauflin has done a fantastic arrangement of this song. Check it out here.

Report

My visit to the podiatrist was encouraging, though it doesn’t seem likely to bear fruit.

Like all of the doctors before her, the podiatrist noted that my condition “just doesn’t add up” for someone of my age who is not overweight. Since I have flat feet, I expected her to prescribe a pair of expensive orthotics for me. But she very kindly explained to me that, since insurance won’t cover the cost and she has limited reason to believe that it will help, such a prescription might be premature. She’s not at all sure that the problem is something that her field can address.

Off the top of her head, she could think of only one type of testing to run on me—namely, vascular. But, again, she seemed fairly hesitant to proceed. What she did that no other doctor has done is to ask for a few days to research my condition, and she promised to call me next week with a plan of action. I do not know whether or not this doctor is a believer; what I do know is that she demonstrated integrity and compassion in an exemplary manner. I was blessed by her beneficence.

In the meantime, I am continuing to experience an increased level of pain—despite the fact that I’m wearing my tennis shoes and haven’t been to the gym in a while. To say the least, I am perplexed. I’d say more, but I would be complaining!

For those of you who commented or emailed today to encourage me, thank you so much for your perseverance in prayer. Your faithfulness is glorifying to God and edifying to me.

Sick and Tired

The irony of a post entitled "sick and tired" after I put a moratorium on complaining is not lost on me. But, before the Lord, I say these things remembering that we are members of one another and desiring to humbly let my needs be known.

I don't speak all that regularly anymore about my actual illness. I talk about the derivative issues, such as anger, but I am typically silent about the physical struggles. It's not that I am trying to be brave; really, I'm just trying to live around my illness (with "live" being the operative word). I was reminded tonight, though, of what it means to inhabit a body that is sick and tired.

My small group had decided to attend an outdoor concert this evening, so I was poised to go--bug spray, lawn chair, etc. My feet and legs were pretty swollen, but I tried to ignore that and drove over to the concert site.

About half-way through the 20 minute commute, though, I had to admit to myself that it really was quite uncomfortable to drive. The swelling had worsened to the point that it felt like my tennis shoes would just burst. I got to the concert site and, to my dismay, could not find any place to park that wouldn't require at least 5 or 6 blocks of walking. Feeling frustrated and utterly defeated, I drove back home. Now it hurts even to stand, and I don't know why. Will you ask the Lord for healing and rest for my body? Will you pray for me as I go (for the first time) to a podiatrist tomorrow morning at 8:15?

In light of all that has happened over the past few months, particularly with the accumulated medical bills and related expenses, I have decided to give up my apartment. Though I live in the cheapest one-bedroom apartment around, I live alone. I no longer have that luxury, so I am exploring other options. By the grace of God, this search will be conducted diligently but not frantically or fearfully--even though I have only a few weeks to make a decision. I am confident that this move of fiscal responsibility is the right one to make, so I ask mostly that you pray that I will have faith enough (as I do due diligence) to await the Lord's provision. Truly, I have light enough for this step and this step only.

Though I am sick and tired tonight, I am still hopeful. I look ahead at the questions to be answered and the decisions to be made and I declare with the Psalmist, "I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning" (Psalm 130:5-6).

Anger: A Question of Right and Wrong? (Part II)

Anger can be right or wrong. When anger is levied because my personal rights have been violated, though, it is almost always if not always wrong. It is my way of saying that I don’t trust God to judge correctly or in my favor. Sometimes it reveals a heart that desires the fruit of anger—that desires to remain in bitterness, cynicism, and depression. You might think that no one in his right mind could crave these things. But I’ve even found myself desiring to quarrel lately. Desiring it! James 4 asks:

What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions are at war within you? You desire and do not have, so you murder. You covet and cannot obtain, so you fight and quarrel. You do not have, because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions.

Why do I want to pick a fight? I want to pick a fight because I believe that my needs (really, my desires or what I think that I deserve) are not being met, and I want to tear down others who have what I want. I covet and cannot obtain. The last verse in the passage cuts to the core: you don’t have these things because you will spend them on your passions. Oh Lord, you know.

But this recent quarrelsomeness did not spontaneously materialize. It, instead, developed as an extension and expansion of a form of anger that I've been entertaining for some time now—namely, complaining. Ed Welch writes:

Grumbling or complaining fits within the larger category of anger because it is a judgment. The grumbler has declared something to be wrong, be it a person, the weather, or the expensive car repair…but grumbling is more about us than it is about other people or our circumstances.

I had never considered complaining as a form of anger until I read Welch’s argument. His words force me to take stock of what is truly happening when I complain, even if the things I say are true. What do those things say or suggest about God and his provision? Do they evidence a heart of faith or fear?

Ephesians 4 instructs us to put off the old self that has been corrupted by deceitful desires, to be renewed in our minds, and to put on the new self. I think that part of what we put away here are things like complaining, sarcasm, and gossip. Verse 25 says, “Therefore, having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another.” These things may not always be falsehood, but they are certainly types of speech that deny that we are members one of another. A couple of verses later, Paul exhorts the Ephesians to “let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.” Here we have the fuller guideline, which includes an exhortation to speak in a way that evidences and imparts grace.

You know, if I could practice this command for just a week--to speak only words that edify and give grace--I suspect that this anger would be largely quieted within me. By the power of God, who works in me both to will and to do his good pleasure, I will fight to obey in this area.

Anger: A Question of Right and Wrong? (Part I)

After 28 years of living with this heart in this body, I am still astonished by my own anger. Standard-equipped with southern gentility and sweetness, I act like a girl who can’t get mad. I've always felt affirmed when people say, “I just can’t imagine you getting angry!” Actually, I don’t just feel affirmed; that sounds too innocent. What I really feel is righteous. Self-righteous.

Unfortunately, my anger is of the depressive type—the type that is colder and more subtle and usually manifests itself as jealousy, sarcasm, whining, gossip, self-pity. Anger has always been a stealth sin for me. I saw bitterness and depression and cynicism—but these things didn’t even suggest anger to me. What I did see, over time, was that I was constantly perceiving myself to be sinned against and responding accordingly. I admitted to being “judgmental,” even, but not to being angry. But the demand for compensation was killing me (Job 5:2). Was the problem with other people? With my analysis? Or with my response?

Ed Welch contends that anger is the most common co-conspirator with depression. He offers the following advice:

Anger is frequently revealed by depression. The wisest way to approach this subject is to assume that you are angry. Anger is as basic to our condition as bipedal locomotion and opposable thumbs. If you are a person with a mind and emotions, you will find anger.

He suggests several questions to consider when searching for your anger. The most helpful one for me is “What do I think I deserve that I haven’t received?” Be it a talent, a spouse or child, a job, or reciprocity in a relationship—there is typically some lurking thing that I believe has been withheld from me. And someone always has to pay. We can only respond to being wronged with anger or mercy, and it's usually clear which one we have chosen. It sounds like, at the very least, I have a response problem.

The anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. Anger is a work of the flesh (Gal 5:20) and a characteristic of fools in proverbs. At its core, it is a judgment about right and wrong—and judgment is a tricky thing. There are times when anger is objectively the right emotion to experience; we should feel angry in the face of real injustice. What we must learn to distrust, though, is our assessments about justice and injustice. It is the nature of anger to believe that the judgments it makes are right. Welch writes:

Look at yourself earlier, longer, and harder than you do other people. This is hard at any time, but anger makes it even more difficult because there really may have been an injustice. With anger, finger-pointing is natural. We are absolutely persuaded that what happened was wrong and we are right. But think about the nature of anger. Anger always thinks it is right, but it is almost always wrong.

It's probably also fair to assume, then, that I have an assessment problem in addition to the response one. So, while anger is typically about a question of right or wrong, its judgments and responses must themselves be challenged by biblical standards.

Obedience

A few days ago I asked my friend, “What do you do when spiritual things begin to feel tiresome and trite? When you feel almost dead and incapable of stirring yourself up to anything?” She smiled sardonically and said, “If you find out, let me know.”

This one’s for you, courtesy of Ray Van Neste. In his reflections on the poem "Do the Next Thing," he writes:

Since God is still in heaven and His steadfast Word declares His love for you, just carry on and do the next thing. Take the next step of obedience. Do you worry how your children will turn out, what the future will hold for your church, how the finances will look at the end of the month? Resist the allure of self pity, and just take the next step of obedience. We are typically given enough grace just for the next step. Fret not about what lies around the bend. Perform faithfully the next step, and we will make it home safely in the end.

We read in James that faith without works is dead, and I think that is what I have been experiencing. I can ask myself one simple question to get to the heart of the matter: Is there anything that I have been convicted about in my life but have not yet begun to change? Is there any area of my life that I have been unwilling to relinquish to the Lord's control? Whatever that thing may be, I must...

Do it immediately, do it with prayer;
Do it reliantly, casting all care;
Do it with reverence, tracing His hand
Who placed it before thee with earnest command.
Stayed on Omnipotence, safe ‘neath His wing,
Leave all results, doe the nexte thynge.

The Lord will meet us when we take a step of obedience, and he will work in us "both to will and to work for his good pleasure" (Phil 2:13).

Friendship Pitfalls

I don't link all that often, but I love the counsel offered here by my friend, Lydia Brownback. And yes, after reading this post, I am still very pleased to call her my friend!

There are several "tip-offs" listed, though, that challenge me to be more prayerful and intentional about how I serve my friends. May the net effect of each of our relationships be to "stir one another up to love and good works" (Heb 10:24).

For a Little While, Part III

The fear of the Lord is the third comfort that the Lord has given to me during this season of suffering. You see, the fear of the Lord and the fear of man are mutually exclusive. Much of my spiritual and emotional distress over the years has been an outgrowth of the fear of man and a refusal to believe that “there is now therefore no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” This time of suffering and uncertainty has forced me to rehearse what I know to be true about my life and my salvation—that God’s fundamental orientation toward me has changed as a result of a Gospel which declares that God is now for me in Christ. Romans 8:28 leaves little room for doubt; the design of God, for those who love him and are called according to his purpose, is salvation. What does salvation mean? In God is the Gospel, John Piper describes salvation as an “all-encompassing word” that “embraces all the gospel promises, such as the promise of healing, help for the poor, liberation for captives, peace, eternal life, global expanse, and the all-satisfying vision of the glory of God."

That—the vision of the glory of God—is what I had missed in my salvation for years. Yet there were moments, in the darkest times of suffering, that the Lord revealed himself to me in new ways. And what can I report? Yes, I was satisfied. I was satisfied in the midst of my suffering, because God is great beyond all measure. Even in my sanctified, glorified body, I will never be great. The people of whom I have been afraid will never be great. "Michele! Hear this." God is great. May those who seek him rejoice and be glad in him. May those who love his salvation say forever, "God is great!” (Psalm 70:4).

So I remind myself regularly that the Lord will accomplish His purposes for me (Psalm 57:2, Romans 8:28). And his purposes are not feeble like my own; he has purposed no less than my total salvation. So, after I have suffered a little while, the God all grace, who has called me to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish me (I Peter 5:10). There is no post-illness contingency in God’s plan. He will accomplish His purposes for my life; working in me a salvation that will be to the praise of his glory. So I will rejoice in the hope of the glory of God—not in the hope of a diagnosis or the alleviation of pain.

Reject Yourself

God is calling us to look away from the little world we have made to the One who made us. God is calling us to stop putting our hope in what we can do and start putting our hope in the divine Doer. Regard him with desire and glad expectation, and you will discover that he is enough. Reject everything incompatible with him--the idolatrous altars of your heart. If you will suffer the loss of all things to gain Christ, he will make you too happy to care. That is faith, and God is calling you to live by that faith. Stop trusting in your own altars of incense. Let Christ alone be your sweet incense before a holy God. Reject yourself. Embrace Christ as your offering acceptable to God, and he will accept you without your own works-righteousness. No matter what you lose in order to gain Christ, don't worry about it. He's worth everything.

Isaiah: God Saves Sinners by Ray Ortlund

For a Little While, Part II

I think back to this verse in Romans 15: “For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.” The encouragement of the Scriptures has been the primary way that hope has been produced in my heart throughout this time, and it is the only way that fear has been conquered. For example, the Lord brought this verse from Psalm 16 to my mind as I went for my first MRI, “I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.” Every time claustrophobia and panic threatened to overtake me, I would envision the Lord before me, at my right hand. The comfort of Scripture was as tangible as I’ve ever known it to be at that time. I must have repeated that verse to myself 100 times during that 45 minute procedure! And the encouragement of the Scriptures gave me hope that I could withstand the next MRI, just a few hours later

You, the body of Christ, are the second of the comforts which the Lord has given to me. I truly do not know how I would have survived these last few months without this church and my colleagues at Crossway. I am grateful to the Lord that he has not called us to bear our burdens alone but has, instead, provided both His body and His spirit to sustain us here on this earth.

What exactly does it mean to “bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ?” Sometimes it means sleeping in a chair in his hospital room; it means feeding her cat or watering her plants; it means calling to pray with him or let him cry. It means cleaning her house or cooking her meals; it means praying for the things that matter to him when he is too weak to pray. It means, maybe above all else, that you pointed her to Christ when she could see only herself. You were the Lord’s hands and feet to me in these ways and more.

For a Little While, Part I

Around March 1, I began to have some pain in my shins. Since I was then running between 15 and 20 miles per week, it seemed obvious that what I was dealing with was shin splints. I administered treatment accordingly, using the RICE prescription (rest, ice, compress, elevate) that all runners know by heart.

To make a long story short, I was hospitalized on May 1 after these progressively worsening “shin splints” rendered me unable to walk. A trip to the emergency room led to hospitalization and the seemingly inevitable diagnosis of MS. The nurses brought me literature on “Coping with MS” and talked about brain lesions as I lay alone in my room. A gruff but kindly neurologist patted my hand and asked, “Did you plan to get married? Have kids? What were your plans before now?” The rest of the conversation was lost on me. All I heard was that this disease marked the turning point in my life; there was a before and an after, and everything that I wanted was trapped in the before.

Two weeks, two MRIs and a spinal tap later, the doctors ruled out MS. In the meantime, I have a team of doctors that no 28-year-old should have—including a neurologist, an orthopedist, and a rheumatologist. Each one has commended me to another’s care, but no one has come up with a treatment plan or even a way to manage pain. Rheumatoid arthritis? Some other type of autoimmune disease like lupus? A subtle neurological disorder? A slipped disc? I’ve left almost all of my doctor’s appointments in tears. Sometimes the uncertainty is even harder to bear than the pain.

From early April to mid-June, my pain was unrelenting, even in the face of the narcotics that the doctors prescribed. Still, about four weeks ago and after more than five months, my pain began to diminish. I have no clear medical explanation for this. It may be an indication that an autoimmune disease is going into remission; it may be an indication that several months of rest has relieved an orthopedic problem; it may be an indication that the Lord has healed me. The uncertainty may well outlast the pain. Yet in all of this I rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, I have been grieved by various trials.

"If necessary" means that much work has been done in my heart and mind through this pain. Suffering renders everything foreign—the most familiar comforts, the day-to-day tasks, the furniture of life. Three comforts have been heightened for me in place of the hard work, independence, and various types of self-gratification that were my sustenance before. I had never known the comfort of Scripture, the efficacy of the body, or the clean and enduring fear of the Lord as they have been revealed to me in these past few months. I wish that I could say that the fleshly comforts were no longer appealing to me, but I can say that the severe mercy of God is breaking the stranglehold of sin in my life by all means necessary.

On Suffering

My pastor has asked me to speak on suffering for about five minutes on Sunday. The next few posts will be excerpts from that longer testimony (which would take much more than five minutes to read in its entirety).

Some of this will be redundant for those of you who have been following along with me for the past few months. I pray, nonetheless, that it will bless you again and that it will stir up my heart and yours to fresh faith and fresh faithfulness.

Click over to Boundless or Between Two Worlds to see a bit more discussion about my testimony.

Slave to Food: My Story

Carolyn McCulley has posted my (verbose) testimony about eating disorders here.

On Coveting

I trust that it is okay to covet, if we are coveting only the prayers of others.

My best friend and I, along with half of our colleagues at Crossway, are going to be attending the International Christian Retail Show in Atlanta for the better part of next week.

I fly out tomorrow and return on Thursday. This will be the first time that I have flown since the onset of the illness, and these days are also likely to be the most physically demanding ones that I've had since March. I have to confess that I feel a great deal of apprehension--about the travel and about fulfilling all the responsibilities that are mine as soon as I step off the plane. Most (if not all) of the apprehension and my response to it have been sinful. I have been coveting ease, comfort, rest, and safety and forgetting that the Lord ordained the timing of my illness, the need for this trip, and every single appointment and interview that clamors for my attention over the next few days. Not one of these things escaped his attention.

It's time to take hold of my wayward heart and mind; I have prayed that the Lord would enable me to will and to do so before I board the plane. I feel the will changing even now; Lord, continue this good work that you have begun.

I confess that my mind has been set on the flesh--on my flesh, with all of the new demands, expectations, and preferences so readily dictated by my illness. My legs hurt worse yesterday than they have in two weeks or more, so I have to force my mind to embrace anything but the thoughts of the pain and the fear of where it might lead. Romans tells me that dwelling upon these things is death to me, and I know well the truth of this verse. There has been something like death in my heart for several weeks now.

What is the remedy? As always, the remedy is the gospel--the remedy is to set my mind on the Christ-exalting Spirit of God, which yields life and peace. "If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you." Life to my mortal body. Spirit, I need the life that you give.

I was reading in I Peter that we purity our souls "by our obedience to the truth." Recognizing the hardness of my heart, I have reason to believe that I have not been obeying the truth. In fact, I have positive evidence of that in my conscience. You see, the coveting issue has been systemic for me lately. Ephesians 5 and Colossians 3 both show me that this coveting is actually idolatry. It's amazing how our sin is always worse than we think it is. This is when I must remember that the Gospel is so much grander than I can even imagine.

Back to the verse in I Peter: "You have been born again, not of perishable seed but of imperishable, through the living and abiding word of God." I am comforted by this description of the Word as "living" and "abiding." The living word is able to discern the thoughts and intentions of my heart; it is the power of God to those of us who are being saved. The adjective abiding reassures me that the word will outlast my waywardness; it will outlast my faithfulness; it will outlast my life and all my legacy. My hope is in the living Word that was made flesh and dwelt among us--in the abiding word of his righteousness faithfulness. In Him was life, and that life was the light of men--what a glorious Gospel!

It is highly unlikely that I will be able to blog from the conference, since my evenings are going to be spent catching up on the emails that I miss during days spent on the convention center floor. As I said, I covet your prayers for me and for our team during this time, that "many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many" (I Cor. 1:11).

Service and Equipment

We have prayed this prayer together before, Kellye, and it is again my prayer for you tonight.

"Service and Equipment," from Valley of Vision

Thou, God of my end, Thou hast given me a fixed disposition to go forth and spend my life for thee; if it be thy will let me proceed in it; if not, then revoke my intentions. All I want in life is such circumstances as may best enable me to serve thee in the world; to this end I leave all my concerns in thy hand, but let me not be discouraged, for this hinders my spiritual fervency.

Enable me to undertake some task for thee, for this refreshes and animates my soul, so that I could endure all hardships and labors and willingly suffer for thy name. But, O what a death is it to strive and labor, to be always in a hurry and yet do nothing! Alas, time flies and I am but of little use. O that I could be a flame of fire in thy service, always burning out in one continual blaze.

Fit me for singular usefulness in this world. Fit me to exult in distresses of every kind if they but promote the advancement of thy kingdom. Fit me to quit all hopes of the world’s friendship, and give me a deeper sense of my sinfulness. Fit me to accept as just desert from thee any trial that may befall me. Fit me to be totally resigned to the denial of pleasures I desire and to be content to spend my time with thee. Fit me to pray with a sense of the joy of divine communion, to find all times happy seasons to my soul, to see my own nothingness and wonder that I am allowed to serve thee. Fit me to enter the blessed world where no unclean thing is and to know thee with me always.

"I have tried in my way to be free..."

For those of you who just recently became acquainted with me, you will probably be surprised to know that I enjoy Leonard Cohen's music. His music is certainly not Christian, and it's often quite irreverent. What I enjoy about his music is that it is often self-consciously focused on redemption (or the lack thereof). All great stories are written and songs are sung about this theme. It is, after all, the great quest of human existence.

I woke up with this line from Like a Bird on a Wire in my head: I have tried in my way to be free. I guess that my thoughts about freedom and independence (it is July 4, after all) led somehow to this.

Like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.
Like a worm on a hook,
like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee.
If I, if I have been unkind,
I hope that you can just let it go by.
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you.
Like a baby, stillborn,
like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me.
But I swear by this song
and by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee.
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch,
he said to me, "You must not ask for so much."
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
she cried to me, "Hey, why not ask for more?"

Oh like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.

I perceive two driving themes in this song. 1) The singer feels compelled to seek freedom and 2) he knows that he has not attained it. Cohen’s songs are rife with futility—with the quest for the unattainable. This song, in fact, is almost apologetic; he feels his lack of freedom and the burden of the enslaved world so keenly that he must assert the truth that he has tried. As I listen, I wonder who he really wrote the song for. To whom do you apologize for your slavery? Was he looking in the mirror or staring into the sky? Oh, friend—“It is by him everyone who believes is freed from everything from which you could not be freed by the law of Moses” (Acts 13:39).

In some ways, Americans are the most enslaved people on earth. Take a look around at the interplay between our consumerism and our self-help industry. We will squander almost all of our time and money getting enslaved (to debt, to drugs, etc) and then spend the rest of it trying to get free. We believe one liar after another, and we "save all our ribbons" to placate him. Where is our Isaiah, to ask us pointedly, “Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy?” No, the question is wrong. Isaiah is where he has always been. Where are those with ears to hear?

As an American, I am blessed to enjoy a freedom that most people around the world can only dream about. They write songs and poems and books and even theologies about things that I overlook every day. Their prayers, passion, and service condemn me when I don’t vote or when I turn an apathetic eye toward politics in a thousand subtle ways. And yet we, as Americans, hold political freedom in one hand and cultural slavery in another.

By the grace of God, though, I am what I am; and his grace to me was not without effect! Therefore, as a Christian, I know a few things about freedom. A few passages come to mind but, if I am to join my friends to watch the fireworks, I can only reflect on one of them tonight.

“So Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” They answered him, “We are offspring of Abraham and have never been enslaved to anyone. How is it that you say, ‘You will become free’?” Jesus answered them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not remain in the house forever; the son remains forever. So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:31-36).

As Americans, surely we cry out that we “have never been enslaved to anyone. How is it that you say, ‘You will become free’?” But beneath our cries lies a recognition that, though we have tried in our way to be free, we are as free as a worm on a hook. All our glory is temporary; we will not remain in the house forever. I’m not making a political statement here about the end of empire or anything like it. I do believe that God will judge nations in time and that he will judge people in eternity, but that's not the point I'm trying to make. As I listen to Cohen's apology for the impotence of his efforts, I can only say that if the Son, the heir, sets us free, then we will be free.

So, Leonard and Karl and Gustavo and all of the thousands of others who speak about freedom in this life—yes, it is truly a gift and it is worth fighting for. But "it is by him everyone who believes is freed from everything from which you could not be freed by the law of Moses” or by the laws of nations.

The Dawning

"The Dawning" by George Herbert

Awake, sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns;
Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth;
Unfold thy forehead, gathered into frowns;
Thy Saviour comes, and with Him mirth:

Awake, awake, and with a thankful heart His comforts take.
But thou dost still lament, and pine, and cry,
And feel His death, but not His victory.

Arise, sad heart; if thou dost not withstand,
Christ's resurrection thine may be;
Do not by hanging down break from the hand
Which, as it riseth, raiseth thee:

Arise, arise; and with His burial linen drie thine eyes.
Christ left His grave-clothes, that we might, when grief
Draws tears or blood, not want a handkerchief.

Suffering with Christ

It is natural to try and make sense of our suffering. We say with Job, “Cannot my palate discern the cause of my calamity?” (Job 6:30). For those of us who tend toward condemnation, we are likely to believe that we are being punished. It is truly a testament to God’s grace that I have not struggled in this way over the past few months.

By his spirit and through his word, God has enabled me instead to know that this suffering is about him, ultimately, and not about me. Why do I say that my suffering is about God? First, look at the connection between my suffering and the suffering of Christ. Romans 8 says that we are heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ “provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.”

What does it mean to “suffer with him”? It cannot mean that I bear the weight of my sin, for Christ had none to bear himself. In fact, he bore my sin instead--draining the cup of God's wrath so that none was left for me. Condemnation dies here, if I am suffering with Christ. I Peter 3:18 says that he suffered once for sin, that He might bring us to God. His suffering was unique and uniquely effective, accomplishing the restoration of the children of God. My suffering, though it happens with Christ and can never separate me from him (Romans 8:35), cannot be like his suffering in this way.

But watch our Lord in the garden, sweating drops of blood. Hear him cry out, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” Read Philippians 2 and see how he was obedient unto death, "to the glory of God the Father." Christ's suffering was ultimately about God's glory; he suffered for the purposes of another. Then turn back to Isaiah 53 and read the prophecy about Christ, "Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied." Though he submitted his own desires and was obedient to death, Christ was satisfied. He was satisfied. He looked upon the earth and saw that it was good.

Though the Lord uses our suffering to do His work in us, we think too little of his global and eternal purposes and about our own salvation if we believe that the suffering is only about our own sanctification. I realize now that the hope of my sanctification cannot sustain me in suffering; I can hope in nothing less than God himself. Nothing that has its origin and its terminus in my life can bear the weight of my faith. I have tried to assign little errands to my suffering—fix this, mend that—and I walk away disappointed when that area of sanctification proves to still be "in progress."

How do I talk to myself in these times? I remind myself, first and foremost, that the gospel declares that God is now for me in Christ. Romans 8:28 leaves little room for doubt; the design of God, for those who love him and are called according to his purpose, is salvation. What does salvation mean? John Piper writes, in God is the Gospel: "This all-encompassing word, salvation, embraces all the gospel promises, such as the promise of healing, help for the poor, liberation for captives, peace, eternal life, global expanse, and the all-satisfying vision of the glory of God."

The all-satisfying vision of the glory of God. This is the second thing I must remind myself when I am tempted to disappointment. There were moments, in the darkest times of suffering, that the Lord revealed himself to me in new ways. And what can I report? Yes, I was satisfied. I was satisfied in the midst of my suffering, because God is great beyond all measure. Even in my sanctified, glorified body, I will never be great. "Michele! Hear this." God is great. May those who seek him rejoice and be glad in him. May those who love his salvation say forever, "God is great!” (Psalm 70:4).

I had circumscribed salvation in my own mind, believing it to be only or even mainly about the restraint of sin in my own life, and my suffering has brought this fallacy into the light. I was glorying in the gift of sanctification and not in God the giver. I had lost sight of the fact that my suffering brings glory to God, and I had forgotten that my salvation brings me into the presence of his glory. God's glory was not even on my radar, when it should be my hope and my satisfaction. My suffering has reminded me to “rejoice insofar as [I] share Christ's sufferings, that [I] may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed” (I Peter 4:13). I will count it a privilege to suffer with Christ, and I will rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.

"The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him" (Romans 8:16).