How People Change

I requested several books for Christmas, and I spent part of my lazy New Year's Day exploring How People Change, by Tim Lane and Paul Tripp. Though I’ve perused only three chapters, I’d like to quote at length from the third one. Reading this on New Years' Day, pinned between the cultural phenomenon of resolution-making and the solicitous advice of well-meaning friends, I breathe a sigh of relief. This is what I believe, come what may; this is what I believe, in spite of myself. I do not want to live with merely the appearance of wisdom or to structure sin out of my life. I want to walk in holiness and, for this purpose, Scripture is my plumb-line and light.

“We all live on the continuum between slavery and freedom. The Bible warns about the deceitfulness of sin and its bondage. It is full of promises of the freedom we have in Christ. But our culture has its own warnings and promises of freedom, false solutions promised in various theories of change. These alternative theories seem appealing. They promise us that we can avoid chaos, live in freedom, and keep our own agenda and pride in tact.

Christians have always faced these problems. We have always had to sift through false promises and theories of change. Even in the first century, Paul had these words for fellow believers:

Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving. See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits (or elementary principles) of the world, and not according to Christ” (Col 2:6-8).

Lane and Tripp go on to outline some of the deceptive philosophies that our culture proffers:

Changing the circumstance
Changing my behavior
Changing my thought process
Changing my self-concept
Trusting Jesus more

None of these solutions is entirely bad, but each is sadly incomplete. If I identify a circumstance, a behavior, or a thought as my problem and fight accordingly, I will quickly be defeated (think New Year’s resolutions). Change must happen by the Spirit in the heart of the believer, and it will flow out into behaviors and thoughts. As I look at the changes that are needed in my life right now, I’m reminded not to attack the behavior but to expose my heart before the surgeon.

The last two philosophies outlined must be addressed separately, starting with self-esteem theory. I've always been astounded by the fact that I could forget everything that learned in elementary school science--things like the number of planets in our solar system or the function of the lymph nodes--but could recount in detail the intricacies of Maslow's theory of self-actualization. Perhaps I shouldn't say "intricacies"--this was elementary school! But that theory took hold of me as a child; it purported to be vitally important, and it explained some critical things about myself, or so I thought. Self-esteem theory in one of its many instantiations has a monopoly on our (pop) psychology market. We have lapped up the poison, believing that we are essentially good and must learn only to love ourselves as such. We don’t want to hear that we feel guilty because we are guilty.

The last philosophy seems incongruous and even irreverent. How can it be inadequate to "just trust Jesus”? The strategy itself is right--we should trust Jesus, but we have to be clear about who this Jesus is and what we are trusting him to do. Lane and Tripp write, “In some approaches to change, Jesus is the therapist who meets all my needs…If he is my therapist, then he meets my needs as I define them. If he is my Redeemer, he defines my true needs and addresses them in ways far more glorious than I could have anticipated.”

Herein lies the common core to each of these false solutions. If we change only our behavior or our circumstances, we have not changed our hearts. We have not displaced the idol of self; in fact, we have likely propped it up with our short-term successes. We cannot live in freedom if our self-love-driven-agendas remain in tact. Our self must acquire new loves if we are to truly change, because man will ultimately follow after what he loves. People only change from the heart outward.

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.

More Good Questions

I posted previously (May 15, "Speaking to Those in Pain") about good questions to ask a sufferer. David Powlison is much better equipped to make suggestions along these lines, so I'll let him speak through his helpful chapter in Suffering and the Sovereignty of God:

"Often the biggest problem for any sufferer is not 'the problem.' It is the spiritual challenge the problem presents: 'How are you doing in the midst of what you are going through? What are you learning? Where are you failing? Where do you need encouragement? Will you learn to live well and wisely within pain, limitation, weakness, and loss? Will suffering define you? Will faith and love grow, or will you shrivel up?' These are life-and-death issues--more important than 'the problem' in the final analysis. They take asking, thinking, listening, responding. They take time."

I like his questions very much, although I would recommend that either a close and honest relationship or an invitation to accountability should be the premise for the "will" questions. Coming from someone who stands at a distance, they could be construed as an accusation.

For the record, if you are reading this, you may ask me any of these questions. Accountability is such an important means of grace in this time (as in all others). I am committed, by the grace of God, to squelching the feeling of condemnation that hard questions can invoke. The process always gives life even as it humbles.

Speaking to Those in Pain

One way in which we make ourselves available to those who suffer is with language--with our words spoken to or on behalf of that person. I've spent much time talking with you about the words spoken on behalf of--namely, about intercessory prayer.

I want to briefly touch upon this other sense in which our words make us available to one another's pain.

The most natural quesiton to ask someone in pain is, "Are you feeling better?" In my case as in many others, the answer is rarely "yes." My pain ebbs and flows, but it doesn't abate. And so, as I try to respond to this question--again and again--I find myself frustrated by my answers. The question is closed, and the one who is suffering may not be able (or willing) to broaden it alone. I often say "no" and feel disappointed--disappointed that my answer cannot reflect joy or hope and disappointed when I see the sadness in the eyes of my friend. You want my pain to be better; I want it to be better. But it is unchanged.

How can we talk about this redemptively?

Here are a few others ways that I can think of to ask the question:

1) How are you hurting today?
2) Where is God working in your pain today?
3) Is this a good or a bad day for you?
4) What did the Lord teach you through yesterday's pain? Have you been able to apply that today?
5) What Scriptures are you using to deal with your pain today?
6) How can I pray for your pain right now?
7) What encourages you in your struggle today?

We all feel a new sense of pressure, and often a sense of dread, when we approach someone who is suffering. It is my theory, at least, that asking questions such as these would relieve some of the pressure on both sides. Why?

I think that it works because it focuses our collective attention on what we can control instead of what we cannot. We have very little control over our pain, but there is much diligence due in our reaction to and interpretation of it. These questions focus upon taking thoughts captive and making deliberate choices to apply what we know about God to what we feel in our pain.

Let me reiterate: I value each instance on which I have been asked, "How are you feeling?" It is right and good that you should ask! Yet I know that the desire of each person who asks, "How are you feeling?" is to edify, encourage, and learn how to better pray for me.

Asking good questions can be one way that you enable the person who is suffering to "lift their drooping hands and strengthen their weak knees."

Battling Insomnia Like a King

I simply cannot tell how much of my insomnia is a result of the steroids and how much is stubborn faithlessness, though I am quite certain that each factor is playing a role here.

A prayer from Psalm 131:

O LORD, my heart is not lifted up
(I will not succumb to the worship of self; I will not believe the lie that I or my needs are ultimate. I have been and still am tempted. But I will cast my heart down).
My eyes are not raised too high
(I will not scorn those who don’t know you or are not suffering, as though I were a martyr--as though any righteousness in me were not given to me by you).
I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me
(I will not lie awake wondering, “What does tomorrow hold?”)
But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother like a weaned child is my soul within me.
(I am taking action now, within my soul, to desire what I am given and no more. I will seek to be obedient in faith, which is my duty, though not my natural inclination).
O Israel, hope in the LORD from this time forth and forevermore.
(This is a hope that produces the fruit of righteousness instead of the fruit of anxiety).

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up.