A Long Obedience: A No That Is a Yes

STUCK

When I was little, my older brothers used to try to put me into snow pits or various traps I could not get out of.  They would think my distress was funny, as older brothers often do.  They would say "Matt, you're in the STUCK."  I would cry, "No, not the STUCK."  We laugh about it now.

After receiving good instruction and encouragement at church or a conference, I am eager to try to get going with something new or releasing something destructive.  I think of all sorts of strategies and ideas about how good change could be.  When I come back to my life, however, I find I am in "the stuck."  The ideas don't seem to want to get started in my everyday life.  The old habits just seem too hard to overcome and new habits don't seem so appealing when I'm alone at work or tired at home.

A person has to be thoroughly disgusted with the way things are to find motivation to set out on the Christian way.  As long as we think the next election might eliminate crime and establish justice or another scientific breakthrough might save the environment or another pay raise might push us over the edge of anxiety into a life of tranquility, we are not likely to risk the arduous uncertainties of the life of faith.  A person has to get fed up with the ways of the world before he, before she, acquires an appetite for the world of grace.  (Eugene Peterson, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, 25)

A good idea, then, is not enough.  I vague hope will not propel me into a changed life.  Something else has to happen.  It does not need to be dramatic, but often it feels that way.  It is not so much a matter of feeling as it is a resolved will.  "It is the turning point marking the transition from a dreamy nostalgia for a better life to a rugged pilgrimage of discipleship in faith, from complaining about how bad things are to pursuing all things good."  (28)

NO BEFORE YES

thegospelcoalition.org

This decision is what the Bible calls repentance.  "A 'No' that is a 'Yes'" as Peterson puts it.  (29)  I think I am put off by the negative part at times.  I think I can just add more to my already full plate.  I think I can just squeeze faith in next to my hobbies and work and family time. John the Baptist came to clear the path for the Messiah.  Jesus basic message was "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near!" Both knew that my life is always more cluttered than I think and that much of it is not compatible with a life of faith.  "Repentance is a realization that what God wants from you and what you want from God are not going to be achieved by doing the same old things, thinking the same old thoughts.  Repentance is a decision to follow Jesus Christ and become his pilgrim in the path of peace." (30)

When I finally get around to repentance, I face an even greater danger.  The strength of my resolve brings an expectation for immediate results.  I want to change now.  Such changes are like the seed that fell in the shallow soil in Jesus' parable of the sower and the seeds.  It grows up fast, but dies off quickly.  Depth is needed.  The soil has to be broken up and worked over.  Fast changes usually only yield disappointment.  The path is a long road, not a runner's sprint.

I've been learning how to start small and even test things out.  I try not to let my resolve move me into commitments I cannot keep.  The influence and power of God usually work into my life like yeast works through dough, with a lot of kneading.  A little bit can go a long way if it is done with faithfulness and in love.  I've often told my kids that five minutes of real devotion before God is worth hours of distracted or dissatisfied acts of charity or devotion.  Sometimes it takes a while to really stand before God and seek his face because of all of the clutter in my life, though.

Repentance is the beginning.  A "No" that moves me from self-satisfaction to brokenness, from worry to hope, from oppression to challenge.

Lord, I do not want to be cynical, but I do want to learn how to die to the world so I might live in you, with you, and for you.  Keep me from quick changes that only tire me out.  Allow my repentance to be the beginning of refreshing times with you. Amen.

Compassion Embraces Weakness

Devotional Classics, Hannah Whitall Smith, Excerpts from The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life

The soul finds itself saying, instead of the "May I?" of love, the "Must I?" of duty.  The yoke, which was at first easy, begins to gall, and the burden feels heavy instead of light.

You do love your work in the abstract, but in the doing of it your find so many cares and responsibilities connected with it, and feel so many misgivings and doubts as to your own capacity or fitness, that it becomes a very heavy burden, and you go to it bowed down and weary before the labor has even begun.

Now from all these forms of bondage the soul that enters fully into the blessed life of faith is entirely delivered.  In the first place, service of any sort becomes delightful to it, because having surrendered its will into the keeping of the Lord, He works in it to will and do His good pleasure, and the soul finds itself really wanting to do the things God wants it to.
It is always very pleasant to do the things we want to do, even if they are difficult to accomplish, or make our bodies tired.  If our will is really set on a thing we view the obstacles that lie in the way of reaching it with a sublime indifference, and we laugh at the idea of any opposition or difficulties which might hinder us.

I am ashamed to think that any Christian should ever put on a long face and shed tears over doing a thing for Christ which a worldly person would be only too glad to do for money.  What we need in the Christian life is to get believers to want to do God's will as much as other people want to do their own will.  And this is the idea of the Gospel.  It is what God intended  for us; and it is what He promised.  In describing the new covenant in Hebrews 8:6-13, He says it shall no more be the old covenant made on Sinai, - that is, a law given from the outside, controlling a man by force, - but it shall be a law written within, constraining us by love.

What you need to do, then, dear Christian, if you are in bondage in the matter of service, is to put your will over completely into the hands of your Lord, surrendering to Him the entire control of it.  Say, "Yes, Lord, YES!" to everything , and trust Him to work in you to will as to bring your whole wishes and affections into conformity with His own sweet, and lovable, and most lovely will.

In truth, if we only knew it, our chief fitness is in our utter helplessness.  His strength is made perfect, not in our strength, but in our weakness.  Our strength in only a hindrance. (pp. 237-241)

Jesus has now obtained a more excellent ministry, and to that degree he is the mediator of a better covenant, which has been enacted through better promises.  For if that first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no need to look for a second one.  (Hebrews 8:6-7)

 It is at least comforting to know that I am not alone in my resistance to service.  When no one seems to care what I am doing for some youth as long as they are entertained in a youth group or when it does not seem to matter whether I do something well at work or just get it done or when "someone" needs to clean up some mess at home that no one really wants to clean up, the "Must I?" of duty kicks in.  Although it gets done, there is no real gratitude or joy or growth, just grinding through it all.

Mere duty and compassion are found together so often that I forget that they can be separated.  I am so used to pushing through my work or service that I set up my own reward system.  "When I'm done with this I'll . . . " is what I say to myself.  Such rewards indicate that the service or work is not at all what I want to do, but what I must do.  It almost seems a "given" in my life.

Smith points out that this is not only regrettable, but actually not at all what God wants.  God is not pleased with mere duty, but wants me to want to serve.  At first, this can seem to be burden added to burden, almost a demand that says, "Now, do it with a smile."  This is not the spirit of the gospel at all.  The gospel does not merely say, "Whistle while you work. . . ."

The good news is that my "wanter" can be converted and changed.  I can find myself wanting to serve and work for others with enthusiasm and anticipation.  Smith has some hints about how such a transformation takes place.

First, there is the realization that there is something wrong with compassion out of mere duty.  When someone is paid for their service to me, I say it is just their job to be nice and render service.  When someone is not paid and they perform their actions out of mere duty, as a burden to be accomplished, anticipating what they will get to do when they are done, I find myself not really wanting them to serve me at all.  I find that the reason for their service is at least as important as the service itself.  Because of this, most of us "paint on a face" of pleasure at doing what we don't really want to.  We call this hypocrisy.

Realizing there is something wrong with how I have been going about serving is repentance.  Interestingly, the realization is not merely a for personal growth, but more of a vision of what is right and true and how I fall short of that ideal.  Repentance is not only "I'm sorry" but also the understanding that I have been missing something important and good in what I am doing.

Next, I find that I cannot merely put a smile on or just think positively about service in order to bring compassion.  Compassion comes from surrender to God, not from trying to have compassion.  Smith observes that God's will - what he wants - must become what is desirable and pleasing before I can put aside my own desires and have genuine compassion.  Compassionate service is born out of a heart surrendered to God and his purposes.  It is "Yes" to God and "No" to my desires.

Finally, this surrender is not accomplished by putting my best foot forward.  Instead, it is accomplished when I can acknowledge my own weakness and inability to be compassionate.  My strengths do not help me to surrender to God.  My weaknesses do.  In weakness I find humility and neediness. In weakness I look for help.  In weakness I find myself sitting with those who need service most and understanding how little I have to offer except the truth of a God who helps the weak, even me.

Like my kids, I often feel frustrated by my weakness.  In order to avoid it, I either try to convince myself that nothing is really wrong with me and my lack of compassion.  I also try to bring compassion through force of effort to just think or feel compassionate.  With my kids, forcing surrender in them is cruel and usually becomes mere guilt trips.  I do the same thing to my own heart.  Somehow I must help myself and them to embrace and even rejoice in their weakness because of God's mercy and grace.

Weakness is not "blessed" in itself, but only blessed because of the universe I live in.  In the creation, I am loved and watched over by God, so I can  be weak.  I can even enjoy the thought and feeling of being weak since I find in such weakness, I find the experience of God lifting me up.  Without that as my true joy, weakness will always be something I fear and avoid and compassion will always be a sham.

Lord, how I struggle with embracing my weakness, even in the light of your strength and love.  Part of me does not like needing you, depending on you.  Please show me the joy of your salvation and the  depth of your compassion.  Let my heart melt before your love.  Amen.


I have been using Psalm 51 as a time of reflection on my sins and weakness.  Instead of making such a time one in which I merely regret my sins, I have been asking God the "restore to me the joy of your salvation."  That joy is in being the recipient of compassion and grace.  As I learn to receive such joy, I may be able to be a messenger of such joy to others I serve.