The Word and Surrender

Devotional Classics, E. Stanley Jones, Excerpts from Conversation

Conversion is a gift and an achievement.  It is the act of a moment and the work of a lifetime.  You cannot attain salvation by disciplines - it is the gift of God.  But you cannot retain it without disciplines.  If you try to attain salvation by disciplines, you will be trying to discipline an unsurrendered self.  You will be sitting on a lid.  The result will be tenseness instead of trust.  "You will wrestle instead of nestle. . . ."  Discipline is the fruit of conversion - not the root. . . .  So we take and try; we obtain and attain.

[Jesus] did three things by habit: (1) "He stood up to read as was his custom" - he read the Word of God by habit.  (2) "He went out into the mountain to pray as was his custom" - he prayed by habit.  (3) "He taught them again as was his custom" - he passed on to others by habit what he had and what he had found. . . .  No converted person can live without those habits at work vitally in his life.

I know two brilliant Christians who come to the daily morning devotions without their Bibles.  They can meditate, they say.  They are both shallow.  For they mediate God to themselves through their own thinking - they become the medium.  They do not go to God direct as they imagine - they go through their own thinking; they become the mediator.

Dr. Howard Atwood Kelley. . . says of reading the Bible, "The Bible vindicates itself because it is such excellent medicine.  It has never failed to cure a single patient if only he took his prescription honestly."  Take the prescription of the Word of God daily.  No Christian is sound who is not scriptural.

When prayer fades out, power fades out.  We are as spiritual as we are prayerful; no more, no less.

It is a law of the mind that that which is not expressed dies.  If you don't share it, you won't have it.

The rule about confessing your sins should be, the circle of confession should be the circle affected by the sin.

Pray for those who have wronged you.  That will be an antidote for resentment and bitterness.  A theological professor keeps a car index of nasty letters he receives and prays for their writers every day.  No wonder his spirit has an extraordinary sweetness.  (pp. 281-285)

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.  He was with God in the beginning.  (John1:1-2)

There are quite a few ways in which I do not take my Bible prescription "honestly."  Jones points some of the big ones out well.  First, I try to read my Bible before I am surrendered to God, before I am converted in some part of my life.  Whatever I might hope to gain from Bible reading will only come when I am submitted to God and the good that he wants rather than my own agendas.

I must surrender my desires not because they are always bad, but because they are meant to align with God and his desires.  Without that surrender, my Bible reading tends to serve rationalizations of my own desires and feelings.  I do not see what God wants to show me, but only what I want to see.  Such reading feeds inner arguments, justifies whatever I happen to be doing, and quenches the love from the Spirit for God and other people.

Insight from the Bible, like conversion itself, is a gift of God.  It cannot be attained through raw effort, but must first be granted in grace.  Effort comes after the gift because effort must work with the gift.  Without that I will be "tossed back and forth by the waves and blown here and there by the cunning and craftiness of men in their deceitful scheming" - starting with myself!  (Ephesians 4:14)  However, without discipline, the gift of the Spirit's illumination will not be retained.

One of the best ways to submit myself to God through the Bible is to develop a habit of reading and study.  Without the habit, I quickly drift off into the reiteration of my own thoughts and feelings which, like manna, are sufficient for one day, but often will not meet the needs of the next.  Also, I am tempted to try to achieve a feeling instead of understanding.  Bursts of understanding bring pleasure, but by habit I do not allow such pleasures to guide my reading and study, but rather a continued choice to seek God through the Bible, whether pleasant or not, "deep" or not, or inspiring or not.

Another way to surrender is to bathe my readings and study in prayer.  Asking and praising, talking and thinking with God must be habitual as well.  Without such prayer, the whole thing of Bible study becomes a bunch of unrelated thoughts that are guided by my worries and lusts rather than my trust and worship.  What I read or study in the Bible needs to be preceded by immersion in God's presence.  What I find and enjoy in the Bible also needs to lead me into prayers of confession, thanksgiving, praise, and quiet.

Finally, reading the Bible leads to teaching and evangelism.  I like Jones' expression that "it is a law of the mind that that which is not expressed dies."  Evangelism is built into devotion to God and the Bible.  "We cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard" the apostles said before the Sanhedrin when told not to speak about Jesus or in his name.  I find this is in contrast to what I have often thought evangelism is.  It is telling what I have seen and heard rather than telling other people what I think they need to know.  It is shared discovery rather than making converts.

In explaining what I have seen and heard through a prayerful reading of the Bible deepens my surrender to God.  I find that although the Bible is right, I can be wrong.  Even though I hear God, I may not always understand what he means.  This calls for walking with God moment by moment, instead of trying to get a kind of knowledge that I can use on my own.  Relying on God to reveal his thoughts through the Bible is helped by receiving it as a gift, making it a habit, bathing it in prayer, and seeking ways to share what I have discovered.

Lord, you sent the Word to us.  You did not keep it to yourself, but because of the love and joy in you, your sent your message, Jesus.  The Bible speaks faithfully of that Word and in many ways it is that Word to me.  Help me to receive it as a gift wit humility and expectation.  Amen.


One way I am learning to submit to God's word is to handle it carefully, physically as well as spiritually.  By bowing my head or holding the Bible in my hands a certain way, I can be reminded of the great truth it contains and the great God it brings me to.

Compassion Is Not Mostly About Feeling Good

Devotional Classics, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Excerpts from Life Together

Christianity means community through Jesus Christ and in Jesus Christ.  No Christian community is more of less than this.

[A Christian] needs his brother solely because of Jesus Christ.  The Christ in his own heart is weaker than the Christ in the word of his brother; his own heart is uncertain, his brother's is sure.  And that also clarifies the goal of all Christian community: they meet one another as bringers of the message of salvation.

Without Christ we should not know God, we could not call upon him, nor come to him.  But without Christ we also could not know our brother, nor could we come to him.  The way is blocked by our own ego.

If, before we could know and wish it, we have been chosen and accepted with the whole Church in Jesus Christ, then we also belong to him in eternity with one another.  We who live here in fellowship with him will one day be with him in eternal fellowship.

The more we received, the more we were able to give; and the more meager our brotherly love, the less were we living by God's mercy and love.

Not what a man is in himself as a Christian, his spirituality and piety, constitutes the basis of our community.  What determines our brotherhood is what that man is by reason of Christ.  Our community with one another consists solely in what Christ has done to both of us. . . .  The more genuine and the deeper our community becomes, the more will everything else between us recede, the more clearly and purely will Jesus Christ and his work become the one and only thing that is vital between us.

This dismisses the clamorous desire for something more.  One who wants more than what Christ has established does not want Christian brotherhood.  He is looking for some extraordinary social experience which he has not found elsewhere; he is bringing muddled and impure desires into Christian brotherhood.  Christian brotherhood is not an ideal which we must realize; it is rather a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate.  (pp.271-275)

He is our peace. (Ephesians 2:14)

Because of the worship of feeling and desire that I have been exposed to for so long, I am frequently pushed by that "clamorous desire for something more."  It comes into just about every area of my life and brings dissatisfaction and worry in its path.  It eats away at love, joy, and peace.  It continually draws my attention to my pride and my "stomach."

This is no less true as I think about worship services.  Rather than enjoying the peace that Christ has brought and looking for his words and his face in the people I worship with, I am often worried about "looking for some extraordinary experience" or simply embracing indifference to worship and fellowship.  I have been known to say "It doesn't matter" about Christian fellowship from disappointment and even bitterness.

Neither indifference nor the worship of feeling and desire will cross the bridge of fellowship with other disciples.  One dismisses a primary means of God's goodness and grace: other believers.  The other dismisses the reason we gather: seeing Christ and him alone.  Our relationships and fellowship are subordinate to this one good, this hope, this desire: "Jesus Christ and his work [as] the one and only thing that is vital between us."

Yesterday, I aspired to enter the reality of that fellowship rather than trying to create an ideal of what I think fellowship should be.  I sought to pray for others and enjoy what they brought and most of all look for what God was trying to do in our time together.  I spent most of my time inviting God to join us and bathe us in his presence, since nothing we do in itself with bring about the change, the desire, the love, nor the peace that we need.  The songs, the words, the prayers are all empty without our being immersed in God's presence.

And so it also is with compassion.  I find I am easily pulled into thinking that compassion is a lot about what makes me feel good and useful.  I use it as a means of self-satisfaction, so that I can push away a number of unpleasant emotions, like guilt or empathy.  Compassion is not about having an "extraordinary experience."

Like worship, compassion cannot bring me closer to others in itself.  It too needs to be bathed in God's working presence.  Only then can it become what it needs to be for me and others I may help: both a "message of salvation" and a "reality in which we may participate."

Lord, deliver me from compassion that seeks to be a "powerful experience" or the tie that binds me to others.  It is a means for your grace.  It is a place where I may meet you and others who love you.  Let me not overvalue or demean this work, Father.  Amen.


I want this to be a constant reminder to me: "the more we received, the more we were able to give."  A lack of compassion is a lack of reception of God and his work in myself and in others.  I see that with service, I need not only to draw close to him myself, but invite his presence into each situation to do as he wills.

Compassion and Hospitality

Devotional Classics, Catherine of Siena, Excerpts from The Dialogue

At the first stair, lifting the feet of her affections from the earth, [the soul] stripped herself of sin.  At the second she dressed herself in love for virtue.  And at the third stage she tasted peace.

In fact, his divinity is kneaded in the clay of your humanity like one bread.

For he proved his unspeakable love, and the human heart is always drawn by love. . . .  You can hardly resist being drawn by love, unless you foolishly refuse to be drawn.

All virtue draws life from him, nor is there any virtue that has not been tested in him.  So no one can have any life-giving virtue but from him, that is, by following his example and his teaching.

The hostelry [lodging] of holy Church is there to serve the bread of life and blood lest the journeying pilgrims, my creatures, grow weary and faint on the way.

When he says that he is the Way, he is speaking the truth. . . .  He says he is the Truth, and so he is, and whoever follows him goes the way of truth.  And he is Life.  If you follow his truth, you will have the life of grace and never die of hunger, for the Word has himself become your food.

 Although the images seem scattered as I read some pieces from The Dialogue, I am touched by the "earthiness" of her descriptions.  Bread comes up a lot.  Christ himself is like divinity kneaded into the dough of humanity.  The Church is viewed as a lodging where people might come to eat.  Life itself is given through bread, so that none of us will starve.

In all these things, Christ is himself the bread of life.  His deity is what leavens and raises his humanity.  It is perfectly kneaded into a human life and also into all human life through his Spirit.  Our existence need not be flat and hard, but can be light and full of flavor in his presence.

His love draws us into life.  The only way to escape is to refuse.  For life, he gives himself as our sustenance, our bread, our food.  He is the Life in that he keeps us alive through his continued love and grace and wisdom being taken and "eaten" by us.  He grants life; we need only consume what he gives.

He left a place where such feasting happens.  Some hospitality is better than others, but Jesus gives us rest and food when we gather and abide together.  The church is such a place.  There is no other public place that honors Christ directly and gathers in order to worship and serve him.  This is the lodging where we can stay and rest on our journeys.

Compassion is not much else than hospitality:  a welcome, a meal, and a place to rest.  Jesus is all of these things.  Bread, lodging, and other parts of hospitality are the reflections.

Lord, may my hands be full of your goodness so that I might offer hospitality.  May I offer a loving welcome that draws others in, a meal of bread that satisfies the soul, and a lodging where the rest of kindness lives.  In all these things may I reflect you, our true Host and Friend.  Amen.

Compassion suffers when it loses intimacy.  I cannot offer such hospitality at all times, but I would love to find ways of showing compassion in a more intimate, personal way, so that people leave with more than a full belly or a rested body: a comforted soul.

Compassion and Living in Grace

Devotional Classics, John Wesley, Excerpts from Christian Perfection

The first advice I would give to those who have been saved from sin by grace is to watch and pray continually against pride.  For it is pride not only to ascribe what we have to ourselves, but also to think we have what we do not have.

One way to [be clothed with humility] is to own any fault we have.  If you have at any time thought, spoken, or acted wrong, do not refrain from acknowledging it.  Never dream that this will hurt the cause of God - in fact, it will further it.

Also, beware of the daughter of pride: enthusiasm.  By enthusiasm I mean the tendency to hastily ascribe everything to God, supposing dreams and voices and visions to be special revelations that God has given to you. . . .  You are in danger of enthusiasm every time you depart even a little from the Scriptures. . . .  One general inlet to enthusiasm is expecting the end without the means: expecting knowledge, for instance, without searching the Scriptures and consulting other people of God, or expecting spiritual strength without constant prayer and steady watchfulness, or expecting God to bless you without hearing the word of God at every opportunity.

When we take a fresh teaching from the Scriptures to heart, we must not conclude that it is a "new" gift.  We have all of these things when we are justified; all that remains is that we experience them in higher degrees.

Settle in your heart that from this moment on you will aim at nothing more than that love described in the thirteenth chapter of 1 Corinthians.  You can go no higher than this.

Be slow to speak.  It is said, "In a multitude of words sin abounds."  Try not to talk too much, or for a long time.  Not many people can converse profitably beyond an hour's time.

Let the language of your heart sing out with regard to pleasure or pain, riches or poverty, honor or dishonor, "All's alike to me, so I in my Lord may live or die!"

Do not despise or run down any preacher.  Do not exalt anyone above the rest lest you hurt both him and the cause of God.

Do not give even a single thought of separating from your brethren, whether their opinions agree with yours or not.  Just because someone does not agree with everything you say does not mean they are sinning.  Nor is this or that opinion essential to the work of God.  Be patient with those who disagree with you. (pp. 258-261)

Love is patient; love is kind.  (1 Corinthians 13:4)

 Religious pride is perhaps the worst.  Doing seemingly "good" things with a continual eye toward oneself and other people's reactions quickly destroys whatever good may come from the action.  Even worse, it drives people away from the cause or the God that you claim to serve.  As with the Jews Paul had to deal with: "The name of God is being blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you."  (Romans 2:24)

Because of the stench of such pride, I have found it tempting to join the many who have ejected all religiosity from their lives.  I have sought to follow God in a purely "spiritual" manner, which seems to include no "religion."  Of course, no such "purity" exists.  Since I am embodied, I need to serve God through this body as well as in a social context.  I cannot somehow shake them off except by some sort of denial.  If I reject one form of religion, I will quickly put on another, even if its of my own making.

Even worse, I have thought that the answer to religious pride was to "not worry" too much about my sins.  Somehow in my fear of being prideful, I thought that "not worrying" about certain sins might keep me humble.  I think the reasoning would go something like this:  Jesus came to die for my sins so that I wouldn't have to try to deal with them, since I can't.  Trying to overcome sin in my life is to deny that Jesus' death is sufficient to cover my sins.  Since, of course, we cannot just let sin spin out of control, there are limits to what is allowed and what is not if I say I'm "trying my best."  This leads to all sorts of hypocrisy and confusion.

The best understanding of sin is that it comes from pride.  Sin does not lead to humility, but to arrogance and self-centeredness.  Fundamentally, the best way to fight sin, then, is through humility.  Wesley's suggestions are focused on religious pride and the humility that will defeat it.  Pride of any sort cannot be fought head-on, which is why Wesley's suggestions are not ones in which I learn to despise myself (also a form of pride because of its self-centeredness) so much as see myself correctly.  Pride inflates my view of myself until I am my own god or at least all I am paying attention to.  Humility deflates my self-importance until I can serve the true God.

The response to pride is not "I'm just a miserable sinner!", but "I am a recovering sinner living daily by God's grace" and "God has plans for me into eternity."  Pride leads to sin.  Humility leads to God.  Humility is developed through submitting to what comes my way as God's plan for my salvation, knowing that he is sufficient to deliver and comfort me in pain, and happy and rejoicing with what goes well.  Humility is the practice of living by grace and in the Spirit rather than by "making it work" and relying on my status and abilities apart for God (the flesh).

Compassion as a sub-category of religion suffers from the same difficulties.  Pride makes compassion a stench through pretended self-righteousness, run-away enthusiasm, departing from the Scriptures, and a sense that philanthropy excuses me from the love of those near to me.  The only way to avoid such degradation is through the humility of living in God's grace.  I mean learning how to rely on God's grace and the power of his Spirit more than on my own abilities and talents.  Only then can the "widow's mite" become far more worthy and powerful than the seemingly large sums that others put in for their own glory.

Lord, I am moved to open my arms to your grace.  Your forgiveness extends far out beyond relieving my guilt.  Your forgiveness is a wave that carries me into righteousness and obedience.  Such grace is what I need to put my pride to death.  I want to do so by learning to rely on you showing up in my many times of need.  Teach me the expectation of your grace and grow my distrust of pride.  Let this lesson deepen my love for you and for others in my life.  Amen.


I think I see a a new way of practicing my "religion."  These things are meant to teach me patience and eager expectation of God's grace.  I can see why I need not "try so hard" at them, but let them assist me through trials.

Compassion and Giving

Devotional Classics, Elizabeth O'Connor, Excerpts from Letters to Scattered Pilgrims

We covenant with Christ and one another to give proportionately beginning with a tithe of our incomes.

Proportionate giving has kept us from mistaking our churchgoing for Christianity, and from looking at our neighbor to see what we should be doing.

It was not that our souls were so quickly converted, but that we sensed that something important was going on, and we wanted to be a part of it.  We had been captured by a man's vision of what community might do if it really cared about the oppressed and the suffering.

In a recent sermon on money Gordon [Cosby] said as forcefully as ever that to give away money is to win a victory over the dark powers that oppress us.  He talked about reclaiming for ourselves the energy with which we have endowed money.

Despite our corporate style and our exposure to the issues that are raised around the subject of money, we know  that we have not gained much "downward mobility."  While we have succeeded in stabilizing our standard of living, most of us cling to what we have known.  Though the budgets of our faith communities are large by traditional standards, we are fully aware that they represent only a fraction of the potential giving of the congregation.

Coming to know some of our suffering sisters and brothers in the Third World and in the ghettos of Washington has made all the difference in the way we view the earth.  The unemployment statistics are made up of people that we know.

Through we along with millions of other churchgoers are saying that Jesus saves, we ask ourselves if we are not in practice acting as though it were money that saves.

Do we believe that money and possessions have away of coming between people who want to be in community with each other?  Do we really believe that every life has resources more priceless that gold, and that our hearts, minds, and labor are adequate for any task?  What is the world is right and there are things that only money can buy, gifts of the spirit that only money can unlock, and blocks that only money can push aside?  (pp. 251-255)

You cannot serve both God and money.  (Matthew 6:24)

In the ways of money, I usually feel I am on the foothills of great mountains.  I glimpse the heights, but they seem so far off.  I give, but not with freedom and abandon.  I sweat out the times when money is tight and easily rejoice when we have a little extra to spend, showing that my viewpoint is still set much lower than it will be.  I have much climbing to do, and with faith and hope, much greater sights to see.

It is encouraging and discouraging at the same time to see people who have come a long way compared to "traditional standards" and yet still find there is much higher to go.  It is encouraging to know that my struggles and questions are not merely from my immaturity in this matter, but from the pervasive and powerful influence of money on people's lives.  It is discouraging because although there is a certain "stabilizing [in my] standard of living" I can anticipate, there is an uphill climb to let go of money and other temporary items and walk with Jesus in "downward mobility."

O'Connor puts before me the barrier that money and possessions are to community.  Money often works against sharing, relating, giving, and creating.  An interesting picture of this is the use of gift cards instead of gifts.  It is as if the most important part of a gift is what a person wants.  A gift card makes gift giving more impersonal, self-centered, and ritualistic.  It removes much of the warmth that other gifts could supply.

Money insulates me from other people.  I but things for myself instead of asking and sharing with others.  Money insulates me from life.  Instead of learning and building, I pay and try to manage.  Money insulates me from pain and suffering.  Instead of walking with those who suffer, I try to make them better with money.

Not that money is bad in itself.  It can do great good.  Because of my tendency to look to my own status and abilities apart from God (the flesh) to accomplish what I want, money often plays right into the hands of greed, fear, and worry.  In this sense, it is an oppressing power that I can become increasingly free from through generous giving.  There are vast resources of energy stored and wasted on money-making and gathering that I might tap into if I could just let go.

O'Connor gives some hints for such freedom.  First, there is discipline.  For my own good and the good of those around me, "proportionate" giving is a powerful tool.  It is not righteousness.  It is not something that will set me higher than others or give me greater favor with God.  It is a wisdom for living with God in his kingdom now and forever.  It is simply the guide for right investment of my money: rich toward God.

Along with such a discipline, perhaps even prior to it, a vision of being a part of "something really important" is essential.  The widow gave her last cent to the temple because of a vision of God's greatness, his goodness, and his generosity.  Such giving will bring about much greater things that larger gifts of money that had no hope, faith, or vision with them.  Giving money must be accompanied by a "given" life, or as Paul puts it in Romans 12:1, a "living sacrifice."  The vision of "something greater" is that of King Jesus and his kingdom in these days and into all eternity.

Also, the investment of money comes from really caring about the oppressed and the suffering.  Really, it is fundamentally why money has been entrusted to me.  The great vision of God is that all his children might be cared for, just as I would desire it for my own.  Coming to know those who suffer and are oppressed instills a greater sense of responsibility when I work with my money.  Granted, such a focus can become a mere guilt-trip and even become near-sighted enough to see money as the primary gift I am to give.

To keep such  things as guilt and mere social justice from warping compassion, I need to keep the "inward" journey balanced with the "outward" journey, as O'Connor's Church of the Saviour sought to do.  I must not mistake giving money as compassion any more than churchgoing is real Christianity.  Insightfully, she says I must avoid the practice of "looking at our neighbor to see what we should be doing."  To some degree, it is okay for me to be on the foothills of giving.

Lord, keep my eyes on the oppressed and suffering, my hand ever ready to give up and hand over my things, and most of all, my heart on that "something more important": you, your kingdom, your hope for a loving family in the likeness of Jesus.  Money is a "small thing" in your eyes, but it can be big enough to keep me from you.  Free me from its oppression today.  My hands are open before you.  Take what you will and leave me with you, Father.  Amen.


I want to deepen my vision of that loving community and family that the Lord longs for.  I want to seek this kingdom not as a dream or a project, but as a reality I have yet to see and encounter.  The kingdom is here and has so much more growing to do in God's time and by his power.  I will seek this kingdom through learning how to give more freely and with more abandon.  I believe I will discover that deeper community on the way.

The Root of Compassion Is Humility

Devotional Classics, Jeremy Taylor, Excerpts from The Rule and Exercises of Holy Living

Although you may - because of gifts that you have been bestowed upon you - be better than someone else (as one horse runs faster than another), know that it is for the benefit of others, not for yourself.  Remember that you are merely human and that you have nothing in yourself that merits worth except your right choices.

Humility consists in a realistic opinion of yourself, namely, that you are unworthy person.  Believe this about yourself with the same certainty you believe that you are hungry when you have gone without food. 

If you realize that you are not wise, do not be angry if someone else should agree!

Never be ashamed of your birth, of your parents, your occupation, or your present employment, or the lowly status of any of them.  When there is an occasion to speak about them to others, do not be shy, but speak readily, with an indifference to how others will regard you.

Never say anything, directly or indirectly, that will provoke praise of elicit compliments from others.

When you do receive praise for something you have done, take it indifferently and return it to God. . . .  Be careful among your own circle of friends, and do not let your good reputation be the object of your gaze.  Use it as an instrument to help your neighbor, but do not use it for your own gain.

Some will speak lowly of themselves in order to make others give an account of their goodness.  They are merely fishing for compliments.

Some people spend their time dreaming of greatness, envisioning theaters full of people applauding them, imagining themselves giving engaging speeches, fantasizing about having great wealth.  All this is nothing but the fumes of pride, exposing their heart's true wishes.

It is beneficial to focus on the strengths of those around us in order to see our weaknesses more clearly. . . .  The truly humble person will not only look admirably at the strengths of others, but will also look with great forgiveness upon the weaknesses of others.

Give God thanks for every weakness, fault, and imperfection you have.  Accept it as a favor of God, an instrument to resist pride and nurse humility.

Humility begins as a gift of God, but it is increased as a habit we develop. (pp. 244-248)

For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but those who humble themselves will be exalted.  (Luke 14:11)

I have frequently bemoaned the fact that I have little compassion.  I have wanted to have more.  I have even prayed for God to make me a more compassionate person.  As with so many other things in my life, though, I have wanted a quality or benefit without using the means to get there.

I am like some of the travelers on the road in Pilgrim's Progress who leaped over the wall rather than coming through the Wicket Gate (Salvation).  I try to walk the road of compassion without the root of compassion being in me.  Like these travelers, I have become lost quickly on the many roads that lead away from compassion.

The root of compassion is humility.  I have always said humility is good and that I would like to be more humble.  But when I read Jeremy Taylor's "rules" for humility, I realize that I have only been wishing for humility and not really seeking and practicing it.

The advantage is that the means for humility are always present.  There are always moments in which I can let go of the urge to promote myself, allow someone's insults to bring me to realize I am not as admirable as I would like, and times to let go of "dreams of greatness" and embrace each "weakness, fault, and imperfection. . . [as] an instrument to resist pride and nurse humility."  I am startled at the many times I am tempted to keep my pride instead of throwing it away.

Only with humility can compassion remain a blessing on others.  Without it, compassion quickly becomes condescension and even coercion   I do good by someone and then expect gratitude at least.  If I do not receive gratitude, I can allow myself to feel that I am better than such ungrateful people.  Many acts of compassion stink with pride.

With Taylor's "rules," I am able to begin seeing how much pride interferes with compassion and all sorts of good practice.  But even more importantly, I find that humility has a practice.  It is a gift from God that takes practice to use.  Without practice, I am left wishing for compassion or holiness or patience without ever seeing them grow and mature in my life.

The heart of developing humility is learning how to desire it.  Mostly, I am at the point where I can see the good of humility and accept the means to allow it to grow.  Desire comes from a continual vision of Jesus, who is humble and meek and lowly, and whose mission and ministry were complete pictures of humility.  From the Incarnation to the Crucifixion, Jesus demonstrated humility above everything else.  If this man becomes my master and friend, the humility must be my primary goal and, by his example and grace, my desire.

I am used to seeing humility as a "side-dish" or an "option."  It is something I have wished for vaguely, but not planned for realistically.  If Jesus wants me to be like him, then humility will be at the heart of that transformation.

Lord, I am grateful for these guiding lights toward humility.  More than anything, I want to follow Jesus and be like him.  I see that the way of to his compassion is through his humility.  Have mercy on me.  Teach me how to shed my pride, how to destroy it without mercy, so that humility might have some room to grow in me.  Amen.


I see that much of my humility has been wondering if I seem humble to other people.  I have sought a something that looks like humility, but is, in fact, pride in many ways.  I have become aware of how often I want to talk about how good I am and how greatly I am offended when someone does not think I am great.  I have become aware of how much "dreams of greatness" mingle among my thoughts and how frustrated I can get when such "dreams" do not come about.  I am seeing that humility is not so much self-deprecation, but a calm indifference from a heart focused on something else of greater importance.  May such awareness lead to better practice.

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.