I know far less after 18-plus years of teaching than I thought I did right out of grad school.

The same is true in my walk with Christ. I felt a whole lot smarter and wiser as a newborn Christian than I am today. Though I know that I must learn to be content with my provision, my gifts, and my circumstance, I can’t get complacent and be satisfied with where I am.

I hope I never get to the point where I think…

• I understand God or His Word
• I have accomplished God’s purpose for my life
• I have achieved all I can achieve for God
• I know Christ as well as He can be known
• the torch has passed to a younger generation
• there’s no one left for me to reach
• God has nothing left to teach me
• I’ve dug as deeply as there is to dig
• I have nothing left to confess
• I no longer need to bear fruit…or my cross
• I’m already where God wants me to remain

If I’m on the path, there’s still path left to travel. If I’m no longer moving, I’m no longer on the path.

I wonder what church would be like

if instead of thinking of it as an event on a checklist

we thought of it as family

and Sunday morning was just a reunion of cherished cousins.

I wonder what church would be like

if instead of acting like

church is the place that

once a week

we can shove life aside

sort of

and reconnect with God

kind of

we believed that it is a place

that once or twice or three times a week

we can connect with souls

and share with them the same God

who lives and breathes inside us

twenty-four/seven.

I wonder what church would be like

if instead of noticing everything that’s wrong

and demanding that the church leaders fix it

soon

or I’ll have to find another church

we fixed our eyes on Jesus,

the Author and Finisher of our faith,

Great Physician,

Bread of Life,

source of Living Water,

Prince of Peace,

the Beginning and the End,

the embodiment of Love,

the Great I Am.

I wonder what church would be like

if instead of walking in and saying

“I made it, Pastor, now fill me up…”

we said

“Here I am, Lord, I pour myself out!”

I wonder what church would be like

if instead of wondering

I just did it.

I can see the way out of the desert. I know which way to go. And some days I head in that direction.

The problem is there are other days I go back the other way. Or walk in circles. Or meander aimlessly.

What I wanted was for the desert to miraculously evaporate when I found the way out, or for the oasis to spring up in front of my face.

Here’s the thing about deserts. To get out, you have to travel at least as far as you did on your way in.

The only way to make progress, the only way to keep the journey out from taking even longer, is to stick with it, day after day.

Do what you know you must do to survive and thrive and get closer to the end.

Even while things are still dry.

Even when you can’t see the destination past the dune.

Even as it seems like it can never end.

Even if it feels pointless to keep going.

Keep going.

Just remember that God is walking alongside, even as He’s preparing the pool and the shade that will greet me once I find my way out.

I heard you, God.

I’m not getting it all right yet; I’m still learning. You keep finding ways of getting my attention, and of steering me in the right direction, whether or not it’s where I want to go. Well…where I think I want to go anyway.

I heard you this morning when you asked me when I was going to start getting serious about you, God. My first reaction was, “What do you mean? I am serious about you!”

Then you reminded me that for a long time I said I was serious about my marriage. And I was. But it wasn’t where you wanted it to be. I wasn’t growing and I wasn’t keeping the right priorities. You tried to get my attention more than once, but I brushed you aside, gave you lip service, or ignored you. It took a crisis for me to realize where I was heading and to really get serious about my marriage and my priorities.

It’s still a work in progress, but you knew that. I’m still getting things wrong sometimes, but I’m learning, and I’m working diligently to grow and strengthen my marriage every day.

“See?” I said to you. “I’m serious about my marriage. I listened to you. What makes you think I’m not serious about you?”

Then you reminded me that for a long time I said I was serious about my job and my career. But in reality I was stalled. You gave me talents, and instead of investing them, I buried them. I coasted instead of developing and honing and building those talents to fulfill the potential you put in me to become the best teacher I was capable of being. It took some serious challenges before I looked up and noticed how you were trying to get me to pay attention.

I still have a long way to go, but you know that better than I do. I still make mistakes, but I’m working on them and I take seriously the responsibilities you have put in my hands.

“So, God, what’s your point?” My self-righteousness began rising as I talked to you. “You got my attention. I listened. Twice! I turned things around and I’m moving forward now. I do take you seriously.”

Then you reminded me that my relationship with you is not about fixing my mistakes or becoming a better person or even being a great teacher, father, or husband. It’s first about knowing you. The other stuff comes afterwards.

So much of my thinking still needs adjustment. How many times have I treated you like you’re an afterlife insurance salesman? Pay the regular premiums, pray the prayers, confess the sins. But who thinks about their insurance in between the annual payments? How often have I acted like serving the church or serving my family is the same as serving you? I see now that I’ve just been wading ankle deep at the shoreline instead of diving into the ocean.

So finally you asked me a simple, pointed question: “Do you really want to wait for the catastrophe to strike before you finally start to take me seriously?”

Well, I’m still learning, so I can only promise you that while I’m going to take you seriously now–really take you seriously–I’m also going to mess this up at some point. Probably more than once.

But God, I hear you.

Philosopher in Meditation. (Image via Wikipedia)

In case you aren’t up on Internet slang, the acronym in the title of this post means “In My Humble Opinion.” It is often used in conversations to mark points that are (a) already obviously opinions and (b) just as obviously not humble. Users of this phrase generally recognize that they are pontificating and making a pronouncement beyond the scope of their expertise and experience.

Such is the case with this article. I’ve made some observations and come to some conclusions about what is important in life, at least in mine, and felt they were worthy of sharing here. This is my (current, changing) explanation of What Really Matters. Of course, the purpose of this blog is more for me to have a place to hash out ideas and wrestle with aspects of my spiritual journey than to enlighten anyone else about anything. I just find that the hashing and wrestling are more effective when done in conversation with other people than within my own head.

So you get to hear me pontificate and make pronouncements beyond the scope of my expertise and experience. But feel free to tell me how wrong I am and where I missed the boat. Besides, nothing I’m thinking here is really new. Others before me have expressed it better than I. It just happens to be my turn this week to recognize them.

Here are the things I’m realizing matter most in life. For now, just a list (in no particular order). A more detailed reflection on each one will have to wait for another day.

• Trust God
• Love (both the noun and the verb)
• Learn
• Have integrity
• Take pleasure in small things every day
• Lift someone else up every day
• Care
• Simplify
• Build relationships not walls
• Don’t run from pain or obstacles
• Embrace change
• Use your gifts and chase your passions–they come from God

Nothing earth-shattering here. But these are things I didn’t know twenty years ago, and don’t really fully understand now. Not only that, but I also fully recognize that the list isn’t finished. I’m not so arrogant as to believe that I have it all figured out. But for now, for today, these are the things that I believe God is showing me about how to live my life, and the things that will make my life satisfying and relevant.

In my humble opinion.

Halloween 1983. I stood in front of the mirror, checking out my costume. It looked pretty good, if I did say so myself. I’d spent several days building myself a stylized suit of armor from black poster board and red duct tape. I had a shield and sword, helm and breastplate, gauntlets, greaves, and sabatons. I wore red long-johns to simulate the chain mail beneath the plates. I had researched real armor in order to get the details just right, and I thought I’d nailed it pretty well. I was pretty impressed with myself.

When I got to the party, many of my high school friends were already there, and a few of them commented on how cool the costume was. I was feeling pretty good about myself and my accomplishment.

Until about ten minutes later. A friend of mine walked in with her new boyfriend, a guy from another high school whom we hadn’t yet met. He was also wearing a suit of armor. A real one. That he’d built himself.

Talk about total humiliation. For the rest of the evening I endured the awkward conversation as people studiously avoided any mention of the costumes, or they weakly attempted to find things to say that would build me back up. While I appreciated the thought, their words mostly just reinforced the fact that I was indeed the lamest loser at the party.

Throughout my life and career I have had similar experiences. Just when I thought I was becoming accomplished at something, when I was feeling good about where things were going, or how well I was doing, something would happen to remind me that I had many, many, many miles to go. What I thought was the end of the journey really turned out just to be the end of the on-ramp. What I thought was real substance turns out to be only the shadow of a cloud.

So it is in my relationship with God. I must not ever begin to believe that I have gotten anywhere near the holiness that God desires and requires of me. If I think I’m close to good enough, he’ll have a way of holding my miniscule accomplishments up to the searing light of his goodness, and I’m put in my place.

The difference, though–and it’s a glorious, awesome difference–is that God doesn’t humiliate, he humbles. And then he reminds me that while my goodness and holiness don’t begin to approach the standard that he has set, he still loves me, and he has given me grace to cover that gap.

On earth I may only be the shadow of a cloud, and I may never amount to much by the world’s standards. But in God’s eyes, I am his child, and anything I do for him is a true accomplishment. If I am seeking his will and following his plan, then I can do truly great things, because it isn’t about me, it is about Christ working through me.

As my relationship with God continues to develop, my perspective about certain things keeps shifting. Lately, I’ve been thinking about the power that God has given us by allowing us free will. By doing so, he has handed us the ability to choose right or wrong, and the power of great control.

It’s simple, sometimes, to think that we are at the mercy of events and circumstances, that God is capricious or aloof, allowing things to happen that aren’t in our best interests. When bad things happen, we pray for God’s miraculous intervention. When good things happen we praise God for his blessings.

Most of the things that happen to us on a daily basis, though, aren’t inherently good or bad. Of course there is evil in the world, but I don’t believe that many of us run into it as often as we think we do. The things that we judge to be “good” or “bad” we really evaulate based on how they make us feel. The problem with this is that good things can make us feel bad and bad things can make us feel good.

The real goodness and the true miraculous intervention of God often come from the gift he already delivered: free will. We have awesome power in our hands to be creative or destructive in any situation.

Consider the parable of the Good Samaritan:

“There was once a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way he was attacked by robbers. They took his clothes, beat him up, and went off leaving him half-dead. Luckily, a priest was on his way down the same road, but when he saw him he angled across to the other side. Then a Levite religious man showed up; he also avoided the injured man.

“A Samaritan traveling the road came on him. When he saw the man’s condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he lifted him onto his donkey, led him to an inn, and made him comfortable. In the morning he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take good care of him. If it costs any more, put it on my bill—I’ll pay you on my way back.’ (Luke 10:30-35, MSG)

We know the story well, and we usually think of it as a simple story of something bad happening to the victim–through no fault of his own–and the Samaritan showing mercy and helping him, being the neighbor that Jesus tells us we should be to everyone. But consider another free will choice that took place here: that of the robber. His desttructive choice left another man beaten and bleeding on the side of the road. He did not have to do that, and I’m certain it wasn’t part of God’s plan for his life. But the Samaritan came into the situation and chose to create instead of destroy.

We each have the ability to choose to create or to destroy. If my son wins a baseball game, I can celebrate it with him and create joy, or I can hold it over him as an expectation for every game to come, destroying his love of the game. If a tragedy falls on my family, I can choose to rebuild, or I can choose to be bitter and tear down what little remains.

God desires for us to become like him. God is the Creator, and wants us to create. He gave us the power to create, but even more stunning is that he gave us the power to choose whether we will or not. In every situation, then, I need to think about what it will take to use my creative power to make something where there once was nothing. Then choose.

I’ve been wrestling lately with what is very likely a common (if not universal) and basic issue: I want to make a difference in the world. Most people would consider this a healthy, even honorable, ambition. On the surface it’s selfless and giving and good.

What I wrestle with, though, is that I want to make a difference in the world. The reality is that it’s not as selfless as it seems. I want to see the results: to know that I am making an impact, that I can make the world—or at least part of it—a better place. I want to be recognized for my efforts and the good that I’m doing. I want to know that other people see how much I care. I’ve said as long as I’ve been a teacher that if I can make a difference in only one person’s life, it was worth it, but if I’m honest with myself, I wish I could make a much bigger difference than that.

But what if I don’t make any difference at all? Then what? Lately I feel as though I’m a miniscule cloud in a vast sky. Even if I could make some rain, and even if it didn’t evaporate on the way down, what good would those few drops make?

I am learning that my significance doesn’t come from how big a splash I make or how many people see that splash. It comes from the fact that I am a child of God, loved by the Creator of the Universe who has chosen to live inside me and allow me to be a part of his body. That fact alone humbles me; it should be enough.

And it is. Yet it’s not.

When I look at it from the other side, I see several things. God has given me gifts and talents, as he has everyone. And those gifts have several purposes: to edify and help others, and to glorify God. God does want us to use the gifts we have for the benefit of other people—he wants us to make a difference. Over and over again in Scripture we are commanded to take care of one another in so many ways. In the parable of the talents, it is clear that we are not to hide what has been given to us, but rather to use it, to nurture it, to grow it.

God has also given me a calling: I am a teacher. And one way that manifests is that I want to see other people learn and grow. It is natural, isn’t it, that a teacher wants to see the results of his teaching? It would seem to me that God wouldn’t give me this gift and calling, expect me to use it, and never know if it was accomplishing anything. (But then who am I to second-guess God’s purposes?)

I suppose I find at least part of the answer in 1 Corinthians 12. Paul is, of course, talking about the gifts and about how each one of us gets a portion. He also talks about how different portions are given to each of us, and that all the gifts are only a part of the whole:

I want you to think about how all this makes you more significant, not less. A body isn’t just a single part blown up into something huge. It’s all the different-but-similar parts arranged and functioning together. (1 Cor 12:14, MSG)

But there is a danger, too:

But I also want you to think about how this keeps your significance from getting blown up into self-importance. For no matter how significant you are, it is only because of what you are a part of. An enormous eye or a gigantic hand wouldn’t be a body, but a monster. (1 Cor 12:19, MSG)

So my struggle is really rooted in the world’s belief that significance and self-importance are one and the same. I’ve bought into that belief. The only cure is stepping back and reminding myself that I am making a difference—as long as I’m following God, faithfully working out his plan for my life, and doing everything I can to bring glory and honor to his name, not mine.

My significance comes from my relationship with him, not from my effect on the world. Is it possible that he will use me in enormous ways to touch large numbers of people? Of course it is. But that can’t be my goal. My only goal can be to do everything I can with what God has given me, to give him the credit for my successes, and take responsibility for my failures.

The results I must leave in his hands. I may be a tiny cloud, and my rain may not reach the ground. But God can change the winds, bring together enough clouds, and put us in exactly the spot where the rain will do the most good. We may not become a notable storm, or even warrant a mention on the local weather, but if it accomplishes something in God’s plan, then it is significant. And so am I.

This morning’s message at church was tied in to the ongoing Truth Project that we’re studing in our small groups. Today’s topic was Theology (Who Is God?). Pastor Del was speaking about our possible responses to God. Many people recognize that there are two extremes: you can be an atheist, denying the existence of God, or a believer.

But there is a middle ground that I hadn’t really considered before today, and that is what Pastor Del calls “practical atheism.” Essentially this is believing that God exists (at least potentially), but living your life as though He didn’t.

Ouch. How many “Christians” are in fact pratical atheists? How much of my life is lived this way? I suspect this is part of the problem I’ve been having with getting the habit of prayer and scripture into my life. If I truly believed in the existence of God and His desire for a relationship with me, wouldn’t I want to spend every possible moment with Him? Wouldn’t I want to hear from the creator of the universe about His plan for me? Wouldn’t I want to read about his system for organizing my life and growing my spirit?

The only conclusion I can draw is that on some level I’ve been a practical atheist all my life. Sixteen years ago I made a decision to follow Christ, but I don’t think my behavior or my attitude have quite caught up with that decision. How far could I have come in these sixteen years if I’d been more receptive and more willing to surrender and grow?

Even when I was behaving as though I didn’t believe in God, the miracle is that He believed—and believes—in me. He has been faithful when I had little faith. He has been true when my life was filled with lies. He will take me where I am, and I can start allowing Him to change me today.

Like I said yesterday, new habits can’t be layered on top of old ones. I have to first do away with the old, let go of the things that aren’t pleasing to God, trust Him, and truly, passionately believe in Him. Everything else has to grow out of that.

Photo Credits: Atheism via Wikipedia, 3/29/07

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been working on getting my work life under control. Teaching in three buildings means that, for one thing, something I need is frequently not where I am. It’s also a significant challenge keeping track of all the various things I need to take care of, since in many cases I can only work on certain things when I’m in a particular school.

I began reading a book that has been on my list for a while: Getting Things Done, by David Allen. Within a week, I have already begun to change my habits and routines at work, gathering all of my “stuff” into one place, figuring out the most efficient way of storing and maintaining it, and how to keep track of my projects and to-dos in a way that will work despite being in a different place every day.

It struck me as I reflected on the last week how easily my mindset and routine started to shift into new patterns. This is hardly an established habit yet, but I can already see changes in my thinking and the way I see many of the things that come across my desk at school. It’s even starting to seep into my activities at home.

So why is it so hard for me to establish new patterns in my spiritual life? Why when I start a new habit of daily prayer and Bible reading does it only last a few days before drifting back to nearly non-existent? I think it’s because, like all of the prior “organization systems” I’ve tried to use, these habits were simply laid down on top of the rest of my life. Nothing fundamentally changed inside me—I simply tried to add a new system or routine to the existing ones.

Our small group has been going through The Truth Project. Its tagline is “Do you really believe that what you believe is really real?” One of the things I think I believe is that I want to get to know God and grow more like Christ every day. But do I really believe that this is really something that can happen, or do I just say it because it’s what good Christians say? I think perhaps my failure to make this habit work is because I’ve been trying to fit it into my life instead of rethinking my life and building it around a relationship with God.

Photo Credits: Reading scriptures by Amanda Bills Photography, 5/17/07