Theology for Women

Forbes Magazine recently published an articled entitled “College Daze” in which the author examined the slipping standards of American universities. According to the author, colleges are no longer a place to prepare young people for adulthood, but to instead prolong their childhood.

Rather than discipline students and train them for the real world, spineless professors are pampering their students through widespread grade inflation, no longer holding their students accountable for tardy and below average work. As the author sees it, college is a place to get maximum benefit with the least amount of effort. A Duke University administrator even noted that the school has run out of classroom space between the hours of 11 and 2:15 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, reflecting an effort on the part of the students to extend the weekend for as long as possible.

The author concludes that maturity and a strong work ethic are no longer valued principles in our generation. We are spoiled and we are lazy.

Now before I go into the ways I agree with the author, let me first say that I don’t think the situation is quite so dire. There is a tendency to reminisce about “the good ‘ol days,” romanticizing them in a way that exaggerates reality. Not everyone in college worked hard 30 years ago. I’m pretty sure there was a beer or two to be had. Plus, I have quite a few friends who have worked their tails off in college–probably working harder than was even healthy. Not all students used to be perfect, and not all students today are completely hopeless.

That said, the author is in many ways correct. Statistics dealing with grade inflation and class scheduling are tough to argue with. The author also noted how much complaining goes on when a prof isn’t a complete and total pushovers. It used to be considered a virtue when your professor prepared you for the real world by holding you accountable for late or unsatisfactory work. Now we whine and feel sorry for ourselves, maybe even call our profs a few choice names.

And I’ve done this. I can’t disagree with the author one bit on that point.

The reason I bring this up today is not to go on a rant about the laziness of our generation…though it is something we should think long and hard about. But the reason I raise this issue is that it challenges us all to pause and ask ourselves:

Why am I in school?

And don’t stop there. Why do I have this job? Wherever you are, why has God placed you there?

It’s so easy to think of our particular season in life as a means to an end. I go to school to get a good job. I get a good job so that I can make money and have the life I want. But we don’t always see our places in life as ends unto themselves. We don’t consider them to be a particular calling.

Yet this is an area in which Christians have an opportunity to stand out. Given the way our culture views our generation, we can break the mold by embracing college and our careers in an exceptional way. We can work diligently and carefully. We can refuse to join in with our peers in whining when our professor or boss is harsh or unforgiving. We can choose to have a positive attitude in the face of tough classes or difficult work environments, knowing that such experiences build character, perseverance, and discipline.

We can work as if we are working for God, and not man. (Col. 3:23)

We inhabit a generation that society has labeled lazy, immature, and irresponsible, but we cannot afford to let God’s name be tarnished with such a reputation. This is about more than ourselves, but about the name of Jesus Christ in this world. That is why college cannot be seen as just an opportunity to prolong our childhood and sew our wild oats, but must instead be seen as a high calling.

That is why any work is a high calling. Once we bear the name of Christ, everything we do is done in his name, whether it actually reflects his character or not. I challenge you to answer that high call this semester. It’s not just a hard chemistry class or a terrible psych prof–those are opportunities to glorify your Creator.

Seize them.

I am a terrible listener. Seriously. Whenever someone comes to me with a problem, my first reactions is to fix it with as many different nuggets of “wisdom” as I can possibly throw at them. It’s like an artillery barrage of Christian advice.

I think there’s a part of me that secretly thinks I’ll look super holy if I can offer just the right input. It can even turn into a competition–I’m trying to out-advise all other Christians, including the person I’m advising. Then they’ll think I’m pretty awesome, and hopefully tell others.

But sometimes, people just need you to listen. They don’t want you to argue, disagree, or even be helpful. They just need an ear.

Well with that in mind, I want to offer you a blog post from one of my all-time favorite blogs. It’s called Stuff Christians Like, and the title of the post is “The Judgment Olympics.” It’s hilarious, but also really true, so I hope you are as challenged by it as I am. Christian advice can often get really messed up….

I don’t get a lot of hate mail. In more than 300 posts, I have received only a handful of comments from people that sincerely don’t like me. But every now and then I get someone that wants to judge the blog.

I am cool with that. I think we need to discern and discuss and analyze. That’s good and I am going to make mistakes that need to be fixed. The challenge is that sometimes it’s so easy for discernment to mutate into judgement. And also, it’s really hard to know when someone has done a quality job of judging you.

That’s why I decided to hold the first annual Stuff Christians Like Judgment Olympics. Not only is it topical in this Olympic year but I think it will give you something great to say back to someone that says something judgmental to you. Imagine yelling “Gold Medal!” when someone in your small group says something unkind to you. Dare to dream Jon, dare to dream.

Here are the events:

1. The “I used to”
You’ve just confessed something that is going on in your life and the person across from you pauses and then says, “I used to do that a lot too before I really connected with God.” Ohhh, I used to is a powerful, powerful phrase. What this does is set up that the person you’re talking with has moved beyond what you are struggling with. When they were a sweaty Philistine they used to do what you are doing, but now that life is angelic that just don’t do that anymore.
Gold Medal

2. The “I’m with God.”
The best thing to do when you really want to judge someone is draw up sides. Make sure you take the side of God first which automatically puts the other person on the side of satan. Sound extreme and like something that doesn’t happen? It does. Here’s what it looks like: “I understand what you are saying, I guess I’m just going to go with God on this one.” Or, “I’m not telling you my opinion, I’m just telling you what the Bible and God say.” The implication is that you’re not disagreeing with the other person, you’re disagreeing with the Alpha and Omega. Which does not feel awesome.
Silver Medal

3. The “half and half”
This is probably my favorite one. In this form, you give a fake compliment, followed up by what you really feel. For example, if you don’t like a certain minister you might say, “He’s got a great ministry, unless you feel that learning about the Bible is important.” or “That’s a great song, if you don’t mind devil music.” This the equivalent of waving your hand around to make someone look at it while your foot kicks them in the groin.
Silver Medal

4. The “Judgement Squared”
This one is kind of funny. Sometimes people will judge me for being too judgmental. That’s like swimming in the ocean next to me and telling me that I’m wet. Hey, wait a second, you’re wet too, I want to say. If you ever angrily, aggressively say the sentence, “who gives you the right to judge?” then you’ve just won yourself a medal.
Bronze Medal

5. The “for me.”
This is similar to number 2, but does not have to involve throwing the God card directly. Let’s say I write a post about some kind of worship music that I think is overplayed in church. Someone reads that, and then says, “I guess for me, worship is about communing with God and not my own narcissistic sense of enjoyment.” That sounds a little extreme, but I once got in an argument with someone that read my completely silly post about holding hands and then accused me of probably not liking to touch the homeless. We ended up working it out, but the initial implication was, “You don’t like interlinking fingers with people at church? For me, touch is about loving others like Jesus. Why do you hate the homeless?”
Gold Medal

To read the whole of this post, click here.

Now here’s your homework: The next time someone comes to you for advice, I challenge you to spend as little time talking as possible. Even if there’s an awkward silence and you feel like you HAVE to fill the space, don’t. I guarantee the person you’re conversing with will keep talking–they just need that silence to process their own thoughts. I can’t tell you how many people have told me what great advice I gave them, when they actually came to the conclusion on their own…I just happened to be sitting next to them.

So try it. Not only will you be a much better listener, but you significantly decrease your chances of winning a medal in the Judgment Olympics.

Well I am back from spending 2 weeks on the other side of the world, and it was awesome! I tried foods I swore I’d never try (if you ever come across a fruit called durian, run far, far away as fast as you can) and I saw things I never dreamed of seeing. It was a fantastic mission trip in which God taught me a lot, and I am so glad that I went!

You know, mission trips are a funny thing. We go on them for a variety of reasons, but those reasons generally have something to do with obedience. We’re responding to Jesus’ Great Commission, or we’re challenging ourselves to leave our comfort zones for the sake of Christ, etc. But whatever the reason, we can always come home and pat ourselves on the back for acting in obedience to God. The trip may have been hard at times, but gosh we sure are good Christians for raising all that money and going overseas to speard the Gospel! God is surely so proud of us!

But as I look back on this trip, I feel quite the opposite. Yes, I went overseas and made some sacrifices to do so. Yes, I acted in obedience for the sake of Christ. Those are all good things. But this whole experience has showed me something about God and about myself that I cannot allow to be overshadowed by my valiant gesture to go a mission trip. What matters even more than sweeping acts of obedience and giant stabs at faithfulness is what we do in between.

Yes, I went on a mission trip. Hooray for me! But how did I treat my fellow teammates every day of that trip? How did I respond to others when they were getting on my nerves or I was exhausted from traveling? When I wasn’t in “ministry mode” with non-Christians, how did I carry myself when I let my guard down?

Not so good.

You see, I can be a totally awesome Christian for about an hour or two. When I’m meeting with non-Christians and sharing the Gospel, I can be so sweet and kind and sincere and loving. It’s really impressive, and I look like a really great disciple of Christ!

But those short acts of obedience pale in comparison to the larger picture of my faith. While God does ask us to make incredible leaps of faith, our lives are not defined by leaps, but by the accumulation of thousands of tiny steps. I may do something tremendously obedient every now and then, but those occasional gestures will not determine the overall trajectory of my life.

Picture it kind of like this: Say that you’re walking on a hiking trail attempting to find your way back home. You think you’re going in the right direction, but then you take a wrong turn. It may not be a major wrong turn–just a small enough turn to take you off the trail. Then you take another small, wrong turn, and then another, and then another.

Hours later, you realize the mistake you’ve made–you are WAY off the trail. So what do you do to solve the problem? You establish the right direction, and then head that way.

But say, for instance, that you decide to fix your problem by taking one running leap as far as you can in the right direction. Do you think that that one giant leap will fix your problem? Just because you made a giant corrective turn towards your destination, will you no longer be lost? No! Because you’ve just spent hours and hours going the wrong way, so it will take hours and hours of tiny steps back in the right direction before you have found your way home.

It is the same with faith. Obedience is not defined by the giant leaps of faith, but the accumulation of a million tiny ones. While I know God is pleased by my decision to go overseas, as well as my obedience in heeding the call to ministry, those actions are small in comparison to the day-to-day living of my life.

Do I pray every day? Do I spend time in the Word every day? Am I kind to my family, my roommates, or the people I don’t like? Am I intentional about sharing the Gospel here? Am I intentional about meeting new people and fostering Christ-centered friendships here? Do I gossip? Do I watch trashy t.v.? Do I exclude people because I’m too lazy to work toward a true vision of the Church? Or do I guard my tongue, watch what materials my mind consumes, and work to build up the Body of Christ in every way I can?

If you can’t answer all of those questions in a way that you know will please God, then you cannot deceive yourself into thinking that one mission trip, or even a career as a minister, will overcompensate. It is the small steps, not the large ones, that define us. That is the difference between selective obedience, and total surrender. So no matter how you spent your summer this year, and no matter how you intend to serve God this coming year, don’t forget to look at the small stuff. In God’s economy, that is what He’ll be looking at, so it’s time we measure obedience on His terms.

Several years ago I got into one of those messy, girl versus girl situations in which I was intentionally excluded from my friend group. I won’t go into the details, but let’s just say it was ugly. I lost sleep, I lost weight, and I was depressed as a result. My self-esteem suffered horribly, and it took me a long time before I got over it. Even now, I sometimes think about those girls and feel angry, years later.

When I was going through all of that, I found a lot of solice in my relationship with Christ. I looked at his life and I saw that he was rejected too. Jesus had also been rejected by his friends, and at a time when he needed them most. Jesus knew how I was feeling, and that knowledge comforted me. In being rejected, I was actually in good company. In fact, my rejection made me even more like Christ, I thought.

That is one of the beautiful things about the Gospel. It provides us with light and hope when our circumstances are darkest. When we feel most alone, we remember that the savior of the world, God’s perfect son, was also scorned by those he cared for most. And when we remember this, we feel less lonely.

What a comfort in a world that frequently betrays us! Even our Christian friends will let us down and hurt us. Sometimes intentionally. And in those moments, the Gospel speaks a prophetic message of redemption and strength.

However, there are times when we twist this Gospel message to say something that it does not. Christians adopt a kind of martyr complex in which they will take any form of rejection as spiritual validation. If people hate me, then I must be doing something right because people hated Jesus. If my church disagrees with me, then my theology is probably correct since the religious rulers of Jesus’ day disagreed with him too. We see ourselves as a kind of valiant martyr that is resisting the powers that be in the name of Christ.

The problem with this thinking is that it easily allows us to deceive ourselves. Instead of examining the nature of our rejection, we immediately exalt ourselves as being all the more Christlike. Nevermind that your friends may be distancing themselves from you because you have an anger problem, and nevermind that your church asked you to leave because you were committing adultery–you were rejected, and you are therefore in the company of Christ!

This can happen when we confuse rejection with church discipline. If someone is preaching heresy, or engaging in unrepentant sin, then it is the church’s prerogative to exercise church discipline on behalf of the larger body. If the individual refuses to change, then Scripture is clear on this point–we are to remove the yeast from the dough before it ruins the entire batch. And assuming the discipline is handled in a loving, Scriptural way, this kind of “rejection” does not put the individual in the company of Christ. In fact, it’s somewhat the opposite.

That said, beware of Christians who are always talking about how they don’t fit in with other Christians and have been rejected by the church. While it is entirely possible that they’ve been treated unfairly, it’s also possible that they are consumed by a poisonous individualism that leads them to rebel against godly authority. Question why they have been rejected, and see if it holds up with Scripture. Rejection is never a virtue in and of itself.

And in your own life, don’t be so quick to make yourself a martyr. If someone treats you poorly or rejects you in some way, first consider if you have done anything to provoke it. Perhaps you were a bad friend, perhaps you were caught in a lie, or you have a reputation for gossiping. Or perhaps you are living or teaching in a way that undermines Scripture and sound doctrine. No matter the situation, remember that the Church is the Spirit-infused Body of Christ, placed on earth to discern and edify Jesus’ followers. Given that fact, I would not be so quick to consider my rejection from it as a badge of honor. At times, yes (Martin Luther can attest to that!) but frequently it is our pride that will not allow us to be wrong.

Some rejection is unscriptural, and we must name it as such, but those abuses should not disqualify all forms of “rejection” as being antithetical to Christ. Remember, Jesus himself told us that some will hear the un-inclusive words “Depart from me, I do not know you.” Will we have the humility to discern when rejection is wrong, and when we have earned it? What’s more, will we choose to bear the burden of reconciliation on our own shoulders, rather than pointing a finger of blame at someone else? That action on our own part, not rejection from others, is what puts us in the company of Christ.

Let me begin by saying that I recognize the irony and potential for hypocrisy in what I am about to write. Nevertheless, I think this needs to be said, so hopefully I won’t disprove my own point. Here goes…

Yesterday I was listening to one of Mark Driscoll’s sermons, and in the course of preaching he made a hyperbolic statement for the sake of demonstrating a point. He immediately followed up the statement by adding, “That was a joke! I didn’t really mean that, so all you bloggers can go ahead and shut your laptops now.”

What struck me about his disclaimer is that it’s not the first one I’ve heard lately. Frequently my own pastor will try to stave off the mean e-mails and angry blogs that might ensue a controversial point by anticipating their possible misinterpretations. I’ve heard other pastors and podcasters do the same.

Clearly, they’ve all learned to beware the wrath of the blogosphere.

It is here that I must question whether such a trend is godly. When our pastors are constantly worried that their words might be lifted from their context, twisted, and publicly berated by other Christians (not even non-Christians!) then I think we’ve come to a place that is fundamentally opposed to the spirit of the Gospel.

This point hit me as I read over Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 4. Paul was facing a similar climate of criticism from the Corinthian church. Even though they had Paul to thank for their very existence, they didn’t hesitate to bite the hand that fed them. As a result, Paul had to defend his credibility before his own church, in much the same way that pastors are forced to defend themselves today.

But what exactly is going on here? Why are Christians back-biting one another, and why have blogs facilitated this all the more?

The reason for this trend is twofold, the first being our own prideful hearts. Paul makes this point when he establishes a distinction between types of judgment. Some judgment is warranted, but some stems only from our own selfish motives. In chapter 5, for example, a man was sleeping with his father’s wife, so Paul called the Christians to exercise judgment. In this case, such judgment was permissible due to the man’s blatant disobedience of Scripture.

Paul, on the other hand, was fulfilling his God-given call to preach the Gospel. Even so, he received criticism and judgment from his brothers and sisters, and it is within this context that Paul forbids judgment. Why? Because they were trying to judge his heart. Judging a person’s actions are one thing, but it is difficult to know another person’s heart, so we must be VERY wary of making such a move.

So often we will criticize Christians, preachers, or churches who are out doing the Lord’s work, but not the exact way we think they should be doing it. As a result, we get up on our high horse and make assumptions about the state of their heart, nit-picking every single mistake and highlighting those mistakes for all to see. We forget Paul’s words, “Whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice.” (Phil. 4:18) We refuse to rejoice in the preaching of the Gospel, and instead undermine those who do.

Only very rarely is such criticism actually warranted, so speaking from my own sin and my own temptation to engage in this type of unholy judgment, I feel confident in asserting that it comes from prideful arrogance. We are doing little more than reverting back to the childish strategy of tearing others down so as to build ourselves up.

But the second reason blogs have become such a popular tool for harsh criticism is the anonymity of the form. We post a blog and then send it hurdling into cyberspace, never really witnessing its effects. We don’t really know who is reading it or how seriously they are believing our words. Because of this, we underestimate the power of our writing. In reality, we are engaging in the public slander of a fellow laborer in Christ.

And in case you don’t blog, don’t think you’re off the hook. Gossiping about someone you don’t know or slandering a pastor you’ll never meet does not justify your comments or somehow make them less sinful. Slander is slander no matter how you spin it. When it comes to matters of the heart we must “judge nothing before the appointed time; wait till the Lord comes.” (1 Cor. 4:5)

So in defense of the many preachers, pastors, writers and teachers who are out there leading, praying, and suffering for the sake of the Gospel, guard your tongue. Not only do they deserve more respect than we bloggers often give them, but God’s precious Bride, the Church, demands it.

I prefer to think of myself as a sharp, intuitive young woman who has her wits about her and isn’t easily taken in by scams, jokes or pranks.

I prefer to think that. But I do so in conflict with reality.

In actuality, I am embarrassingly gullible. Let me give you just one example of my most recent display of gullibility.

It was a couple weeks after my birthday when I received the following e-mail. The subject heading read, “Cease and Desist…sayeth the Lord,” and it read as follows:

Dear Sharon,

I don’t know who you think you are, but this is a little creepy. I just registered a website domain www.sheworships.com, and my name is Sharon too. If you want, I’ll sell it to you for $1500. It’s a pretty good deal if you ask me.

Good luck with your blog and feel free to contact my lawyer concerning any legal issues of your continuing use of my trademarked ministry, She Worships™. His number is 917-270-****. Expect a courier to serve you papers on this issue in the next day or so.

Blessings,
Sharon

Well I didn’t know what this was all about, so I started panicking. My parents were in Canada so I called my brother, Stephen, for advice. He told me I should call the number and just see what the lawyer said. Maybe he would clear everything up?

But that sounded horribly intimidating, so I e-mailed my pastor instead. He serves as my stand-in dad from time to time, so I asked his opinion. But before I even heard back from him I mustered up the courage to call the lawyer and hope for the best. I was literally quaking in my boots as the phone rang.

After a couple of rings a voice picked up on the other line and said, “Hello, Attorney’s Office.” That’s when something first sounded amiss–”Attorney’s Office?” What reputable firm would answer the phone without giving its actual name? So I proceeded to explain my situation, listening a little more critically to the voice on the other line.

Eventually I became more and more certain that I’d heard this voice before. As soon as I was absolutely sure, I said, “Stephen????” At that moment the voice on the other line erupted with laughter. It was my brother. Then I looked at my phone and saw that I was connected to “Stephen’s cell.” I had called his number without even noticing.

Stephen then explained that he had purchased the domain name for my birthday, and thought the e-mail would be a fun way to tell me. He had no idea it would take me that long to figure it out. And while I can look back on the whole thing and laugh, at the time I was very shaken. Even though I was grateful, I was fairly upset with him until I calmed down from the anxiety of it all.

In light of this information, go back and read the e-mail again. That’s how gullible I am.

Now what does any of this have to do with the Christian life? Well I wonder if you know that Scripture openly frowns on my kind of naiveté. It’s not that being gullible is sinful, but the Bible does warn against it. It tells us:

A simple man believes anything, but a prudent man gives thought to his steps. (Prov. 14:15)

There it is–Scripture calling me out on my personality trait. I always thought of my gullibility as a less than desirable attribute, but certainly not a spiritually dangerous quality. This verse, however, has compelled me to rethink that stance.

When I look back on my life, I have made some really bad decisions because I was so foolishly naive. The first thing that comes to mind is my naiveté in relationships–a guy would tell me that he’d “never felt this way about a girl,” or that he would “never let me go.” And while I don’t doubt his sincerity, I didn’t pause to ask whether he could make those statements with any credibility. How did I know he wasn’t simply infatuated? And how could he know that he wanted to be with me forever if we’d only known one another for a couple months?

But this gullibility can play out in other ways as well. Your friends may tell you that certain behaviors are right or wrong, even using Scripture to justify their statements, but that doesn’t mean you should believe them:

“It’s ok to gossip about this person because we care about them and want to help them.”

“It’s ok to spend your money on excessive luxuries as long as your heart isn’t attached to them.”

“It’s ok to go see this Rater R movie, even if it borders on soft porn, because we need to have a pulse on the culture.”

We accept these statements from our friends, never pushing them to see if they actually hold up. And it’s at times like these that we need to remember Proverbs—only the simple believe everything they hear, but a prudent person gives thought to their steps.

So while you might not be as blatantly gullible as I am, ask yourself how often you believe statements about Scripture and the world without giving any thought to their validity. The definition of gullible is “easily deceived or cheated,” so we do well to remember this as we battle an Enemy who is the Father of Lies.

Have you ever written one of those angry e-mails in the heat of the moment that you later lived to regret? At the time, it’s as if you can’t write fast enough–you have all these brilliantly searing statements guaranteed to put the offender in their place, and you can’t WAIT to nail them.

The funny thing is that even while you’re writing the e-mail, you probably know you’ll regret it later. But you just can’t help yourself! There is only one thing that will satisfy that desire for revenge and vindication, and you’ll do whatever it takes to fulfill that need.

Well it is in those moments, when I trade the riches of my honor and integrity for a petty, short-lived treasure, that I find myself relating profoundly to Esau. For years I read the story of that stupid brute who was so hungry that he sold his birthright for a bowl of soup. And I always thought, “What an idiot! I mean seriously, who would do that?”

But I do the same thing every day! For temporary satisfaction, for instant gratification, I sell the birth right I have in Christ. I sell my freedom and my integrity, all for a lousy bowl of soup.

With that in mind, I thought I’d list a few of the “soups” you might encounter in the buffet line of life, as well as the birthright you forfeit upon tasting them. Hopefully it will help you as much as it’s helped me in identifying my inner Esau:

The Soup: Seeking the praise of Man–Sometimes we need a self-esteem boost, and we’ll do whatever it takes to get it. Maybe we’ll complain about how ugly or stupid we are until someone intervenes with, “Aww that’s not true. You’re beautiful! You’re so smart!” Or maybe we’ll go to greater extremes, changing the way we dress or the way we interact with people, so that we can garner the attention we need.

The Birthright: When we run to others for security, instead of depending on God, then we forfeit our identities in Christ. Christ has set us free from needing Man’s approval, but when we seek attention from others then we place ourselves back in that bondage. We also risk forfeiting our modesty if we choose to dress or act in a way that will draw guys’ attention.

——

The Soup: Building ourselves up at someone else’s expense–We always want to seem like we are in the know and that we have it all together. This often seems easiest to achieve by tearing others down through gossip, or even saying hurtful things directly to their face. Sometimes telling someone off can feel awfully satisfying in the moment.

The Birthright: When doing this, you forfeit your integrity, your reputation, and your relationship with the person you are tearing down. You might feel better in the short-term, but the long-term damage is sometimes irreparable.

——

The Soup: Sexual intimacy outside of marriage–We’ve all been there before. It’s late at night and your boyfriend is really attractive and you’ve been kissing a lot and you want to go further and further. You know you’ll regret it in the morning, but you have to have that pleasure now.

The Birthright: When you partake of this soup, you forfeit your modesty, your purity, and most of all your relationship with your boyfriend. Your are planting seeds of destruction into your relationship because you are trading away the respect, self-control, and God-honoring love that a Christ-centered relationship require.

——

The Soup: Shopping–I know I talk about this a lot, but it’s something that God’s been convicting me about lately so it’s at the forefront of my mind. But oftentimes we buy things simply to make ourselves feel better–if I don’t have these shoes NOW, if I don’t have that iPod NOW, then I won’t be happy until I do. So we buy things to temporarily fill a void.

The Birthright: There are a lot of things you can forfeit here, depending on what your particular shopping vice may be. First and foremost, you are forfeiting your contentment in Christ, and replacing that relationship with something material. You are depending on what you own or how you look to satisfy your needs. But you are also forfeiting the opportunity to bless others. When we use our money extravagantly, then we take money away from the church and from the needy. That is not to say that you should never buy yourself something nice, but if this becomes an addictive habit, then it can drain your financial resources very quickly, and prevent you from using your money in God-honoring ways.

So there you have it–four of the soups we hastily consume, and the birthrights we subsequently forfeit. I’m sure you can think of others. But the most salient reality about all of these soups is that they each constitute a form of idolatry. We choose something immediate over God’s long-term blessings, and in doing so we choose to worship and follow something other than Him.

So the next time you read the story of Jacob and Esau, just remember that we’ve all got a little bit of Esau inside of us. The idea of trading a bowl of soup for an entire birthright may seem pretty ludicrous, but keep that in mind when you’re tempted to trade the birthright bought for you in Christ. To do so is the definition of insanity.

One of the biggest sins that I struggle with is the idolatry of materialism. I draw a great deal of comfort and contentment from the clothes that I wear and the way that I look. I often seek satisfaction in these things instead of finding it in God, and I’ve known this about myself for years.

Does that mean I have changed my ways, or at least resolved to do better in the future? Heck no! I like my cute shoes and I love going to Target like nothing else in this world, so even though the Bible seems to frown upon such a mindset, I’ve figured out a way to make it work. I can have my cake and eat it too.

You see the way I figure, the joy I derive from shopping isn’t really all that bad. Nevermind that it prevents me from tithing as generously as I might otherwise be able to, or giving as much to those in need. It’s not like I pay exorbitant amounts of money on designer clothes. I mostly shop at low end stores and I buy things on sale, so I’m actually getting a great deal. Some might say I’m being a good steward of my money. In fact, it’s not even really a sin, is it? I just to look cute, that’s all.

That is my thought process. Pretty godly, huh? But this is what has to happen whenever your lifestyle runs up against the grain of Scripture–one of of the two has to move. Something has to change, and it will either be our behavior, or it will be our belief. More often that not, it is my belief that is forced to adapt to my behavior.

And while I wish that I could say materialism is the only area in which I struggle, my compromising plays out in a variety of ways. Greed, pride, jealousy, gossip, hate–all of these sins are very much alive in my life, but I have excused them for “good reasons.” I will appeal to my freedom in Christ, or default to the reality of the world we live (ie. some of the Bible’s teachings just aren’t realistic in certain circumstances), rather than give up those vices.

The truth is that we want to live the way we want to live, and far be it from God to interfere. Many Christians live far more lavishly than they need while others are homeless on the street, but they reconcile their lifestyle by arguing that it’s permissible as long as they don’t “love their wealth.” I have seen husbands leave their wives for another woman, all because “God really just wants us to be happy.” I have heard people use offensive language when they really didn’t need to, all for the sake of bucking legalism. And as we have discussed in the last two posts, countless Christian couples engage in inappropriate intimacy, comforting themselves with the knowledge that they’re fine as long as they’re not having sex.

The list goes on and on, but this is what happens when we allow certain sins to take a foothold in our lives–our theology suffers. But why is this important? After all, theology is little more than abstractions, right? Does it even really matter?

The reason that a faulty theology becomes problematic is that it ultimately impacts the way we live out the Christian life. If we adjust our theology such that we are no longer convicted by our sins, then we have no motivation to change. And as a result, we no longer desire holiness the way we used to. Our discipleship is no longer radical because we are shaping our beliefs around our lifestyle, rather than shaping our lifestyle around our beliefs.

And you will see entire strands of Christian thought that have been impacted by this thinking. Strands that are heavy on God’s grace and weak on personal holiness often reflect this trend.

But you can also see this mindset in highly legalistic strands. Christians who believe in a practical works-righteousness will deny the grace that they see in Scripture, and instead proclaim a Gospel that is based upon what you do. They may not realize it, but they are so consumed with looking better than everyone else and basing their worth upon what they do that their theology has been impacted as a result.

That said, we need to take a hard look at our lives, and be honest about the sins that we may be rationalizing. Don’t ever deceive yourself into thinking that the one sin you refuse to surrender is no big deal. It actually says a lot about how you view God, how you respect the authority of Scripture, and it impacts the larger Church as a whole. I definitely need to keep that in mind the next time I wander into Target. I pray that God will change my heart, because the Lord knows I haven’t been able to do it myself!

When William Shakespeare coined the above phrase in his description of jealousy, he hit the nail right on the head. Jealousy is a monster that will eat you alive if you only give it the chance. The more I think on it, the more I am sure of that truth, which is why we Christians must wage war on this beast. If we do not, it will consume us.

Few things have poisoned my friendships and robbed me of joy in life more than jealousy. If a friend started dating a guy that I liked, I let jealousy rule the day–things became awkward between us, I wasn’t happy for her when the romance flourished, and eventually the relationship withered.

Similarly, jealousy has led me to become incredibly dissatisfied with the life God has given me. If someone married the kind of man I wanted, or if a friend’s career was really taking off and he was making lots of money, or if another friend’s ministry was thriving more than mine, I was unable to share in their joy. Instead, I felt frustrated that things hadn’t come so easily to me.

And don’t even get me started about when I drive over to UNC’s campus to meet with students. For some reason that school is populated with an inordinate number of tall, skinny blonde girls who always look adorable, even when it’s early in the morning. As soon as I look at them, I immediately wish I had their legs, hair, nose, teeth, etc. Then I look at myself and think, “Why them? Why can’t I look like that? Why is my life so boring and mundane compared to those other glamorous and successful people?”

(I don’t know how I make the jump to thinking that they’re glamorous and successful based on their appearance alone, but that’s just the kind of distorted perceptions that come from jealousy)

That said, the time at which my jealousy becomes most abhorrent is when someone receives a gift or blessing that they don’t deserve. (Or I should say, in my opinion they don’t deserve) Then, the entire world seems entirely unjust–how could God reward someone for work they have not done, while I am busting my butt to get ahead and I receive nothing?

This form of jealousy can be particularly nasty because we feel more free to gossip about the person. It’s one thing if our jealousy is focused on a nice person (it’s hard to complain about someone who experiences a success that they earned), but if the person of whom we are jealous is unfriendly or has blatant moral short-comings, then we feel a liberty to complain more vocally: “I just don’t understand why all the guys like her when she’s so high maintenance” or “I don’t know why they would make her a lead singer in the choir if her personal life is so sketchy” or “I don’t understand why he got a raise when he’s so lazy.”

All of these thoughts stem directly from jealousy. They also take root in our hearts, growing fruits of discontentment as we become increasingly dissatisfied with the lives God has given us. The grass always seems greener on the other side.

But the big question remains: Where does this jealousy come from? Why is it so difficult to be happy for another? Shouldn’t our friends’ joys be our joys? Shouldn’t we desire good things for those whom we love.

Thr truth is that there are many reasons we feel jealous–we are selfish, we love ourselves more than others, we have deluded ourselves into thinking that other people are happier than we are, simply because of material comforts, and we are not trusting in God’s perfect plan for our lives.

But perhaps the greatest reason for jealousy is a profound misunderstanding of the grace that has been extended to us in Christ. Not only has God given us infinitely more than we could ever deserve (think of the Parable of the Unmerciful Servant), but He has also given us more than we could ever need.

Our salvation is not one good among many. It is not some sort of starting point from which we can begin to live the good life. Salvation in Christ is the good life. It is all we will ever need for complete joy and satisfaction in whatever we do. To think that someone else has a better life than you, simply because they received some temporary success on earth that will quickly pass away, is to cheapen the depths of the riches of God’s grace. If we are jealous, then we don’t know what we have. We don’t understand just how rich we are.

If jealousy is something you find yourself struggling with, then fight it, and fight hard, because it can easily overtake you. Consider what this jealousy says about your relationship with God, and then ask Him to overwhelm you with the knowledge of His love and grace. Otherwise, jealousy will only draw you into the rat race that every other American runs. It is never-ending, and there is nothing to be gained by it. It only promises heartached and disappointment, as you continually find other people who have what you desire.

Instead, resolve to be joyful for your sister when she meets the man of her dreams. Congratulate your friend when he gets a raise at work. Those are wonderful gifts, but they are not the ultimate gift. When they become ultimate, they have become idols. Do not allow them to have such power, because it is then that they become monsters.

*Bonus points to anyone who knows what play the phrase “green-eyed monster” comes from. I’m such a Shakespeare nerd…

I have to be honest with you–I’m a little scared to right this post. I’ve thought about writing it several times, but I was afraid of the consequences. Kind of like when you pray for humility or brokenness…you know you need it, but you don’t really want what it takes to get there.

But here goes….

Have you ever been stuck in a sin for an extended period of time without having suffered the consequences of it? You know what you’re doing is wrong, and you know that eventually it will blow up in your face, but until then you just keep on doing it? For some people that may be sexual sin, for others it could be financial corruption, and for others it could simply be gossip or fits of anger or jealousy.

Whatever the sin, you know it’s wrong, but because you haven’t dealt with any repercussions as of yet, you keep indulging it, keep pushing it, and play it out as long as you can. As long as you don’t have to deal with the negative effects, then the cost of giving it up is not really worth the trouble. It is short-sightedness at its finest.

I, personally, believe this is one of the most miserable places to live. To dwell in that place for long is to live in constant fear. Deep down, I know the consequences will eventually come, so I have this horrible anxiety hanging over my head. When is the shoe going to drop? How long can this really last? And when it ends, what will my life look like afterwards?

In addition to that anxiety, I also hate the feeling that I am getting away with something. There is nothing worse than knowing you’re a total hypocrite. Everyone looks at you as if you’re this wonderful Christian, but you know better. You see what they cannot, and because of the disconnect between those two lives, you feel empty. And the longer that disconnect exists, the larger the emptiness grows.

Well one morning at church I was meditating on all of these things as I worshiped, and a surprising thought began to creep into my heart: “Lord, show me your wrath.” Crazy, huh? As soon as the thought popped in, I wanted to push it right back out, but I instead decided to pursue it a little. Where did that thought come from?

The longer I pondered it, the more I discovered that it is rooted in my understanding of God’s very character. As much as I hate parading around like a super-Christian, knowing all along that I’m a hypocrite, I’m sure that God detests it even more. Jesus never spoke too highly of the Pharisees, after all.

But on top of all that, I don’t want to serve a God who looks the other way when His people commit sin in His name. That is a weak God, that is an unjust God, and more importantly, that is an unloving God. Why would God simply sit by and let us engage in behaviors that are self-destructive? To let us get away with our sin when it is eating us alive is not really love at all.

That is why Scripture tells us that God disciplines those whom He loves. When we experience the consequences of our actions, God is teaching us about His ways, and refining us in the process. To refrain from doing so would mean that He essentially doesn’t care.

That God, an apathetic, distant, passive God, is not the kind of God I serve. And that is why I was compelled to pray, “Show me your wrath.” I wanted to be reminded of God’s awesome holiness and His mighty justice. I want to serve a God who cares deeply about His children and how they live their lives, a God who protects His children from the sin that threatens to consume them. I want to serve a God who hates the sin that steals, kills and destroys all that is beautiful in this world, and I want to serve a God who declares war on that sin. I want to serve a God who pushes His servants toward excellence, honor, and holiness, and does not settle for mediocrity.

It is for all those reasons that I prayed that crazy prayer one Sunday morning. I’m still kind of bracing for the results, but I think it gets to the very heart of who our God is, and why we worship Him. We do not serve a passive God who casually sits by while we ruin ourselves and slander His name in the process. We serve a God who loves us profoundly and defends His glory as well. That is the God I love, and that is why I prayed, “In the face of my blatant, ugly sin, Lord, show me your discipline, show me your love. Show me your wrath.”

Will you be so bold?