Well it’s hard to believe that Lent is over and my blogging fast has ended! Thank you to all the wonderful people who supported me in my decision. It meant a lot to be loved and missed, but I am also confident that it was the right decision. Not only was it a tremendous time of rest, but it highlighted some especially stubborn areas of sin in my life.

In particular, this time has taught me how slyly and sinisterly my motives run askew. I discussed this some in my last post, but it became all the more clear over the last 40 days. Every time someone commented on how much better my writing would probably be as a result of this fast, I secretly thought, “I sure hope so!” Obviously the simple desire to write well is not wrong, but at the heart of this desire is an ugly self-interest. A part of me wanted to use this fast, which was meant for God, to serve my own gain.

However, this self-serving orientation did not begin with my blog. It has been entrenched in my heart throughout the course of my life. And while God has certainly refined me over the years, I am still very much interested in my own personal success, placing God’s glory at a distant second. For a blog titled “She Worships,” it seems as though a name like “She Worships Herself” would be more fitting.

Fortunately, there is hope! While this season has opened my eyes to the stubbornness of my pride, I have also seen growth. For instance, God used this time to remind me of my own unimportance. I know that sounds a little self-deprecating, but for a pride-addict like me it was a healthy antidote. When I stopped blogging, the world did not fall to pieces and I continued to have meaningful ministry opportunities as well. Whereas I used to agonize over missing a few days of blogging, I now have a healthier perspective on my role in God’s work. Yes, I matter, but only as much as any other member of the Body of Christ.

Finally, this fast has reminded me why I need the Gospel every day. Even the good things in my life, the things I love to do and the gifts I enjoy to exercise, can become prisons of my own making. If I am not careful to remember that I am free in Christ and that there is NOTHING I can do to add to my salvation or improve my value, I will slip into a production driven ministry.

Freedom is a reality I have to fight for. To some of you, this blog fast may have seemed silly or difficult to relate to, but my writing idolatry is attached to something deeper and more dangerous. My heart perpetually gravitates towards bondage and destruction, and I take that temptation very seriously. If I don’t keep it in check, my freedom in Christ will be freedom in name alone.

That is why my main take-away lesson from the last 40 days is to change my writing schedule. It may not look much different on the outside, but I’m going to stop writing for the purpose of blog traffic. I’m going to stop writing so that fresh material is always up. Instead, I will only write when I feel free to, not because I have to. And I will only write when the Spirit provokes. If I have something to say, then I will write. Otherwise, I’ll let it lie. It’s funny how inaction can be the most powerful action you take.

Thanks again for all the love and support! I love my wonderful blog community!!

Lately my husband and I have fallen into a bit of a bad habit. In fact, even as I write this post I’m engaged in the very act of it! We are sitting on the couch, next to each other, both on our laptops with the television on, not speaking. We are together, but we aren’t interacting with each other. And unfortunately this happens a lot. At the end of a long day we are both exhausted and barely up to the task of talking, so we opt for the low maintenance quality time of studying together or watching t.v. together  (although the “quality” aspect of it is rather questionable).

I think this is a pretty normal problem for couples, as well as friends. It is amazing how less intentional I became with friends after we moved in together. Rarely did we schedule meals to catch up and chat. We just assumed that, by the very nature of living together, we knew what was going on in one another’s lives.

The thing is, intimacy is not a passive activity. It’s not something that just happens on its own. In fact, it can require a lot of hard work, which means we’re likely to take the path of least resistance instead. Rather than put in the effort of getting to know someone, we either make no effort at all and spend our time on less demanding activities, or we find less demanding, superficial ways of bonding.

When I realize this has happened to a relationship in my life, I work toward re-centering it. Oftentimes, that means cutting out the activity that has distracted us from genuine closeness. For example, one of the ways that women bond with one another is through gossip. It may start out with the best of intentions–concern about a friend, perhaps–but it easily morphs into something dishonorable. Another way that women bond is through shopping together, which is not in itself wrong, but it can reinforce bad habits or encourage materialistic temptations.

In both cases, the strength of those friendships might benefit from an intentional pruning of the unhealthy behaviors. When it comes to shopping or talking about others, the women might consider taking a break. In the case of me and my husband, we might consider turning off the t.v. for awhile. In each of these scenarios, the relationships would benefit from a period of fasting from the habits that stifle their growth.

Fasting is perhaps one of the most unobserved Christian disciplines in all of Scripture. I suspect that one of the main reasons Christians brush off fasting is because we don’t understand it. It is difficult to discern any direct correlation between fasting and discipleship. Why would God ask us to abstain from something like food in order to seek Him? Is prayer not enough?

Given this confusion, I hope the above illustrations are a helpful way to conceive of fasting. Of course, there is more to fasting than intimacy with God–such as obedience–but one of the chief functions of fasting is to temporarily remove distractions from our lives in order to focus more intentionally on Him. Through fasting, we remove those low maintenance security blankets that have gradually morphed into God-supplanting idols. And food is a significant one. What else do we depend on more for our very existence? What sustains us more on a daily basis? Is there anything more basic than this most basic necessity?

Practically speaking, most of us depend more on food than on God. For that reason, fasting from food is a relational wake-up call. We might be following God but we are depending on food, and that mindset has an effect on our relationship with Him. So we fast, on occasion, to check our hearts and remove anything that has grown to a place of unhealthy standing between us and Him.

With all of this in mind, I encourage you to consider fasting during Lent this year. It begins in just over 2 weeks (Ash Wednesday is on March 9) and extends until Easter. It is a Christian tradition to fast during this season, but many believers observe the practice as an act of sheer willpower, a test of their personal discipline. They approach it the way someone might approach running a marathon, not growing in intimacy with the Lord.

To resist this pitfall, I encourage to spend the next 2 weeks searching your heart and studying your life. What stands between you and intimacy with God? What does your heart gravitate towards instead of doing the hard work of cultivating a relationship with Him? Once you have pinpointed an area that needs to be pruned, resolve to fast from it during Lent and choose an accountability partner in the process. Maybe the two of you can fast together! Ultimately, the challenge is not whether you can last the whole 40 days, but whether you are closer to the heart of God afterward.

And if you have any particularly creative ideas for observing Lent, please share them here! I’m still praying about how I will observe Lent this year, and I would love to hear from you.

This weekend my church had a guest preacher named Dr. Dan Allender, a psychologist, who spoke on the topic of intimacy. He preached out of Genesis 1-3 and raised an issue that I had NEVER before considered. In Genesis 3 we read about God’s curse upon Adam and Eve as a result of their sin, a curse that we continue to experience today. For women in particular, our plight is spelled out in verse 16:

To the woman he said,“I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.”

I’ve read this verse many times before, so none of it was news to me. That is, until Dr. Allender made the following comment in regard to the pain of childbearing. He said, “Women cannot avoid this curse simply by not having children.”

Dr. Allender’s words revealed a tremendous deficiency in my prior reading of the curse upon women. My assumption of its scope had been far too small. Whenever I considered the pain of childbearing, my mind immediately flashed forward to the delivery room where I would be in massive pain for a day, and then it would be over. End of story. The second part of the curse, I chalked up to the occasional difficulty in marriage.

But what if I hadn’t gotten married? And what if I can’t have biological children? Does that mean the curse doesn’t apply to me? Are only married women and mothers especially cursed?

Clearly not. The effects of the Fall are cosmic in nature–nothing is left untouched or unbroken. So when the Bible talks about the “curse,” it is not so much an arbitrarily designated punishment in two areas of a woman’s life, but instead a description of the all-encompassing brokenness of her life and relationships.

But how does the curse relate to women who aren’t married and don’t have children? Here, Dr. Allender pointed to the reality that women experience pain and hardship whenever they give birth to new relationships, whether it is a mother-child relationship, or simply a friendship. For women, relationships are both our greatest source of strength as well as our greatest source of agony. Broken relationships with parents, children, spouses, or trusted friends can wound us in ways that we almost never recover from. That is not to say that men are not wounded by their friends or family members, but when I look at my life in comparison with my husband’s, there is a thematic difference between the two of us. For me, the pain of wounded relationships has a recurring role.

Similarly, the broken male-female relationship described by the second part of the curse is not limited to marriage. It can play out in dating relationships, friendships, or even in families. Any time a woman looks to a man for wholeness in an idolatrous way, and any time a man dominates a woman in an oppressive or violent manner, it is a mark of the curse.

Why does this matter? Why bother harping on the curse? First, because it gives a name to the common turmoil of female relationships. From the time we were little girls, our relationships have been under the curse. Rather than feel isolated by or enslaved to those broken relationships, we can be empowered by the knowledge of our common condition.

But more importantly, the whole span of the Bible is the story of God’s undoing of the curse. And we are a part of that story. As daughters of God we are called to serve as agents of redemption in a world plagued by the curse of Genesis 3. Its reversal is ultimately accomplished by Christ, but we still get to be a part of the overturn. Our lives are signposts of hope directing people toward God’s good and perfect future. No matter our life circumstances we are all under the curse, but as Christians we are all part of its redemption as well. Our relationships may test us by targeting our greatest vulnerabilities, but they’re also the destination for our mission of hope in this world.

Throughout most of my Christian life I have been taught that there are two types of people who call themselves “Christian”: There are Nominal Christians who are Christian by heritage but display no evidence of an active faith, and then there are “real” Christians who love Jesus and have committed their lives to them.

While there is certainly a wide spectrum within each of these two categories, I have begun to realize that there is a third category of self-described Christians, and I will refer to them here as Sentimental Christians. I have come to this realization with the help of a former seminary professor of mine, an ethicist named Stanley Hauerwas who was fond of making the following statement:

“The greatest enemy of Christianity is not atheism, but sentimentality.”

I still remember the first time I heard those words, because I was both surprised and a little confused by them. Sentimentality? What exactly is he trying to say? Well the reason I am posting this topic now is that I can think of no better time to reflect on “sentimentality” than the holidays.

I for one am VERY sentimental about the Christmas season. Like every year before this one, I put out my Christmas decorations, I heated up some apple cider, and I listened to my favorite Christmas songs as I sat on my couch and let the feelings of tender nostalgia wash over me. There are certain moments during the Christmas season–when I am sitting by my parents’ crackling fire or gazing at the lighted tree–that take me straight back to my childhood. It’s like being wrapped up in a warm blanket of the sights and smells and memories that made my younger years so magical. And that’s why I get so excited about Christmas–those sentimental elements of the season bring me amazing comfort and joy.

That is sentimentality. For a more clear-cut definition, Merriam-Webster defines the word “sentimental” as “marked or governed by feeling, sensibility, or emotional idealism” and “resulting from feeling rather than reason or thought.” And while sentimentality is mostly harmless as it relates to family traditions, you’re probably beginning to see why it’s dangerous as a foundation for one’s Christian faith.

Sentimental Christian faith is one that appears, on one level, to be fully devoted to Christ. A sentimental Christian delights in the Christian faith because of the comfort it brings her. She loves to carry forth the Christian faith in which she was raised, and she is therefore involved at her church. Her Facebook profile probably displays Philippians 4:13 or Jeremiah 29:11. By all accounts, she would seem to be a committed Christian.

But if you dig just a little bit below the surface it becomes clear that her faith is all about comfort. Christianity is familiar to her and makes her feel secure because it is how she was raised. Yet when the Gospel requires the slightest bit of sacrifice, the sentimental Christian shows resistance. The sentimental Christian manifests tremendous inconsistency between what she professes and the personal life she leads. Outside of church she shrinks from monetary generosity or kindness in the face of evil. Sacrifice has no place in her life, not even the smallest of sacrifices such as abstinence before marriage or drinking responsibly.

That is the problem with sentimental faith–it is ultimately self-serving. It is a feel-good religion that is incompatible with the sacrifice and suffering described in Scripture and displayed on the cross. And this inconsistency is glaringly obvious to the surrounding world. Hence my professor’s accusation that the greatest enemy to Christianity is not atheism, but sentimentality. When the church houses thousands of professing “born-agains” whose lives look nothing like Jesus’ and who know very little about the teachings of Christ, the church looks like it’s putting on a sham. Our own shallow faith is our worst enemy.

Although the Gospel is founded upon faith, not works, the book of James is a sobering reminder that our lifestyle still matters. God cares about how we live our lives, not only because He knows what is best for us but because we reflect on Him. So I encourage you to examine your faith and consider whether it is about sentimentality, or a love and gratitude for Jesus that is so passionate you would do anything for him. Talk to your friends about this as well. I have been astonished by how nonchalantly Christians ignore Scriptural commands, and it is a topic we need to discuss. Rather than fight our enemies on the outside, we first need to address the sickness within.

Well I’m back in Illinois after an amazing Thanksgiving in North Carolina! I sure do love that state and the people in it! The only bad thing about the entire trip was flying with my dog, which was a pretty negative experience both ways. When she wasn’t whimpering she was trying to dig her way out of her carrying case. Poor thing! God did not design chihuahuas to fly.

Now that I have some time to sit down and write, I wanted to share something I’ve been thinking about since I saw a news report 2 weeks ago about washing your hands. I know that sounds SUPER exciting, but it was actually very interesting! The report examined how often we should wash our hands, and a number of doctors and scientists warned against washing too often or using anti-bacterial soap. Apparently, one of the main reasons that children today have so many allergies is that they were raised in overly sanitized homes. Children in these environments can develop immune systems that turn against themselves, not only causing allergies but other conditions such as lupus, rheumatoid arthritis, or even diabetes.

Conversely, children who experience common sicknesses can develop stronger immune systems. The illnesses they endure in childhood create memory cells which prevent them from acquiring those same illnesses as adults. As one doctor explained, the immune system is much like the human body in that the more you exercise it, the stronger it will be.

(I should also add that when asked how often we should wash our hands, she replied, “When they smell bad.” I don’t think so!)

Aside from being helpful information for young mothers, this information has gotten me to thinking about its spiritual parallels. On a literal level, these “overly sanitized” environments we create for ourselves point to a real culture of fear. Science itself reminds us that God can use our illnesses to make our bodies stronger, a true attestation to His sovereignty and redemptive character…a character we often fail to trust.

On a more analogical level, there is a similar temptation to sanitize our lives from spiritual sickness or hardship. Between worldly suffering and spiritual wildernesses, my own instinct is to shield myself from as many trials as possible, treading carefully and fearfully so as to protect myself from anything that would hurt me. On the other end of the spectrum there are the proponents of the Prosperity Gospel who believe the absence of hardship is a sign of divine favor. But no matter where you fall on the spectrum, it’s helpful to remember that your faith is like your immune system–it becomes stronger when it is exercised, and it is best exercised through a challenge. Take James 1:2-4, for example:

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds,  because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.  Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

This is not to say that we should seek out hardship, but it is to say that we shouldn’t engage in overly-sanitizing ourselves from difficulty. I myself am guilty of operating out of that place of fear, as if the wilderness is the worst thing that could happen to me. Yet when I live in that place I am far less likely to do radical things for Christ. I become more conservative and afraid to take risks in the confidence of my God. My overly-sanitized world produces weaker faith and greater fear the longer I flee from trouble.

As I have realized this about myself, it has become a central part of my prayer life. I recognize the infestation of true spiritual laziness and I pray that God prunes me of it. It’s scary to pray such a prayer, but my hope is that it will produce a faith more powerful and effective than any faith that comes of a life lived in quarantine from the world.

For many of you reading this, what I’m about to say is going to sound silly, ridiculous, or just plain superficial, but I’m trying to be transparent here:

In 4 months I will be turning 30, and I have been totally FREAKING OUT about it. I don’t know what it is about leaving my 20′s behind, but it’s been on my mind a lot. Not to sound dramatic, but I feel like I’m watching my youth slip through my very fingers!

One of the reasons I suspect that aging is such a challenge for people is that we live in a culture that values youth more highly than wisdom and maturity. Our society is enthralled by novelty and attractive images, but the knowledge and insight that come with years of experience? Not so much. As a result of this values system, we are inundated with commercials for anti-aging creams. We can’t go to the grocery story without crossing magazine covers of actresses who look 15 years younger than their actual age because of all the botox and plastic surgery they’ve received. And with all of those subliminal messages coming our way, it’s hard not to feel the influence. The cultural message is loud and clear: Aging is a frontier to be avoided at all costs, literally.

Well the other day I was talking to one of my colleagues about my struggle with aging and her response was a real blessing to me. She is from Ethiopia where she worked for Compassion International before leaving to pursue her doctorate at Trinity. After thoughtfully listening to my “tale of woe,” she countered with an insightful response: “Old age is always a blessing. Where I come from, many people don’t live past their 30′s. And when you look in the Bible, old age is always described as a wonderful gift from God. We must be grateful for the years He gives us.”

What a convicting word of truth! For one, she is right about Scripture. In the Bible we find verses like Proverbs 16:31, which reads, “Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness.” Old age was considered a sign of God’s favor and it was received with gratitude.

But in addition to Scripture, my friend’s reflections on her homeland were such a cold splash of reality. Too often my cares and concerns are nothing more than a sign of my personal luxury. I don’t have to worry about whether I will survive another day, so I miss out on the blessing each day affords amidst my self-absorbed complaining and absurd expectations. I don’t simply want life, I want flawless life, problem-free life, a beautiful life. When life doesn’t measure up to my superficial standards, I am ungrateful for it.

Oh how the world perverts our minds! Every second that we get on this earth is a privilege and an opportunity, yet the process of aging constitutes a genuine crisis for some individuals. I have been so spoiled by privilege that I have forgotten just how precious each new day, year, and decade really is. My anxiety about aging is a clear indication that I have bought into the world’s standards of value.

I may be nearly 30, but I clearly have a lot left to learn! Hopefully God will grant me many more decades on this earth so that I can continue to grow in my knowledge of Him. In the meantime, I aim to embrace the primary attribute of a woman who ages gracefully: gratitude.

Several years ago I served as a college minister at a local university, and I will never forget a conversation I had with a student while there. In an effort to found the ministry on gospel-centered teaching, I had taken a tighter rein on the speakers we had each week, a decision which upset some of the students. One afternoon I spoke with a few students about this shift in direction, and one of the Juniors raised the following complaint: “I’m not learning anything from them. It’s all stuff we’ve heard before.”

I was surprised by this complaint. The reason being that I had learned a lot from the speakers. While I by no means claim to be a great theological mind, I have done my fair share of reading and studying the Christian faith, and I also have a little bit of ministry experience to boot, so I was confused as to how this student found nothing of value in the very same messages that had greatly encouraged me.

Bearing this story in mind, fast-forward to this past weekend. On Saturday I spent the day at the home of a retired Trinity professor. He and his wife have led extraordinary lives, leading and teaching at influentials schools all over the world (both Christian and secular alike). They are both time-tested witnesses of the faith and I could sit at their feet all day and listen to their stories and wisdom.

At one point during my meeting with the professor I walked into the kitchen to find his wife sitting at the kitchen table with her Bible and an open Bible study booklet. The workbook was a thin paperback and it didn’t look like anything special– there was nothing particularly scholarly or even trendy about it. Yet that visual–of a nearly 80 year old woman sitting at her table, faithfully reading her Bible and studying an accompanying workbook–was tremendously powerful to me….and humbling. This woman has been a Christian for at least 70 years. She has studied at Wheaton and partnered with her husband’s intellectual endeavors over the years–hasn’t she outgrown these dime-a-dozen Bible studies?

Now I want you to consider the two scenarios I have here described. One involved a student who was young in both age and spiritual maturity, the other a much older woman with decades worth of experience and devotion to God. The young student easily dismissed Christian teaching that he perceived as being below him, while the spiritual stature of the professor’s wife did not deter her from engaging “less sophisticated” resources.

The distinction between these two individuals is striking to me. And as I have reflected on the difference between them I’ve been reminded of  Luke 1:53. This verse belongs to Mary’s Song. Mary has just learned that she is pregnant with Jesus, and she responds with a beautiful meditation on God’s faithfulness. In verse 53 she states.

He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.

At first glance, one might interpret this verse as referring to bodily hunger, and that is certainly a viable interpretation. However I can’t help but wonder if this verse isn’t also speaking of spiritual hunger. If we go to God hungering after his truth and holiness, we are promised fulfillment. But if we stand before God in need of nothing, then we are sure to walk away empty-handed. Such an interpretation would certainly account for the distinction between my student and the professor’s wife. One was hungry; the other wasn’t.

Are you hungry?

This question is an important one to ask yourself because it is a great determiner of whether or not you’ll be spiritually fed. Are you the type of person who goes to God craving sweet teaching from Him, or do leave church having learned nothing because you spent most of your time criticizing the preacher? Do you feel “full” enough in your faith that you can be picky about the teaching you will engage, or are you eager to hear from God no matter His vessel?

There appears to be a pervasive lack of spiritual hunger in the church today. For instance, seminary is a season during which students should be theological sponges who soak up every ounce of teaching they can absorb. Unfortunately it’s often quite the opposite. Young, idealistic students learn the tiniest bit of theology and then use it to judge and criticize their church or their pastor’s sermons, instead of humbly learning from them.

For another example, consider the way Christian women criticize other female teachers and authors. I have certainly done my fair share of this, and it is sadly common to hear women speak of women’s ministers as if their work has no redeeming value: Forget that God has used her to bring thousands of women to Christ and has strengthened the faith of thousands more, I don’t like her style, method, etc. We are so “full” of our own self-righteousness that it’s no wonder we learn nothing from them.

Of course, there is a time and place for criticism and correctives. However I tend to learn very little when I am focused on another’s short-comings. Satan uses my arrogance as a distraction from God’s work in and around me. My posture of judgment is completely closed to receiving anything from God, so I predictably walk away empty

As you can see, how much you learn is closely tied to your attitude. We serve a Redeemer God who is able to use ANYONE to transmit His good news. Even when the teacher or preacher is failing to be a good steward of their voice, God can still move. The question is whether you are receptive to it.

The next time you find yourself sitting in church or Bible study, annoyed at the teaching style or disagreeing with something the teacher said, ask yourself whether you are coming to God as one who is hungry. Sure there will be times when you simply don’t like the teacher, but the volume of your complaints may be so loud that it drowns out the still small voice of God. Do you stand before God recognizing how desperately your soul needs the nourishment of His presence, or is your faith like that of a small child who is too picky to be bothered with unpalatable food?

Last week here at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School we were privileged to have Dallas Willard come and teach at chapel throughout the week. Dr. Willard is a professor of philosophy at the University of Southern California so he has a tremendous mind for the philosophical elements of the Christian faith, but he also has a real passion for the spiritual disciplines. During his time with us, he focused primarily on the practice of immersing oneself in God’s Word.

One of his teaching points that I found especially challenging involved the question of whether or not Christians genuinely desire to be transformed into Christ’s likeness. Although we say we want to grow in holiness and we make a lot of efforts to achieve that end, there are some sins that we simply don’t want to give up because they are so intimately tied to our identities or lifestyles. As an example, Dr. Willard described many Christians’ unwillingness to surrender anger: “Some people don’t even know what to do without anger—anger is a fundamental instrument in the way they function and live.”

How true that is! And as luck would have it, I recently experienced this principle first-hand. It all began one afternoon when I was upset about something that had happened earlier that day. I was crying, I was really discouraged, and I moped around my apartment feeling horribly low. Yet in the midst of my moping I noticed a message of truth that kept intruding in on my thoughts, words I had long ago taught my heart for just for such a moment: “God is in control.”

As I sat there feeling sad, I was reminded that God knew about this whole situation, that He was not surprised by it, that He is still good, and that He will take care of me. I KNEW all of those things in my head and in my heart. I believed them.

But did I stop crying and feeling sorry for myself? Heck no! I liked throwing myself a pity party. In some weird way, I felt justified in being upset, like I had earned it. I wasn’t about to surrender my well-deserved sense of martyrdom in order to embrace the truths that my heart knew so well. No amount of spiritual maturity was going to stand in the way of me and my little girl tantrum.

I share this thoroughly unspiritual moment of mine as a reminder that we can know God’s Word, study it and believe it whole-heartedly, without being transformed by it. We may know exactly who to turn to when we feel nervous, insecure, scared or heart-broken, but we may simply choose not to. We would rather complain to spouses or friends, post dramatic facebook statuses and tweets to make people feel sorry for us, and languish in our own self-pity.

Of course, self-pity isn’t the only sin I like to indulge in the face of God’s clear truth. Bitterness, insecurity, and jealousy are just a few other sins that I gladly cling to, and many times I recognize my disobedience in the very process of it. That is not to say that my emotions, fears, and pain are not legitimate, but that even in those moments of vulnerability, sin is always there waiting to creep in.  Even when we’re hurt and our hearts are aching, there is still a degree to which we bear responsibility for our personal growth. Although God does not hold us accountable for how people treat us or how our circumstances affect us, He does hold us accountable for how we respond.

One of the things that God has really been teaching me lately is what it means that I’m a sinner. Now before you roll your eyes and think, “Oh here’s another goody-goody Christian who’s pretending to be humble because it’s what good Christians do,” just hear me out.

First off, this isn’t about self-deprecation or making myself feel unnecessarily guilty. I don’t like that I screw up and I want to do better, but I don’t beat myself up about it either. In fact, the more I understand how broken I am, there’s an extent to which I actually feel less guilty. I know that sounds strange, but seeing myself as a sinner helps me to understand why I do the things I do. The concept of sin gives me a lens for interpreting my actions. It is the reason why it’s so hard for me to do and say the right things.

And when I understand sin this way, the result is not guilt–it’s relief. When I truly understand the degree of my brokenness and how helpless I am apart from God, I can stop putting unrealistic expectations on myself to be my own savior. I can cease striving and simply rest in the work of Jesus’ perfect salvation. Understanding my sin therefore frees me from the rat-race of self-righteousness and compels me to cast myself upon God’s mercy. It’s not that holiness is no longer important, but that holiness isn’t possible on my own. I am utterly dependent on God for transformation. And what a relief that knowledge is!

In the midst of learning more about what it means to be a broken, helpless sinner, I came upon a challenging passage from Tim Keller’s book Prodigal God that has deepened my understanding of sin all the more. Keller writes,

“To truly become Christian we must also repent of the reasons we ever did anything right. Pharisees only repent of their sins, but Christians repent for the very roots of their righteousness, to. We must learn how to repent of the sin under all our other sins and under all our righteousness–the sin of seeking to be our own Savior and Lord…It is only when you see the desire to be your own Savior and Lord–lying beneath both your sins and your moral goodness–that you are on the verge of understanding the gospel and becoming a Christian indeed.” (p. 78)

Keller’s words may sound familiar. They are an echo of Paul’s words in Philippians 3:7-9: “But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.”

In the past, I interpreted the above Scripture to mean that our good works are “rubbish” because they can’t earn our salvation. Our good works are ultimately worthless currency in God’s economy. I still believe that is true, yet Keller’s words also offer a fresh new insight. As Keller explains above, Paul’s good works were rubbish because the same motivation that drove his sin was also driving his good deeds.

Even when you’re trying to do the right thing, sin is always crouching at your door. That is not to say that you are incapable of good things–you are, after all, made in God’s glorious image, and God gives us grace to overcome our sin. However, Keller’s words reveal how profoundly broken we are. Sin is not occasional disobedience but a completely wrong orientation of the soul. As long as we live on this earth, we will struggle against our fallen nature in ways that we will probably never even comprehend. Every day I feel like God reveals new ways that I would be hopeless apart from Him. Seriously, in every possible aspect of my life I NEED GOD’S GRACE!

Some Christians (particularly Calvinists) refer to this as the doctrine of Total Depravity. If you ever run across this term, what I have just described is a helpful way of thinking about it. We are helpless apart from God’s intervening grace in our lives. We need Him to rescue us.

Yet this doctrine is not as depressing as it sounds. It produces in us gratitude and relief. The more I understand how much I need God, the more I love Him for rescuing me and the more I want to serve Him. And when I screw up in trying to serve Him, I don’t berate myself for it but instead thank God for His mercy. I then seek to serve Him better in the future because I love Him so much.

This doctrine also produces humility. Not only does it caution me against judging non-Christians (after all, I am not a Christian because of ANYTHING good in me!) but it also gives me a healthy dose of humility in my personal sense of rightness. When it comes to theology and Scriptural interpretation, I tend to be very black and white. It’s my way or the highway. Yet to have such confidence can betray a misunderstanding of the doctrine of Total Depravity. While the Holy Spirit certainly gives us confidence that we can know God and understand His Word, the doctrine of Total Depravity also reminds us that sin can interfere. Even when our motives are correct and we’re implementing all the right exegetical methods, sin is still present and can subtly creep in.

All of that to say, I appreciate Tim Keller’s words because they remind me how profoundly I need God. Even when I try to do good my heart can still be misguided, but thankfully my salvation does not rest upon my goodness. It rests in God’s. I rejoice that I serve a God who died for me and accepted me, knowing full well that I would be a hopeless sinner, but loving me anyway. I hope that as you contemplate your own shortcomings, you will cast down guilt and shame and instead experience the same sense of relief and awe for such a wonderful God!

As a Christian I have my fair share of non-Christian entertainment outlets. I listen to public radio podcasts, I watch 30 Rock, I read books on the New York Times Bestseller list, and I really love the Disney channel (no, I don’t have kids…I watch it for myself).

I really enjoy each one of these outlets and I believe that, in a lot of ways, they help me to stay connected with the culture. They also inform my thinking. However as a result of not living under a rock, I also run into a lot of secular entertainment that is totally ridiculous and frequently offensive. Almost every day I want to climb on a soap box and lecture people on t.v. about how they’re being irresponsible adults and teaching pluralistic gibberish to impressionable young minds. I could probably have a blog devoted solely to that end.

But I don’t want to be that kind of Christian. Or that kind of teacher. Which is why I try to avoid writing blogs that constantly talk about how awful the world is and the immorality that Hollywood is espousing. There are a lot of other Christians writing that sort of thing, and I don’t think the internet needs another blog like that.

With that whole background in mind, I’ve been wrestling with the subject of this particular post. In the spirit of my personal blogging commitments, I don’t want this to turn into one of those “Aren’t we so much better and smarter than the world around us!” blogs, but I do want to express something that’s been on my mind. So as I proceed, know that that’s my heart.

Ok!

So a couple weeks ago I happened upon a music video performed by a teen star  (who will remain nameless) who is currently attempting to shed her squeaky clean image. The transition has come in gradual stages–each new video in the past year has been a little bit racier than the one before it. Each one has made me just a little bit uncomfortable, but the most recent one left me feeling like a disappointed mom.

The disappointment was not, however, related to what you’re probably thinking. I was disappointed in her lack of originality. She is not the first, nor will she be the last young woman who feels that the best way to express herself as an adult is through sexuality. And to me, this points to a startling lack of imagination in the arts. Will the truly original, budding female singer please stand up? Because all I see is the same played out story, over and over and over again.

In an age where 13 years olds are “sexting” naked pictures of themselves to their boyfriends and Ivy League students are more proud of their sexual exploits on campus than their academic accomplishments, young women seem to think the primary way to establish themselves as powerful, competent adults is in the way they use their bodies. To young women everywhere, sexuality equals maturity, which is why countless young actresses and singers take this route. Any inkling that mature adulthood has to do with the mind and the soul, not the body, seems to be off the radar.

As an adult, I can say with total certainty that sexuality has nothing to do with maturity. Anyone can be sexual. Not everyone can be mature. With that in mind, Christians need to have a more robust understanding of maturity and adulthood as we teach younger generations how to grow into women of God. We need to articulate personal growth in a way that goes far beyond moral versus immoral, considering instead what is wise versus foolish and what is true strength versus insecurity. We need to be ready with a compelling, thoughtful alternative to the powerful messages that young women are consuming on t.v.

What is that alternative?

To answer this question we need to first identify what immaturity looks like. I think it is best summarized by Ephesians 4:14: “Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching…” Immaturity is most notably marked by a lack of stability in the self. An immature woman doesn’t know who she is or doesn’t feel confident about herself, so she is a slave to that search. She does things to get attention, she tends to be selfish and self-absorbed, and she can only mimic those she admires, all because she doesn’t have a clear vision of who God created her to be. As a result, she is “tossed back and forth” by the waves of many different influences–the need to be liked and accepted, societal standards of beauty and success, etc. In this way, an inappropriate use of one’s sexuality reveals not empowerment, but bondage.

Maturity, on the other hand, is a state of being anchored. A mature woman rests in a posture of stability, able to analyze and reject the unhealthy influences around her instead of being rocked by them. As a Christian, she knows who she is in Christ and she knows what her purpose is, so she is able to operate out of that place of strength. She is not a slave to others or her surrounding cultural standards. And because she is not preoccupied with herself, she has the freedom to look outside of herself–not for affirmation, but to affirm and care for others.

Now I know that, according to those definitions, NONE of us is fully mature. Ephesians 4:13 equates full maturity with the “fullness of Christ,” a goal none of us will reach this side of eternity. Maturity is a lifelong pursuit that often has nothing to do with age (I know people in their early 20′s who are much mature than people in their 60′s!). There is a definite spectrum, but within the bounds of the church that spectrum is measured in relation to Christ. As Christians, the key to maturity is found in Christ. The more we anchor ourselves in him, the better able we are to resist the waves that threaten to toss us about. That, not sexuality or even the ability to vote, is the true sign of maturity. And that is a message that we should not only be teaching our daughters, but women of all ages.