Scheming Good (Behind Their Backs)

Do they not go astray who devise evil? Those who devise good meet steadfast love and faithfulness.

Proverbs 14:22

What have you been devising lately? What are you planning? What about adding to your To-Do list something that would fall under the heading: Stuff To Do For Other People? Geoff said it well recently…if we want to get to the place where our right hand doesn’t know what our left hand is doing when it comes to the good we do for others (like Jesus says we should), we might need to start by actually planning to do good. If we want kindness and generosity to be second-nature, we have to work at making them a habit. Then, when someone later says, “Thank you for such-and-such thing you did,” we’ll scratch our heads and have to think for a second about what they are talking about. Because doing good for others will just be woven into our everyday life. 

Is it insincere to plan to do good, to work it into our lives in an intentional fashion? Isn’t it better to let things just happen organically? Is it insincere for a couple to carve out time in their week to spend together? No, by doing so they show that they value one another, so much so that they don’t want to let the urgent override the important. Is it insincere for parents to plan special time with their kids? No, it communicates, “You’re worthy of my time.”  Things that are worth doing are worth planning.

 I don’t have to think long about the good I could be doing for others. Often, there are things I have been meaning to do for other people that I just haven’t prioritized. I can think of numerous people to pray for, people to send notes of encouragement to, people who I could pursue in friendship, people Geoff and I could have over for dinner. But if I don’t plan for these things, they will just remain good ideas, even missed opportunities. I imagine it doesn’t take you long to think of who to put on your list or your calendar.

Why not put one person down on your list, and then make it a goal to do something for them by the end of the week? It doesn’t have to be big, just a simple act of service, a (positive) conversation you’ve been meaning to have, a thoughtful gift, an invitation, a gesture of friendship towards someone who is lonely.  Then, continue to plot good for others in this way until doing so becomes as natural as breathing. It will and ought to still take planning at times, but the more you devise good for others, the less of a big deal it will seem, and the less you’ll secretly want others to notice when you do. And an added bonus? You’ll most likely come across love and faithfulness more often when you live like this (hint: Proverbs says this is the case). It can be quite fun to think of good things to do for others behind their backs (and maybe a good replacement for gossip?). I have some good things to scheme, some that I’ve been putting off for too long, so I’ll be making a list of my own. What about you? Are you in?

Backwards Living

I remember those awkward adolescent years…and the painful insecurity that accompanied them. I remember the insecurity that seemed to follow me and bleed into my early (earlier) adult years. I remember the pain of liking boys who never looked twice in my direction. I remember the gut-wrenching ache when things didn't work out with the one I thought at the time was "the one."  I remember thinking the hurt would never, ever subside. I remember watching others who carried themselves with effortless confidence and craving what it seemed they had.

I remember trying to focus upon what was right and good about myself.

I remember, later, counter-intuitive as it seemed, realizing that I had to focus more upon Christ than upon myself in my “search for significance."

What I don’t remember is how or when the change happened. How I started to think not less of myself, but of myself less. How I started to think a bit more of others. I think it must have been years of truth-hearing finally catching up to me.

But I remember the freedom that washed over me one day recently when I stopped in my tracks and realized—I’m different. I’m not constantly taking my self-esteem pulse. I’m not continually worrying about how I’m being perceived. My wounds are healing. I’m becoming who I am--or who I was meant to be.

I remember thinking about how Jesus says if you lose your life you will find it. I always knew this had something to do with doing the hard things that I don’t always want to do. But I never thought about it this way—that when I stop being so self-concerned, self-aware, and self-obsessed, and instead focus upon loving my Maker and my neighbor—something beautiful happens. The self that I was searching for and trying so hard to define, so hard to find, emerges into who she was meant to be all along. After all, we are His image-bearers aren’t we? It makes sense that we become who we are meant to be by living in the way He said is best. Oswald Chambers said once that “it is a tremendous freedom to get rid of all self-consideration...” and how completely true that is. I have the most joy, the most confidence, and the most streamlined sense of purpose, not when I am looking deep into myself, not when I am analyzing how I am treated or where I “belong,” but when I lose my life. When I lose myself in seeking the well-being of others. When I sit at Jesus' feet in fellowship and seek to live by his commands.

Jesus never said come follow me and learn your love language, take a spiritual gifts test, and know your Myers-Briggs personality type (as helpful and fascinating as the results may be). He simply says, "Follow me." He is fully capable of taking us as we are and making us into who He wants us to be, if we are willing to learn from him. But we can get so caught up in finding our “niche,” in learning who we are in order to find where we can be used best, that we lose sight of simply serving others. You don’t need a resume for that. Sure, it can be helpful to know what your gifts are, but if we only ever do what comes naturally, when will we get out of our comfort zone? When will we ever know how perfect his strength is in our weakness?

I remember a time just recently when someone’s words sent me into that all-too-natural and familiar spiral of questioning who I am and wanting to prove my worth. I remember how these same truths of finding my life in the losing of it came back to me again. I remember being reminded of how I would need to remember over and over again. Maybe because it all seems a bit backwards; it takes practice to undo the survival of the fittest, performance-driven influences of our society. And as much much as I have learned and as far as I have come, I know the journey isn’t over. 

I remember Jesus says that the one who builds his life on His teachings is like a man who built his house on a rock. When the storms and winds came, his house was secure. I don’t want to build my life upon my own philosophies of importance and significance. I don’t want to build my life upon the opinions, philosophies or perceptions of others. There is only one truth that matters, and that is the truth of who Jesus is, what He has done, and all that He taught. Yes, on Christ the Solid Rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand. 

I am not dismissing the need for self-knowledge. Calvin said that "[T]he knowledge of God and the knowledge of ourselves are bound together by a mutual tie, [but we must] treat of the former in the first place, and then descend to the latter." Knowing God enables us to know ourselves rightly, and knowing ourselves enables us to relate to God in humility and dependence and gratitude. But again. we must first know God. And the truth of who God is and what He is like is revealed to us in Jesus. And Jesus tells us that to find our life we must lose it. So here we are again--back to where we started. It's not that the goal of losing our life is to discover ourselves. I think the ultimate goal is obedience. But what I have learned is that everything--even my very identity-- seems to fall into place when I do things the Jesus way. It's not that life become easy, but it does become more simplified. Perhaps it's because when I lose myself in doing things his way, I find that all of my questions and concerns aren't nearly as important as they once were. Taking on the identity of Servant has a way of putting all those issues into perspective.

Lord of all identities and personalities, 

teach us to so seek first your Kingdom that all answers of

belonging might find their answer in you--the one who had no place to lay his head.

Teach us to lean not upon any props, resumes, or reputation, but may our only tools be those of the basin and towel of humble service in your name, our only resume that we are known and loved by You.
May we know the joy and freedom that come from gradual conformity
to the image of your Son who came not to serve,
but to be served and to give His life as a ransom for many.
In whose name we pray,
Amen.

A Moment of Silence?

Last Monday Corpus had some crazy winds, and whatever they brought with them generously bestowed upon me a sore throat. That sore throat developed into a cough, and that cough morphed into a raspy voice, and now my voice is almost completely gone. 

My voice is not one of those things that I ever really think to thank God for. My eyes--the ability to take in a beautiful sunset over the Corpus Bay, being able to see the ones I love--yes. My ears—the ability to hear music and the sound of rain outside my window--yes. But my voice? For some reason I’ve never given it much thought. And today I realize how much I take it for granted. Normally, I can communicate whatever I want, whenever I want to. I can pick up my phone and talk to someone miles away. I can worship through song. I can tell Geoff that I love him. I can call to someone from another room and they will hear and respond. Normally.

I called my sister earlier thinking that I might be able to produce enough sound to carry on a conversation, and she said, kindly, of course, “Yeah, just text me.” But texting can be a pain when you're telling a long story. I tried to talk to a neighbor and felt a little embarrassed when he couldn’t understand me. It was humbling to not have my own voice at my command.

Just the other night I finished reading a book by Henri Nouwen called The Way of the Heart: The Spirituality of the Desert Fathers and Mothers. In his chapter on the discipline of silence I underlined these words:

                      One of our main problems is that in this chatty society, silence has become a very fearful  thing. For most people, silence creates an itchiness and nervousness. Many experience silence not as full and rich, but as empty and hollow. For them silence is like a gaping abyss which can swallow them up. As soon as a minister says during a worship service, “Let us be silent for a few moments,” people tend to become restless and preoccupied with only one thought: “When will this be over?”

But why are we so afraid of silence? Why does it make us so uncomfortable? Maybe, like I experienced, we don’t like the feeling of being out of control. Words somehow make us feel like we have the upper hand. What is it that we never want someone else to have in an argument…the last word? Because if they get the last word, it seems that they have won. They are the ones with the power. The ability to speak gives us a false sense of security—well, if nothing else, I can say what I mean. I can insult. I can make someone feel small—even if just for a moment. If I need help, I can scream. If I need to get something off of my chest, I can vent.

Words can be our little fortress. 

Until we realize that they don’t always accomplish what we want.

Until we feel the sting of regret from a word spoken too sharply.

Until no one picks up the phone when we need to vent.

Until our voice cracks when we’re singing in front of a crowd.

Until our voice is gone altogether.

Perhaps behind all of these scenarios is the need for silence. The need to get away from the noise, even of our own voices, and practice silence before God. The silence that says I don’t always have to be heard. I don’t always have to speak my mind. The silence that says, Lord, You are enough. I don’t have to vent. I don’t have to share every little experience with another person. I can confide in You. 

And perhaps this practiced silence might train us for the times when we want to speak, but really ought to keep silent. We can say no because we haven’t given in to every little urge to open our mouths. And maybe, through the serenity that we gain from knowing not only that silence is OK,but that it is often the place where we meet our Lord, we might become a source of rest and peace for travelers made weary by this “chatty society.”

I guess I'm a little stubborn; It took a forced silence for me to reflect upon how I take the ability to speak for granted. But it has also shown me that words are a faulty fortress, and although they can accomplish much, silence offers a host of treasures that words can never give.