ADDICTED TO FALSE SECURITY

I had been mourning over some really painful things for days. Life doesn’t always go the way we expect it to. People let us down. We let ourselves down. Life…it lets us down. Learning to let go of what we expect things to be is just painful. We fight to make things right—rather what we perceive to be right. We wage war within our minds over our bad choices, replaying scenes as if to find the missing key that will unlock the door to security once again.

As a Christian, my hope is in Jesus Christ. I am, for the most part, resolute in my faith. I take no credit for the strength of my faith because I am naturally cynical, distrusting, and fearful. But God has set within me a foundation of faith in Him I cannot explain. How does one explain the unexplainable? All I know is it is supernatural.

However, every faith is tested. It must be. And sometimes God has to show us what our faith is really made of. Though He determines the measure of our faith, the impurities of our flesh offer no help to grow it, but the opposite. And I was about to learn something about mine.

Things I counted on were failing. It felt so burdensome, like a heavy jacket too big for me. I wanted to strip it off and give it to its rightful owner. Go to God, I thought. Just pray, read His Word. You’ll feel better then. I did those things. Multiple times. And I didn’t feel better.

This morning while texting with my friend, I tried my best to offer hope to her in her pain. I had to admit I struggled to see clearly through the heavy burden I currently bore. Failing marriages of women I love, failing health of cancer stricken people I love, failing news of Sri Lanka Christians referred to as “Easter Worshippers” blown to pieces while worshiping Jesus—not Easter; my husband’s unemployment for nearly the fifth month, uncertainty of the future, uncertainty of anything.

In the middle of our conversation the Holy Spirit spoke to my heart. “I intercede for you with groanings too deep for words” (Romans 8:26) I paused and realized that was what was happening. As I bore the pain for others, the Lord was bearing the pain for us all.

I grabbed my Bible and flipped to Romans 8 to read the scripture in context. From verse 1 through the end of the chapter God answered. He answered my grief and my confusion and He put a word to the heaviness I couldn’t shake. Insecurity. That was the heavy coat I desperately tried to throw off—the cumbersome weight of false security. God showed me that there are times I choose to wear that coat. All I could say was, “I get it now.”

Rick came in with his coffee to where I was sitting, with my Bible opened wide to Romans 8 across my lap.

“Can I please share with you what God showed me this morning?” I asked. He graciously let me.

I cried as I read Romans chapter 8 out loud to my husband. Not just a little tear that moistens your eyes, but sobs. I could hardly make out Paul’s words on the page at times. I had to take breaks because I couldn’t speak clearly. I grieved, I rejoiced, and I grieved again. Noticing the look on my husband’s face, I imagined he probably didn’t understand what was happening to me. I apologized for concerning him, but how could I explain what I could barely grasp myself? As I reached the end of the chapter, verses 38 and 39 broke me even more, as if that were even possible. I wept in my hands.

“For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

I heard God like never before, through Paul’s words, through my own voice. I was being set free from the power of a million pound lie while grace and peace flooded in. My only true security is in Christ and for the first time I believed it.

Are you feeling insecure about something?

Do you wish you could just do something? Change something? Be something?

Please read Romans 8.

It will tell you we live in a completely insecure world—corrupt by sin. All of creation, humanity—corrupt. And we all continue to grip so tightly to the things of this world expecting, demanding, hoping, forcing it all to offer us the security it has no capacity to fulfill. No marriage, no job, no government, no friendship, no remedy, no army, no bank account, no contract, no promise from creation is capable of providing the security we so desperately crave.

But Christ.

The pills we take, the therapy we need, the books we read, the education we attain, the false religious ceremonies we perform, the addictions we practice, the lies we believe (and tell), the money we hoard or spend to gain false security is killing us.

Insecurity. This is the world on sin.

THEREFORE

There’s a phrase in Philippians 2:12 that gets me every time. The verse starts out like this:

“Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but how much more in my absence,”

Therefore. Let’s stop for a moment. This word “therefore” (hoste in Greek) is really important. In context, Paul uses it to direct us back to the imperative—which is most often a firm command of vital importance. In a sense, Paul is taking a yellow highlighter, underlining, emboldening, and maybe even drawing arrows to connect the previous verses in chapter two to what he writes next in verse 12. And this is where I halt.

“. . . work out your salvation with fear and trembling;”

Work out (I love working out) . . . your salvation (Thank You, Jesus!) . . . with fear and trembling. Stop!

When I think of working out, I automatically think of my physical body. To stay healthy I believe it’s important to exercise. Working out strengthens our muscles, heart, and mind.

I understand there are those who don’t enjoy working out. Exercise takes time, effort (lots of effort) and commitment for it to be beneficial. Putting in time and effort won’t be enjoyable to someone who’s never experienced the benefits of a committed exercise routine.

Then there are people who just don’t have time to go to the gym. Long workdays and family takes priority, while good, healthy habits easily slide into empty intentions. Soon traction is lost and focus grows fuzzy as to what is beneficial to be on our game (i.e.: physically, mentally and emotionally).

Those jeans don’t quite fit as well. Clarity of mind grows dim, and the ugly things we tell ourselves about how lazy, fat, or weak we’ve become is just a few negative results of neglecting our bodies.

Through this example I see great insight into Paul’s intention for believers to “work out your salvation . . . ” He is exhorting us to exercise our salvation, to put it into action. As if to say, “Put lots of your time into knowing what your salvation is about. Oh, and lots of effort. And be committed. Until the end.” Paul is a prime coach.

Just like God formed us in our mother’s womb and gave us earthly bodies to occupy, our bodies require us to participate in its health.

As an adult, it’s my responsibility to feed myself or I starve. It is my obligation to get enough rest or I crash. It is my duty to learn and understand what’s good for my mind and avoid that which is not. And it is my privilege to engage in relationships that build me up, challenge me to grow, and comfort me. With a lack of food, sleep, focus and friendships it’s impossible to thrive. And, if what I habitually take in through my mouth, mind, or heart is unhealthy and damaging, the consequences are a gradual rotting away.

Do you see the connection?

Working out my salvation—though initiated by God through His perfect and sinless Son’s life, death and resurrection—requires my participation. Always.

If I neglect what God requires of me how will I have the confidence to know God’s gift of grace is for me? How will I have courage to stand firm?

Without confidence we are resistant to stand.

The word for "work out" is katergazomai. It comes from the same word used for the phrase “having done” in Ephesians 6:13:

"Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and (having done) everything, to stand firm"

I like what the early English minister, Joseph Benson wrote about “having done everything”:

“Having exerted yourselves to the utmost, and used the grace conferred upon (granted to) you, and the means and advantages vouchsafed (permitted) you, according to the will of God, which indeed it will be absolutely necessary for you to do; or having gone through all your conflicts, and accomplished your warfare” (emphasis added).

God’s will is that we exert ourselves in taking hold of His grace and every advantage He’s given us to work out our salvation, and remain fit to stand firm.

As we read God’s Word, the advantages are more than plenty. His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of Him who called us by His own glory and goodness. But we must take hold of everything.

How about you? Do you take advantage of all things God has graciously bestowed upon you . . . or just some?

Which one(s) do you typically avoid? How many have you yet to realize?

I know I’ve got a long way to go and I pray with all my heart that today will be the day we commit to exercising our freedom and privilege in Christ more vigorously by learning to apply all He’s granted to us.

We can confidently trust and thank God we aren’t required to do this in our own strength. To be honest, we can’t. But by the power of His Spirit, God is working in us who believe, and giving us the desire and the power to do what pleases Him.

May we commit to working out our salvation with profound reverence (that’s fear) and a wakeful conscience (that’s trembling) because the day is coming when every knee will bow at the name of Jesus, and of those who are in heaven and on earth and under the earth, every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father (Phil. 2:10-11).

And that’s what “therefore” is there for.

“Therefore, my beloved . . . work out your salvation with fear and trembling . . . to fulfill His good purpose.” Phil. 2:12-13

TO KNOW HIM IS TO LOVE HIM

In the quiet of the morning, I opened my bible and flipped through its thin pages to the book of Philippians—the book of joy. My fingers slowly traced the apostle’s words looking for treasure.

I read over and over again, the first chapter of Paul’s love letter to the church at Philippi, inspired by his affection for God’s people and his enthusiasm to both magnify Jesus Christ and his reason for his imprisonment. They are one in the same. Paul calls himself a bondservant of Jesus, and he certainly is, both literally and spiritually.

His testimony is riveting and it brings to my mind the promise Holy Spirit spoke to my heart a few weeks ago as I began my search for joy—

“Joy is found in a deeper understanding of God. Gain wisdom, know joy.”

Excitement rekindled in my heart as I began to uncover what God had for me in this beloved, though familiar book.

I couldn’t help but stop at verses 9 and 10. I must’ve read it a dozen times.

“And this I pray, that your love may abound still more and more in knowledge and all discernment, that you may approve the things that are excellent, that you may be sincere and without offense till the day of Christ” Philippians 1:9-10

And there it was. The key to joy—love God.

As believers, we know this is the first and greatest command. And the second is just like it, love others as yourself.

To love God and love others is the high calling of the Christian. Paul makes this very clear as if Jesus Himself is speaking to the church at Philippi.

I can almost hear him saying, “Yes, I know you love God. That’s wonderful. And I know you love each other. Praise God! You even show your love for those far away. You’ve really got it. But, I want you to love more. Excel in agape.”

Love more. More? Now that’s a noble challenge. But what does that look like? And how can I make myself love Him and others more than I already do?

Without the insight from God’s Spirit we can only imagine what love is, what it looks like, and how it ought to feel. To know God and love like Him is absolutely impossible without a renewed mind.

Paul illustrates this very thing in the book of Titus:

“For we also once were foolish ourselves, disobedient, deceived, enslaved to various lusts and pleasures, spending our life in malice and envy, hateful, hating one another. But when the kindness of God our Savior and His love for mankind appeared, He saved us, not on the basis of deeds which we have done in righteousness, but according to His mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewing by the Holy Spirit, whom He poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, (Titus 3:3-6).

Then it all began to make sense. I sat there amazed by this simple, yet powerful insight: to love God and people requires God. And to love God and people more requires more of God.

Oh, how I relish in these deep truths. I think that’s called joy.

FIRST THINGS FIRST

Grace. What a beautiful word, full of depth and meaning. There’s something about the way it flows from my heart and bubbles over with sweet joy from my lips. As I read Paul’s letter to the Philippians I have to believe he felt the same way. And just as some parents have chosen to name their newborn baby girls after this lovely expression of gratitude and undeserved favor, I’d have to say the apostle is most well deserving to own it too.

In his salutation to the church at Philippi, Paul greets his readers with the most amazing blessing:

“Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:2).

Notice what’s first—grace. This word in the Greek is “charis”. It signifies favor, gift, benefit, even credit.

Paul knew it was the most important thing needed for the people he loved. Why? Because everything true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent and praiseworthy flows from grace.

There have been times in my life where troubling circumstances have provoked fear and anxiety deep within me. Like a noose around my heart, worry threatened my sanity. I know I’m not alone in this. And I am ever grateful Paul was keenly aware of this battle for our minds. Not only was he inspired by the Spirit of Christ, who is all grace, but also by his own personal experience. Paul knew grace. He reveled in the glorious reality of grace more than he retreated into the raw reality of his problems.

On a good day, I’ve done this too. But not all days are good. And if God’s grace is abundant and abounding, what makes some hard days easy to endure and others painfully difficult?

I believe Paul has the answer.

There’s a word in the fourth chapter of Philippians that jumped out at me as I meditated on this most priceless word, “grace”. Its “thanksgiving”.

Paul writes this:

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:6-7).

The word “thanksgiving” in verse 6 is the word “eucharistia”. In the Greek it’s “eucharistos”. It means to actively express grateful language to God, as an act of worship. Eu meaning “good” and the rest being a derivative of the word “charts”, eucharistos simply put: be deliberately grateful for good grace.

Could it be that in those moments when I’ve struggled just to keep my head above the fierce waves of despair, I’ve forgotten to practice eucharistia?

Paul exhorts us to put into practice whatever we’ve learned or received or heard from him. And we must. The peace of God is waiting to guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus if we only receive His good grace with great gratitude.

BOTTOMLESS GRACE

Holding a plastic cup of deep red juice between my fingers, I gazed intently into the insufficient depth of less than an ounce.

I closed my eyes to pray as our pastor led us in Communion.

“This is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

The blood of Jesus. Heaven and Earth’s greatest mystery of all eternity represented here in my feeble hands. Who can grasp the meaning of such divine wisdom?

In the midst of a thousand people, I opened my soul to God in faith. This isn’t nearly enough to cover my sins, Lord.

“It’s plenty,” He said in a still, small voice. “Even a drop will do.”

Of course, I thought. It wasn’t the amount, but the One—Jesus Christ, the perfect sacrifice, the Great High Priest and the One who forever lives to apply it. The Trinity. Always three-in-one.

I held my eyes tight and let my God love me with the truth that the same blood shed for me over two thousand years ago still speaks a better word. Jesus' blood is more than enough for the whole world. And Even though a drop would do, He emptied Himself completely. For me . . . for all . . . who humbly receive.

Suddenly, the little swallow of grape juice I was about to drink down was undeniably sufficient. In remembrance of Christ’s self-sacrifice, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. “I will spend the rest of eternity thanking You, Jesus.”

A movement distracted me a few chairs down and I opened my eyes. It was my daughter. She had taken a seat next to her fiancé. I watched my future son-in-law take the tiny cracker from the second cup provided and carefully empty half his juice into it. Then he offered it to his future wife to share in the sacred act of remembering Jesus.

In that moment my heart swelled and tears wet my eyes. I knew God was displaying for me the beauty of Chad’s love for Kyra but also, the bottomless grace of Christ.

Even a drop will do.

. . . . .

“But if we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin.” 1 John 1:7

IT'S NOT ABOUT ME

Some people love talking about their work. Others love to talk politics or pop culture. I’ve been a stay-at-home mom and homemaker for twenty-two years. I’ve learned to take great pride in this undervalued job thanks to my encouraging husband. (Thanks, Honey XO.) However, there’s only so much I can talk about that anyone cares to hear. Most people want to be intrigued and at this point in my career, doing laundry and paying bills does very little to hold a crowd. And politics . . . well, I know enough to engage in a conversation, but care to discuss it about as long as the length of my arm. 

Ask me about Jesus and I have plenty to say. If you spend any amount of time with me you’ll soon find out He comes up often. And if you like talking about Him too . . . man, we’ll be here for hours.

I remember being on a walk with a friend about a decade ago. It wasn’t the only time we walked together. Living around the corner from each other afforded us countless walks over the years. And countless conversations. We’d talk about mom stuff, and politics, and current events. And more often than not we’d talk about God. She loved Him too so naturally He was infused into nearly every topic. 

I learned so much about being a godly wife and mother from her during those years. That was also when I discovered my passion to talk about Jesus and how amazingly awesome He is.  

“God just might use you to share with a lot of people,” she once said.

On the surface, I rejected that idea immediately. Who am I? I’m nobody, I thought. Safely, I suggested I was confident in a one-on-one conversation; even pretty comfortable in a small group scenario. But a room filled with people? With a microphone? Absolutely not. Heck, I blew the fourth grade Spelling Bee on the very first word—“should”—all because of that dumb microphone. (Scarred for life.)

But in spite of my insecurity and fears, deep down I fantasized about telling a massive crowd about how Jesus saved me and is still saving me. The thought thrilled me. Would God really want to use me like that? . . . Nah, not when there are so many brilliant, articulate, passionate believers whose testimonies have been forged by greater transformations than I could claim. (Answering our own questions always works because we know best.)

Fast forward ten years later. My friend was right. She saw something in me that I never would've chosen on my own.  Public speaking. About Jesus. With a microphone. Oh, and video-recorded. (The younger me cringes to consider watching that. Oh my gosh, look at my hair . . . did you hear me mess up there?) 

But, I’ve come a long way through this mind-torturing, self-centered process to discover God's calling on my life. A long way.

The first time I was asked to share my testimony to a room full of women, I said 'yes'. And I bombed. How do I know? Let me just say . . . you know. 

A few years had gone by when a kind unknowing person thought it was a good idea to ask me to share at another women’s event. "I can do this," I prodded myself. I prepared my notes. I studied Scripture. I prayed. And I didn’t tell anyone. One, because I didn’t want to seem braggy that someone asked me to speak (red flag); and two, because if I choked (again) I wouldn’t have to tell anyone if they asked, “How’d it go?” 

Can you say, “deja vu”? It was not good. Like the first time, I was all over the place. I stumbled over my words. I lost my place in my notes. I flopped.

And then it hit me. I was so worried about how “awesome” I needed to be that I forgot the real reason why I was asked to share in the first place.  It wasn’t about me, but them. And Him.

Have you ever had sorrow sweep through your gut like a whirlwind? That’s what it felt like when God showed me my pride. Even the pride I had when I realized I had pride . . .  it was too much. Pride upon pride. I cried. For real.

I wanted to disappear even more than that day I awkwardly sat center stage among my peers in the elementary school cafeteria. “Should. S-H-O-U-D . . . “ Nooooooo! But, it was too late. I couldn’t take it back. And that’s how I felt about my, not one, but two chances I was given to talk about my Savior. Sorry, no good. You blew it. Even on your do-over. Nooooooo! Embarrassment and disappointment taunted me as I regurgitated every personal public failure. But why? Isn’t that so like the world. The grace we as Christians fail to give ourselves (or others) looks nothing like Jesus sometimes. 

About three months later I was approached again. Our pastor’s wife asked me if I’d share about the Lord’s Supper and present communion to the women’s ministry. “God put you on my heart,” she said.

Me? I quickly took inventory in my mind. One ill-experienced Jesus freak with wounded pride and stage fright plus one hundred God-fearing ladies, maybe more . . . I can’t. Is she insane? Did the others say no? I say 'no' too!

“I’ll pray about it.” I said, graciously. (After all, isn’t that what most spiritual people say?)

I hung up the phone. 

And then God spoke to my heart, “You will do this.”  

“I know,” I responded, with my head down. Literally. I dropped my head down during our internal conversation. 

Good news for this over critical, self conscious girl—it wasn’t so bad that time. Yeah, I was a bit stiff, I fumbled a couple words, but something was deeply different. Maybe not so much on the outside, but the inside. I cared far less about what I looked like and far more about the women listening. I knew I honored the Lord. I took a deep breath and exhaled with a smile. “Thank You, God,” I whispered. 

Over the last couple of years, I’d said ‘yes’ many times. And any time I start to get freaked out or wonder if I have anything worth saying, I remember something a dear friend instructed me to do as we prayed together, “Love them with your words.” 

And I say this to you: if you have the gospel of Jesus Christ living within you, it’s worth sharing, no matter your stage. So, keep saying ‘yes’! It's your calling too.

. . . . . . 

"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a basket. Instead, they set it on a lampstand, and it gives light to everyone in the house." Matthew 5:14-15

USED BY GRACE

The soles of my running shoes slapped the rubber conveyer belt of my favorite treadmill. The end one. An obvious reminder of unpredictable claustrophobia. One after the other, my legs responded to my mind's demand. I don't want to be here. But . . . those cookies. Guilt is almost always a good motivator to commitment.

An agonizing situation forces its way into the forefront of my thoughts and a lump rushes to my throat. I don't stop it and begin to grieve the used parts of my heart and whine over the unfairness. To myself. To God. Whoever'll listen. 

Convicted by my internal trash talk to self protect, I back peddle the scandalous thoughts. Don't go there. Focus. Worship. Run. 

Pressing my ear buds in tighter, I order my mind to praise Jesus after I take a quick swig from my water bottle. I push to find that harmonious stride of body, mind, spirit and soul. Just give yourself a few minutes.

Then it happens. The undeniable speaks over my wounded life. "Do you want Me to use you?" Stunned and defensive, I swallow hard. Divine inquiry is often painful because the truth asks hard questions. Is this really what's going on here? No! I demand. I try to refuse it. But His examination brings weeping. 

Sweat mixed with tears wet my cheeks. I slow the speed on the display panel and wipe away the muddled mess of striving and self-preservation. How could I have missed it all along? Because being used by grace actively working in humble and quiet places looks a lot like passive suffering—victimhood.

To be used by people really hurts, but to be used by grace . . . well, that hurts too. I want to run away. I just want to run far away where I don't have to be used anymore.

I look down to track my feet. Somehow this pushes me to drive my legs harder as I raise the speed. I notice a new hole at the tip of each big toe. Quick mind shift. I feel accomplished by the evidence of how hard I work out. How easy it is to wander from the Lord's most difficult commands. 

A not-so-random question redirects my mind. "Does your Bible show the same wear?"  I answer myself. "Well, yes . . . yes, it does." I picture its loose, wrinkled pages and unraveling spine. Feeling good about my goodness again, another question comes: "Do you not expect to sweat and weep when you spend time there too?" In that moment I realize that being used by people and being used by grace does look and feel the same. 

But there's one difference. Perspective. And that changes everything.

. . . . . . . . . . 

 27 “But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. 29 Whoever hits you on the cheek, offer him the other also; and whoever takes away your coat, do not withhold your shirt from him either. 30 Give to everyone who asks of you, and whoever takes away what is yours, do not demand it back. 31 Treat others the same way you want them to treat you. 32 If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. 33 If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. 34 If you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is thatto you? Even sinners lend to sinners in order to receive back the same amount. 35 But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High; for He Himself is kind to ungrateful and evil men. 36 Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful." LUKE 6:27-36