Where Does This Christmas Find Us?

 

Just okay, and getting by; not bad, but not really good?

Grateful and glad for the year behind and the one on the horizon?

Saying goodbye to the worst year ever?

Celebrating one of the best year’s in a long time?

In a hole that we have given up any further attempt to dig out of?

In each and every case, although we think we find ourselves in a certain place and time, there is another spot where Christmas can find us: the manger.

The manger is where it begins for us—whether we are grateful and celebratory, or very sad, or frustrated by just about everyone and everything.

Jesus arrived in innocence to vouchsafe ours. Because when all is said and done, after all that we have said and done, Jesus declares us innocent in Him. 

As innocent as a babe, lying in a manger.

If this Christmas finds you in a deep hole, regardless of its making, it is possible to climb out. 

Today. 

Right now. 

Circumstances do not have to change. People do not have to change. The world does not have to change. 

We have to change only our gaze and walk towards the manger, giving no more thought to the steps we leave behind. 

We go forward, toward the light, toward the beckoning birth of something new. Even if that something new is merely the choice to exit the hole. 

“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.” Luke 2:10-11

Copyright Barb Harwood

Sharing of Our Faith, or Asking About Theirs?

 

It has occurred to me that the whole concept of “sharing your faith” or “sharing our faith” is one-sided. It comes from the place of me, not you. 

In my experience in the corporate church of evangelicalism, the drumbeat has been to “share your faith, share your faith, share your faith!” This, even when folks aren’t asking and aren’t interested!

The perspective is, we are to sit down, “come alongside of” and “share.” Which means talking about myself, my faith, my Jesus, and what he has done for me. 

This is talking at, not sharing.

I hate to say it but this approach to “making converts” is no different than an obnoxious door-to-door salesman who verbosely goes on and on as if we, the customer, are just a warm body for him to promote himself and his wares.

I don’t claim to know the motivation behind every person “sharing” their faith, but having viewed it from my own initial and immature self-perspective of what it means to “share my faith," observed others in action, and been on the receiving end of one too many monologues of so-called “gospel sharing," I know for a fact that self-promotion and spiritual pride can easily enter in. Without even noticing, we can make it only about us and not at all about Jesus or the person we are supposedly “sharing” with.

Spending time with Christ in the New Testament, as opposed to listening to our Christian pro-proselytizing cohorts, will teach something entirely different: Jesus makes it about himself only in the sense that he himself is Jesus, but conducts himself in an other-focused, other-centered question format. He asks about their faith. He plays back what he hears them saying and, because he is Jesus, even what they are thinking!

He asks them questions about themselves and their lives, and about their comprehension of important matters. He responds to their statements, their hearts, their minds. It is not a one-sided conversation. 

In this model of Christ, we find that “sharing” is not about us having a “heart for Jesus” or a “call to the lost.” It is not about us at all, which is a tough pill to swallow when we so wanted to make it about us and our faith and our Jesus! But it is about their hearts, and finding out what it is exactly that constitutes lostness for them. 

With Christ, people felt seen and heard. Perhaps that is why he was listened to by all, including his enemies, and actually heard by those who chose to follow him. Those who turned away, I surmise, did not like the conviction they felt when Christ saw and heard them. But those who were willing to bear with that conviction were able, then, to also feel the overflowing love of his forgiveness and acceptance—the love that came upon them even though Christ knew everything about them, good and bad. 

The next time a pastor, Bible study leader or anyone pushes and pressures to “share your faith,” submit to the model of Jesus instead, and make it about the person we are in a conversation with. They don’t need to hear about or be convinced of our faith, they need to be led in exploring what faith might, or could, or can mean and be, for them. 

Copyright Barb Harwood

When Nineveh is a Faith We No Longer Want

 

To each one of us, Nineveh is the place we don’t want to go (but which we know, deep down inside, is where we need to go).

Nineveh can be a metaphor for many situations.

But the context I have specifically in mind is that of someone running from a previous faith in God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit.

In this context, Nineveh is faith that a person no longer wants to have.

For those disassociating themselves from faith, what has often happened is that, having been there once and found some truth, over time, they also experienced some untruth (otherwise understood as legalistic or poorly interpreted doctrine, manmade traditions, culture wars and Christian hypocrisy). 

What happens, however, is that instead of reflecting upon and further testing the truth of their faith, they want out. They want nothing more to do with “any” of it. And so they begin the long slog into anything but.

The tragedy is that what they take with them from the past are the untruths, latching onto them for dear life so as to attempt to disprove what actually is true, so they never have to go back.

It’s guilt by association: 

Something good (their faith in God through the Spirit of Christ) is tainted by something bad, and to “get back at” the bad, they jettison the good. They forget that the good ever existed. 

As the saying goes, they “throw the baby out with the bath water.”

Nineveh, faith, is the "place" that is shunned because the disillusioned are unable or unwilling to separate the good from the bad. 

So in order to “go” to our Nineveh, we must, finally, find a way to separate the good from the bad.

Once we do this, we can study each on its own—the good separate from the bad, and the bad, separate from the good. 

We can be honest in our estimation of how much of our Nineveh was actually bad versus how much was actually good. 

We can look at how the bad impacted the good; how, if it weren’t for the bad, the good could have flourished and been more of a benefit. We can also be realistic about the many ways we did benefit at the time, but have chosen to ignore.

We can examine why the bad existed.

We can look at how each overshadowed the other, at various times and places, and that the "bad" did not always win, and in fact the good scored some big hits!

We can ask ourselves, in a thorough and courageous personal inventory, how running from the faith we once had is working for us. 

Finally, we can listen very closely to hear if the still small voice inside us confesses that we have never really left our faith, and would so love to be able to admit it and have it back.

To return to our Nineveh is to begin again from the place of the good, with the “bad” existing solely as a sober lesson on what not to do and how not to be. The bad actors, actions, ideologies and practices of other human beings in the past and present do not decide our faith in God for us (however, running from God because of them means they still control us).

Upon our return to our faith, we can begin to build—from a place of positive progression, not negative regression—the truth into our lives, cultivating it in Godly wisdom, humility and gratitude. The bad will no longer stunt our conviction, God’s revelation or the joy Christ gives.

In going back to Nineveh, we free our souls from the captivity of the past.

Copyright Barb Harwood

Running From What We Don't Want to be True

 

Sometimes, we investigate in order to convince ourselves that we do not believe what we really believe.

That agendized investigation can go on for days, months, and years, ultimately becoming a lifestyle, worldview and identity, never finding the refutation we are looking for, but hoping beyond conviction that, in the end, we can be right—we can be right that what we truly believe deep within ourselves is wrong and untrue. 

We prioritize this need to be right against the acceptance of what is, actually, right. 

We are Jonah running away from Nineveh and falling into the mouth of futility. All to protect our ego from having to acknowledge it is not, in fact, in charge.

God, who enabled our very person to exist with free will, has planned it so that futility will spit us up, toss us onto dead-ends, and swallow us again and again until we see God's way to Nineveh, and go.  

Copyright Barb Harwood

We Can Choose Easy or Heavy

 

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Jesus

What is the opposite of “easy?”

Endless lamenting about the election. 

Going to religious services regularly, but not resting in one’s God.

Viewing everything from “my” perspective, not once considering the legitimacy of the other person in the room, or the other group of people “over there.”

And talking ourselves into—deluding ourselves—that what we say and stand for is so important that everything else comes second, or even further down the priority pipeline. So relationships (even that with God) come second, third, or even further, to “my” conviction on any given cause or topic. And it is expected that the people in our relationships not only graciously accept our taking these prioritized stands, but applaud and admire us for it. 

Why are the above descriptions the opposite of “easy?” 

Because they create a dramatic setting for one’s need for self-importance by fixing one’s Quixotic identity into a forced--but false--realty (to me, that sounds like a lot of work. In fact, it is a lot of work, because I’ve done it!!)

This is indeed a heavy burden: both for the one militantly going about announcing themselves, and for those on the receiving end. 

For the person with tunnel vision, who literally cannot see the common-sense forest for the trees aspect of life, this forcing of one’s interior thought life out into the open and onto others is never enough. In their mind, their blindly striving to be important (more important than the next person) never seems to bring connection with other people and society the way they imagined, so they keep on keeping-on hoping that someday, the world will finally stop and congratulate them on having been so concerned about just about everything!

It’s a heavy burden, too, for the person who must endure, as graciously as they can, episodic mini orations, “should” sessions and low emotional intelligence from the people they interact with. 

The sad fact is that, oftentimes, these projectors of personal passions wonder why they have few, if any, deep connections. While they are blindly intent on pushing their inner world, they inadvertently push others away.

Jesus understands all of this. Nothing surprises him. That’s why he says that the antidote to every earthly burden is to set down our self-imposed ego-yoke and take up his yoke—and learn from Him. But those so entrenched in their fear of “where this world is going” or “how complacent everyone is but me,” can’t set aside their own person long enough to see anyone, much less Jesus Christ. 

But, there he is anyway—Jesus, not shoving himself onto anyone, but simply standing steadily by, ready to give his easy yoke and learning to all. 

I guess, for some, Jesus’ call to rest, to not carry our self-assigned burden, is the very definition of complacency. But don’t let the critics in this matter succeed in guilting. 

Resting in Christ is the very opportunity to arrive at empathy, open-mindedness, the ability to listen (and not feel threatened), and bearing with one another (isn’t that the only way to ever be in a relationship and maintain deep connection—a two-way street?)

Isn’t that an easier way than a constant mindset of self-righteous “me, my and mine”—the groping, clawing, joyless curating of pet peeves into minefields that others must walk through? What stress and strain in the constant fear of coming in second, leading to the obsessive running of a race to be superior, right and on the winning side!

And for those who surrender the white flag and decide to walk away from instigating this type of toxic atmosphere, participating in it or silently abiding it, Jesus is there, too. The weary can take on his easy yoke and learn from Him all that He teaches about long-suffering, being at peace with others, humility, and throwing that first, or last, stone. 

Jesus will carry all of us. 

Will I, as his child, lift up my arms and let him?

Copyright Barb Harwood

 

The Cost of Ignoring, and Even Denying, Progress

 

"Society cannot, in the long run, exist if it is divided into sharply defined groups, each intent on wresting special privileges for its own members, continually on the alert to see that it does not suffer any setback, and prepared, at any moment, to sacrifice the most important political institutions..."

Ludwig von Mises, Liberalism in the Classical Tradition (1927)

Justified by Law

 

“You who are trying to be justified by law have been alienated from Christ…” Galatians 5:4a

Justification by law tends to be interpreted and understood to mean the Old Testament laws of the Jewish faith. 

However, any legalism or non-legalistic self-justification is, I believe, applicable.

And while we tend to easily name all of the usual legalistic suspects—the strict “do’s and don’ts” of any given religious denomination—the self-justifications are more difficult to discern.

Take, for instance, conceit that manifests as thinking more highly of one’s self due to an ascribed sense of “super spirituality” or "refined intelligence." This personal “law" of thinking more highly of one’s self than one ought leads naturally to thinking more highly of one’s self than of other people as well.

To be self-satisfied, spiritually or otherwise, goes against every one of Jesus’ words on humility.

“To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable:

‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.’”

Luke 18:9-14

Legalisms in and of themselves, alienate, but so, too, do the haughty, arrogant attitudes they breed.

Copyright Barb Harwood