Surface Paint that Peels or a Dye Stain That Penetrates and Stays

Once again C.S. Lewis succinctly nails the essential everydayness of life lived in Christ:

"The real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.

"We can only do it for moments at first. But from those moments the new sort of life will be spreading through our system: because now we are letting Him work at the right part of us. It is the difference between paint, which is merely laid on the surface, and a dye or stain which soaks right through. He never talked vague, idealistic gas. When He said, ‘Be perfect,’ He meant it. He meant that we must go in for the full treatment. It is hard; but the sort of compromise we are all hankering after is harder—in fact, it is impossible. It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad." C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

The One Season of Christ

Sometimes I hear someone admit or lament that they are in a “dry season” or a “time of waiting” in their faith. 

I have been tempted to adopt these oft self-imposed descriptions; what I now call "loopholes." 

I call them loopholes because, after experiencing what I thought were “times” of testing, persecution, mundaneness, spiritual attack, or “hearing (or not hearing) from the Lord,” I now see that these were mere labels to things that, not only did I announce privately or publicly that were happening to me, ironically then compartmentalized from daily belief, the same way some people compartmentalize their faith into Sundays and then “the rest of the week.”

This compartmentalization often meant I could justify a “leave of absence” from a daily, arduous, growing walk with Christ. Because I was “not hearing from God,” for instance, I could just go about my life without paying much attention to how I was actually living out the Gospel on a daily basis. 

I could put God on the back burner, cutting myself a break because I had no “call,” or perhaps because I was so persecuted by such and such, I could simply withdraw from the world entirely, instead of stay in it and learn better how to navigate people and situations in full reliance upon the Holy Spirit. 

In actuality, by drumming up a season in which to live in excuse, I forfeited the experience of trusting that God could and would transform me, and perhaps others, in His merciful directing of me, and every situation.

I came to realize that, when we humans, including Christian humans, begin putting titles to our “chapters of faith,” I think we miss the larger picture and purpose of being a Christ follower, and that is to, at all times, in every instant, live as Christ.

This living is by and through His Spirit in us, which is the muscle underlying every thought, every word, every deed, and every motivation. This is the muscle Paul implores us to develop, and through which we train to become content in all situations (1 Corinthians 9:24-27; Philippians 4:11-13). 

Taking everything captive to Christ, always and in all ways:

“For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh, for the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but divinely powerful for the destruction of fortresses. We are destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ,” (2 Corinthians 10:3-5) 

Sorry to say, but the “seasons” we declare, and let’s face it, frequently with a tad or more of an aroma of super spirituality, can be the very fortress, the “lofty thing” that is raised up against knowing Christ and obeying Him today, right now.

If we single ourselves out as being in a season of “spiritual attack,” we may miss the gift of conviction that calls us to repent—not for things “the devil” is bombarding us with—but the sin that “so easily entangles” (Hebrews 12:1) which we voluntarily allow (or that we open ourselves up to unawares because we are so bent on “praying off the devil” or being his victim). 

Obsessed and deluded that we can only be in one place at one time, we fail to live out the entirety of God’s call for us at all times, which is to live out the Gospel of Jesus Christ constantly and consistently. 

I get that there are intervals and junctures along life’s passage; the ebb and flow of tragedy, hardship, overt joys and accomplishments. 

But those stretches—that may drag on if negative or dissipate all too quickly if wonderful—contain, just as the seasons in weather—sun and rain, wind and calm, sun and moon, all intermingled. 

Summer is never three months of perfect weather. Winter is never only bleakness. 

Within both we continue to marvel at peachy sunrises and blood-orange sunsets, crisp starry nights and temperate days that surprise and delight us. 

Some of us adore the snow and turn ambivalent with the approach of spring. Some prefer the hot humidity of summer and grab as much of it as they can.

But within a season—be it the months of the year or the specific circumstances of our lives—there remains the Sabbath Day of rest that we entered the moment we were saved. 

This rest, often limited in people's understanding to mean “going to church on Sunday,” is the rest of God from our human striving to save ourself and others. It is a perpetual rest, ongoing; we live in His rest every day of the week, no matter how hard we work physically and mentally, or how profusely we are challenged by a fallen world and bodies. 

We, as members of Christ’s body, are in one season now: His. Every day is the Sabbath, otherwise, we would have to leave His rest if it only meant Sunday church attendance. The book of Hebrews assures us we have entered permanently His rest when we accept the New Covenant of Christ (please read Luke 6 and Hebrews chapters 4 through 13 closely, in context and within the systematic incorporation of Scripture). 

This season, the never-ending season of being a Christian, in the very smallest invisible molecule of time, is where and when we live Christ out. We aren’t “waiting” for Him to show up, or to reveal anything other than what He would have us be, say, perceive, discern and do right now. 

If we are afflicted and perplexed, we are also caught up in joy and in the already-overcoming Christ (2 Corinthians 4:7-11). We don’t take a holiday: we persevere, walking daily in Christ.

The “seasons” of faith we so readily glom onto I believe must be jettisoned for the one season: the timeline we began when we first accepted the Gospel of Jesus Christ and He alone as our Lord and Savior. 

That, His one-time justification of us, puts into motion our all of the time sanctification: the on-going process of acquiring the living of life in Christ, come what may: boredom, intense fears, questions, jadedness, spiritual “highs,” grief, turmoil, physical and mental frustrations, failures, and disappointments. 

It is all one season, and we live it, nano-second by nano-second, as the purpose and call of God. 

Copyright Barb Harwood

For Those Lukewarm or Cold

This quote from Oswald Chambers is a balm and a prompting for those on the fence about faith in Christ: either a faith they once professed without believing, or one they adhered to out of family upbringing, or one they actually embraced and accepted sincerely until the evil one came and snatched that seed away. 

I can’t think of a more clear and simple pleading during this Easter Week:

     “You remember your father and mother who prayed and talked of sin and righteousness and judgment to come, but you have other things to heed; you are more enlightened; you read sceptical books, controversial books, that attack the foundations of your faith.

     If these things have crept unawares into our hearts, let us get back in penitence and consider what is the foundation on which we must build our most holy faith, namely, that ‘God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life’ (John 3:16). Let us get down to the cross, to the broken heart of our God, down to the propitiation for our sins; let us put away the books that have sapped our faith…that have weighed our lives down to the dust, and looking to Jesus, let us build ourselves up on our most holy faith.” 

Oswald Chambers, in The Love of God: An intimate look at the Father-Heart of God

Pugnacious

One of God’s fabulous gifts is that of a melange of languages, and thus, of words, amongst His creation. 

When I am reading Scripture, and come across a word like “pugnacious,” well, I stop right there and go to the dictionary to discern exactly what this delightful sounding word means.

Dictionary.com defines “pugnacious” as:

“inclined to quarrel or fight readily; quarrelsome; belligerent; combative.”

We find this word in Titus 1:7:

“For the overseer must be above reproach as God’s steward, not self-willed, not quick-tempered, not addicted to wine, not pugnacious, not fond of sordid gain,”

Which may or may not cause us to wonder: if we are not an “overseer,” is it okay for us to be pugnacious—argumentative and quarrelsome? 

Well, basic Christian common sense, from a thorough reading of Scripture, would say,

“No, it is not okay for us to be pugnacious.”

But just so we have all corners swept, let’s look at dictionary.com's definition of “overseer:”

“a person who oversees; supervisor, manager.”

Well, even a six-year old is an overseer if they have a pet dog, cat or goldfish! So a child ought not to bully his pup or be mean-spirited towards his cat!

Seriously, though, if we think we are off the hook in Scripture just because the context sometimes appears as though “this message is for someone else,” think it through and search the Bible.

We can ask ourselves, 

“Am I an overseer in any capacity? A parent? An older sibling? A Boss? A babysitter? A caregiver? An employee overseeing production or customer service? A teacher? A leader of any kind?"

Perhaps I am stretching the very context of Titus, which I understand to be specifically talking about the overseers in the Christian community. But here again, if we are in Christian community, and oversee anyone—even if not officially appointed by a committee or consistory—we are not to be pugnacious.

This also goes for when others are pugnacious towards us (in other words, the “they started it” syndrome). 

Here’s our chance to live out the “turning of the other cheek” (Matthew 5:39). 

Just because someone is argumentative towards us, does not mean we must be argumentative back. We can abstain. We can simply not go there. 

I speak from a lengthy history of failure when I say that turning the other cheek is a very difficult thing to do, especially when led by emotions or intellectual logic rather than by Christ Himself. 

This is when “having the mind of Christ” (1 Corinthians 2:16) is all-important. 

We grow that mind through the committed discipline of reading Scripture, praying Scripture, listening to God in quiet, talking to Him, and partnering with Christ’s Spirit by listening to and complying with it. 

Like anything, if we are not prepared, then when a quarrel erupts, a debate beckons, or an antagonistic opponent taunts, we will be blindsided, making a shipwreck of our faith (1 Timothy 1:19). 

But Christ is greater (1 John 4:4). And His Spirit in us allows us to rise above the flawed human level—prevailing, composed, at His level

I had to unequivocally get to this point—to truly agreeing that this is certainly the case—that Christ is greater. In fact, He is our ultimate overseer:

“Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart” (Hebrews 12:1-3).

Because, in all honesty, it was and still is sometimes assuaging and satisfying to be argumentative, or to strike back from an opposing position, as warped as that may sound, and as regrettable as it may come to feel in its aftermath. 

Pugnacious is a word I have rarely heard used, but I see its meaning lived out in daily conversation, especially when it comes to politics (office or government). 

Sit in a hospital or clinic waiting room that has a television tuned into shows such as The View or any news program, and you will be astounded as to the import placed on politics, and the way its negative tentacles strangle the talking heads in their daily lives, killing their joy. 

This was the case yesterday as I waited to speak with a doctor. As I heard a talk show guest delineate the many ways the United States presidential election of two years ago traumatized every aspect of her life, I, incredulous, said to myself “Really?” 

And then I was just sad for her—that the person who sits in the Oval Office was her only thing going.

I hadn’t watched a show such as this for more than a decade. It was a stark reminder of how, without a strong and increasing foundation in Christ, the world and those in it will suck people in and swallow them whole.

Pugnacious.

It is an attitude as much as it is spoken words. 

It claims its victims when, coming from others, we let it rule our perspectives, curse our motivations and sour our outlook.

It holds us in its vice when it invades our internal stream of consciousness—building things up into grandiose perspectives of victimhood, despair, drama, annoyance, superiority, being interrupted and offended. 

So even though we believe ourselves to be the politest of people, inside we can be quite quarrelsome—seething over, I’m sorry to say, rather silly things. 

Titus 1:7 is simple and good advice: don’t be pugnacious, not only for the sake of others, but for our own, which can always benefit from a healthy dose of directly calming down.

Copyright Barb Harwood

The Love of Christ Compels

Our new life in Christ evolves through love, both His love for us and our love for Him.

Through His love we give up our need to control: to have life go according to our plan and idea of what constitutes success; to cease expecting people to act according to what benefits, appeases, comforts and pleases us; to willingly allow vulnerability and readily admit when we are wrong—and offer an apology. 

Through the love of Christ we overcome addictions, dysfunctions, mess-ups, failures and ongoing temptations.

This love I am referring to is not just Christ’s love for us, it is also our love for Christ. 

Jesus does, indeed, love us. 

However, many of us might initially assume that His love for us is a “magic bullet” that will now imbue us with self-control so that we don’t have to really train or develop any Biblical strength in subduing our impulses or long-established habits and conceptions.

Sometimes we might exchange what is a Biblical expectation for our emotional and behavioral transformation-in-Christ for cheap grace: that which accepts Christ’s forgiveness but not his renovation.

My high school French teacher used to say that some of us were acting as if she could just walk up to each one of us and teach French through osmosis. But of course, learning anything does not happen that way. Although she could instruct us and model the language, some proactive cooperation must also emanate from within us.

And so it is in our Christian walk. 

Jesus pours His love into us (with salvation, I am quick to point out, being of faith and not works), and we, in turn, work out that salvation (Philippians 2:12) through loving Him back and following His lead (John14:15). 

This love of Christ is more than just a “devotional” love. 

Jesus Himself asks Peter three times, “Do you love me?” (John 21:15-17).

Peter assures Him again and again that yes, he loves Jesus.

Jesus responds to Peter’s declarations with:

 “Tend My lambs.” 

“Shepherd My sheep.”

“Tend My sheep.” 

Do we see the connection? 

Jesus absolutely calls us to love Him. But the reason, I believe, is apparent from Scripture: love Me so that your love for Me will motivate you to love others, and to act towards others out of your unequivocal love for Me.

Jesus knows very well that the only pure motivator of the human heart, mind, body and soul is love for Him, which we gain after we experience and intellectually learn His love for us and His love for every person. 

In 2 Corinthians 5:14, we read,

“For the love of Christ controls us…”

Other translations read: 

“For Christ’s love compels us…”

“For the love of Christ urges us on…”

Our love for Christ is derived out of Christ’s love for us (1 John 4:19). 

This reciprocating love controls us in the sense that it becomes the motivation that ultimately contributes to the resisting of temptations in thought, word and deed that would otherwise rule. These are the temptations that derail our personal lives and our family and community relationships.

We can look at 2 Corinthians 5:14 in further context:

“For the love of Christ controls us, having concluded this, that one died for all, therefore all died; and He died for all, so that they who live might no longer live for themselves, but for Him who died and rose again on our behalf” (2 Corinthians 5:14-15).

Based on the above verse, this Christ-love now motivates us in every way going forward.

A relationship with God is not a one way street. God wants us to love Him for the very reason that it motivates us to live out that love for Him, which is what brings us renewal, joy and release—transformation in His likeness—which benefits those in our midst. 

The love of God for us and lived out for Him is never for “self-help” and “self-actualization" (the precedence of the word “self” would prove that).  

In fact, Christ’s betterment of each one of us as individuals—instilling inner peace and contentment in Him, although certainly a necessary and essential gift of His transposing process—is not meant to end there, or to persist on a solely devotional level. 

Everyone wants peace on earth (or at minimum, peace within our own homes and cities), yet we sabotage the promulgation of peace when we go no further than a personal inner peace.

A peace that reverberates outward in every situation, plan and person we encounter, calls for an applied kindness and compassion grounded in Christian love through having the mind of Christ (1 Corinthians 2:16; Philippians 2:1-2;) and taking “captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5). 

In this, as much as it is up to us, we can be at peace with everyone (Romans 12:18), including ourselves, and have a clear conscience before God. 

And so it begins with Christ; “it” being love and reconciliation: as we are first loved we come to love Christ, realizing that the loving of others as ourself takes thoughtful, intentional, Biblical training and discipline. 

It—this living out of Christ via a deep love for Him—is indeed, as Paul describes, a race, not to be run quickly but accurately, with precision—unwavering—consistently—until the very end.

The love of Christ compels. It urges us on…

Copyright Barb Harwood

“He has told you, O man, what is good;

And what does the LORD require of you

But to do justice, to love kindness,

And to walk humbly with your God?” Micah 6:8

Throwing God Out With the Bath Water

It happens all the time in people who think they are on the cutting edge of intellectualism and progressivism: they reject the denomination of their youth or family upbringing by rejecting God altogether. It’s the proverbial throwing of the baby out with the bath water.

It doesn’t happen to everyone raised within a denomination. Some raised in a specific institutional church continue on in it throughout their life.

Others reject it, but find another formal religious creed and practice to live within.

Others, like myself, eschew denominationalism for a life in the Triune God of the Bible.

Regardless, the rejecting of God often goes like this:

People find philosophers, professors, faith leaders and theologians who introduce them to and add support to their personal contentions of how “wrong” a denomination is—how it manipulated and tried to control; that it was all a bunch of shallow super spiritual “group-think” of which one breaks free through educational and idealogical enlightenment. 

Embarrassed by a previous “buy-in” to the denominational teachings, they jettison all of it, including God Himself.

This then frees them up to piece together and formulate a religious construct that assuages the guilt and shame they feel for having been “one of those people” in their youth and teenage years. 

Often, it is their way of retaliation. Thus, their new-found “faith” is nothing but revenge (though they miss this point entirely). 

I understand this. And find it very sad.

That God would be so closely aligned in people’s minds with a denomination or a corporate church and not a Savior is, to be honest, alarming. 

And yet it is so prevalent. Many people, even those who love their denomination, know the denomination and not the Lord. 

I’ve witnessed young people in their twenties with a desire to explore and love the Lord who are bullied, pressured and dissuaded from that journey by those who, because they have jettisoned the faith, think they are doing others a favor by getting them to discard it too. 

But I believe a time will come when the person who has turned away from God, and has influenced a close friend or loved one to do the same, will one day wake up to having that very decision turn against him or her self. 

They will look at their friend or loved one who is struggling and frustrated with life. And it will dawn on them that maybe, just maybe, it is because the only semblance of surety that their friend ever had—a desire for God—was stripped away by peer pressure, and they were the person who had negatively influenced them.

In that moment it will be clear that when they turned away from God, and turned their friend or loved one away from God, they created a monster that has now turned against them both. 

And in that instance of precise conviction, they understand, finally—aghast—that everything they thought they rightfully rebelled against: manipulation, blind faith, controlling personalities, coercion…they actually became in their triumphant zeal to push their own “denomination” of Bible-free, Christ-free, God-free allegiance. 

That is when they realize that more than having been duped by the denomination of their youth, they have duped themselves. 

In the words of American animator and cartoonist Walt Kelly, they recognize without a doubt that they “have met the enemy and he is us.”

And that is the point of return to the beginning of a true faith in God through Christ.

Copyright Barb Harwood