George MacDonald on Character and Conduct

"Foolish is the man, and there are many such men, who would rid himself or his fellows of discomfort by setting the world right, by waging war on the evils around him, while he neglects that integral part of the world where lies his business, his first business--namely, his own character and conduct."
George MacDonald writing in The Hope of the Gospel

I Know What I Do Believe; I Know What I Don't Believe; I'm Okay with "I Don't Know"

Break through:

When the dross being squeezed out is now a greater percentage than the dross still remaining;

The “I can see clearly now the rain is gone;”

The flying in dark overcast for hours only to suddenly jut through the final bank of clouds into pristine, sunny-blue brightness.

This dross I speak of is heavy—polluted with the impurities that moor us to legalisms, spiritual self-righteousness and religious idolatry.

And it is no surprise.

C..S Lewis expounds on this very thing in his book The Screwtape Letters. 

Submerged in it, we go from either no theology, self-theology or denominational theology to only become caught in a wider net of all-encompassing Catholicism, Pentecostalism, Evangelicalism, Anglicanism, Agnosticism, Atheism, or Orthodoxy.

If we are fortunate, we find Jesus Christ in spite of all the contamination. 

Liberal, conservative, it doesn’t matter. They all contain it. They all promulgate it. 

The only constant is Christ: either the acceptance of Him in various human-theological constructs, or outright rejection of Him, or the re-configuring and co-opting of His person or historicity.

Where Christ began and took hold in me, was, I see now, the beginning—slowly and arduously—of the end of the busy charade that is doctrinal, hierarchal, corporate, “culturally relevant” and super spiritually competitive congregational “life.” 

That life, manufactured on a paradigm, program, or “mission,” and set up according to humanly pre-ordained ways of humanly interpreted and spoon-fed teachings of Jesus, is not life at all. 

It is a sinking craft of man’s faulty making: a cargo carrier from which I have, over the years and with God, jettisoned load after load and bundle after bundle of excess that anchored Jesus to someone’s ideology, cultural agenda, opinion, tradition, social justice, political party, and “holding accountable.”

Today, (extraordinarily, considering), the gangplank is lowered and I disembark, no longer having to toss even one more satchel over the bow.

I walk down the passageway to the shore and stop, one last time, to gaze at the listing vessel.

And then I turn away, and in overwhelming relief and virgin joy, I walk—nothing and no-one but my Savior with me.

Copyright Barb Harwood

When We Have a Thorn

Sometimes we have a sore spot, a proclivity to sensitivity in one area of life for which we can totally commiserate with Paul’s nebulous “thorn in the side” (although, I believe, it isn’t quite as nebulous as folks make it, since the context of his having a thorn is that of his dealings with other people in the church).

Paul seemed to have a grasp on his thorn, and for us, in time, perhaps we, too, will be able to respond “Ah ha!” to our own.

But until that day comes, what do we do with situations or people that we can’t quite put our finger on as to why they disturb us so?

Especially when, on paper, everything looks to be in order; free of blot or smudge.

But in reality, it isn’t so. 

We are left, then, scratching our heads, asking ourselves,

“Is it me?” “Is it the Holy Spirit trying to tell me something? Is it them?”

It’s especially difficult when we are alone in our thorn—when trying to explain it, solve it or compromise with it in the company of a trusted confident initially falls on deaf ears because our perceptions just don’t make sense to them (and often even to ourselves). 

So we don’t bring it up again. Until we do because we can’t help it. 

I mean, it’s a thorn! And those don’t go away by pretending, wishing or intellectualizing! 

Even praying doesn’t always bring about instant results (Paul prayed three times for it to be removed, to no avail! 2 Corinthians 12:8).

We know the thorn is only going in deeper when, finally, in exasperation, the person we are hoping can acknowledge our desperation and take it seriously enough to walk us through it has simply had it with us in this matter. 

Because again, just like with Paul, when it comes to thorns, we are pretty much alone in our agony. 

Yes, Paul publicly acknowledged and lamented his thorn (2 Corinthians 12), but we get the sense that this is a resigned admission that nothing or no one has been able to relieve it, or perhaps even understand it.

And maybe that’s the point: the thorn does not go away in spite of our concerted efforts to eradicate it, because in this, God wants us to be all eyes and ears on Him. He’s got something rather important that He believes we are ready to face.

And the first thing I see is that God, in His infinite wisdom, has allowed me (not left me) to live in this grey area before. And so maybe if I begin there, I will find a common thread between my current thorn and those from the past.

And so I begin the investigation, with my counsel, God, right next to me. And I ask, 

“Does what bothers me so have anything in common with past difficulties?"

"If so, what did I do to surmount those brambly hedges?" 

"Could the same action be taken now to tame this dragon breathing down my neck?" 

I strongly believe that taking time to probe anything that repeatedly and gnawingly trips us up is far more beneficial and lasting than simply telling ourselves to “get over it” (we “get over” a snide comment, an oversight, a mistake, etc. We’re talking about scale here: not everything can be a thorn in our side!).

I also recommend, in order to ward off beating ourselves up, taking a stroll down the garden path of memory to see the blooms of healthy past dealings: flowers free of spines and thistles to remind us that we are in fact capable and have a winning track record in being mature in relationships, and are, in many ways a good friend, spouse, sibling, and parent.

To embrace the balanced relationships that we do have with people—that don’t trouble us in the least—helps us zero in on why this one relationship in life has managed to snarl our traffic lane. 

The tendency is to interpret this thorn as a failure, derailing any functionality, positive effort and confidence in social situations that already exists.

In that case we need to consider that Satan could be attacking us (1 Peter 5:8-9), dangling before us a sin we’ve had victory over, which now becomes a test in life application: is that sin really gone? 

Or it could be that we’ve had other victories with God and are currently in a good inner place spiritually, inciting Satan to start throwing rocks at us to muck up our peace (1 Corinthians 10:12-12; 1 Peter 5:8-9).

That’s when we do what the Bible says and immediately go to God to resist the devil so that he will flee (James 4:7):  we sit with God and list the victories God alone has brought us through—real victories, not imagined—and we stand firm that His victory will come through for us on this too, even if, like Paul, we are forced to live with the thorn a little longer or a lifetime.

Aside from Satan, if Satan is involved at all, there is our fallen nature. Our sin. 

So as with any thorn, we know our sin is in there somewhere. And we know from previous triumphs, this sin must be laid out in front of us for us to acknowledge and agree with God that it is there; that it ought not be there; and that we sincerely don’t want it. 

This sin might be the common denominator in every thorn we’ve ever had or will have, or it could be a new sin being revealed (because previous sins have been cleaned up, now there’s room to work on new ones! Isn’t that great?!).

In situations with near-debilitating thorns, I have found that for me, whether resolved or not, I do obtain the coveted peace of God by finally having serious one-on-one “come to Jesus” times of soul-searching where I’m ready for His diagnosis and prescription.

And that’s where God exposes our sin, be it a repeat of a past sin; or one we thought we were free of; or a sin we were free of for a time, but has reappeared, meaning we haven’t fully agreed with God on it yet.

And then there’s the new sin, as in the one that God has never before revealed, but has decided now is a good time to do it! 

We can consider this a good thing! A new level of being a Girl Scout. A promotion at the office. An end of year bonus! Yay! A new sin to chip away at! Always maturing as a child of God! 

But…ouch!

The pain that comes with the naming of the sin underlying or contributing to our thorn is not for the faint of heart (Philippians 3:7-11; 1 Peter 4:12). 

But once it’s out on the table, then, okay, let’s do this. Let’s deal. And so that’s what we do. For as long as it takes. In God’s ever-perfect timing and wisdom. We get to work with Him on this sin.

And then, to be fair, and to ward off the devil’s schemes (Ephesians 6:11; 1 Peter 5:8-9), we lay out the sin of the other person(s) in our thorny relationship. 

We do this with God—so as not to fall into grumbling or a critical spirit—who, as James promises, will give us wisdom in abundance when we ask. And there is no wiser question than to ask what sin, in ourselves and in others, is causing distress. 

This digging in the dirt with God into His revelation will reveal the one or more “ah ha’s!” that I mentioned earlier. 

It doesn’t mean the thorn will now go away (after all, other people are involved, and they may not see or agree with God on their sin which is contributing to our thorn).

Scripture never reveals whether or not down the road Paul was relieved of his thorn. 

If not, did he eventually learn how to live with it so it no longer ate him up inside? We don’t know that either. 

But from the passage in which he seems to finally get it off his chest (2 Corinthians 12:8), I sense a definite having moved on from it in the sense that he knew it wasn’t, in fact, going to ever go away. And being the man that he was, he prioritized and figured out how to not sin in regard to that thorn going forward. 

Paul dealt in humility—born of the very thorn of torment (2 Corinthians 12:7)—with those involved in such a way so as to continue on God’s course (Philippians 3:12-16; 2 Timothy 4:7), not letting them dominate or derail him, but agreeing to disagree with them as much as it depended on him to maintain peace (Romans 12:18). 

And that might mean finally instilling the expectations that were never set in the beginning, and that are at the root of what has become our big daunting weed. 

Paul’s exhortations when it comes to his thorn are in exasperation that things got away not only from him, but from God. The thorn came about though human sin and pride. 

And that is what causes our thorns too. 

Paul wants to get back on track, with or without those who are causing him troouble. We can do the same. 

If our getting on track with God and who we genuinely are with Him, sincerely desiring to remove our own sin tendencies from the human relationship—if that hurts, offends, or doesn’t please the person we have struggled with, then that is their sin not being resolved. That is their sin demanding to have its way. And we do not have to be an enabler to that sin. 

In fact, our stepping back to righteousness with God alone could be the very thing that causes us to now be a thorn in their side, initiating the long trek down sin-contemplating row so that they, too, can be cleansed.

The Bible talks about iron sharpening iron. That doesn’t mean we are know-it-alls. It means we live graciously and authentically, as the people we are today, right now. 

If we hide our progress in Christ, if we bury our transformation, the relationship loses its purpose because the other person can’t be sharpened by our growth. 

This is the finding of compromise that allows us to not live any more in our sin with this person, and not condone their sin either. 

It’s a stepping back and allowing some time to pass by in the relationship in order to allow our changed person to re-emerge, and like Paul, unwilling to let the thorn get in the way of metamorphosis: ours, theirs and the relationship’s. 

Over time, God will allow this new emergence of ours to either re-define the relationship in His goodness, or He will permit its autumnal final closure, also in His constant working of good.

Copyright Barb Harwood

“Trouble and anguish have come upon me, 

Yet your commandments are my delight” Psalm 119:143

“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven—

     A time to give birth and a time to die;

     A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.

     A time to kill and a time to heal;

     A time to tear down and a time to build up.

     A time to weep and a time to laugh;

     A time to mourn and a time to dance.

     A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones;

     A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.

     A time to search and a time to give up as lost;

     A time to keep and a time to throw away.

     A time to tear apart and a time to sew together;

     A time to be silent and a time to speak.

     A time to love and a time to hate;

     A time for war and a time for peace.” Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

“He has made everything appropriate in its time.” Ecclesiastes 3:9

“But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things…Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful.” John 14:26a-27

     

Showing Up in God's Hard-Won Compassion

When life is so good—when everything, for this moment in time anyway, is calm and undisturbed and we think we detect an encroachment of actual joy—that is when we sit back and ask, of our previous anguishes: 

“What was that all about?” 

And we marvel.

But when we encounter others in that very anguish—although it is never the same as ours in the details—we remember. 

Their pained expressions, incredulity and tears immediately take us back to our own, and we remember.

And we have compassion.

I believe it can be no other way.

And this compassion is not for ourselves all over again.

It is not to recite to the grieving, shocked person the details of our own previous trials: that is a mistake many make.

The compassion that comes to us by God teaches us His walking us through the valley (Psalm 23:4); His assurance that He gets it (John 11:35): His acknowledgement that we are hard pressed on every side (2 Corinthians 4:8) through His Spirit of Christ in us (Romans 8:26).

God’s transformation of us through affliction removes all self-centeredness in our bearing with one another.

Certainly there are folks who mean well.

They strive to “be there” and say encouraging words. They may bring food. They have their place.

But so often they fall into the temptation of Job’s friends and speak of things they do not know, or lack an intuitive sense for the state of the afflicted and their situation. 

Those who have truly been brought low, in contrast—and humbled and matured by it—only those who have had the rug literally pulled out from under them in a catastrophic and un-imagined way and are literally left reeling—void of every previous capacity to control or cope (dysfunctional or not)—they are the ones we cherish and wish could sit with us in our dark hours. 

Because they, too, not only have been there but they were changed. They didn’t bury the trial under the rug. They didn’t rise up in platitudes. Their pride was afflicted in addition to everything else, with a good outcome there.

They are the ones who no longer can even begin to pretend to feel what others feel, because they know it isn’t possible. 

And when we, the suffering, perceive this, we relish their silence at our bedside; their company on long walks; their companionship. 

There is a sense of being equals--comrades, as opposed to the "helped" and "helper." 

Pure and unadulterated compassion carries a sixth sense for intuitive response and silence, led by a previous pain that doesn’t claim to comprehend our own. 

Those of true mercy show up, absent of posturing that they possess answers and expertise on recovering from something they have no experience with. 

They follow the lead of God and the afflicted and check themselves at the door. 

This is how God uses our miseries. He turns them into tenderness.

So then, someone else can endure heartache and sickness, not alone, and not alone with another soul who means to say all the right things but can’t—but with the person who God has already taken through the mess and brought out to the other side. 

That is the use of the train wreck moments or years of our life: to grow in the knowledge and love of the Lord so that we can simply show up when another life derails. 

Copyright Barb Harwood

“The LORD is near to the brokenhearted

And saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” 2 Corinthians 1:3-4