The Wisdom That Makes Life Work Most

Being Christian I happen to believe that the wisest way of living is the Christian way.

Not only did Jesus Christ die for our sins, though that is enough, not only was he raised from the dead, though that is enough, and not only did he ascend to the right hand of God, though that is enough, he also shows us the best way to live life to the full. He shows us how to live the life of peace, hope, faith, joy, love and wisdom.

The wisdom that makes life work most attacks the wrong way of living that we all constantly fall for.

We all live this life in our own strength.

This is an exhausting reality.

It doesn’t take long—well, about 35 years—before you realise that living this life in your own strength doesn’t work. As we approach burnout, we recognise the folly in living life in a way that derives energy and sustaining power from our own reserves.

The harder we try, the more futile life becomes, as we take on more and more, before we learn that such a method to live cannot be sustained.

DON’T WASTE YOUR TIME

In Christian parlance there is a psalm in the Bible that speaks of this folly. In Psalm 127 it says that those who build without the Lord labour in vain. And those who guard their lives without God also guard their life in vain. Without God’s sponsorship everything we build in this life is susceptible to ruin, and our activities are tantamount to a waste of time.

The crux is that working in our own strength requires furious effort, produces much frustration, and creates anger, sadness and fear, and ultimately relationship problems.

ADMIT LIFE WITHOUT GOD IS UNMANAGEABLE

It is a humbling reality we come to when we acknowledge that life without God is unmanageable. But again, the Bible helps. We read in 2 Corinthians 12:7b-10 that even the apostle Paul struggled with a nemesis. If we’re honest, we all do. As we acknowledge that God’s grace is sufficient, however, we are granted the spiritual gift of a state I call “being in God’s strength”.

Psalm 121 states that, as we look up in our distress, and ask from where does our help come, we find that the only help that comes, comes from the Lord above. That he may be called upon as we cry out, though our circumstances are not changed for us, better responses to our circumstances are possible. Because we feel heard. Because we feel understood. Because we have given proper vent to our frustrations. And because we’ve experienced a mystery.

LOOKING FROM HEAVEN—A POST DEATH VIEW FROM THE VANTAGE POINT OF THIS LIFE

We need further help if we are to live out of the state of being in God’s strength.

We need to be able to borrow from a post death view looking down from heaven. We need to anticipate our regrets and cater for them beforehand. We can do this from a post death view. We will see how to love people against our own selfish whims. Only from this view, of having passed away, will we truly see from God’s viewpoint our need to make the most of every opportunity that this life presents us with.

This is the opportunity presented in Ephesians 5:15-17. It suggests that we need to be careful how we live, not as unwise people but wise, making the most of our time, for the days we live in are full of temptation to do foolish things. And the pinnacle of such folly is the spurning of our relationships.

PUTTING IT TOGETHER

Living from a post death perspective, looking down from heaven, being in God’s strength, no longer working in our own strength, we have the knowledge of awareness and the capacity of surrender.

Our purpose is not worldly, but heavenly. And what is occurring is a personal transformation because we are committed to living life in the shadow of the cross. From such visceral transformation comes a redemptive vision, and we literally live our lives in such a way that we wish all our relationships to be reconciled and restored, as far as that depends on us.

THROUGH REVELATION AND PRAYER

The key to sustaining this vision is through God speaking to us through the revelation of the Holy Spirit’s sufficiency, of the idols in our hearts that we may repent of, and of the hope, peace, and joy that are only possible through God.

Through revelation and prayer we have the capacity to reconcile what God is saying to us as we ask, “What do I need to see from a post-death perspective, as I live intentionally for eternity?”

Do you struggle with FOBO?

No, not FOMO: Fear of Missing Out. Quite different in fact.

For me, FOBO is “Fear of Being Overwhelmed,” and it’s a very real thing I’ve carried with me since I entered into a time approaching burnout in 2005.

Fear of being overwhelmed in many ways is contrastable with the fear we might have in the possibility of a panic attack. I’ve had panic attacks, but not for such a long time that I recognise that they’re circumstantial for me. Nonetheless, the fear of being overwhelmed, even to approach that feeling, can send me into an emotional paroxysm that I’ve largely learned to cope with, but that clearly can take me into a land that feels like acute spiritual attack.

The fear of being overwhelmed in some ways is good in that it’s my body and mind that discern when my heart senses a clear and imminent danger. But often it can work in overdrive — I can sense it too acutely and overreact. People who know me well will detect they have experienced these times with me. To some degree it’s the triggering of what my body establishes as a re-traumatisation event. And it’s peculiar what might set me off. It’s not always what I would have come to expect.

The fear of being overwhelmed is a very real thing in many of us. In some ways, spiritual people may see it as the sin of unbelief — that there’s a lack of trust in the moment. That may be the case, but as far as I’m aware this kind of reaction has become a hardwired protection mechanism (a good thing most of the time), where God literally pulled me out of that pit of burnout and taught me to be more assertive overnight.

There’s nothing like being rendered incapable of doing something you otherwise would; and when I’m overwhelmed my mind literally freezes. This is a very common experience for many victims of abuse. And though I am a survivor of abuse — more than one season, life phase, variety, and situation of it — the response I speak of here was set up out of the experience of burnout.

If you too suffer from the fear of being overwhelmed, you’re not alone. So many people you know quietly suffer the same phenomenon. And now you know I do. I see it as a grace that God gives to help us cope with what renders us powerless; and everyone has those vulnerabilities whether they know it or not. It’s a good thing to know our vulnerabilities.

Personally, I would rather validate someone who has the fear of being overwhelmed than try to ‘fix’ them. There are therapies, but I think if there’s a spiritual wisdom behind it; that it ought not to be overthrown in the flesh, unless the fear of being overwhelmed is bad enough intervention is warranted. I’ve learned over the past 14 years to accept it and live with it, and work within my incapacities.

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The enemy uses shame to silence us from sharing our story

Without exception, with human clockwork, undermined are our stories of victory in the Lord.

Two lies are told.

Both lies tear away at our worth.

These lies are propagated through the opportunity we have of sharing our stories of abuse and/or recovery.

THE MINIMISING LIE AND THE MAXIMISING LIE

The first lie is that our story of abuse or recovery isn’t scathing, dramatic, transformative, or even interesting enough. The second lie is its opposite; that our story is too big, too shameful, to even be told. The first is the minimising lie; where we doubt our position in procuring attention; we don’t feel our story is worthy of great attention. The second is the maximising lie; where the enemy fills us with fear for what people will think! Both lies hit us in the heart of our worth.

THE MINIMISING LIE WITHIN RECOVERY

When we take warrant of this lie, we hardly feel worthy of ‘special’ attention, when our Lord warrants special attention for anyone who’s pressed hard in on Him for their hope and destiny.

See the lie? He who made a way for us to be transformed, to defy humanity’s doubting that we could ever change, has wrought changes in us, despite us, and all glory is due to God.

To undermine such work is blasphemy of the worst kind, but when we take stock of the enemy’s whispering we partake because we sense we’re not worthy of such an impartation of healing grace. Well, if we aren’t, nobody is.

This lie is particularly prevalent in Christians who were brought up safe within the church. No incredible sinner’s-rags-to-spiritual-riches story do they possess, but that is not to say their story is any less remarkable! God has touched them in a unique way.

THE MINIMISING LIE WITHIN ABUSE

“Your story of abuse is hardly worth telling; it’s nothing like others have suffered,” we might hear our enemy accuse. The truth is, as sin is sin, abuse is abuse.

I know of people who have experienced both sexual abuse and spiritual abuse; neither is palatable, though we may fall for the lie that sexual abuse is worse. In some degrees it may be — it’s different to spiritual abuse, that’s all — but that’s hardly the point. Those people who have experienced both know that both are products of evil. Both are equally unacceptable. And we would all say that some abuses — abuses of children, for just one instance — are more reprehensible than others, but that’s not to say any abuse is acceptable.

Your story of abuse is just as worthy as anyone else’s is.

THE MAXIMISING LIE WITHIN RECOVERY

“You’ve offended God, and the sensitivities of the superior humanity above you, that much that you ought to remain silent; God has been too good to you, and you and He know it.” A LIE! A BUNCH OF LIES!

Of course you haven’t offended God — only to the extent that everyone else has. But in Christ, like everyone else, you’re a new creation. Of course there’s no human being above you, or below you — just a common humanity. God has not been ‘too good’ to any of us, unless He’s been too good to all of us; and that’s the truth in Christ.

The maximising lie has us doubting whether we have any right to tell what the enemy would call our disgusting story. The enemy would denounce us for our compunction in doing just that.

Whatever our recovery story is, it is for God’s glory that we tell of it; not so people would see how brilliant we were, but so they may see what God has done that we could not do, in and for ourselves.

THE MAXIMISING LIE WITHIN ABUSE

Oh the shame we may not be able to face, that which the enemy says, “What you suffered is too shameful to share; do you want to trigger others, or procure their pity, or seek an attention you’re unworthy of?” What a scoundrel our enemy is!

Taking a direct path to shame, keeping us in a holding pattern of guilt, paralysing our sense for justice, the enemy is the lord of confusion.

It is for God’s glory that we find our voice, and trust safe and wise people with the worst of our story. We find an incredible and an unprecedented validation in this.

~

Our stories have intrinsic importance and worth. Not for ourselves alone. It’s for God’s glory that we share and do not remain silent. Shame was reconciled once for all time at the cross. And we need to be regularly reminded that we’re free!

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The man who treated me like I was Jesus

It was a long, long time ago, and the details are a little sketchy, but this is what happened.

It was the shortest of interactions. Really possibly in reality a very insignificant event. Hardly worth noting. Except how this man made me feel. How he cherished my presence as if I were some really special, even regal, person. Yet there was nothing ingratiating about him, nothing sinister, sly or sleazy. I felt blessed to be in his presence, yet I didn’t know why. I just had that intuitiveness about him. He didn’t say many words. I didn’t say many words to him. But we did work together for a few short moments. And in those moments, I saw someone work like I’d never seen someone work before or since.

In the matter of a moment, just in being with him,
he gave me the example of how I could love my work.

He effused virtue, though I’m sure he wasn’t perfect. But he was perfect by the sheer virtue that he reeked the humility of owning the truth of his humanity. He showed no pleasure for things that ought to have pleased him. It’s as if he saw with the eyes of others.

That’s it. He hardly said anything because he hardly needed to. He wasn’t dependent on me, yet with every breath he was there, he was there for me. He helped me in the most intuitive ways. This man spoke to me like I was Jesus, yet because of the way he treated me he was like Jesus himself. A totally captivating presence.

~

This man who treated me like I was Jesus, because he revered me in my vulnerability, acted just like I imagine Jesus acted, and to me was just like Jesus. He showed me how Jesus wants me to behave through the example of Jesus himself. His example was so compelling, he literally switched something on inside of me. I haven’t always lived up to this man’s example, and yet I have to acknowledge this man wasn’t Jesus himself. But there is an enduring legacy in the interactive experience I had with this exemplar of the Saviour. He showed me Jesus’ power of repentance in a common, fallen human being.

The man showed me what a Christian is; to actually put Jesus on in the morning and wear him all day long. He was, of course, the proverbial good Samaritan. And he showed me, even to those who despise us, we can be a blessing.

This man’s example is an enduring one. Not only his countenance, but the joy with which he worked and moved and had his being. It was like he was just impenetrably gifted with an eternal portion of gratitude.

This fleeting interaction had the touch of God’s Spirit about it. God literally touched my spirit through my being immersed in this transitory experience.

A few moments, and from what I saw, I just knew I desperately wanted more. And ever since I’ve never been able to let go of such an experience. Now I know it’s my job to be like this man was to me to others. One experience like this and we never return to the sewer of our selfish lives for long.

~

Imagine the witness our churches would be to the world if leaders laid down their lives for those in their care. Called by God, as shepherds after The Great Shepherd, we live the death of Jesus for the wounded so the wounded may find the life of Jesus in us. There, in that, is Jesus!

In the matter of a moment, just in being with this man, he gave me the example of how I could live a life of love like he was. Imagine bearing witness to the change God has made in a person where, through their witness, God begins to change us.

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Soul lowliness and loneliness in the pit of grief

It isn’t inappropriate to drown in consternation and self-pity when you’re deep in the pit of grief. How on earth else are you supposed to respond in your humanity? Of course your ‘identity in Christ’ is shattered. It is being deconstructed, only to be reconstructed again, but how are you to know better?

As I wrote a post titled, God’s Presence and Love Only Available in Grief, I felt I’d missed the mark. It wasn’t so much triumphalist, yet there was hardly the hope in it that I want to communicate.

This article attempts to draw closer to the overwhelming reality the sufferer bears in their humanity.

When I cast my mind back toward the heart I experienced in my first raging grief, the time I learned much of what is death amid life, I recognise the frailty in our common and unique humanity that is pushed beyond what it can bear.

How are we supposed to respond when life pushes us into the reaches of a despair that breaks us over and over again? There will be anger. Their will be fear. There will be bargaining. There will be the opposite poles of denial and depression. And the confusion amid a random combination of these does our head in. How are we supposed to respond but in a way that is totally immature from a cold outsider’s viewpoint? This s . . t is real!

How are we supposed to develop empathy for others who are pushed beyond their despair? Well, we’re pushed beyond our own! Until we’ve faced a leviathan that crushed our head under its foot, we’ll not have an idea what life is capable of.

What we experience amid grief is the continual and ever-threatening reality of soul lowliness and loneliness — that feeling of feeling estranged to even ourselves in a crowded room, especially where there’s much merriment.

People will observe something amiss in our countenance. They will wonder what is wrong. And we will hate feeling so exposed as to justify how we feel. As if it isn’t already bad enough! They may attempt to ‘care’ by taking it upon themselves to ‘lift us’ out of our doldrums. They have no idea how foreign, confusing and inappropriate their ‘love’ is. We may feel like saying, “What on earth do you think you’re doing?!” but we’re forgiven for being totally thrown by their assertiveness, or even for feeling ashamed that we’re ‘ungrateful’. Of course it’s not a lack of gratitude; it’s a lack of grace on their behalf.

There are four broad kinds of people in this situation: 1) the person, as above, who takes responsibility for us (a heinously undignifying reality); 2) the person who is awkward and who avoids us for fear of what they’ll say or not say; 3) the person who is completely clueless, either because they have no idea or because they don’t care; 4) the person who doesn’t know what to say or do, but because they care, and because they ooze humility, the just sit with us, and may actually say or do something encouraging.

In this situation, we’re incredibly vulnerable. We don’t even want to be there. Our soul is lowly and for good reason. Our soul is harrowingly lonely and there is usually only one reparation — but that also is the source of our loss!

And when we’re alone… well, what can I say? We can be positively dangerous. At these times, whether we recognise it or not, we need care. We need support. We need people who are prepared to travel with us.

Be kind and gentle and forgiving of yourself.

You who have no idea
how to reconcile your grief
just need the kindness, gentleness
and the forgiveness of love right now.

We must leave all else to God.

Everything else in futility is futility.

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The walk you can trust versus the talk that’s wanderlust

Being shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves, as Jesus commends us to do, there is something strikingly different about two completely different people — one you can trust in a heartbeat, the other you cannot — the trouble is these two completely different people usually evoke the wrong responses in us.

We trust the one we should be wary of,
and we’re unimpressed with the one who’s safe.

The first person has the language, they’re suave, they have the nous, the je na sais quoi that charms all comers. They have the words, the body language, the essence of what we think we need. They’re the movers and shakers of the world. They’re super confident, and they can even appear to have mastered humility (more on this further down). They, like many ‘deals’ that sweep us off our feet, are too good to be true. We’re impressed!

They are also usually quite narcissistic. It can just take a year or two to discover this!

The other person is unimpressive. They appear to be overly honest and can even be self-deprecating. They see all their flaws. Perhaps too much. Sometimes you’re tempted to be weary of them. They can appear to lack confidence in themselves or be boring. But they may also be seriously authentic, even to a point of being somewhat a threat to people about how comfortable in their flaws they appear to be.

These are the trustworthy ones. They not only see all their flaws — maybe too readily — but they also see their own contributions to conflicts and they have the capacity to sincerely apologise… you know, to the point where that’s where they leave it; a fully grounded and landed apology, unmistakably genuine.

We must be careful of the person who looks to be the humblest of them all. Whether they know it or not, such a concept is a trick. There is no such thing as humility mastered. It’s an oxymoron. Never does any human being, knit together in the fabric of sin, ever arrive at a perfected version of humanity. Human beings are always contingent on many daily factors. The heart of the human problem, as Canon J. John says, is the problem of the human heart.

The person you can trust is the person
who is least likely to impress you,
whereas the person that sweeps us off our feet
can so often be our snare.

Not always, it’s true, but it’s a reliable rule.

Trust the walk, be wary of the talk.

Trust the walk — when someone proves by their actions that they’re sincere, personable, relatable.

Be wary of the talk, though the temptation to be swooned is real. Be wary of the person who talks an impressive game — look for their sustained actions of humility, of ongoing personability even when things go against them, and their capacity for delivery.

Let everyone’s actions speak and have less regard for everyone’s words, for we all like to make a good impression.

It’s not talk that feeds hungry mouths;
it’s the walk that secures food that satisfies bellies.
It’s not talk that brings water to thirsty souls;
it’s the walk to the well and back again that satisfies dryness.

~

Love walks in the way of action;
it doesn’t talk and then fail to deliver.
Talk has a way of winning instant appeal;
but it’s the walking in the love of action
that satisfies the longing of our souls.

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A Prayer for the Person in Pain

My Heavenly Lord, through eternity and over the earth by Your Spirit,

I bow before You and acknowledge just how mighty You are; all-powerful God.

I bring before Your Throne of Grace this moment, the moment the praying person prays, the exact moment they read this prayer, the person in pain — be it physical pain, emotional pain, mental torment, grief for loss, and spiritual pain.

I bring the person who is beside themselves with crises of identity, the one racked with guilt, the one so ashamed of their past, the past You’ve forgiven, Lord, and the person who has been so bitterly betrayed. The person in contortions of emotional pain. And the person who is thinking of ending it all. Come to them with Your compassionate voice, Lord. Give them reason to exist another day.

Your creations are dear to You, O my God. They are so very dear. You love them. So very much. Your heart grieves for the grieving person’s heart more than we could ever know. You are by them, with them, present, abiding. Let them know You are there, Lord. You are not some distant fantasy God. You are the Lord Jesus who died on a cross to redeem us to Yourself, the One who beat death through Your resurrection, and You never did die again! You ascended as the Scripture attests. We know that our Redeemer lives.

So, we ask for that Your life be given to the person we know, the one in so much beleaguering pain, that they might be granted a sweet compensation for what they’re called to endure. That You might gift them with Your Presence in a way they can know You are real, that You are concerned, and that You have a plan for their life.

Give them the assurance of Your support and love, even as a person cares for them who seems to be the incarnated Christ themselves, by their devotion of love in doing all that’s required, and then some!

Covenant Father, it is Your grace that we seek for this dear one we’re so concerned about. They lay there not able to move, they face excruciating pain, they cannot leave their home, their confidence is shot, they have a spiritual crisis on their hands, they are under attack — whatever is their ailment, Lord, come and heal. Do what we cannot do, but if you don’t, help us do what we can do, and for us all to be satisfied.

Help us with every genuine, Spirit-led compassion, to feel within them what we can deploy as care.

I pray this by the blood of the crucified Lamb, our Saviour and Lord, the One who has all power and all dominion — the King of creation, sanctification and restoration: Jesus.

AMEN.

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To the person who cares for the burdens I share

On what should have been great cause for celebration, I couldn’t believe there was nothing in me. No joy or pain or light. Nothing. No thoughts. Hardly a feeling, which, in itself, stirred a great sense of dissonance with me. How could I possibly feel this way? Shouldn’t I feel excited! No, just tired and overwhelmed.

I called the person who I rely upon. She listened. I wondered why she’d listen so intently for those forty-five minutes, but there she was, during long gaps of silence, waiting on me, on the other end of the phone.

She didn’t say much, but what she said was just what I needed to hear, even if I didn’t know what I needed to hear. She listened and gently encouraged — with a soft, calm voice responding to the timidity in my spirit.

Feeling so weak of mind with such doubt of heart for what I later realised wasn’t logical, I wrestled down the moment, wondering where the logic was, from what was illogical.

And still, she listened. A Godsend. An angel. Someone I could call and simply bear my heart with.

I don’t know if you have someone who cares for you. But if you do, like myself, you feel blessed, don’t you? When we’re beside ourselves with fear or sadness or for simply being overwhelmed, they come to our rescue in simply being Jesus in skin. And though it should be a simple thing to do, caring like Jesus is rare.

That’s Jesus, don’t you know? That person willing to be with us, listening to us, praying with us, providing for our practical and spiritual needs. We all need someone like this sometimes.

Look at how MUCH you’re worth!

Truths mystify common discrepancies, for instance, you are worthy. You are. Yet you may feel not.

We all fall for the lie. That we aren’t. That Christ alone is. The previous sentence is true, and because it’s true, so are we, worthy.

You and I were, indeed are, worth dying for!

Some diminish your worth.

You may doubt your worth.

Jesus decided your worth.

God delights in your worth.

It’s true. Some diminish our worth. They treat us less than. We’re pawns in their world, whether by action or omission. We’re expendable to them. They hate the idea that we’re to be regarded. And nearly everyone we come across will treat us less than when they feel they’re losing. It’s the flow of life.

It’s true. We do doubt our worth. From time to time. Or, it’s the case by our addictions or transgressions or habits or insecurities that we don’t regard ourselves as we should. We may give others priority, because they, in our own minds, are more deserving. This is beyond the gratuity of love. We accede to others in these cases because they seem worthier than we are.

It’s true. Never truer. Jesus decided our worth. Every human being that ever lived or will live. By this one act of obedience to die on a cross, the man-of-utter-holiness who never sinned has become sin for us. His blood paid a debt with God that we could not pay.

It’s true. Never truer. God delights in your worth. The Lord of all creation spoke you into being, and this God so worthy of all our worship, the eternal God, fore destined you, designed you and made you. God made you perfect. Sure, the Lord knows you sin like all get out, but that’s why the Father sent the Son — to die in your place.

So, the moment you feel unworthy, of little value, when you’re underappreciated, remember what you mean to God. You mean the amount of the death of God’s Son. That’s how important you are, your friend is, even your enemy.

Look at how MUCH you’re worth to God. Look at how MUCH you can esteem the fact that you live and breathe. Just think and ponder and meditate on the fact that, for such a time as this, you are worth more than all the gold in the world to God.

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