Speaking Well

[Abba Megethius] also said, ‘Originally, when we met together we spoke of edifying things, encouraging one another and we were “like the angels”; we ascended up to the heavens. But now when we come together, we only drag one another down by gossiping, and so we go down to hell.”

I have, for some time – and quite unsuccessfully – been reading through a copy of The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, a collection of the legends about and teachings of the ancient Abbas and Ammas, hermits and monks from the early centuries of the Christian church. Many of the stories are edifying, many are downright weird, and all give me something to chew over.

The story above is one bit from what I read today, and it seems to particularly speak to my heart this weekend.

This week I began an INSPIRE network accountability group with a couple other young, mission-minded clergy (if interested, contact me). Using the “Way of Life” as our guide, we intend to gather regularly to share with one another about our life in Christ and our spiritual growth, encouraging and challenging one another. I’m hopeful for the group, and look forward to how we can motivate one another to better follow Christ.

So seldom in regular conversation do we have the opportunity to talk of deep things; the matters of one’s spirit. We linger over vocation or church-life, but rarely if ever inquire or hold one another accountable for our spiritual walk. We ask about worship attendance, but don’t go deeply into how we balance piety and mercy. We talk about how our families are, but tread lightly or not at all around one’s relationship with Christ.

I don’t think our talk is “unwholesome,” so to speak, but I think our lack of depth and tendency toward the trivial misses an important exhortation from the Apostle Paul:

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. (Ephesians 4:29)

I am grateful and excited to be among a small group of peers whose intention is to speak of “edifying things, encouraging one another” that we may serve in some small way as assistants to the work Christ is doing within and among us. I pray that we may not succumb to the temptation to gossip or trivial talk.

Even without such a group, I would hope that as a Christian my talk would be in the direction of that which is wholesome, speech that coincides with the work of God to build others up, words that are helpful to others.

How do we seek to speak well?

I don’t remember where I first heard it, but I was reminded this week of a suggestion for sharing one’s thoughts or opinion. Before saying anything, check to see that what you have to say fulfills at least two of the following:

1. Is it true?
2. Is it kind?
3. Is it necessary?

If what you have to say doesn’t meet at least two of the three, perhaps it is best left unsaid. That’s not a bad rule of thumb.

May the Lord inspire us all, that we may use our speech well, building each other up until we are more like Christ.

Breathe On Me…

Breathe on me breath of God, until my heart is pure;
Until with you I will one will, to do and to endure.

Yesterday morning, during our last eucharist service for the week, we sang the hymn “Breathe on Me Breath of God.” The second verse (above) really struck me. Sometimes there is such great theology in our hymns; and herein is some inspiring practical and experiential theology. A few observations from the verse:

1) The entire hymn is an invitation to – or request of – God. Very likely, and in a liturgical sense, the request is addressed to the Holy Spirit, as “breath” in its original Hebrew sense is also “spirit” (e.g. Genesis 1: In the beginning… the “breath” of God was hovering over the waters…)

In this particular verse, the request is for God/Spirit to bring about purity of heart in the singer. As I’ve explored in fits and starts elsewhere in this blog, it is the work and presence of God’s Holy Spirit that brings about interior transformation and purifies the heart!

2) The link between purity of heart and singleness of will – “with you I will one will” – seems an almost direct reference to Soren Kierkegaard’s notion that purity of heart is to “will one thing.” Again, as I’ve bounced around on before on this blog, to will one thing – specifically Jesus Christ – seems to be equivalent to Christ’s encouragement toward “purity of heart.”

3) I was – am – particularly intrigued by the closing phrase, “to do and to endure.” Granted, the words may have originally been chosen primarily because of the rhyme… And yet, these two verbs, linked to “pure heart” are insightful. This notion is still working its way around my mind and heart, but a few initial reactions:

To do – Do seems the most basic of action verbs, like “to be.” In the context of the line, it evokes for me an image of a life constantly lived in communion with God. To live with a God-parallel will; to act and follow in all those means that God has given; to live and love after the example set by Jesus of Nazareth… “To do” evokes for me an active life, where purity of heart is not just known to the possessor, but to all who are witness of that one’s life…

To endure - I really hear this as equivalent to “to persevere.” It could, of course, be understood in its other sense, as a reminder that to live as Christ calls us to will naturally result in some degree of persecution or distress that needs to be endured. As a call to perseverance, however, “to endure” is a reminder that God’s transformation of us (from within) is neither an easy nor instantaneous event. (Perhaps nothing good ever is.) Rather, we have to endure/persevere, in the assurance that God is working to transform / purify our heart…

My ultimate yearning, and search, for purity of heart cannot neglect my “real” life and action in this world. Indeed, the call to be more Christlike is and must be in the contexts I live within.

Nor have I imagined it elsewise! When I contemplate purity of heart, I imagine myself living more wholly (and holy!) in my present. Able to be more patient, loving, kind, generous…*

True purity of heart must be lived. A hear that “wills one will” with God is one that loves – in word and deed, in affect and effect, in stillness and action – steadfastly. Any contemplative life that I may experience is only holy insofar as it wholly influences my day to day living in this world.

*I’m reminded here of a story that was shared this past week. Later in his life St. Francis, after having become disillusioned with the monastic community that he himself had founded and had for a while been voted out of leadership of, was describing “pure joy” to a follower. After several negations (e.g. “were we to convert all pagans the world over, that would not be pure joy”) he was asked to describe what is pure joy. He shared: “when I have been on a long journey, and my sandals are worn and feet are in pain; when trudging through the mud and ice my robe has become threadbare; when the icicles forming on the hem of my robe are cutting into my leg; and I finally reach the door to one of our Franciscan communities in the middle of the night and, knocking, have to rouse the porter, who opens the porthole but refuses to let me in; when I identify myself as Francis and he tells me that I must be insane, and can move down the road to the next community; when that happens, and I can be patient and kind with the porter, that will be pure joy.” (He was describing an actual event that he had experienced.)

Vampires & Inner Prayer (a dream)

What does it suggest about your spiritual journey when things start entering your dreams?

Tuesday morning, before I left home for the Academy, I woke up from a dream. For a bit of context: 1) the day before I had finished the last episode of the last season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which I had been watching while I walked/jogged on the treadmill over the last year, and 2) I have often, in the past, dreamnt about slaying vampires (in fact, this has been a recurrent dreams for years before I ever watched Buffy).

So here’s Tuesday morning’s dream:

We’re inside Buffy’s home, in the kitchen. There is a horde of vampires descending on the house, more than I could ever possibly slay by myself. Willow Rosenberg is in the kitchen with me, and we look at each other, and realize (without speaking) the way to battle the demons. We both begin saying the Jesus Prayer over and over… in full assurance it is all that is needed… and I wake up.

Willow’s position in the dream is interesting to me. By the end of the series, she has progressed from a meek geek to a powerful worker of magic (i.e. witch). In season 6 she became evil, but was brought back by her friends. So she knows what evil can do, and throughout season 7 is afraid of using powers that might lead to evil; but in the last episode, when it matters, she draws on powers of good to help defeat the bad guy.

Perhaps the house in this case is a reflection of my heart, with Willow as a recognition that we might know evil, or even have done it in the past, but it doesn’t have to be the way of the heart. The vampiric horde could stand for all the temptations, evils, etc that lay in wait outside, ready to invade…

…and the prayer is a means by which we can secure the heart.

Just at thought, anyway.

Inner Stillness, 2

This afternoon I began to feel as though I had been given two insights that were leading to a particular point… but I couldn’t quite reach that point. So as I reflect tonight on my day at the Academy, I’m going to draw and expand from three earlier journal entries… I do not promise answers or great insights, but today’s experiences are the kind that make me feel as though my spiritual “journey” might really be leading somewhere!

“A Morning Reflection”

I went for an early morning walk today, setting out before sunrise through the neighborhood(s) to the quaint little downtown “main street” on Broadway, to visit Starbuck’s for some pumpkin spice and then meander my way back to the Center. Good exercise, around 6,000 steps on the pedometer…

Along the walk, off-and-on I practiced the Jesus Prayer – “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me” – while also allowing myself to pray about specific things as I was led to. Most of my walking time was in silence, mostly in prayer to Jesus. (At Starbuck’s I encountered an acquaintance from this Academy, and we talked for a little bit.)

I have to share that I was feeling strongly nostalgic. It was dark still, and there were dark rain clouds overhead, with a constant drizzle – and occasional downpour – the whole time. Temps were in the low 50s. I was wearing the outer shell of my Columbia sportswear jacket… and I was being reminded strongly of wearing the same jacket as I walked through Neubruche and nearby villages in Germany, in similar weather. Even the houses here in Burlinghame have a bit of a German look to them!

There was an insightful synergy in all of this – for as I was praying, I found myself returning and lifting to Christ an inner spiritual struggle*. And I realized as I walked that when I was in Germany – 12 years ago! – I had been struggling with the same habits of mind and had only then identified it as a spiritual struggle.

And the same struggle remains today, unabated. An interior war with… mind? spirit? imagination? Simply put, it’s an inner life – a heart/life – issue. So as I was praying and reflecting, alternating into the very apt “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me,” I lifted to God that in many ways I felt as though the circumstances of my life have contributed to and aggravated this struggle.

More and more, I know – deep within – that on my own I cannot hope to overcome this; I cannot hope to achieve the purity of heart I long for by myself. I know that I need to accept and allow Christ to purify my heart – and perhaps the inner struggle is a part of this – and I may very likely need the spiritual guidance and support of another. (Or others.)

God, I hope and pray for a pure and holy heart/life.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner…

“Afternoon Reflections Related To Orthodox Spirituality”

Question: what does ‘mystery of God’ mean to you? How do you know and/or experience the mystery of God?

I go outside for a short walk. I occasionally pray, once again lifting several repetitions of the Jesus Prayer. I follow the paved path here in the Mercy Center, lest my shoes become as dirty with mud as I sometimes imagine my heart is with sin. I find a small area – a grove of sorts – underneath several large, inter-connecting oak and pine trees. I watch, listen, and experience joy in over half a dozen squirrels, in the midst of their daily business**. I’m reminded of the squirrel monkey enclosure at the Phoenix Zoo – where my son and I have gone almost weekly for a year, standing down among the trees as the monkey scampered about on the trees and ropes around us…

Walking back to the building, a falcon or hawk swoops down, lighting on a tree just above. I watch, enamored, amazed, in awe. I walk in a slow arc around the tree, admiring him from different angles – from here I see his front feathers, almost furry, golden; from here I see his back feathers, the striped or spotted patter among them… He flies off.

As I wander, I wonder. Am I lost – perhaps that is too strong a word – in the physical world? Consider: when I woke this morning, what was my primary thought/concern? Was my wife still experiencing the physical pain that began yesterday? Not, “to be lost in the mystery of God.” Though that desire is present, too, this world seems to engage my imagination and heart first.

I believe the mystery of God is – must be – present, and to some degree able to be experienced in the physical world. I resonate with the notion that all is in God and God is in all. The mist, the squirrels, the falcon/hawk – God’s ineffable mystery encloses and pervades them as it does the Jesus Prayer, my longing for a pure heart, my love for family, friends, and Christ…

Is the physical one means to the spiritual? Oh, even the question itself is rooted in western philosophy! The bifurcation of body and spirit, of physical and spiritual…  (entry trails off here due to interruption, return to group)

“More Personal Reflections”

I’m finding a degree of… direction? discernment? dare I say “stillness”? … while here, away from the chaos and clutter of daily life. Maybe not true “purity of heart,” or even inner stillness (hesychia)… but steps in the right direction, something akin to what I imagine Kierkegaard meant when he wrote that “purity of heart is to will one thing.” There is less here to directly pull me away from Christ, to distract me, and much that actually seems to draw (compel?) me closer!

I’m finding (perceiving?) that there might be a synergy or synthesis between my morning walk and reflection and the post-lecture walk and reflection on the ‘mystery of God’…. A connection between experiencing the Mystery/Presence of God – the so-called “spiritual” – in and through the physical world and the achieving of inner peace in place of internal spiritual struggle… (another interruption)

Thinking Further

In the Philokalia, a collection of teachings of early (Orthodox) Fathers – referenced in The Way of the Pilgrim but also available in modern translations – there are a great many teachings on the Jesus Prayer. Both the descriptions of the Jesus Prayer and the path to and practices that are described as leading to “inner stillness” involve the physical body. Some Fathers teach about focus on breath, or imagining the heart within the chest, even uniting the prayer with the heartbeat itself… not to mention other physical actions associated with prayer.

As human beings, we are spirit incarnate – our spirit and body are not distinct, but are united. We also – if we are truly creedal – believe in a bodily resurrection at the end of time. Our human spirits may be reflections of divine Spirit, may be divine sparks within jars of clay; but our experience is directly linked to these jars of clay. Yes, we can find a nice tree, sit lotus-like, and seek to meditate free of physical sensation. And maybe such stillness is important. But our lives, our day to day lives where we should just as readily seek to know God’s presence, are lived in this physical, temporal world. And our spiritual struggles occur in this physical world.

So perhaps in my journey toward “purity of heart” there are two lessons I should be pondering:
1) where, or who, might be the spiritual guide/director to help me be attentive to and respond to the presence of God in my life?
2) in what ways, as I live and struggle in this physical world, might I further seek to recognize and immerse myself in the presence – or ‘mystery’ – of God?

*Do the details matter? I’m being intentionally vague, lest this venue become too confessional or revelatory. Perhaps I’m being a bit guarded. Suffice it to say the struggle in question is one of the heart, although it does not directly affect my actions in the world, I feel that this one particular struggle outweighs others (i.e. jealousy, resentment) that also prevent me from achieving “purity of heart.”

**Business? Squirrels don’t really have “business,” do they? Busy-ness, maybe? Better to say that they were active in seeking out acorns, no doubt anticipating and preparing for winter.

Experiencing God: 3 reflections

(As one spiritual discipline during my participation in The Academy for Spiritual Formation I am trying to [occasionally] engage in self examen, particularly the examen of consciousness. This is the discipline where we seek to reflect on where we were aware of the presence of God in our daily lives. One Sunday morning the other day gave me a few opportunities for such reflection, and so I share here some thoughts…)

Experiencing The Presence of God – One Sunday Morning

Experience 1, The Sun Rises (apx. 5:30am)

My (almost) three-year old son and I spent the night in a nylon tent, in the backyard of some friends. We had had a busy day – with a near health scare just before going to bed [his six week old baby sister registered a 104° temperature, and we almost booked it down the mountain at 9pm - but discovered the thermometer hadn't been shaken correctly], and had both slept well, despite a leaky air mattress that shifted like a water balloon half the night. (We also had other pads underneath, so we remained comfy even after the air all escaped.)

I began to wake in the tent, my eyes looking up and seeing the shadows of trees on the on the inner edges of the blue and orange nylon of the tent. A gentle breeze rang in the numerous wind chimes in the yard and neighborhood. The sound of the bells, coupled with the zig-zag pattern of the tree branch shadows, suggested a holy place, a place of worship.

Nature’s stained glass above me, the sound of chimes around me, I felt as though God were near. It was a comforting feeling. I checked my son and seeing that he was still sleeping soundly, I drifted back into another half-hour of sleep. Then, a bright-eyed, excited little boy bounded me out of bed and into the day ahead…

A few reflections:

• The rationalist within me wants to dismiss the experience as merely the result of purely natural phenomena. Which is very true; the breeze gently moved the branches, whose interplay with the sunlight created shifting patterns on the tent that evoked stained glass images; that same breeze played among the neighborhood’s wind chimes, suggesting to my just waking mind the sound of music in a European cathedral…
• …and yet, there was more to it to me at the moment. It wasn’t a rational thing – it wasn’t some intellectual encounter. It felt more… emotional. Spiritual, maybe? It was a mix of a subtle awe, and the contentment one feels in the presence of good friends. As best I can describe it, it was a ‘heart’ moment; a time when something inside me stirred that exists beyond my purely rational mind. Not entirely independent, as the two interact, but it was a spiritual sense rather than an intellectual one.
• Was it God? Well, what isn’t? God is present within all of creation – the postmodern notion of panentheism – so God was present that morning. I just happened to turn, in some spiritual sense, to see God… I recently read a good description, in the book Candlelight: Illumating the Art of Spiritual Direction. In telling the story of seeing a rainbow immediately after praying, repeatedly, ‘Help me trust you,’ one directee shared:

“It was more that I turned to God, and God revealed a bit of himself. It’s like I got a glimpse of God’s majesty. God wanted me to have the glimpse, but it wasn’t that my prayer created the rainbow”(p. 132).

Experience 2, Worship (1): A Prayer for the heart

Awake and alert earlier than we could have imagined the night before, we opted to go to the “early” service at the local United Methodist Church my friends are active at. During the initial part of the worship service, as a prayer song, we sang hymn #402 “Lord I want to be a Christian in my heart,” which includes the verse:

Lord, I want to be more holy in my heart, in my heart…

It struck me that this was, in effect, singing the same tune my heart seems to be singing: I want purity of heart… I want to be more pure in my heart… I want to be more holy in my heart…

Even as we sang the hymn, my eyes lingered over a nearby prayer by Howard Thurman, entitled “For Holiness of Heart” (#401):

Lord, I want to be more holy in my heart. Here is the citadel of all my desiring, where my hopes are born and all the deep resolutions of my spirit take wings. In this center, my fears are nourished, and all my hates are nurtured. Here my loves are cherished, and all the deep hungers of my spirit are honored without quivering and without shock. In my heart, above all else, let love and integrity envelop me until my love is perfected and the last vestige of my desiring is no longer in conflict with thy Spirit. Lord, I want to be more holy in my heart. Amen.

In that moment, I felt God present. Perhaps as a commonality – friend? Lord? guide? – between Howard Thurman and myself…

A few reflections:

• Although both my inner skeptic, and others, might argue this was merely a rational experience, I felt an emotional/spiritual twinge as I sang and read the prayer (I admit, I drifted off alone for a moment as communal worship continued around me). I felt a connection to a fellow sojourner who had a similar desire to my own, a similar experience with the presence of a holy God and the inner hope that he might be more holy in his inner most person, after the example of this God.
• I felt the presence of God, through a well-chosen hymn, and a related prayer positioned nearby on the page. I felt a stirring of the Spirit, an inner movement of meaning – aware that this was just one part of something greater, the transforming presence of God within my life, moving me toward “purity of heart.” I think the Spirit works in our hearts and lives in ways like this – helping direct our attention to those words, or portions of the Word, that contribute to our communion with God…
• Near the end of his sermon that day, Pastor Doug would share that John Wesley never felt like he achieved Christian perfection, the true depth of “holiness of heart and life” that he longed for that is also known as “sanctification.” But he never ceased to yearn toward it, and never ceased to be willing to learn. I found affirmation in this for my own journey, as well; I may not be there yet, and may, in fact, not reach it after all, but I yearn and strive toward that holiness of heart that will help me to “see” and connect with God.

Experience 3, Worship (2): Scritpural Insight

Pastor Doug was sharing a reflection based on Acts 18:24-28, focusing on Apollos. Doug talked about “How to keep a teachable attitude,” commenting on Apollos’ willingness to learn and drawing from the work of John Maxwell (this was their back-to-school Sunday, so the message seemed very appropriate). I, however, got caught by a few other lines in the passage…

He was a learned man, with a thorough knowledge of the Scriptures. He had been instructed in the way of the Lord, and he spoke with great fervor and taught about Jesus accurately, though he knew only the baptism of John. He began to speak boldly in the synagogue. When Priscilla and Aquila heard him, they invited him to their home and explained to him the way of God more adequately

Initially, I too was caught by Apollos’ willingness to continue learning, but the already established character of Apollos, as described by Luke, began to stand out for me. Here is someone who was not only “learned,” but had a “thorough knowledge of Scripture.” He had been well trained, and “taught about Jesus accurately.” And yet… And yet, Priscilla and Aquila take him aside to explain “to him the way of God more adequately.”

While Doug zigged – sharing several points based on Maxwell on how to remain teachable – I zagged for a few moments. I was struck, inspired even, by this idea:

Accurate knowledge, teaching, or even understanding of Jesus and Scripture are not enough! To me, Luke’s narration of this event suggests that there is something more to Christian faith than just passing on teachings, doctrine, and rituals.

Indeed, I imagine (and this is from my own reflection, not necessarily from divine inspiration) Priscilla and Aquila, in teaching the way of God to Apollos more adequately, sharing that a relationship with – and the experience of – Christ is just as (if not, perhaps, more) important than correct teaching.

I felt God stirring in my heart and mind, as I looked up from the page of Scripture and began to re-focus on Doug’s message…

A few reflections:

• I sometimes feel as though I run the risk of making faith more an intellectual exercise than a life-giving relationship. I enjoy the “mental gymnastics” of Biblical exegesis – discovering connections between the original context, intent, even history of Biblical texts and the contemporary longing for “spirituality.” I can get absorbed into theological discussion, immersed in words and thoughts… Although I wonder (worry?) that such pursuits might divert me from being in relationship with God, all too often I discover that they, in fact, seem to draw me closer. That the more I know about God, the more I come to turn toward and know God….

So, three experiences from one Sunday morning where I felt the presence of God in subtle, sometimes undefinable ways. Now, how about you? Where, and how, might you have experienced the presence of God lately?

formation

formation – noun (15th century): (1) an act of giving form or shape to something or of taking form*

Formation.

Last fall, I began to contemplate taking a 3 month sabbatical leave. Our rules for clergy within The United Methodist Church allow for such a renewal leave once every 7 years in ministry. I have been in appointed ministry since September, 1998 (I celebrate 11 years next month!), and full-time since July, 2001 (I’m just starting my 9th year). I have not yet taken such a leave.

While I was discerning this possibility, I came upon The Academy For Spiritual Formation, a two year program offered by The Upper Room. (I’ve been blogging from my experience at a session of the Academy this past week.) Along with Lynn and others, I discerned that this program would help to tend to the fire of my own spiritual life, and chose to pursue it in place of a sabbatical at this time.

I’ve now completed 3 of the 8 week-long sessions I will attend over the two years of the Academy, and I’m finding that the name they used is apropos. This is about “formation,” not about renewal, or reinvigoration, or rest, or vacation.

It may not even be so much about transformation as it is formation.

Transform – verb (14th century): 1 a : to change in composition or structure; b: to change the outward form or appearance of ; c : to change in character or condition

I’ve been writing that I’m hoping for transformation, that God will continue the “good work” he has begun within me and my heart, and lead me toward the purity of heart that Jesus demonstrates. That I’ll have the character demonstrated by Jesus and described in the sermon on the mount, which I often equate with a “pure” heart.

A heart and life characterized by compassion, integrity, love, holiness, wholeness, etc. I think such a change is in keeping with the third meaning for “transform” from above, a change in character/condition (because it is more deep than just a change in appearance or structure.)

Transformation is, likely, a process. But formation… I’m thinking that formation is also what God is doing in my life.

I am starting to see that I am already a mass of raw materials for God to work with; that God is working with. Like my hope for transformation – that the things within me that I find troubling would be cleansed, healed, or replaced – my thought is that God is already at work, using the raw materials of my self, my life, and my situation to form me.

The Academy is drawing my attention to this more and more. I’m seeking to be aware of those areas of my life where I need to pause and allow God to be more present; I’m seeking to respond appropriately in those times when I should subsume my own ego/id in favor of the Holy Spirit and likeness of Christ.

Because formation is a process, it isn’t happening right away – and, since I’m naturally impatient, I get distressed at this (why don’t you work faster, God?) – but it is happening. I’m experiencing challenges, inspirations, encouragement, support, and even moments of pain, grief, loss, anger as God works to both transform and form me…

Over the years, I’ve at times found myself disappointed with some other Christians’ behavior. People I’ve known, even within my own church families, who I’ve thought “should have known better.” Often, I have subconsciously ascribed maturity to age, and have been all the more frustrated when someone who was older acted in what struck me as a spiritually immature way (e.g. hurting other people, lacking compassion, being overly critical/judgmental, etc).

As I’m experiencing God’s formation and transformation of me in the context of a group of people of many ages – I’m among the youngest, but am not the youngest – I’m also becoming more aware that age does not necessarily equate  spiritual wisdom or maturity.

I’m beginning to be more aware that there are those  who, though older than me, don’t necessarily “know better,” and need some degree of compassion and grace extended toward them. Just as there are those younger who are already more spiritually mature than I and, hopefully, extend more grace and compassion toward me.

Granted, this doesn’t immediately alleviate the feeling that I might have that someone “ought to know better.” But it does help me to recognize that greater grace  should probably be extended to all. After all, we’re all being transformed from within and formed from without, and no one has yet seen what we will be (see 1 John 3:1-2).

Three weeks in, and I am not sure where I will be come the end of this two-year journey. I hope to be a better husband, son, father, brother, pastor, beloved child (of G0d), friend… I hope that I will better embody the idea of Christian love (see 1 Corinthians 13). I hope that it will help me be quicker to let go of hurt feelings and anger when I feel hurt, betrayed, or vicitimized.

I trust, if I allow God to form and transform me, that I will be moving toward being more like Jesus. And that would definitely be an amazing form.

*definition source: merriam-webster.com

The One Who Began The Work…

I seek “purity of heart.” I silently beat myself up over impure thoughts. I allow any assurance I might know as a beloved child of God to be subsumed by guilt or fear. And then the word of God breaks through…

I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ…. And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless… (Philippians 1:6, 9-10)

The purity of heart that I long for is not just my work alone
but the work of God with(in) me!

This was a great, sudden insight one day last week. I suppose it is one of those things that I should have known, but it was like a piece of a puzzle had fallen into place. As I heard these words from Philippians read in worship, I was struck by Paul’s confidence that:

(1) God has begun a “good work” in us
(2) God will bring that good work to completion
(3) That as we grow in relationship with and love for God and others, we become “pure and blameless”

God works to help transform me, from within, that I might be “pure of heart.” Granted, I need to be open to the discipline and/or changes to make myself open and available to God’s transforming work. But God does the work!

(I’m also finding assurance in one of John Wesley’s sermons, but I’ll think more on this and write of it later.)