An Open Letter to the Church from a Lesbian

  An Open Letter to the Church from a Lesbian

"You are willing to compromise the word of God to be politically correct. We are not deceived. If we accept your willingness to compromise, then we must also compromise...We do not ask for your acceptance of our sins any more than we accept yours. We simply ask for the same support, love, guidance, and most of all hope that is given to the rest of your congregation. We are your brothers and sisters in Christ. We are not what we shall be, but thank God, we are not what we were. Let us work together to see that we all arrive safely home."

CCEF: Holding Out for a Better Offer

"Discontentment reigns today. As a general rule, the more options, the less contentment, and the less contentment, the more people we will hurt. What a gift that the word of God reveals a different way to live.  When we say “yes” we are led in freedom, not bondage. Our “yes” becomes the will of God for us, and when we know we are living as our Father intends, life is good...There is freedom and contentment in not holding out for a better offer."   This is such a great article by Ed Welch, one I was both encouraged and challenged by!  

click HERE to read the rest of Welch's article

Personal Testimony: Trip Lee

"I never lived a wild lifestyle, but I was hopelessly dead in my sins." This is a short, concise, but very powerful testimony by Trip Lee.  I was extremely encouraged and challenged by all he had to say, and  I was especially struck by his comment, "But I don't think I was [a Christian] because my sin didn't bother me and Jesus was not precious to me." Wow.

My "Innocent" Sin of Busyness and Striving

One of my biggest struggles is the need to always be doing something—something productive, something meaningful, something worthwhile.  In this sense, checklists are my best friend.  I feel a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment when I can check something off one of my lists.  In fact, the longer the list and the more I’ve accomplished, the better. 

On the other hand, however, checklists are the thing I dread most.  An unchecked list screams of my failures and inadequacies.  And somehow, no matter how much I check off, the list never seems to get any shorter.  In fact, it’s just the opposite!  The more I check off, the longer it gets and the more frantic and frazzled I become. 

And yet, as much as I hate these lists, I can’t seem to give them up.  And this is what I’ve realized—the fact that I can’t give up my lists is a major indication that I don’t own them.  They own me!  As much as I hate this desperate need to always be on the move, I don’t know how to live any other way.  I can’t cope if I’m not doing something, not improving.  I have become enslaved to this go-go-go mentality and lifestyle, and as I strive to earn my keep, I feel a sense of worthlessness each time I find myself beginning to slow down. 

Unsurprisingly, rest is almost nonexistent in my life.  I feel so guilty when I take a break or a breather that I can’t even rest when I’m resting.  Take working out, for example.  Rarely can I just lace up my shoes and go for a nice jog outside.  That would be too selfish of me.  I don’t deserve a break.  I can’t justify working out simply for the pure enjoyment of exercise.  So what do I do instead?  I bike or I elliptical.  But I don’t just bike or elliptical. I’ve found a way to be productive even in my working out.  I’ve become the master at going through flashcards on the bike.  Textbook reading on the elliptical?  Check.  And so, you see, I’ve managed to kill two birds with one stone—by studying while I work out, I can get the benefit of a workout without the guilt of being unproductive.

While some might praise these efforts as an indication of hard work, dedication, and discipline, could it be that my strivings and inability to truly rest reflect the deeper state of my heart?  Is it possible I have fallen prey to the seemingly “innocent” sin of busyness and striving? I believe so. 

I am so guilty of resting in the gospel of self-improvement.  John Bloom put it perfectly in his blog post, “Sexy, Successful, and Smart”:  

“The world has a gospel and preaches it all the time: be sexy, successful, or smart and you will be saved. What you will be saved to are the heavens of others’ esteem, desire and envy — and the various perks that usually come with it. What you will be saved from are the hells of others’ rejection and indifference — and the various undesirable extras that usually go with them.

The more you have of sexiness, success, or smarts — and, even better, of all three — the more assurance of salvation you have. According to this gospel you are justified by others’ approval. You are sanctified by self-improvement.

But it’s no gospel. It makes big promises that prove empty. If we achieve the approval we seek, we soon realize it’s no salvation. Approval today usually turns to rejection or indifference tomorrow. Even sustained worldly success doesn’t produce sustained satisfaction. This gospel leaves almost everyone feeling condemned.”

And so, it seems, I am in reality running headlong into self-destruction at breakneck speed by striving and failing under the world’s empty gospel of self-improvement. 

My pastor from back home, R.W. Glenn, recently spoke at the Desiring God National Conference.  In his sermon on work and rest, my pastor spoke on the constant pressure we feel to always be “doing.”  As he explained, “the cry of busyness is more or less the anthem of our culture.”  And what are the implications of this?  We live in a “meritocracy”, whereby our identity is bound up in our achievements and we are addicted to merit. The problem with this, however, is that the Christian faith is not a system of achievement—it’s not a “do” faith, it’s a “done” faith.   Christ has done what we could never hope to do on our own!  Needless to say, my pastor’s sermon had my name stamped all over it.  After listening to my pastor’s sermon, I realize that my confessional theology and my functional theology are often at odds with one another. I see very much of myself in the following quote by Bryan Chappell which my pastor referenced:“After initially trusting in Christ to make them right with God, many Christians embark on an endless pursuit of trying to satisfy God with good works that will keep Him loving them.  This belief, whether articulated or buried deep in a psyche developed by the way we were treated by parents, spouses, or others, makes the Christian life a perpetual race on a performance treadmill to keep winning God’s affection.”

In my functional theology, how I actually live every day in my actions, I see now that I am guilty of acting, thinking and behaving as though Christianity is about what I do for God.  I guess I’ve never really considered the possibility that the reason behind my frantic schedule is that I may be frantic in my relationship with God and not resting in the finished work of Christ for me.  I have been driven by a perpetual quest for something.  Maybe some of you have as well. But is there somewhere we can find rest?  I don’t mean the superficial, unsatisfying rest we are all too familiar with.  I mean deep, true rest. Indeed, in Christ and the Gospel we are afforded this kind of rest, rest which frees us from our strivings—Christ has broken the chains of our enslavement! For me, I am slowly realizing that I can’t be more accepted by God than I already am at this moment, and instead of working to earn the acceptance of God and those around me through my achievements, I need to work on resting. I know this won’t be easy.  I’ve already established habits and thinking that are engrained into me and which won’t be easily uprooted.  My prayer, however, is that instead of focusing on myself and the worldly gospel of self-improvement, I will day by day come to remember more of the Gospel of Christ and all that He done for me.  I don’t need to strive towards becoming accepted by the culture because I am already accepted by the Creator.  As my pastor put it, “The only list of accomplishments the Father sees for you is the one amassed by Jesus, who said, ‘It is finished!’ ”  And I praise God for this, for I know that on my own I can add nothing to the finished work of Christ!

“Let us therefore strive to enter that rest…”

(Hebrews 4:11)

Pride, Unbelief, and the Failure to Forgive

“But if you do not forgive men, then your Father will not forgive your transgressions.” (Matthew 6:15)

“Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you.  […] For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.” (Luke 6:37-38)

In response to being forgiven by God, shouldn’t our hearts overflow in love and forgiveness towards others?  Shouldn’t we be so in awe of the underserving mercy God has shown us that our lives are characterized by an outpouring of grace towards others?  Why then, when we are wronged, do we feel a driving need to call out the unjust?  Why do we hold grudges, and why do we possess the urge to defend ourselves and show others the offenders’ true colors?  Why does anger and resentment eat away at our souls, and is there a better way to respond when we feel unjustly aggrieved?

For myself, I am learning that the gnawing I feel within to have vengeance and set things right stems mainly from a heart of pride and unbelief.  One of my greatest idols is man’s approval.  I’m a people-pleaser, and as such much of my identity is wrapped up in how others view me.  While being a people-pleaser may cause me to appear humble, the reality is that my people-pleasing behavior actually stems from a twisted sense of pride—pride that demands others respect me and hold me in high esteem. Any slight against my character or person is thus a danger that threatens to destroy my world.  How do I respond to such slights?  Anger.  Bitterness.  Resentment.  Despair.  I believe also that my failure to forgive arises from a heart of unbelief which manifests itself in two ways— unbelief in who I am and unbelief in Who God is.  What do I mean by unbelief in who I am?  I mean that I fail to recognize how sinful I really am—I write my sins off as trivial compared to the sins of others, refusing to believe that I’m really that bad.  What a lie.  And then there’s my unbelief in God which doubts His sovereignty, goodness, and justice.  And what does this cause me to do?  I take matters into my own hands.               

C.S. Lewis writes on the problem of forgiveness in the following:

“. . . you must make every effort to kill every taste of resentment in your own heart—every wish to humiliate or hurt him or to pay him out. The difference between this situation and the one in such you are asking God’s forgiveness is this. In our own case we accept excuses too easily; in other people’s we do not accept them easily enough.

As regards my own sin it is a safe bet (though not a certainty) that the excuses are not really so good as I think; as regards other men’s sins against me it is a safe bet (though not a certainty) that the excuses are better than I think. One must therefore begin by attending to everything which may show that the other man was not so much to blame as we thought.

But even if he is absolutely fully to blame we still have to forgive him; and even if ninety-nine percent of his apparent guilt can be explained away by really good excuses, the problem of forgiveness begins with the one percent guilt which is left over. To excuse what can really produce good excuses is not Christian character; it is only fairness. To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable, because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.

This is hard. It is perhaps not so hard to forgive a single great injury. But to forgive the incessant provocations of daily life—to keep on forgiving the bossy mother-in-law, the bullying husband, the nagging wife, the selfish daughter, the deceitful son—how can we do it? Only, I think, by remembering where we stand, by meaning our words when we say in our prayers each night ‘forgive our trespasses as we forgive those that trespass against us.’ We are offered forgiveness on no other terms. To refuse it is to refuse God’s mercy for ourselves. There is no hint of exceptions and God means what He says.”

If I cherish and nurse a grudge against a fellow man, how can I dare approach God and demand mercy? If I—a depraved and sin-soiled sinner—demand justice when I am slighted, how much more should the holy and all-powerful God of the universe demand justice when His name is scorned?  Why should God have mercy on me if I fail to render to Him that which I demand for myself from others?  He shouldn’t.  In fact, the intensity with which I hold others guilty bears testimony to the fact that God will hold me guilty for my sins against Him.  It seems then that Christ’s command to “Forgive that you might be forgiven,” is not just a suggestion—it’s a rule!  I like how John Piper states it when he writes:

“God treats us in accordance with the belief of our heart: if we believe it is good and beautiful to harbor resentments and tabulate wrongs done against us, then God will recognize that our plea for forgiveness is sheer hypocrisy—for we will be asking Him to do what we believe to be bad. It is a dreadful thing to try to make God your patsy by asking Him to act in a way that you, as your action shows, esteem very lowly.”

And so, what can I take away from this?  If, in my pride, I hold fast to an unforgiving spirit, I am proving that I do not trust Christ and His way of life, for how could I withhold forgiveness for mild offenses when my monstrous debt against the most high God has been paid in full?  I know I can’t earn Heaven by forgiving others, but my prayer is that I will cease to be like the unforgiving servant Jesus spoke of in Matthew 18.  Through the power of the Holy Spirit, may I come to resist revenge against those who have hurt me, grieve at their calamities, pray for their welfare, and seek reconciliation so far as it depends on me. 

“When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered he did not threaten; but he trusted to him who judges justly.” (1 Peter 1:23)

Shadows that Haunt

The shadows of fear, anxiety and self-indulgence all too often become ghosts and phantoms that haunt us.  The slightest gust of wind fills us with terror and a creaky floor causes us to freeze.  Friends become backstabbers, our parents our adversaries, and God—an enemy.  With darting eyes and racing hearts we find ourselves hurrying along, occasionally daring to rapidly glance back over our shoulder. 

Why this running and hiding lifestyle as though we are escaped convicts? Is it possible that all the worries of this world, combined with a sin-soiled conscience, have made us restless and prone to fear and avoidance?  I think so.  Maybe we have a sense that someone or something is out to get us, that we are being pursued. It is this terror that quickly consumes us, causing us to turn and flee in fear and mistrust even when we are not being pursued.

“The wicked flee when no one pursues…”

Proverbs 8:21a

Our guilty conscience condemns us, and in our wickedness and despair we are fearful.  But is there hope?  Is there somewhere we may find rest and boldness, somewhere we may shed our fears? 

Indeed, there is one great shadow we need not fear and from which we need not flee.   It is beneath this shadow—the shadow of the cross—that we are freed from the nightmares of our sins.  Here alone are we blessed and here alone do we find rest.  And it is here, in the shadow of the cross, that we are confronted with the Gospel and all that Christ has done on our behalf.  

“But he was pierced for our transgressions;

he was crushed for our iniquities;

upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,

and with his wounds we are healed.

All we like sheep have gone astray;

we have turned—every one—to his own way;

and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

Isaiah 53:5-6

As believers, we have a mighty and merciful message in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  This is a great hope and security in the face of a guilty conscience that threatens to destroy us.   No longer does every breeze that blows or every floor that creaks condemn us.  We need not agonize over the voices that once joined in unison to testify to our guilt, for in Christ all is washed away and we are freed from fear and healed of our sins!   

“..let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith,

with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience

and our bodies washed with pure water.”

Hebrews 10:22

“…for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart,
 and he knows everything.  Beloved, if our heart does not condemn us, 

we have confidence before God…”

1 John 30:20-21

“Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven,

and whose sins are covered;

blessed is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin.”

Romans 4:7-8

“There is therefore now no condemnation

for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

Romans 8:1

“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”

John 8:36

What great and glorious truths! We are freed and protected and glorified when we hide ourselves within the shadow of Christ and the cross.      

“And I will be to her a wall of fire all around, declares the Lord,

and I will be the glory in her midst.”

Zechariah 2:5

So let us hide ourselves within the fiery walls of protection afforded us by Christ's sacrifice, and when Satan tempts us to despair and our guilty hearts cry out of the guilt we hold within, may we boldly look to the cross and hold fast to the promise and reassurance and hope we have in Christ: 

When Satan tempts me to despair,

And tells me of the guilt within,

Upward I look, and see Him there

Who made an end to all my sin.

Because the sinless Savior died,

My sinful soul is counted free;

For God the just is satisfied

To look on Him and pardon me
(Before the Throne of God Above)

So what does mean?  It means we can stop running and hiding.  In Christ we are promised protection from the fires and shadows that haunt us.  His guiltless blood shed for us has covered all our sins and they are remembered no more.  No more! They have been removed as far as the East is from the West.    We may now come to the Father not as vile convicts but as sons and daughters of the King.  Unlike the shadows of our past, the shadow of the cross will never threaten or haunt us.  Rather, it is in the shadow of what Christ has done on the cross that we are granted the greatest blessing of all—we are invited to come and forevermore be filled with the infinite joy of God’s glory and presence.    

“For I will satisfy the weary soul,

 and every languishing soul I will replenish.”

 Jeremiah 31:25