More than Enough

Recently I was translating part of Genesis 3 and as I did so I was struck by the conversation between the woman and the snake.  The snake is telling her of all the things that the tree will give her if she eats of its fruit.  The whole time the snake is convincing her of one thing, she's not enough.  It's a lie.  She was created in the image of God just as man was.  Another book even describes Eve as the pinnacle of creation, God's final creative act that completed creation.  Yet, the snake convinces her that she isn't enough, that there is something that she lacks.  Since that time, this thought or feeling of inadequacy has been passed down to every one of us.  The message may not always be communicated verbally, but is nonetheless communicated clearly:  we aren't smart enough, attractive enough, athletic enough, successful enough.  The message comes in loud and clear from family, friends, teachers, professors, employers, and the media.  We aren't enough.

Many of us have been able to see the lie for what it is and have accepted our identity as being made in the image of God and dearly loved by him.  Not only are we enough, we are of immense worth and value.  Yet despite all of that, there are moments where these thoughts creep in and we're suddenly back in the garden feeling inadequate and insecure.  We carry this baggage around everywhere we go and it infiltrates our conversations and relationships on a routine basis.  As we interact with others, we desire so greatly to be seen as enough that we posture ourselves and attempt to hide our weaknesses while overemphasizing our strengths.  We live wounded lives and thus have wounded and broken relationships.

Something has to be done though.  Too much is at stake here.  When people feel like this, they are losing sight of the identity they have as being made in the image of the holy, sovereign Creator of Heaven and Earth.  They are buying into the lies that cause them to search outside of God for their identity, which leads only to discontentment.  So what is it that we must do as Christ followers?  I was reading from Chasing Francis the other day (a book that I highly recommend to everyone), and I came across the quote, "All ministry comes from the ragged edges of our own pain."  You see it is only by understanding our own brokenness that we are able to help others with theirs.  By seeing how we are healed, we are able to offer healing.  Jesus said, "Do to others as you would have them do to you." (Luke 6:31).  The things that we long for, this is what we must do for others.  We must show others that they are enough, that they are worth our time and are far more important than this week's assignment or this particular task.  That they are indeed an image bearer of the Creator.  Jesus spent his earthly ministry restoring dignity to others, to show them that they are enough, that they are dearly loved.  If we are truly going to follow Jesus, we must do the same.  We must awake the beauty that lies inside each person and help them to see their priceless worth.  We must be courageous and risk our own fragility in order that we may make others strong.  When we do that, we begin to see that we too are image bearers of Christ and we begin to see that we are not fragile at all, but indeed powerful beyond measure.  To close I will leave you with this quote by Marianne Williamson, who says it best:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. 

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. 

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. 

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? 

Actually, who are you not to be? 

You are a child of God.

 Your playing small does not serve the world. 

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. 

We are all meant to shine, as children do. 

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. 

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. 

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. 

As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Always Busy, Never Rushed

I had a long day yesterday.  A very long day.  The day began by getting up at 5:00 am and then leaving for school by 5:30.  The Seminary was doing a Faith in the Marketplace breakfast which is often targeted to businessmen seeking to integrate their faith into their businesses.  It's a great program with interesting speakers and thought provoking conversations.  They also provide scholarships to students, so despite my disdain for early mornings, off I went.  Immediately following the breakfast, I headed to the library in order to write a small paper on a book that I had finished the night before.  With the paper out of the way, I still had another meeting to go to, along with a Hebrew Translation to start and finish, a vocabulary quiz to study for and another class to attend.  Needless to say at 6:45 pm when I walked into Hebrew I was already tired.  Another four hours later, I was finally home and ready to pass out on my bed.  Now I say all this not to earn your sympathy or even to vent, but rather as a confession.

I'd be willing to bet that my schedule above resembles the days of many other people.  The particulars may be different, nonetheless the congestion is undoubtedly similar.  There's a serious problem with this however.  In the midst of our cluttered lives, we miss the opportunity to connect with people in powerful ways.  We miss the opportunity to demonstrate love and compassion and to provide a listening ear to the hurting, or to simply give encouragement.

During my day, I interacted with many people.  As the day began, I was intentional about listening to them and really hearing their hearts, but by the end of the day, I had lost that ability and was completely inward-focused.  As I sat there in the library finishing my translation a few minutes before Hebrew, a friend of mine came in from the picnic that I was missing out on.  He sat down across from me with his plate of food and began working.  My books were scattered over the table and I barely made an effort to make room for him.  My compassion had gone out the window, especially as I eyed the, not one, but two cupcakes on his plate.  I went ahead and moved some things, briefly apologized for my untidiness, and went back to work on my translation.  I got up a number of times to go find commentaries or various other resources.  Then as I was about to finish up, I looked next to my computer and there sat one of the cupcakes from my friend's plate.  An act of compassion when I had given none.  I was humbled and grateful.

I share this story because we need more acts of compassion like that.  My friend's day was just as busy as mine, just as hectic and he was just as stressed, yet he chose to continue to be outward focused rather than being focused on self.  Dallas Willard once said that Jesus was often busy but never rushed.  He's right.  If you look through the Gospels, Jesus was constantly doing something, whether he was on his way to share some word, or perform some miracle, yet he always seemed to have time for someone else to intrude on his personal space.  Look at the story in Luke 8 of the woman who has been bleeding for 12 years.  It says that while Jesus was walking, "the people pressed around him."  I always imagine something like I-95 around D.C. during rush hour when I hear that statement.  He was also on his way to something rather important, a 12 year old was dying.  Then all of a sudden he was touched by this woman and she was healed.  Jesus could have just kept going if he wanted to, but he didn't.  He stopped and asked who touched him.  His disciples thought he was crazy, but he kept asking who touched him until finally the woman stepped forward.  Then he did something even more powerful than the healing.  He restored her dignity.

One of my favorite examples of Jesus' lack of being rushed comes in Mark 10 where he encounters Bartimaeus.  Jesus was headed toward Jerusalem when he is interrupted yet again.  Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, is calling out to Jesus by the roadside.  Now consider what Jesus is about to do.  He is headed toward Jerusalem to die on the cross.  Just a few verses earlier, he foretells his death for the third time.  You could say that he has some things to think about.  Yet, in an incredible moment of compassion and humility, he tells the disciples to bring Bartimaeus to him and asks him, "What do you want me to do for you?"  The King of Heaven and Earth asks a blind beggar what he wants him to do for him even in the midst of his greatest trial.  It seems that no matter how busy Jesus was, he always had time for someone to interrupt.  I think the reason why is because Jesus was concerned with people and with offering hope and restoration.  Jesus understood that if he was too rushed to restore someone's dignity, then he wasn't fulfilling the purpose for which he came.  So why is it that we, as his followers, have somehow missed this point?  We certainly have bought into the busyness of life and have become rushed as a result.  We may carve out time here and there for people and service projects, but how often do we take the time to really hear the person we're talking to?  Do we hear the pain in their voice or the stress communicated through their body language?  I speak of these things as the chief of sinners.  May we gaze together upon the life of Jesus and learn how to be busy, but never rushed.

Child of God

A couple months ago, I was talking with a friend of mine about what God was teaching him over the summer.  This friend is incredibly funny, profoundly creative, and highly entertaining.  All important characteristics for a person involved in the energetic atmosphere of summer camp.  His natural charisma makes him an obvious choice for getting the kids excited and being the center of attention.  Recently, however, he chose to take the behind-the-scenes position instead.  You see, he realized that his identity was in performing for others.  At the beginning of the summer he asked himself the question, "Do I want to be remembered as the person who did that really awesome thing during camp, or that person who poured into my life and showed me Christ?"  After keeping this at the center of his thoughts throughout the summer and through being highly intentional, he was able to begin the process of reclaiming his identity in Christ.  I was moved by his humility and honest reflection on his time in camp.  I found that as he spoke, he spoke words that I needed to hear for my own story.

I've never really considered myself the person who needs to be the center of attention.  I also haven't really considered myself the kind of person who needs the affirmation of others.  It just goes to show how ignorant I can be when it comes to self-awareness.  You see, when I am in conversations with others, I often feel the need to share some profound insight with them.  Things generally come to me in conversations that may or may not be directly linked to the current conversation, but I immediately interject them regardless.  Sometimes these insights are truly profound and come from the Holy Spirit, the problem is that the sharing of them is not always for the edification of God.  Sometimes when I receive affirmation from others due to an insight, I think to myself, "Yep, and you heard it from me."  Okay, maybe not literally, but the point is that I thrive off of that affirmation.  So I continue to offer insights in conversations.  In discussing this with my spiritual director, he helped me to see how I had cultivated this identity that was driven by what others thought of me.  He challenged me to try withholding those insights for a time and to begin rediscovering my identity in Christ.

Since that time, I have tried to stay away from providing insights unless asked.  By simply listening to my friends without trying to provide insights, I've been able to truly hear their stories and their own reflections.  I have been able to see them in a new light and my appreciation for them has grown even more as a result.  It has also been a very humbling activity and has included times where I felt insecure with creeping doubts and concerns that perhaps people thought less of me for not providing some theological truth or some fitting quote to meditate on.  This feeling served to confirm the deeply entrenched roots of this false identity.  My need to be seen as wise had superseded my identity in Christ.

The other day, I had to translate Genesis 3:1-8 for my Hebrew class.  In going through the account of the fall of man, I was struck by the identity crisis that Adam and Eve faced.  The snake in the garden said that they will be like God if they ate of the fruit, but in Genesis 1 it says that mankind was created in the image of God.  They began to see the tree as a giver of a new identity and had lost the identity given to them by God.  Needless to say, I resonated with their choice and shared in their shame.  The wonderful thing is that God is constantly seeking to restore our identity in him.  He is constantly offering us the opportunity to become his child once more.  Throughout the Old Testament we see God pursuing man with the precious gift of his presence.  Jesus gives us the prodigal son who returns home after losing his identity and the father restores him to full rights as a son.  Paul even calls us children of God and coheirs with Christ (Romans 8).  In Ephesians 2, he says that we are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God.   What a wonderful and remarkable identity!  It is so easy to be tempted into allowing others to dictate your identity and who you are, but we must hold fast to the identity that God himself has given us.  So where does your identity lie?  Have you allowed others to dictate your identity based on what they think of you?  May I offer this as a fellow wanderer:  Seize the moment to live into your identity as a child of God.

Behold His Glory

A few months ago, I had the incredible privilege of going to Banff in Alberta, Canada.  While there, I was left in a constant state of breathlessness.  There are truly no words to describe the majesty of the Canadian rockies, no poems to do them justice, and pictures capture but a sliver of their splendor.  While there, I felt a sense of guilt for having the experience knowing that no matter what I tried or how eloquent I was, I could never communicate the majesty of it all to anyone else.  If you've ever read my blog, you know that I like to use experiences from my life to communicate truths about God that I'm learning.  When I first went to Banff, I thought there would be plenty for me to write about, but within moments of arriving, I was laid low and rendered speechless by the majesty.  I struggled for the first few days to put anything to paper because all I could do was say in a hushed whisper, "wow."  It became difficult, because I knew there had to be some kind of insight that God was teaching me, some word of wisdom that I could share with others, but I couldn't put my finger on it.  It is perhaps for that exact reason, that I was unable to see what God was trying to say to me.

The last couple years I have been working hard in Seminary and learning so much.  One of my greatest struggles has actually been getting so wrapped up in intellectual ideas that I become disconnected with the majesty of God.  In my pursuit of knowledge about God, his awesome splendor is often hidden from my gaze.  While in Banff, I realized how deeply that struggle had become ingrained within me.  In his mercy, God placed me in a location where all I could do was remain in a constant state of amazement.  The longer I sat among the awe-inspiring mountains the more I began to realize that this is the stance that I need to take with God.  There is certainly nothing wrong with insights about God or being engaged in intellectually stimulating conversations about theology, but we must return to this splendor time and time again.  For it is the majesty and glory of God that gives us breath and purpose, that gives us courage and strength, and brings that ever necessary state of humility.  Jesus pointed to this countless times and before leaving his disciples, he again pointed to the power and majesty of God.  Paul constantly got caught up with the glory of God as he wrote and found himself incapable of doing anything but praise God.  You see insights can be great and can light a fire inside you, but it never replaces the awe and wonder of God.  May we constantly put ourselves before Him and simply let His splendor wash over us.