Confessions of a Wannabe Christian Hedonist

Making a mess in pursuit of sourdough donuts 

In chapter 7 of John Piper's book "Brothers, We Are Not Professionals," Piper introduces a concept he calls the debtor's ethic, otherwise known as the gratitude ethic. 

"The debtor's ethic has a deadly appeal to immature Christians. It comes packaged as a gratitude ethic and says things like: 'God has done so much for you; now what will you do for Him?' 'He gave you His life; now how much will you give to Him?' The Christian life is pictured as an effort to pay back the debt we owe to God. The admission is made that we will never fully pay it off, but the debtor's ethic demands that we work at it. Good deeds and religious acts are the installment payments we make on the unending debt we owe God" (Piper 49-50). 

If you are anything like me, the gratitude ethic is not only familiar but deeply ingrained. What makes this ethic tricky is that there is a very real element of truth to it--we should be so moved with gratitude that our good deeds flow from us naturally, without pretense. 

However, Piper argues that nowhere in the Bible is gratitude ever used as an explicit motive for obedience. 

"Why is it this explicit motive for obedience--which in contemporary Christianity is probably the most commonly used motive for obedience to God--(almost?) totally lacking in the Bible? Could it be that a gratitude ethic so easily slips over into a debtor's ethic that God chose to protect His people from this deadly motivation by not including gratitude as an explicit motive for obedience? (Piper 50). 

After reading that chapter, I gently closed the book and set it beside me in bed. As I stared up at my ceiling, I felt like something in me had been violently upended.  

In very large part, the gratitude ethic was what motivated me to become a missionary in the first place. I had, with full conviction, said phrases like, "God gave me His life, so I will give Him mine." 

I knew being a missionary meant making sacrifices, but I felt that God was more than deserving of them and that my sacrifices, however big and painful they seemed to me at the time, were only a drop in the bucket compared to everything He had given me. 

I had made God the grateful beneficiary of my sacrifices without even realizing it.  

And what is even more humiliating, is to realize that I haven't made a single sacrifice that God has not given me back one-hundredfold. All my efforts to make Him the beneficiary of my "sacrifices" only made me the beneficiary of even more of His gifts. 

"He guards us from the mind-set of a debtor's ethic by reminding us that our Christian labor for Him is a gift from Him (Rom. 11:35-36; 15:18) and therefore cannot be conceived as payment of a debt. In fact, the astonishing thing is that every good deed we do in dependence on Him to 'pay Him back' does just the opposite; it puts us even deeper into debt to His grace" (Piper 50). 

Mark 10:29-31 teaches a similar concept. 

"'Truly I tell you,' Jesus said, 'there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for my sake and for the sake of the gospel, who will not receive a hundred times more, now at this time--houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions--and eternal life in the age to come." 

A couple months ago I read another John Piper book titled: "Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist." The impact that book had on me was a huge motivation for me to seek out other books by Piper and ultimately what led me to pick up "Brothers, We Are Not Professionals." 

"Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist" had already begun chipping away at this debtor's ethic and sacrificial attitude. 

Piper argues that it is not sinful to seek our own happiness and pleasure, and even more than that, to desire our happiness and pleasure is exactly how God created us. Everything we do, in fact, is based on this cost/reward analysis. However, Piper argues that in order to seek that happiness and pleasure to their highest potential, we must seek after God in obedience. 

God knows we are motivated by reward and so He constantly promises reward for obedience.

We are told to honor our father and mother so that it will go well with us (Ephesians 6:1-3). 

We are told that God rewards those who seek him (Hebrews 11:6). 

We are told that those who fear the Lord and delight in obeying His commands are given joy (Psalm 112:1). 

I think we shy away from talking about the rewards of obedience and of seeking God because we think it somehow takes away from our obedience as if we have tarnished it with selfish motives. 

But disinterested obedience isn't a virtue. 

"Consider the analogy of a wedding anniversary. Mine is on December 21. Suppose on this day I bring home a dozen long-stemmed red roses for Noel. When she meets me at the door, I hold out the roses, and she says, 'O, Johnny, they're beautiful, thank you,' and gives me a big hug. Then suppose I hold up my hand and say matter-of-factly, 'Don't mention it; it's my duty.' What happens? Is not the exercise of duty a noble thing? Do not we honor those we dutifully serve? Not much. Not if there's no heart in it. Dutiful roses are a contradiction in terms. If I am not moved by a spontaneous affection for her as a person, the roses do not honor her. In fact, they belittle her. They are a very thin covering for the fact that she does not have the worth or beauty in my eyes to kindle affection.....If I take my wife out for an evening on our anniversary and she asks me, 'Why do you do this?' the answer that honors her most is, 'Because nothing makes me happier tonight than to be with you.' 'It's my duty,' is a dishonor to her. 'It's my joy,' is an honor" (Piper 72-73). 

And the more we love God, the greater reward we will feel to obey Him. To take away the reward is to stop loving God altogether. 

I think another reason why shy away from talking about the rewards of obedience is that we like to think we are capable of what C.S. Lewis in his book "The Four Loves" calls "Gift-love." 

"Gift-love," is love that needs nothing and asks for nothing, and is able to give solely for the sake of the other. However, the only one capable of this kind of love is God Himself. In our pride, we make ourselves gods, believing that we can love God and others without needing anything in return.

However, all humans are only capable of giving God "Need-love."  

"Every Christian would agree that a man's spiritual health is exactly proportional to his love for God. But man's love for God, from the very nature of the case, must always be very largely, and must often be entirely, a Need-love. This is obvious when we implore forgiveness for our sins or support in our tribulations. But in the long run, it is perhaps even more apparent in our growing - for it ought to be growing - awareness that our whole being by its very nature is one vast need; incomplete, preparatory, empty yet cluttered, crying out for Him who can untie things that are now knotted together and tie up things that are still dangling loose...it would be a bold and silly creature that came before its Creator with the boast 'I'm no beggar. I love you disinterestedly.' Those who come nearest to a Gift-love for God will next moment, even at the very same moment, be beating their breasts with the publican and laying their indigence before the only real Giver" (Lewis 1-2). 

We want to be able to claim that we give God our good works and obedience because we want to honor Him, not because we need anything in return. However, fighting against this is fighting against the very way God created us. He created us to need Him. 

"And God would have it so. He addresses our Need-love: 'Come to me all ye that travail and are heavyladen,' or, in the Old Testament, 'Open your mouth wide and I will fill it'" (Lewis 2).  

It does not honor God to act as if we do not need Him. It honors Him to need Him more every day, to admit that we can give Him nothing that He is in want of or needs, even our good works. 

The moment we master this is the moment we kill our pride for good. 

I feel inclined to make a quick side-note about this idea of "Gift-love" and "Need-love" particularly in what I have observed in the non-Christian, new-agey culture. 

I see a lot of messaging about the highest form of love being "Gift-love." Not only is that type of love to be admired, but we should be capable of displaying that type of love to each other, especially in our romantic relationships. Those who fall short of that divine love haven't yet been "enlightened."

I find it fascinating because all of us are created with an instinctive knowledge that we can be loved completely selflessly, but fail to realize the only place that love will be found is in God Himself. And instead of that instinctive knowledge ultimately pointing us to the only divine and needless Creator, we try to play the role of God to others and expect others to play the role of God to us.  

Piper writes about the first time he ever read C.S. Lewis' sermon "The Weight of Glory."

"There it was in black and white, and to my mind, it was totally compelling: it is not a bad thing to desire our own good. In fact, the great problem of human beings is that they are far too easily pleased. They don't seek pleasure with nearly the resolve and passion that they should. And so they settle for mud pies of appetite instead of infinite delight. I had never in my whole life heard any Christian, let alone a Christian of Lewis's stature, say that all of us not only seek (as Pascal said) but also ought to seek our own happiness. Our mistake lies not in the intensity of our desire for happiness, but in the weakness of it" (Piper 16). 

Piper writes that he consistently sees validation for the concept of Christian Hedonism in the lives of missionaries who know the benefit of giving up lesser pleasures (family, country, comforts) for greater pleasures (purpose, intimacy with God, fruits of the spirit). They aren't sacrificing anything; they are hedonistically striving for more fulfilling pleasures and happiness! 

It wasn't my obedience and sacrificial attitude that led me here in the first place, and it isn't my obedient resolve to grit my teeth and suffer for the gospel's sake that has carried me through these past two years. 

What brought me here was the divine hand of God who loves me so much that He desired to give me more of Himself and thus increase my happiness and pleasure in Him. What has carried me through these last two years has been the abandoning of lesser pleasures for higher pleasures, and not "higher" in the sense of holier, but "higher" in the sense of they fill me with greater happiness than those I abandoned. 

"The chief end of man is to glorify God by enjoying Him forever" (Piper 14). 

And as I near the final months of my time here in Brazil, I am convinced that I have not made a single sacrifice. I have been lucky enough to experience pleasure and happiness on a scale I never could have if I had never become a missionary. And while I am firmly convinced that it is time to close the door on this chapter of my life, I know I will deeply miss this kind of happiness in the Lord. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S

What a Friend

A photo I took of my friend Cássia's cat 

Joseph Medlicott Scriven wrote the famous hymn "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" in 1850. 

Familiarity is often accompanied by inattention and unawareness. Rather than skimming through these words in the same way you drive home every day, pretend you are reading them for the very first time.

What a friend we have in Jesus, all our griefs and sins to bear! What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer! Oh, what peace we often forfeit. Oh, what needless pain we bear. All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer!

Have we trials and temptations? Is there trouble anywhere? We should never be discouraged, take it to the Lord in prayer. Can we find a friend so faithful, who will all our sorrows share? Jesus knows our every weakness; take it to the Lord in prayer. 

Are we weak and heavy laden, cumbered with a load of care? Precious Savior, still our refuge--take it to the Lord in prayer. Do thy friends despise, forsake thee? Take it to the Lord in prayer! In His arms, He'll take and shield thee, thou wilt find a solace there.

Blessed Savior, Thou hast promised Thou wilt all our burdens bear; may we ever, Lord, be bringing all to Thee in earnest prayer. Soon in glory bright, unclouded, there will be no need for prayer--rapture, praise, and endless worship will be our sweet portion there. 

Do the words take on a new meaning for you? They do for me as well. 

As much as I would like to take credit for this exercise, I can't. This song was actually sent to me by my friend Grace who said: 

"Something that hit me fresh and new was some of the lyrics to "What a Friend We Have in Jesus." I've sung this song for years, but I didn't realize what I was singing until now...'Oh, what peace we often forfeit. Oh, what needless pain we bear. All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.' I feel kind of embarrassed that I've never really listened to the lyrics of this song before, but sheesh, I just had a really big DUH moment when it finally set in. Oh, how much peace I do often forfeit and needless pain, anxieties, fears, *endless list of things* that I put on myself instead of turning to the Lord in prayer." 

Prayer is an area of my life that I have been growing in over this past year. I saw my need to focus on this spiritual discipline when I realized that I had never prayed about a certain area of my life that caused a significant amount of pain, fear, and anxiety. 

I had thought about it, worried about it, talked to others about it, journaled about it, cried about it, and even tried to fix it, but I had, for as much as I could remember, never prayed about it. 

Talk about a really big DUH moment, 

As soon as I began praying, I began to see changes. First, in myself. I found myself humbled before God, willing to admit that I had done everything in my power to remedy this and it was impossible if He didn't intervene. I began to feel hopeful and encouraged rather than defeated. Second, I began to notice the fruit of change in that area of my life. 

The more I began to pray about the smallest, most insignificant details, the more I began to notice God's hand working in the smallest, most insignificant details. 

Like the hymn says: What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer, even the things we think are too silly or insignificant to pray about. 

I don't remember where I heard this analogy, but I remember reading a book that said that God is a gentleman. He won't intrude, barge in, or take over something I haven't invited Him into. He is like a friend, who, already having a hunch of what I am thinking, won't say anything unless I bring it up first. He already knows what I need, but He's polite enough to wait until I ask for it. 

This means I can't use God's omniscience as an excuse for my laziness or pride.    

I remember talking to a mom who shared with me the changes she was noticing in the independence of her child. She told me how before, her child would come to her for everything whether it was a fingernail that looked funny or a pan smoking downstairs in the kitchen. The reluctance of her child to handle things on her own made it difficult for the mom to have alone time, read, rest, or accomplish other tasks. 

As a child, we don't have to be told to go to our parents for everything, big or small. We do it without thinking, sometimes to the demise of our parents. 

Developing independence and confidence away from our parents is a natural, good and normal thing. It would be weird to see a 45-year-old woman holding onto the back of her mom's shirt, following her everywhere the same way she did as a two-year-old. 

And while our relationship with our parents can be a helpful dim reflection to understanding the way God relates to us, I have found that thinking of God in that way proves to be more of a stumbling block for most people than a helpful analogy. 

How did your dad react when you asked him for the same thing many times? He became angry and maybe even refused to give you what you would have gotten had you not asked 10 times.

However, God tells us to "keep asking, and it will be given to you" (Matthew 7:7 HCSB). 

How did your mom react when you wanted her to hold your hand and go down the slide with you because you were scared? She told you that you were old enough not to need her help anymore and you needed to do it by yourself.  

However, God tells us that "you can do nothing without me" (John 15:5 CSB). 

How did your dad react when you tried to ask him for permission to eat a snack while he was reading the newspaper? He kept reading, not even realizing that you were talking to him. 

However, God tells us that He "hears whatever we ask" (1 John 5:15 CSB). 

And I think my hesitancy to pray about things that I didn't consider "worth God's time" or that I felt I should be able to "handle on my own" or that I had already "asked for a million times" stemmed from a faulty idea of God as an Earthly parent. 

I didn't want to annoy Him, seem incapable or bother Him when He was busy. How silly that all seems when I say it aloud!

How much peace I robbed from myself and how much pleasure I denied Him because I was unwilling to go to Him with everything in prayer!

My prayer is that you would also be reminded and encouraged to "take it to the Lord in Prayer!"

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S

A Case for Community

 

Chris McCandless (February 12, 1968-August 18, 1992) 

In the last few minutes of the 2007 film "Into the Wild" Chris McCandless, starving and alone in the Alaskan wilderness, pulls out his paperback book of plant lore and writes within the margins: "happiness is only real when shared." 

Desiring freedom, self-sufficiency, and a simple life far from the evils of materialism, Chris decided to donate his life savings of $24,000 to charity, give away everything he owned aside from a hunting rifle, ten pounds of rice and the clothes on his back and hike from South Dakota to Alaska.  

Chris had achieved the life he set out for, but soon realized it was incomplete if he didn't have anyone to share it with. 

Four months after he arrived in Alaska, Chris died of starvation. 

"Into the Wild" is based on a true story. On September 6, 1992, 19 days after Chris died, his body was found by two moose hunters in his home he constructed from an abandoned city bus. 

Four years later his story was told by journalist Jon Krakauer in his book "Into the Wild."

I find the life of Chris McCandless striking, because on a certain level I deeply respect what he did and what he valued. Chris desired to live--truly live. He had spent the two years prior to his journey to Alaska without a phone and was known for having few possessions. On another level I sympathize with Chris' prideful attitude that was above needing human connection or depending on community. 

The Lord has done a radical work on this area of my life over the last decade. 

Before I understood the importance of living in community, I was content to maintain my own sense of piety without the inconveniences of messy people. Then, in my late teenage years, I entered into a depression I didn't understand or know how to deal with, but was determined to fix on my own as I had done everything else. What could have been resolved more quickly lasted for years because of my own pride. 

There were many things that contributed to bringing me out of that brain fog, but do you know what contributed to it the most? When I started living in community. 

I began to allow people into my life, I began to be vulnerable and stop putting on a show that I was perfect, I began to walk with others through their own pains and joys and I began to serve others for the sake of loving them and putting their needs before my own. I no longer had the time to sit around all day evaluating how I was feeling, and with time, I realized I wasn't nearly as depressed as I was before. 

I am not saying this is a one size fits all solution for everyone, but I also don't think it would hurt to try. 

Why? Because we were created to live in community. We were created to live in relationships. It is a fundamental human need. 

It is also one of the hardest things you will ever do. 

Any community, no matter how flawless it seems on the surface, will disappoint you. You will find things to disagree about even if everyone in your community voted for the same person in the last election. You will be on the receiving end of careless comments. You won't receive compassion every time you think you deserve it. You will find people who annoy you for no rational reason other than that they seem to breathe irritatingly. You might even be profoundly hurt in a way that takes a long time to forgive. 

And if it seems ironic to you that the thing that leads to our greatest joy is the thing most difficult to do, I would assume you have not been a Christian for very long. 

Let's look at 1 Corinthians 12, where Paul begins verse 12 writing about unity in the Christian community. 

"For just as the body is one and has many parts, and all of the parts of that body, though many, are one body--so also is Christ. For we were all baptized by one Spirit into one body--whether Jews or Greeks, whether slaves or free--and we were all given one spirit to drink. Indeed the body is not one part but many. If the foot should say, 'Because I'm not a hand I don't belong to the body,' it is not for that reason any less part of the body. And if the ear should say, 'Because I'm not an eye I don't belong to the body,' it is not for that reason any less part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But as it is, God has arranged each one of the parts in the body just as he wanted. And if they were all the same part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body" (1 Corinthians 12:12-20 CSB). 

How beautiful. 

To live in a functioning and loving community we don't have to have the same kind of personalities, the same political ideas, the same interests, the same ages, we don't have the have the same cultural or racial background, we don't all need to be married, we don't all need to have kids, and we don't even need to agree on every single debatable lowercase t theological concept. If we all have the Spirit of Christ, we can have unity. 

Who wouldn't want to be part of a community like that?

But just a verse later Paul begins talking about the divisions that inevitably come. 

"The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I don't need you!' Or again, the head can't say to the feet, 'I don't need you!'" (1 Corinthians 12:21 CSB). 

How all too disappointingly familiar. 

The Bible is full of verses encouraging Christians to continue to strive after unity, and reprimanding them for all the times they seek to destroy unity with their selfishness and pride. 

"Pursue peace with everyone, and holiness--without it no one will see the Lord. Make sure that no one falls short of the grace of God and that no root of bitterness springs up, causing trouble and defiling many" (Hebrews 12:14-15 CSB). 

"Therefore, as God's chosen ones, holy and dearly loved, put on compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another if anyone has a grievance against another. Just as the Lord has forgiven you, so are you also to forgive. Above all, put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity" (Colossians 3:12-14 CSB). 

I don't know about you, but the fact that Christians have to be reminded to love each other constantly feels defeating. It means they aren't living this way normally and that the community I dream of and long for is a far off dream that rarely happens on this side of heaven. 

Kind of makes me want to pack up and live alone in the Alaskan wilderness. 

And, in one way or another, that is a conclusion a lot of people come to. They enter into Christian community expecting love, peace, and unity, and quickly become disillusioned and leave the church community altogether.  

I get it. 

But in the same ironic moment that we become critical of the people in our community, we are far too often guilty of the same thing. We gossip with our closest friend about how so-and-so is such a gossip. We cast judgemental, condemning glances at those we deem judgemental and condemning. And the further we isolate ourselves from our community, the more we just self-affirm our own perspective, the further we plummet into pride, and the blinder we become to our own sin. 

You want to know the quickest way to become aware of how sinful you are? Live in community with sinners, they pull that stuff right outta ya. 

The other day I held a baby while a new mother took a nap in peace, something she had not been able to do for months. I felt happy and giddy and totally alive that I was able to give her such a simple gift. I thought about how I could have been spending my morning alone in my apartment doing anything I wanted without any noise and nobody to inconvenience me--I could have been spending my morning in total freedom. 

Instead, for the sake of living in community, for the sake of bearing a burden, for the sake of showing love and counting someone else more important than myself, I spent my morning with a baby and a very tired mother. And you know what? It was the best morning I have had in a long while. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S

The Year of Honey

 

This time last year, I received a message from a woman named Bruna, telling me she had found a puppy on the streets. She sent me a photo of the puppy and asked if I wanted her; I said: "yes." 

And as I reflect on having lived out that "yes" for the past year, I am reminded of another yes I gave in May of 2019. 

Just weeks after I graduated college, I flew to Germany for a 10-day missions conference where I ended up meeting missionaries who invited me to join their team in Brazil; I said: "yes."  

I had no way of fully knowing everything that would come about because of saying yes. And there have been days when I have thought: "This isn't what I thought I was saying yes to."

I knew it would be lonely to move to a foreign country away from friends and family, but I didn't know it would be this lonely. I knew a puppy would test my patience, but I didn't know it would test my patience this much. 

Coldplay said it best: "Nobody said it was easy; no one ever said it would be this hard." 

I think it's a mixture of God's grace and sense of humor that keeps us from knowing everything that lies ahead of our chosen road; because for as much as we plan and dream for the future, agonize over details, bullet point pros and cons, and incessantly imagine every single hypothetical, we all walk into our yeses blind. 

And that's because we all walk into the future blind. 

That's not to say we shouldn't do our homework--as much as it depends on us, we should know what we are getting ourselves into before we say yes to something--I am not trying to advocate for a passive or defeatist approach to life here. 

But I am trying to acknowledge a simple fact: that for as much as we think we know exactly how something will go, circumstances and people change and, in a moment, everything is completely different and we find ourselves thinking: "had I known it was going to be like this, I don't know that I would have said yes." 

And we think that because none of us like pain. None of us like to walk the difficult road. None of us like to suffer. And God, who knows our nature, will ask us to take a road He knows will lead to pain for the purpose of our sanctification and growth. Sometimes that's the only way we can learn.  

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is going to be revealed to us. For the creation eagerly waits with anticipation for God's sons to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to futility--not willingly, but because of him who subjected it--in the hope that creation itself will also be set free from the bondage to decay into the glorious freedom of God's children. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together with labor pains until now. Not only that, but we ourselves who have the Spirit as the first fruits--we also groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for adoption, for the redemption of our bodies. Now in this hope, we were saved, but hope that is seen is not hope, because who hopes for what he sees? Now if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with patience" (Romans 8:18-25 CSB). 

Suffering isn't worth comparing to the work sanctification will produce in us. 

Verse 28 continues: "We know all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to His purpose. For those He foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those He predestined, He also called; and those He called, He also justified; and those He justified, He also glorified" (Romans 8:28-30 CSB). 

All hard things we walk through work together for our good. 

Let me talk about Honey for a minute. 

Everyone who sees Honey looks at her honey-colored fur and assumes I gave her that name because of her coloring, but it actually wasn't. When I first received Honey, her fur was more of a chestnut brown, but over time it has become the color of honey.  

In a way, I predestined her to be like honey. 

Through the course of this last year, as she has grown and learned and matured, tripling in size (although she still has not quite grown into her ears), she is being conformed to the image of honey--from the color of her fur to her sweet disposition.

When we go on walks, Honey is loved by everyone she comes in contact with. She wildly wags her tail watching children play, lifts up her front paws to each passing stranger to be petted, and has never once growled or barked at someone she didn't know.  

And in the same way, we are predestined to be like Christ. 

And through our lives, we, who once looked nothing like the image of Christ, slowly are being conformed to look more and more like Him. 

For Honey that happened through my consistent discipline: teaching her to pee outside rather than on my living room floor, teaching her to be comfortable being alone while I am out of the house without crying, teaching her to play gently rather than biting and scratching--I have taught her to listen to my voice and heed my commands. 

Now, she doesn't always listen to my voice. There are times when she has stolen yet another sock and instead of giving it back like I have asked her to, she turns around and trots away, but she does obey much more than she did a year ago. 

And I can't help but think that I look more like Christ now than I did in May of 2019 before I ever set my life and future on the altar and submitted to the Lord by saying "yes" to coming to Brazil as a missionary. 

That happened through confronting my pride through circumstances the Lord brought to my life, realizing the idols of my heart that the Lord allowed me to see for what they truly were, and becoming aware of how weak and helpless I am in my own right and my need for daily dependence on the Lord. 

Do I still struggle against pride? Yes. Do I still have idols in my heart? Again, yes. Have I mastered dependence on the Lord alone? Of course not. But I am not where I was three years ago, and that is what matters.  

So, here's to the year of Honey--the unexpected sweetness of sanctification. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S

I Don't Wanna Go (If You're Not Going Before Me)

Sarah and Evie taking a rest at the construction site for the new church in Tupanatinga

These days, I've had one song on repeat.

It has kept me company while I wash dishes, drive, sweep floors, cook, and prepare English lessons. I don't have the exact number of times I have played the song, but if I did it would probably be too embarrassing to share. 

The song is "I Don't Wanna Go" by Chris Renzema. 

I heard the song a few years back, but I never found it that special. Then as quickly as the annoying boy in math class becomes a heartthrob overnight, so an average worship song took on profound personal meaning. 

This last month I was processing through one of the most difficult decisions I have had to make at this point in my life--to extend my contract in Brazil for another year or not. I didn't want to make the decision based on selfish motives or from a place of fear or lack of trust in the Lord. I wanted to make the decision that most pleased the Lord. I knew the decision that I wanted most might not be the decision the Lord asked me to make.  

Like David and the temple, I wanna bring You praise, but like David and his temple plans, Your ways are not my ways. You don't need me to build a temple to know that You love me still, oh.

Part of me wanted to stay, but another part of me didn't. Part of me wanted to pursue other avenues to better use my gifts and talents, but the other part of me wanted to continue investing in the ministry I had already started. I didn't want to just pick something without the Lord's leading. My heart felt like a ship on raging seas and I felt like it would drown before I ever made a decision.  

Like Israel on the shore, all I see is crashing waves, but like Israel on the shore, it's through the wild You make a way. I will go where You go, I will stay where You stay, oh.

I felt a heavy sense of responsibility to the youth ministry in Brazil. I feared that my leaving would hurt the ministry and possibly cause it to die. I knew the importance of that type of community and I didn't want to see it come to an end because of me. I had grown to love each of the students in that ministry. I wanted to see them continue to grow in their faith and I wanted to watch the youth ministry continue to flourish and become all that I dreamed it could become. 

'Cause I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me.

I remember laying in bed unable to sleep and I asked myself the simple question: "What do you want?" And for the first time, I admitted to myself that what I wanted was to pursue my talents and gifts through writing. I didn't see myself as a missionary for the rest of my life in the live-overseas-forever type of way and I didn't see myself as a youth leader forever. I have loved doing those things and watching how the Lord has worked through those things, but my passions and gifts are with writing. 

Like Moses in the desert, I wanna see the land, but like Moses in the desert, I can't fully see Your plan. Still Your love doesn't stop, when I see the land from a mountaintop, oh.

But even after coming to that realization, the feelings of responsibility to the youth ministry didn't go away. I imagined myself going home and I felt a pit in my stomach. I knew that as much as that was what I wanted, I couldn't do it without peace from the Lord. I knew fighting against that would only end in pain and suffering for me. I knew I had to believe that if the Lord wanted me to stay, it would be for my best and His glory. Then, on another sleepless night, I finally opened my hands and told Him that if He wanted me to stay for another year I would. I figured that would be the end of this story.  

Like Peter on the hill, I wanna make this my place, but like Peter on the hill, before Your transfigured face. I will go where you go, I will stay where you stay, oh.

Then a week later I woke up and felt like a burden had been lifted off of me. That heavy sense of responsibility was gone. I would think about the youth group or ministry in Brazil and feel a peace and a calm that the Lord would care for them in a way I never did before. I would think about going home and that pit in my stomach was no longer there. It was almost as if the Lord was saying, "You can choose." 

'Cause I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me.

I was in disbelief. I never expected to wake up and feel like that. I never expected to be given the choice. I thought it was stay and obey or leave and disobey. I had surrendered that year to the Lord honestly never dreaming that He would ever hand it back to me. 

If You're not going before me, yeah, if You're not going before me, I won't go, I won't go.

I felt joy and fear at the same time. I wanted to be sure that the Lord had really lifted that burden and was giving me the freedom to choose. I continued to pray about it and wonder if things would really be okay if I left. One night I watched the co-leader of the youth group give the lesson and a calm washed over me as if the Lord was saying, "He'll be okay. He can do this." 

Anywhere You are, I wanna be there. It's written on my heart, You're all I've ever needed. Anywhere You go, I wanna be there. It's written on my soul, You're all I've ever needed. Anywhere You are, I wanna be there. It's written on my heart, You're all I ever needed. Anywhere You go, I wanna be there. It's written on my soul, You're all I ever needed.

And so finally at the beginning of this month, I made my official decision to close the chapter here in Brazil. It breaks my heart to leave the friendships, the ministry partners who have become like family, and the youth who have become like little brothers and sisters to me. In spite of that, I feel at peace with the decision. 

I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me.

I don't know exactly what the future is going to look like. I know I have a passion for writing and I want to pursue that. I know that doesn't mean that the Lord will make me a famous author, but I do know that He gives us our talents and passions for a reason and I don't want to waste them. I also know that the Lord can use me anywhere, whether in Brazil or not. 

If You're not going before me, I won't go, I won't go, no. Oh, if You're not, if You're not going, I won't go.

My journey in Brazil isn't finished. I still have six months before my time comes to an end. I am looking forward to making the most of the time I have left here and doing all that I can to finish well. But I am also looking forward to a future unknown, knowing I am about to enter into a new season of new and different joys and new and different sorrows. 

Like Jesus in the garden, won't You take this cup from me? But like Jesus in the garden, You don't call where You won't lead. I wanna love like You love, I wanna bleed like you bleed, oh. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S

A God of Clarity, Not Confusion

 

A few weeks ago, I was on the phone with a friend from college who I was given the privilege of watching God take hold of during our senior year and call to himself. Her growth and passion for the Lord over the past three years have been a source of joy and encouragement to me.  

She shared with me how she always struggled to know what was the voice of the Holy Spirit and what was her own voice. In her classic goofy and casual way, she told me, "But I finally realized that when the message is clear, that's the Holy Spirit, and when the message is confusing, dat me." 

Recently, I sat on a bench with a woman who shared with me her desire to be married but knew she hadn't met the right man yet. She looked me in the eyes and told me that she believed that when she met the right man she would know and feel peace. "Deus não é um Deus de confusão (God is not a God of confusion)" she told me. 

Wait, why did I feel like I was having déjà vu? 

I am a strong believer in God communicating to us with patterns because just like any good parent, God has to repeat himself in order to be heard, and like the disobedient children we are, we usually aren't listening the first time. 

This truth that God is a God of clarity and not confusion is found in 1 Corinthians 14:33, which says: "God is not a God of disorder but of peace" (CSB), or "God is not a God of confusion but of peace" (ESV). 

These verses are specifically talking about how the gift of tongues should be stewarded, especially in the congregation. People speaking in tongues without an interpreter present would only result in confusion and disorder, which is not the vision Christ has for the church.

What is Christ's vision for the church? 

Verse 26 answers this question: "What then, brothers and sisters? Whenever you come together, each one has a hymn, a teaching, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Everything is to be done for building up" (CSB). 

Everything in the church must be done for building up. How can confusion and disorder build up? They can't and therefore have no place in the church. 

God is a God of clarity, of order, of edification and for this reason he values these principals in his church. 

And since God cannot contradict himself, we know this principal governs how he interacts with us in our personal lives. It wouldn't make sense for God to value clarity and order in the congregation but confusion and disorder in our personal lives. 

 We cannot overlook this. 

Why? Because if we believe that God is the author of clarity, of order, and of peace, then we learn to follow those principals. Where there is clarity, where there is order, where there is peace, there is a good chance that's where God is and there's a good chance that is where God is asking us to follow him. 

Important note: Peace does not equal comfort. Clarity does not equal absence of fear. Order does not equal absence of trial or persecution. 

The Lord will lead us out of our comfort zones, he will lead us where we are afraid to go and he will lead us through trials and persecutions, but he will give us his peace. 

Philippians 4:7 tells us that "the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus" (CSB). 

This means the peace of God will accompany us when life is hard and when it seems like we should be without peace. The opposite is true for those who reject God and vow to do things their own way. 

"'There is no peace for the wicked,' says the Lord" (Isaiah 48:22 CSB). 

There is a difference between fear, life circumstances that bring suffering, external persecution and a profoundly troubled spirit without rest or peace. 

There are people who, justifiably, caution against using our feelings to make decisions. They say that making decisions based on the presence or absence of peace is wrong, because that is just a feeling and feelings come and go--the Bible is the only foundation on which we can make decisions. 

I agree and disagree with this argument and I'll explain why. 

First, I agree that we cannot solely make decisions on our feelings and claim that is the Lord's leading. I do agree that is wrong and could even be borderline sinful at times. However, I would argue that the peace I am talking about and that the Bible is talking about is not a feeling, but a deep sense of knowing and trust in the Lord. 

Peace is present despite feelings of fear, doubt, or worry. 

I think where people get tripped up is when they confuse peace for feelings of comfort, security, or control. Feelings of comfort, security and control are passing and are not foundations worthy of decision making. 

Do I think we should make decisions based on feelings? 100% no. Do I think we should make decisions based on the peace of the Lord? 100% yes. 

If you have felt the peace of the Lord, you know there is a difference, and you know it truly does "surpass all understanding" and feelings. 

My encouragement to you who find yourselves at a crossroad is to follow the peace of the Lord. 

I want to briefly share that I too find myself at a crossroad to extend my contract here in Brazil or not and my feelings are all over the place and changing every day. My constant prayer has been for that all surpassing peace of the Lord to guide me. My prayer is that I would not make a decision based on fear, or comfort, or lack of trust, or lack of faith, or selfish motives. My prayer is that I would know the peace of the Lord, and know with perfect clarity and conviction the path to take. 

My prayer for you is the same. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S 

Remember the Drought

In the summers, my dad would chop down the pine trees that had died alongside our property during the previous year, swiping flies and ringing sweat from his red handkerchief that he would use to wipe his face and then stuff as a wadded ball of fabric into his back pocket.

What had once been a wall of my make-believe log cabin, and heavenly shade in the sticky Indiana July heat was left as nothing more than a stump that stretched to my waist. 

I would trace my fingers over the uneven cuts of my dad's ax, observing the rough circles growing smaller and smaller to center. 

Some of the circles were almost touching they were so close together and others had spaces the size of my fingernail. The circles were lopsided, discolored, beautiful, and strange. 

I finally asked my mom the meaning of the circles, and she explained each ring represented a year of growth the tree had lived through, and if I counted the number of rings, I could actually tell how old the tree was. 

She also explained that the spaces between the rings could tell me how much rain the tree had received from one year to the next, whether the tree had lived through a drought or even a forest fire. 

Since those summers, I have loved the idea that with a little time, some careful observation, and a desire to understand, you can learn some of the most intimate pains and joys the tree had lived through. 

And I can't help but think of my own uneven, lopsided growth. 

For the years of my spiritual life that felt like droughts, where my faith felt like it was hanging by a thread and I felt like I was losing my love for the Lord, still I grew. 

For the years of my spiritual life that felt like forest fires, where the consequences of my own sin destroyed so much more than I bargained for, and so much more than I felt capable of recovering from, still I grew. 

For the years of my spiritual life that felt like times of plenty, where I felt overwhelmed by the love and grace of the Lord who continued to give me more than I could have ever dreamed, even still I grew. 

And I share this because sometimes it feels like I am trying to survive a drought. 

A tree in a drought is also referred to as drought-stressed. When a tree begins to undergo this type of stress, it will start to shed leaves. The fewer leaves the tree has, the more water the tree will be able to conserve. 

In short, the tree adapts.  

Usually, the tree recovers from this process of adaptation and soon it will find its boughs full of green leaves again. But sometimes, if a tree has shed all of its leaves, the tree isn't able to recover because of the lack of food caused by not having any leaves to photosynthesize. 

I am not always sure I am adapting. 

I long for deeper friendships with the people here. I long for a stronger community. I long for intimate conversations over coffee. I long to walk the Christian life with fellow believers sharing the joys and sorrows and struggles of that lifelong journey. 

But for whatever reason, the Lord has decided not to fulfill that longing in my heart. For whatever reason, the Lord has seen it fit to hold back the rain, causing the soil to slowly dry up and break, leaving deep gashes in the earth where my roots, hungry for water, have sunk deeper into the earth. 

Psalm 38:9 (CSB) says "Lord, my every desire is in front of you, my sighing is not hidden from you." 

The Lord knows of my desire for a stronger community here. He knows of my desire for deeper friendships. He knows of my desire to walk this Christian life with people here. He is not ignoring me. He is not depriving me. He is simply asking me to be patient, to have faith, and to grow anyway. 

Psalm 38 continues on in verse 15 "For I put my hope in you, Lord; you will answer me, my Lord, my God."

Despite not hearing a response from the Lord, despite not seeing his circumstances change, David still puts his hope and faith in the Lord. 

David knows that God is not plugging his ears to his prayers and he continues to believe that at the right time God will answer, but that also means that David must wait. 

C.S. Lewis in his book "Mere Christianity" writes: "The hall is a place to wait in, a place from which to try various doors, not a place to live in. For that purpose, the worst of the rooms (whichever that may be) is, I think, preferable. It is true that some people may find that they have to wait in the hall for a considerable time, while others feel certain almost at once which door they must knock at. I do not know why there is this difference, but I am sure God keeps no one waiting unless he sees that it is good for him to wait. When you do get into your room you will find that the long wait has done you some kind of good, which you would not have had otherwise. But you must regard it as waiting, not camping. You must keep praying for light; and, of course, even in the hall, you must begin trying to obey the rules which are common to the whole house. And above all, you must be asking which door is the true one."

This "some type of good" Lewis is referring to here, is, I think, sanctification. And God in his mercy and love for me is not meeting my desires because he sees there is some work of sanctification that needs to take place first. 

Could it be my desire to be liked by everyone that he sees fit to sanctify? Could it be the approval of others that often finds itself as an idol in my heart that he would like to realign? Could it be persistent fears of being unseen that he wants to correct? 

Who knows, but clearly he's got options. 

I think we often miss the point of waiting, of unfulfilled desires and prayers that have yet to be answered. Even if we are contented to quietly wait, I would argue we are still missing the point, which is what I think Lewis is talking about when he warns us that "waiting" is not to be confused with "camping." 

Waiting is never for the sake of waiting. Waiting is always to accomplish some work in us that could not be fulfilled in any other way. But I think we can sometimes be so focused on just "getting through" the time of waiting that we never look inward to see what the purpose of the waiting might be or what God might be trying to sanctify in us. 

It might take years to realize what the purpose of the waiting was, and even then, we may never understand the full scope of what God was doing until we reach Eternity. 

Another thing I find fascinating about trees is their memory; trees do not easily forget. 

In a study conducted by The Department of Plant Pathology and Microbiology at Texas A&M University, 73% of trees were still showing symptoms of drought stress 7 years after the drought had passed. 

Something repeated over and over again in scripture is the command to remember:

"I will remember the Lord's works; yes, I will remember your ancient wonders. I will reflect on all that you have done and meditate on your actions" (Psalm 77:11-12 CSB). 

"So, then, remember that at one time you were Gentiles in the flesh--called 'the uncircumcised' by those called 'the circumcised,' which is done in the flesh by human hands. At that time, you were without Christ, excluded from the citizenship of Israel, and foreigners to the covenants of the promise, without hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus, you who were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ" (Ephesians 2:11-13 CSB). 

"Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out of there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm. that is why the Lord your God has commanded you to keep the Sabbath day" (Deuteronomy 5:15 CSB). 

We are commanded to remember hard, difficult moments of our lives: the Israelites were commanded to remember their time of ruthless and abusive servitude in Egypt. Why? So that they can remember the powerful way the Lord delivered them out into freedom and new life. 

Former Gentiles are commanded to remember their wayward pasts when they were excluded from grace, destined for Hell, and without hope of ever being counted as co-heirs to the promises of God. why? So that they can remember the miracle of being given equal share in something they never deserved. 

And we, as Christians, who struggle against our flesh, who suffer in a fallen and broken world, who go through things we wish we could forget or never think about again, are commanded to remember. Why? So that we can remember how the Lord redeemed us, saved us, pulled us from the pit and set our feet on a solid place to stand. 

And the only fitting response to this remembering is worship. 

We can't pay God back and even the debts, and he doesn't ask us to. All he asks is that we remember and respond in worship. 

I know it might seem strange for me to be talking about remembering this time of drought when I am still in the middle of it, when the rains still haven't come. But I know they will. I know this time will pass about I don't want to forget God's faithfulness right now, in the midst of the hard, in the midst of the waiting, in the midst of blind faith. 

The rains will come; never forget the drought. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S