Entering into silence can spiritually form us

There's only a few sermons that I've heard that I remember. As I write that I want to make sure you understand what I'm not saying, I'm not saying that sermons are unimportant. I think they are very important. The sermons I remember are likely not sermons that someone else remembers. They are moments in time that God uses in the lives of people.

There was one sermon in particular that my friend, Doug, gave a number of years ago. He was talking about how noisy the world is and how quiet God's voice can be. All during the message he had an iPod playing very quietly and then at the end he had us all get quiet and all of a sudden you could hear the music.

This shook me.

I am a noisy person.

When I enter a space I do so loudly. In social settings you know where I'm at all times. It's not that I'm trying to be the center of attention, I'm just loud. My voice carries and so does my laugh.

It is not just my outward presence that is loud. My interior life is loud too. As I grew up I always had a TV on or music playing. When I sat down to do homework the TV had to be running. When I was in seminary I wrote and researched and studied in busy coffee shops, intentionally.

For most of my life I have not liked the quiet. When things get quiet my thoughts get loud. I am not necessarily a big fan of those thoughts all the time. It can be disconcerting for me to allow my thoughts to run rampant.

Silence is scary.

This past summer I took two nights to just get away for a silent retreat. I shut down my phone. I didn't listen to music (well, that's a whole story in and of itself). I did allow myself to listen to a baseball game while I ate dinner.

I was alone in a cabin.

I went hiking alone in the silence and solitude of nature.

Leading up to these two nights away I was in a state of high anxiety because I was worried about being silent and alone for those 48 hours. I had never been a lone, truly alone, for that length of time.

Silence is scary.

I wish I could say that I heard the audible voice of the divine during my retreat. I did not. I also wish I could say that there was some sort of profound awakening that I experienced. But, I did not.

What did happen is that I faced my fear of silence.

It took almost a solid 24 hours for my mind quiet down. To really and truly be able to focus my attention on something other than my own thoughts. When that happened it was the most remarkable thing.

My mind could finally focus.

I was reading in the book of Jeremiah and some other commentaries that I brought along with me. I devoured the text.

Even more interesting was during my time hiking I was meditating on the Lord's prayer a stanza at a time. As I did, in that silence, those lines came to life for me. I do not really know how to explain it, but it was like I had never experienced them before.

Ever since then, something has happened within me. I have begun to delight in silence.

In the mornings I awake around 6 am-ish and drink coffee in the quiet dark house. It's become my favorite part of the day. I used to have a compulsion to turn on SportsCenter or something else. But now, my day begins with about 90 minutes to 2 hours of almost total silence.

Silence isn't scary anymore.

Silence has become a gift.

It is in the silence where I am learning to meet God.

I suppose there's a reason that silence has been a significant part of spiritual formation for many in the Christian tradition. I need silence now like I need water to drink or air to breathe. I can tell when I haven't had enough silence. My mind runs and spins and sleep is hard to come by.

It is in the silence where freedom from the weight of the world is offered and received.

When was the last time you were silent? What's stopping you? What do you think might happen if you entered into silence?

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Psalm 34:1-10, The Message

“Look at him; give him your warmest smile. Never hide your feelings from him. When I was desperate, I called out, and GOD got me out of a tight spot.”

When I'm going through something heavy or hard I often think, “Why am I feeling this way? Compared to what so many others are going through this is nothing.”

Often, when I feel like this, I will not pray because I don't want to burden God or in some sense I think that these feelings are not worthy to be brought to God.

One of the first things that I learned in my young Christian life was that feelings don't matter. They are nothing more than the caboose of a train that is driven by the fact of God's word and faith. This left me in a state where I was constantly trying to hide, stuff, or in so many other ways ignore my feelings.

That was so misguided. The idea that our feelings are nothing and they don't matter to God is such an unhelpful and unbiblical idea. This might be one of the most destructive things that I have had to undo as I have matured in my journey of faith.

I love this line, “Never hide your feelings from him.” God cares about our feelings. God can handle all our emotions, big and small.

As I ponder these verses it strikes me that the psalmist probably saw or experienced God's hand getting him out of a tight spot because he had brought all his feelings to God. By not hiding, the psalmist was open to seeing how God was at work in the world.

The question I am going to be wrestling with today is this, “Am I hiding my feelings or my internal life from God?”

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James 2:14-18

“Isn’t it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense?”

I have a friend whose favorite saying is, “acta non verba,” this translates to “actions not words.” He's one of those people who will do anything for you. His actions clearly demonstrate that the words he uses have meaning.

Many of us are good talkers.

We know the right things to say. But what about our actions? How often do you promise to do something but then don't follow through?

I want to say that never happens to me, but it does. It probably occurs more often than I'd like to admit. Oh sure, I have a good “reason,” but the reality is that it's just an excuse.

It is really hard for me to admit that.

There's a really helpful book about the rise of the church in the Roman Empire entitled, The Patient Ferment of the Early Church by Alan Kreider. In it he writes about how the verb, “look,” was central to the practice of the early church. Kreider argues, convincingly I think, that we have lost this idea of a new way of living in the world.

Perhaps, we could sum up much of the modern church as a lot of God-talk and not much God-acts.

Perhaps, I could sum up much of my own life this way.

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Psalm 119:41-48

“Let your love, God, shape my life with salvation, exactly as you promised...”

Last night we were talking about Paul's call to go to Jerusalem and how he understood his obedience to that call would result in seeing God work. One of the things that came out of conversation was this desire that we would have as clear a call as Paul did. How nice would it be to really know what our calling is?

The fact of the matter is that we do know what our calling is.

It's clear.

Our calling is to love our neighbor as our self.

At the most fundamental of levels this is our calling.

Then this morning I read this little passage with this opening line, “Let your love, God, shape my life with salvation, exactly as you promised...”

Oh what a prayer!

I'm wrestling this morning with this simple and profound thought, “How does my life look differently if God's love has shaped it?”

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John 5:39-47

“You have your heads in your Bibles constantly because you think you’ll find eternal life there. But you miss the forest for the trees. These Scriptures are all about me! And here I am, standing right before you, and you aren’t willing to receive from me the life you say you want.”

As I continue to read and study the Bible I am more convinced than ever that much of what Jesus said to the religious leaders of his day are the things that I need to hear.

John 5:39-40 is case in point.

I study the Bible, religiously (teehee). It is, quite literally, part of my job description. But, am I missing the forest for the trees? Am I seeing the reality that everything is about Jesus?

More than that, am I willing to receive from Jesus the life I say I want?

Ouch.

That is a punch in the gut.

That hits a bit too close to home.

The life I say I want is one of love, grace, mercy, and joy. It's one that is marked by the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5. It is one where the burdens of life are eased by being deeply connected to Christ.

Do I really want that?

Because when I'm real honest about myself it sure doesn't seem to be true. I am given over to easy anger, rage, and frustration. Stress and snark are hand in hand.

Jesus is in a way standing right here in front of me. Will I receive the life he is offering or will I continue to just hold on as tightly as I can to the life that I say I don't want?

The question I'm wrestling with today is, “Am I willing to receive from Jesus the life I say I want?”

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Psalm 90:1-6

“Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations.”

This beautiful line is from Psalm 90:1. I grabbed my attention and I keep thinking about it. This concept of God being our dwelling place.

I too often think about God as someone far off or disconnected. Yet, here the Psalmist calls me to consider the reality that it is in God where we will dwell.

The dwelling place in the ancient world was important because it provided protection and security. In effect, the Psalmist is saying, “Lord, you have been our protection and security throughout all generations.

In my world, security and protection is something that I have to earn. It's not something that I consciously trust God to provide. Oh sure, the words will come out. But, at the end of the day I often think that security and protection is the result of my own effort.

I wonder if some of the rampant fear that is present in our world is the result of people no longer believing that God protects and secures? We need weapons and power and money to feel protected and secure these days.

But do we?

What if we set our minds and hearts on the God who is our dwelling place and has been throughout all generations?

The question I will be pondering tonight as I lay in bed is, “Do I trust that God will protect and provide for me?”

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Prayer is something so difficult for me to get my mind around. As I think about praying it raises so many, many questions.

If God is sovereign why pray? Why doesn't God answer my prayers? Why don't I hear God when I pray? What value is there to praying? Why did that person get healed and that one didn't? Why did that prayer have “results” and that one didn't? Does prayer do anything?

And so many, many more.

I often think of prayer in the context of utility. Quite simply, “does it work?”

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As far as I can tell Jesus' closest followers only asked to be taught one thing, how to pray.

How did Jesus respond?

“He said to them, “When you pray, say: “‘Father, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who sins against us. And lead us not into temptation.’” (Luke 11:2-4)

Short. Focused. To the point.

Elsewhere talking about prayer Jesus said,

“And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” (Matthew 6:5-8)

What are we to make of these things?

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Throughout the history of religious people prayer has always played a significant role. I remember in seminary reading about the desert fathers and mothers and how prayer was central. Or learning about the monastic movement and the important role of prayer for these people.

Every week I pray a “pastoral prayer” and a prayer of invocation and a prayer over the offering. I pray before I preach and after I preach. I pray before meals. I pray before I write. I pray before I spend time in the Scriptures. I prayer before I meet with people. I pray during my devotional times.

As I think about it, I pray quite a bit.

Yet, I wouldn't consider myself a pray-er.

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My friend John, he was a pray-er. After he died his wife passed out index cards that he kept on hand that tracked what he was praying for for his friends.

Prayer was central to his spiritual life.

I know of many people for whom prayer is significant to their lives and spirituality.

My mentor, Bob, is a pray-er. He prays like his life depends on it. There is a qualitative difference between his prayer and my prayer.

I think I often pray as someone who has to pray as opposed to wanting to pray. I think this is because I can't quite figure out prayer. It doesn't fit my intellectual boxes.

Perhaps it's similar from the opening lines of Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller when he wrote, “I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve.”

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He goes on to write, “But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes.

After that I liked jazz music.

Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.”

When I see people like Bob or John pray, I want to love prayer the way they do. These guys have and do show me the way.

Yet, I struggle.

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I have found lately that simply praying the prayer that Jesus taught his disciples has helped me. Often I will find myself meditating on the words. Or the words will just come into my mind as I drive or walk.

When this happens I feel something in me.

I feel a connection to the divine. It's faint. But it's there.

I am coming to grips with an idea that I first heard about in the film Shadowlands. It's a film about C.S. Lewis and his relationship with his wife, Joy. Near the end of the film there is this line, “I pray because I can’t help myself. I pray because I’m helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time – waking and sleeping. It doesn’t change God- it changes me.”

The idea that I'm coming to grips with is this: I'm helpless.

That's not easy for me.

I think of myself as strong. I think of myself as someone who rarely needs anything. Yet, if I am honest, truly honest, I am helpless.

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“Prayer doesn't change God—it changes me.”

As I continue to learn to pray, I am learning that this ethereal, surreal, intangible practice of seeking to be in the presence of the divine changes me.

It's not a utilitarian practice. It's something deeper than that. It's experiential.

I long to be able to speak that line from the film and mean it. I long to pray because the need flows out of me all the time – waking and sleeping.

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Perhaps, as I grow in my desperation to desire to pray I will someday learn to pray.

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Jeremiah 3

“I'm committed in love to you.”

I'm really grateful that my kids and I have never had a falling out. I can't really imagine the pain that would cause. Being estranged from my children is probably my greatest fear. I don't even want to think about it.

As a pastor, I have spent a lot of time talking through things with people who are estranged from their children or parents. The heartache of those broken relationships is indescribable. It is really trendy these days to talk about how your parents and sibilings are people you don't need in your life, yet nobody really means it. When our relationships with parent, children, or siblings are broken it is devastating. Some times those relationships need to be broken because of abuse, and while healthy, it is no less devastating.

That's the thing.

When it comes to these relationships, that are the closest to us and most intimate, the breaking of them, even when it is necessary, leaves a wound that is not easily healed.

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As I read through Jeremiah 3 this morning it struck me that the imagery that is used is one of a Father and children who have been estranged. There is a clear desire on both of their parts to reunite. Yet, the wound is so severe that there seems to be little hope.

This line, “I'm committed in love to you,” is a beacon of hope in an otherwise painful and horrific passage of Scripture.

There is no desire on God's part to punish. The desire is for restoration. The desire is for healing.

Why?

Because God is committed in love.

There's a section in verse 19 where God talks about how God has planned what God would say if the people came back. It demonstrates this desire for re-connection.

If my children and I were estranged, I think that I would feel exactly the same way.

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The question I'm wrestling with today is this, “How does it make me feel to know that God is committed in love to me?”

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Jeremiah 2:29-37

“Day after day after day they never give me a thought.”

Typically when our family starts out on a road trip we say a prayer. We pray that God would get us to where we are going safely. We genuinely pray. We are earnest. There is a desire on our part to entrust the drive to God and we want to arrive safely.

As far as I can tell God has answered every one of these prayers by getting us to and fro safely.

I can only think of twice when we thanked God for getting us there safely. Both times were when we experienced really bad weather. The times that the trips were uneventful, I don't think we acknowledged God's hand at all.

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When we are going through difficult seasons we often wonder, “where is God?” One of the writers of the psalms cries out to God asking God to “wake up!” When things are going bad we think about God all the time.

It's odd, when things are going pretty well we don't think about God much at all.

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In Jeremiah 2:29-37 God calls out the people for not ever giving God a thought.

I find that strange because the people were practicing Temple worship. They were making sacrifices and celebrating the feasts. They were hearing the scrolls read. God-talk was everywhere and all the time.

Yet, God says, that they never thought about God.

As a pastor I use a lot of God-talk, all the time. I read the Scriptures. I pray the prayers. I preach the sermons.

But do I think about God?

Perhaps what God is saying here is not some sort of intellectual exercise regarding God but is talking about the way that I think about those people in my life whom I love.

I think about my wife and kids a lot. I wonder what they're doing right now? Are they having fun? What kinds of conversations are they having? I am *intrigued by the lives of those I love.

The question I'm wrestling with today is, “Am I intrigued by the life of God?”

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Jeremiah 2:20-28

“How do you account for what is written in the desert dust...”

I had a dentist appointment yesterday. I despise going to the dentist. Every time they take my blood pressure and every time it's just above normal. They always ask if that's normal. My response, “only when I'm here.”

As a child my experience with the dentist was not very good. I suppose that's true of just about every Gen X kid. Our dentists were more akin to the dentist played by Steve Martin in Little Shop of Horrors than they were some kind person. So, I'm pretty sure that I have some deep-seated embodied dentist trauma that shows itself in my blood pressure at that god-forsaken place.

Whenever you go to the dentist they ask, “Are your teeth bothering you? Are you brushing? Are you flossing?”

I answer honestly, “No, they are fine. Yes I brush. I try to floss regularly but it's a habit I haven't developed yet.”

This time the dentist said, “Well, at least you're honest. You'd be surprised how many people try to lie about it.”

There's no point in lying about flossing. You can't hide whether or not you're doing it. The evidence is clear as the teeth in your mouth.

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It strikes me this morning that the same is true in our relationship with God. This passage from Jeremiah is a hard read. The people of God are being chastised for following after the fertility deities of other nations. The language is, let's say, discomforting, at best.

Yet, there's this line, “How do you account for what is written in the desert dust...”

The people tried to lie about their pursuit of these foreign Gods but God says that there's no point because the evidence is written in the dust. Their tracks to and fro are obvious.

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Our lives demonstrate what we are most focused on. We can hide or fake for a time but soon enough the truth will come out. Eventually everyone will see our tracks in the desert dust.

I'm wrestling with this question today, “What tracks am I leaving in the desert dust?”

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Jeremiah 2:4-19

“But my people have traded my Glory for empty god-dreams and silly god-schemes.”

It was the late nineties and I was working hard at raising support to join the staff of a campus ministry. This particular man that I was connecting with took me to a gathering of people from his church to introduce me to them. As we were driving he was explaining to me that the day of small churches was over. He said that little churches would soon be swallowed up by the biggest churches in the area because the large churches had power and resources that small churches could only dream about.

It's more than twenty years later and it turns out that his prediction was wrong.

For a while, I thought that he was perhaps correct. But, then the mega-church paradigm began to implode. Scandal after scandal. Pastor after pastor has fallen.

Small churches are not immune from this either.

As I read about colleagues falling and ministries breaking down it appears to me that there is a common thread. Jeremiah might call it “empty god-dreams and silly god-schemes.”

The American church has entangled itself with power and consumerism. In so doing it has sold its soul, in a sense, to a modern day Baal.

As a pastor there is a constant and never ending pull towards bigger and better. I feel it in my soul. It's an illness.

But then I read about what has happened in the past when the people of God have sold their souls for empty god-dreams and silly god-schemes and I am reminded that I don't need to trust anything else. I can rest in the goodness of God. As Paul says in his farewell to the Ephesian Elders God is incredibly and extravagantly generous.

The question I will be meditating on today is this, “Will I scheme for success or will I rest in God's grace?”

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Jeremiah 2:1-3

“I remember your youthful loyalty, our love as newlyweds.”

We road trip pretty much everywhere. Mostly because we like having our car available to us wherever it is we go. But, also because we are pretty cheap and renting a car is ridiculously expensive.

There is a pattern to our long road trips. We begin with great enthusiasm. There are abundant snacks, everyone is fresh, and everyone is excited to get to where we are going. About two hours in it gets quiet. Then at about four hours the grumbling begins from the driver's seat. Then legs start getting stiff. The snacks don't sound good. Everyone is bored. Everyone is beginning to think, “Flying would have been better.”

But, then we get to the destination!

When we arrive the joy is palpable! Not only to get out of the car but the hope for fun and relaxation.

I think that the spiritual journey is similar. When we get started in our spiritual lives there is joy and exuberance. It's almost like being a newlywed.

But, like any journey it gets long and difficult.

The fun wears out. It's not exciting any longer. It's just a long slog. There's no end in sight.

What do we do? How do we respond? Will we stick to God?

The question that I'm going to be pondering today, “What do I need to do to continually find refreshment in my spiritual journey?”

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Jeremiah 1:11-19

“And God said, 'Good eyes! I'm sticking with you...'”

This passage is not what I would call comforting. God is telling Jeremiah what his message is going to be and that he needs to stand firm in speaking this message. The message is going to be hard. This is part of the pulling up and tearing down that was described to him earlier in his conversation with God.

I have to imagine that Jeremiah probably felt his stomach hurt a little bit.

As I was thinking about this passage memories of difficult conversations ran through my head. Conversations that I knew I needed to have but sure didn't want to have. I always get really nervous before those meetings. I can feel it in my body. My heart beats a little faster, my palms sweat a bit, it's a palpable anxiety.

I can't even begin to imagine the feeling that Jeremiah must have had.

But, then he hears from God, “I'm sticking with you.”

This idea of the God-With-Me-God is pervasive throughout Jeremiah's story and it starts right here.

God-With-Me-God, I think has to be one of the most encouraging ideas to come out of the story of the Bible.

When Jesus enters the scene he is called, Emmanuel, God-with-us.

As I consider the differences between the Old and New Testaments that is one of the significant shifts that I notice, the move from me to us after God-With. The story of the Old Testament is marked by an understanding of the God-With-Me-God and the story of the New Testament is marked by an understanding of the God-With-Us-God. God is not different. But in the New Testament we begin to understand that God is most fully known in community.

I am pondering this question today, “Do I believe that as I draw near to others, I am in effect, drawing near to God?”

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A simple practice to help you grow in your faith.

When you open the Bible do you feel intimidated? I know I do.

You read that right, the professional Christian with a graduate degree that included the study of both Hebrew and Greek is intimidated by the Bible.

How can that be?

It's simple really. I have seen the Bible used to cause great harm. I am sure that in my years of ministry that I have caused great harm with my interpretations of the Bible. Every single day I see the Bible used and abused as a tool that hurts others. I desperately want to avoid doing that. I also find many parts of the Bible confusing and hard to understand. That's part of the reason that I loved pursuing my divinity degree. This gave me loads of tools to get behind the text of the Bible to try and untangle the sticky wickets of the text. I also get to spend inordinate amounts of time reading research about the Bible, which I find really helpful.

If I'm intimidated, I can only imagine the level of intimidation that many of you might experience. This is particularly true if we take the Bible seriously.

Most people can't pursue an advanced degree, nor do they need to.

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For the vast majority of the history of Christianity people didn't even have personal access to a Bible text. They heard it in bits and pieces shared in the communal setting of the gatherings of believers. When we experience the Bible this way, there will be certain things that stick in our minds because they resonate with us. Other things will not be remembered.

It really wasn't until the creation fo the printing press that the idea of a personal Bible even became feasible.

Now, we find copies of the Bible in drawers of hotel night stands. I'd guess most homes have at least one Bible, even if it's just gathering dust.

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There's nothing particular special about the Bible, per se.

It's a book.

It's not magical.

It's a collection of writings of Hebrew and early Christian believers.

It is beautiful, ugly, challenging, and inspirational.

In particular, it gives us insight into the life of Jesus. Jesus, the one after whom many of us are trying to pattern our lives. Because of this, the Bible is important to our spiritual lives.

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So, how can we engage with this intimidating text?

Over the long history of the Christian faith there was a manner of reading that became known as “lectio divina” or “divine reading.”

That seems a bit intimidating too. Or at least a bit mystically creepy.

Over the last few years, after reading Eugene Peterson's book, Eat This Book: A Conversation in the Art of Spiritual Reading, I have become convinced that this kind of reading is fundamental to our spiritual lives. I really like the idea of “Spiritual Reading.” I think it is a helpful re-framing for what we need when it comes to approaching the Bible.

This is not studying. This is something altogether different.

Peterson uses the metaphor of a dog with a bone. He compares spiritual reading to the way a dog takes a bone and just enjoys it. Turning over and around and savoring it.

What if we approached the Bible to savor it and turn it over and around? What if, in some sense, we let the Bible read us? What if we sought to intentionally engage the Bible with a sense of wonder and meditation?

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Peterson describes the process as stop, read, ponder, pray, reflect, live.

When I sit down to practice my reading of Scripture this is the process that I use.

Stop: Before beginning I pray and ask God to meet me through the reading of the Scripture.

Read: I read and re-read the passage that I'm engaging with. So, it's not typically very long.

Ponder: I reflect and think or meditate on the things that “jumped” off the page to me. Why did they jump out to me? How did they make me feel? What do I like? What don't I like?

Pray: Often the time of pondering or meditation leads me to prayer. This is a time when I am responding to what I think God might be communicating through the text. Many times, I just stop and am quiet and allow the text to run around in my head and spirit.

Reflect: Meditating more on what is being surfaced in me. Typically this is ends up being a question that I am going to continue meditate on throughout the day or until the next time I read the Scriptures.

Live: I want to be attentive to how this needs to play out in my day to day life. How do I move forward by applying this to my life?

—

This process has been helpful for me. It has made the Bible less intimidating because I have a plan of how enter into the reading of the Scriptures. It moves it from an intellectual exercise into something of the heart and the spirit.

I would encourage you to give this a try. Perhaps with Psalm 19 or Matthew 5:1-12.

What do you think? Does this sound doable? Do you think this might be helpful to you?

— Discuss...

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Jeremiah 1:1-10

“Your job is to pull up and tear down, take apart and demolish, and then start over, building and planting.”

Jeremiah was given a task that nobody wanted. He was called to speak to the people and let them know about the judgment that was coming. There is no wonder that he is known as the weeping prophet.

I look around our day and age and see a lot of would-be Jeremiahs. It seems that many of us think that we have been called to judge and deliver news of exile to people.

It's so easy to pull up. It's so easy to tear down. It's so easy to take apart. It's so easy to demolish.

The negative is easy. All we need is a bit of power and then we can destroy. Destruction becomes addictive. Why? Because we will inevitably find people who rally to us and help us destroy.

Some people just love to watch the world burn.

It's much more difficult to embrace the second half of what Jeremiah was called to, that is, starting over.

I think that's where the weeping comes from.

Starting over, building, and planting demands a holy imagination and a faith to believe that this thing that is begun will find completion. Typically, we don't get to see the fruit.

I am convicted this morning of being too easily caught up in tearing down and not focused enough on the rebuilding.

I am going to be asking myself this question today: “Am I focusing on what is wrong or on what can be done?”

— Discuss...

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What if we valued perseverance over being perfect?

Sophia was walking through the forest with her friend Avil. As they were walking and talking she stubbed her toe on a root that had broken through the path. She stumbled and exclaimed her shock and surprise. She regained her footing and they continued walking.

A little bit later, Avil stubbed his toe as well. He cried out and then found another root and stubbed his other toe. When he did, he tripped and skinned his knee. He was distraught and threw himself down the side of a hill where he broke his leg. As rolled down the hill he also skinned his knee. So, he took a rock and broke his other arm.

It didn’t take long before Sophia realized that the walk was over.

—

This parable is ridiculous! Avil (the Hebrew word for fool) is beyond foolish. Nobody would ever stub their toe and then go on to break their leg. Not to mention all the other ridiculous responses he made. Most of us likely see ourselves in Sophia, she stubs her toe and then continues on. That just makes sense, right?

Here’s the crazy thing, if I’m honest, Avil is a reflection of me.

Over the years I’ve tried all kinds of things to lose weight and to pursue physical health.

Without fail, I’ve fallen short of my “plan.” When I did, I would throw my hands up and say, “Well, I blew it. Might as well enjoy it!” So what would I do? I’d get the famous number two from McDonald’s, (two cheeseburgers, large fry, and a Coke) or I’d get a large pizza. I mean, why not? I have messed up the diet anyway.

You see, when it came to pursuing physical health my mindset has been, “perfection or nothing.” If I couldn’t be perfect, I might as well just indulge.

There was no in between.

All or nothing.

I can trace this all or nothing approach through my pursuit of emotional health, spiritual health, and relational health too.

Health has always been a goal, a pursuit, something that I sought to attain. So, if I wasn’t perfect then I was a failure. If I failed, then why press on?

I was all about perfection over perseverance.

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The Apostle Paul wrote, “I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back. (Philippians 3:12-14, The Message)”

Paul was someone who was aware of the reality that life isn’t a zero sum game. Inherent in what he writes here is the reality that life is a process. Becoming mature in his faith was not something that he was necessarily going to succeed at. It was a journey that he was on.

Notice also, that there was failure baked into what Paul said. Paul seems to be saying, “I fail too! I fall short too! But I press on!”

Perseverance is more important than perfection.

—

I will never be perfect. I will never have a perfect streak of eating well or exercising or being a good friend or being emotionally fit. But, instead of quitting I need to embrace the way of Sophia and recover my footing and keep hiking.

Something that I think that has been an important lesson is to learn the subtle shift from thinking about health to thinking about fitness.

Mental fitness.
Physical fitness.
Spiritual fitness.
Emotional fitness.
Relational fitness.

Fitness doesn’t have an end. It’s a goal to strive toward but you never really attain it. You never arrive at the end of fitness. So, you keep on pressing on. Straining toward the goal.

No turning back!

If the journey is the goal and the goal is the journey then all we really have is perseverance.

Perfection is not something that we will ever find. If not being perfect derails the journey then I will never be able to move forward.

Because I am on a journey that has no end there is only the option of pressing on. Getting a little better each day. Even when there’s a step backward it’s not the end. I can regain my footing like Sophia and keep walking.

Perseverance over perfection.

What do we do when the goal is unseen?

It was Thanksgiving and we were heading to my brother Jay’s home outside Baltimore, Maryland. We were excited to spend time with his family and celebrate together. As we drove the weather grew worse and worse.

The snow and sleet were becoming overwhelming. Cars were pulling off and sliding off the road at an alarming rate. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than I knew I could. White knuckling was an understatement. I grew more and more tired. Tensions were rising in the car. I knew that Amy wouldn’t be comfortable getting behind the wheel and so I drove on.

This journey was not going well.

I desperately wanted to stop and sleep. Amy was desperately trying to find a hotel room.

The “good” hotels were all booked up with other travelers hiding from the storm.

We drove on.

We made it to Jay’s house.

Had we known how the journey would have played out, we might not have left. But, the hope of the joy of seeing my brother, sister-in-law, niece, nephew, and mom was more than enough to keep us going.

We couldn’t see, quite literally, our destination, yet there was hope of the joyful reunion that kept us going. The perseverance paid off! The joy was made that much more sweeter after the difficulty of the journey.

—

“So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18, The Message)”

—

At the beginning of any journey you can’t see the end. You can try to picture it in your mind’s eye but you don’t see it. You have to start out and just go. You hope that the going will be smooth and easy. You hope that there will not be any bad weather or traffic jams or delayed flights. But, at the end of the day, you just don’t know what the journey will be like nor can you see the destination.

Every journey demands faith.

Paul Tillich wrote, “Faith is an act of a finite being who is grasped by, and turned to, the infinite.”

I’m realizing that this is exactly what has been at the center of my journey toward fitness. It is a journey of the finite being grasped by the infinite.

You see, there’s no end to the pursuit of fitness. It’s an ongoing journey with various stops along the way.

—

I am struck by something that the Apostle Paul says in that quote from 2 Corinthians, “The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever.”

As I consider what is going on in my fitness journey, this really is the heart of the matter. It’s not about a particular number on the scale or the size of my waist. No, those things are here today and gone tomorrow. It’s truly about the pursuit of fitness. A pursuit of something that will last forever.

Being strong, feeling good, having energy, loving well. These are the things that the journey brings about.

So I journey on.

I am believing by faith that the journey will help me become fully myself.

We can’t truly see the end when we begin, but stepping out in faith on the journey opens the door to joy.