Any savvy Sunday School kid knows that if you’re put on the spot and find yourself stuck for an answer, then saying “Jesus!” “God!” or “The Bible!” means you’re in with a chance.
So what’s the problem with this method? Even if they guessed right, there’s a good chance they don’t know why their answer was true. They don’t understand what Jesus did, or who God is, or why the Bible is so valuable. They can hide behind the correct answer, walk away with a fistful of stickers and lollies, and never be stretched in their knowledge and love of God.
Sometimes this is a grown up’s problem too. The questions may be different, and our rote answers a tad more sophisticated, but we are just as susceptible to pulling out the ‘old faithfuls’ without ever grasping the full picture.
If Tim Chester’s book, You Can Change, was just made up of chapters 7-10, we would have had a helpful ‘how to’ manual for dealing with sin. All the ‘old faithful’ answers are there- the Bible, prayer, community and service to name a few. And yet, like the Sunday School teacher who knows the child is bluffing, he has spent the previous 6 chapters laying the ground work so we will know why those tried and true practises are so helpful.
The premise of the book so far has been that:
• Change is God’s work. He has made us righteous by his Son, and is making us righteous by his Spirit.
• Sin reveals the real problems that exist in our hearts.
• We sin because we believe lies about God: but the truth will set us free.
• We sin because we desire idols more than we desire God: but God is bigger and better than our sinful desires.
Keeping those things in mind, I want to share with you how my understanding of just one strategy for change has been deepened.
Chester spends a whole chapter discussing the importance of Christian community. When I hear that phrase- ‘Christian community’- in the context of sin, two opposing images enter my mind. I picture a sparkling community, where people appear to be so godly that at best, others are encouraged to be like them, or at worst, they feel compelled to hide their sin. Or I picture an accountability group, where every week three people mull over their deepest darkest secrets and validate each other in their sin, rather than urging each other to change. These images are caricatured, but they do highlight the less than helpful ways we sometimes deal with each other’s sin. I know we are meant to help each other change (prize to me at Sunday School!) but clearly I’m not too sure how we do this.
Our church communities are to be places of truth, repentance and grace (chapter 9). We grow together not just by modelling Christ-like behaviour, but by modelling faith and repentance in our struggles with sin. That sparkling community of perfect people has no place in a church that is serious about change. We need to hate our sin more than we love our reputation. We need to stop posing as good people. Chester points out that while we don’t need to tell everybody, we do need to tell somebody. This isn’t a picture of that accountability group where everybody goes to feel better about their sin. No, confession creates the opportunity for the truth to be spoken.
Because sin reflects a lie about God, we need to respond to another’s confession by speaking the truth in love. We need to remind one another of the goodness, greatness, graciousness and glory of God. We do this through his word, as we ‘encourage, challenge, console, rebuke, counsel, exhort and comfort one another with the truth.’ (p. 170). We help them explore the lies and desires of their hearts, and urge them to repent. We don’t pretend that we are better than them; we show them that we too are people under grace.
The next time someone asks me how change is possible, I may call out the ‘old faithful’ answer of Christian community. But I will do so with a deeper understanding of how we help each other change.
Having reached the end of You Can Change, I know that there is still much to be done (see chapter 10!). Reading a book like this will not provide all the answers or bring about a magic cure for our struggles. Above all else it has given me a bigger view of sin’s deceitfulness and of God’s power to change me, if only I would let him. It has helped me to apply the truths I know in theory to the practical task of change.
Showing posts with label You Can Change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label You Can Change. Show all posts
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
You Can Change #6: Negative Emotions?
Warning: long post ahead!
We’re five posts into You Can Change, with only one to go to wrap up the last few chapters. All that and so far I’ve neatly avoided the issue that, to me, was the most confusing and troubling aspect of the book. But now it’s time to tackle it head on, open a few cans of worms, ask a lot of questions, and not give any real answers!
It’s right there in the subtitle: “God’s transforming power for our sinful behaviour and negative emotions”.
I picked up this book knowing that I am susceptible to particular negative emotions that I readily classify as sinful. I expected to come across help for emotions such as anger, self-pity, pride, envy and impatience. I was eager for ideas about how to change my thoughts and feelings as well as my actions.
A twinge of discomfort first set in when I read the suggestions of behaviours or emotions we might like to change. Listed alongside the envy, greed and anger were depression and anxiety (p 25). ‘Hmmm’, I thought. ‘These are not emotions I would normally classify as sinful. Perhaps he’ll define what he means by ‘depression’ and ‘anxiety’ as the book progresses. Or perhaps he’s not claiming that they’re sinful, but that nonetheless there is help in these pages for those who live with them. I’ll wait for a definition before I get too worked up.’
Just so you know… I have never had depression or an anxiety disorder. I am in no way an expert on the topic. I have always been slightly unsure how to think about depression, and how to love and care for those who are depressed or anxious. While I have no doubt that Christian counsel and theological wisdom can help those who are depressed and anxious, I would generally consider the intervention of clinical psychologists and doctors to form a necessary foundation of treatment. I have no doubt that someone with depression (or any other medical condition for that matter) can act sinfully within that situation, but I would never say that depression itself was a sin. This was the mindset I brought to my reading of You Can Change.
So you can understand how unnerved I was to see ‘depression’ and ‘anxiety’ listed alongside other sinful emotions time and again (for example pages 68, 72, and 77). Scattered throughout the book are references to people overcoming ‘negative emotions’ that I think of as medical conditions. There is Bob Kauflin (page 51), who experienced ‘a three-year period of hopelessness in his life characterized by depression, panic attacks and itching.’ After receiving counsel from a pastor to rely less on himself and more on what Jesus has done, a light went on and ‘every time he felt anxious or hopeless, he would say to himself, ‘I am a hopeless person, but Jesus Christ died for hopeless people.’’ Then we hear of Lee (page 81) who eventually overcame his panic attacks through relying on catch-phrases such as ‘God is greater than your thoughts.’ and ‘Yesterday was a victory, today is another battle.’ The impression given is that the problems presented were purely spiritual and that addressing them as such was the (only?) appropriate way to beat them.
One thing I learnt during my years on my high-school debating team was the importance of definitions. Careful definitions set you up for a clear and convincing argument. Everyone is on the same page and so meaningful discussion can occur. Sloppy definitions lead to a debate where each team is arguing about different things and no-one ever addresses the other’s argument. I wonder if this is the problem between Chester and me, and the cause of my confusion.
Crucial definitional questions that Chester doesn’t answer with any sort of clarity are:
What is a negative emotion?
Based on the examples of negative emotions that Chester gives (such as depression, envy, anxiety, greed, anger, guilt, bitterness and pride), and in lieu of any solid definition, it seems that Chester thinks of negative emotions as “emotions that make you feel bad”.
Are all negative emotions sinful? Is depression sinful?
This is such an important question to answer. If negative emotions are always sinful, then Chester is telling us that depression and anxiety are always sinful. This would fly in the face of how I have been encouraged to think about these conditions.
At first glance, I wondered if Chester differentiates between negative and sinful emotions. If they are equivalent terms, then why not call the book ‘God’s transforming power over sinful behaviour and emotions’? Perhaps there is a nuance that allows a negative emotion to only sometimes be sinful. This idea is supported by Chester’s acknowledgement of righteous anger on page 74. If anger can be both sinful and righteous depending on the circumstance, does this leave room for depression to only sometimes be sinful?
Chester’s clearest statements about the sinfulness of negative emotions are on pages 81 and 82. The only problem is that they subtly contradict each other. At first Chester says, ‘We sin because we believe the lie that we are better off without God, that his rule is oppressive, that we will be free without him, that sin offers more than God. This is true of every sin and negative emotion [italics mine].’ Turning over the page he says, ‘This is a radical view of sin. It means many of our negative emotions are sinful because they’re symptoms of unbelief- the greatest sin and the root sin. Whenever we’re depressed or bitter, it’s because we believe God isn’t being good to us or that he’s not in control [italics mine].’
It is safe to say that Chester thinks negative emotions are sinful at least most of the time. Depression is consistently listed as a negative emotion, and it is specifically mentioned in the above quote as a sinful emotion. This plain reading of the text tells me that Chester believes depression is sinful.
What does Chester mean by the term ‘depression’?
Experts recognise depression as a complicated term. While most of us will have occasional low feelings, there is a big difference between this and what clinicians call ‘major’ or ‘clinical depression’. On top of this, there are a number of other forms of depressive illness. The situation is similar when it comes to anxiety.*
Chester never clarifies what he means by ‘depression’ or ‘anxiety’. He always uses the term without qualification, and does not offer any caveats about clinical illnesses as opposed to everyday low or anxious feelings. From this I have tentatively concluded that Chester believes all depression and anxiety to be sinful.
So where does this leave us?
Because I couldn’t pin down for certain what Chester’s view on depression and anxiety is, I found it very difficult to interact with his argument. Am I getting my knickers in a knot about nothing? Or is his view of and solution for depression and anxiety really as radical as it seems? After calming my urge to throw the entire book away, I did allow myself to be challenged by Chester’s argument. It would be a pity to apply so many qualifications to his argument that we water down its strength entirely.
The key areas that I have been challenged to consider are:
• Feelings of anxiety and depression can be sinful. When it comes to everyday feelings of depression and anxiety, it is important that we examine our thoughts and desires that have led us to feel this way. We cannot simply assume that feeling depressed or anxious is always excusable by our circumstances or biology.
• Even when someone has clinically diagnosed depression or an anxiety disorder, it is appropriate to remind them of the truth about God.
In the areas that I am unable to agree wholeheartedly with Chester, I would offer the following caveats:
• While Christians are able to offer help and guidance for those who are depressed, I would always advise that a depressed person consult either a medical practitioner or clinical psychologist. Chester never once recommends these avenues as being complementary to spiritual counsel.
• I could not recommend this book to a friend suffering from clinical depression. While it offers a necessary kick in the pants for those of us who occasionally give in to feelings of self-pity, I worry that it would just be kicking a genuinely depressed person when they are down.
I feel like I have said too much, and yet there is so much more to say. Did you react as strongly as me to the inclusion of depression and anxiety with sinful emotions? Does your own experience with depression or anxiety allow you to identify times when you really did need to respond with repentance and faith?
* Reference: www.beyondblue.org.au
We’re five posts into You Can Change, with only one to go to wrap up the last few chapters. All that and so far I’ve neatly avoided the issue that, to me, was the most confusing and troubling aspect of the book. But now it’s time to tackle it head on, open a few cans of worms, ask a lot of questions, and not give any real answers!
It’s right there in the subtitle: “God’s transforming power for our sinful behaviour and negative emotions”.
I picked up this book knowing that I am susceptible to particular negative emotions that I readily classify as sinful. I expected to come across help for emotions such as anger, self-pity, pride, envy and impatience. I was eager for ideas about how to change my thoughts and feelings as well as my actions.
A twinge of discomfort first set in when I read the suggestions of behaviours or emotions we might like to change. Listed alongside the envy, greed and anger were depression and anxiety (p 25). ‘Hmmm’, I thought. ‘These are not emotions I would normally classify as sinful. Perhaps he’ll define what he means by ‘depression’ and ‘anxiety’ as the book progresses. Or perhaps he’s not claiming that they’re sinful, but that nonetheless there is help in these pages for those who live with them. I’ll wait for a definition before I get too worked up.’
Just so you know… I have never had depression or an anxiety disorder. I am in no way an expert on the topic. I have always been slightly unsure how to think about depression, and how to love and care for those who are depressed or anxious. While I have no doubt that Christian counsel and theological wisdom can help those who are depressed and anxious, I would generally consider the intervention of clinical psychologists and doctors to form a necessary foundation of treatment. I have no doubt that someone with depression (or any other medical condition for that matter) can act sinfully within that situation, but I would never say that depression itself was a sin. This was the mindset I brought to my reading of You Can Change.
So you can understand how unnerved I was to see ‘depression’ and ‘anxiety’ listed alongside other sinful emotions time and again (for example pages 68, 72, and 77). Scattered throughout the book are references to people overcoming ‘negative emotions’ that I think of as medical conditions. There is Bob Kauflin (page 51), who experienced ‘a three-year period of hopelessness in his life characterized by depression, panic attacks and itching.’ After receiving counsel from a pastor to rely less on himself and more on what Jesus has done, a light went on and ‘every time he felt anxious or hopeless, he would say to himself, ‘I am a hopeless person, but Jesus Christ died for hopeless people.’’ Then we hear of Lee (page 81) who eventually overcame his panic attacks through relying on catch-phrases such as ‘God is greater than your thoughts.’ and ‘Yesterday was a victory, today is another battle.’ The impression given is that the problems presented were purely spiritual and that addressing them as such was the (only?) appropriate way to beat them.
One thing I learnt during my years on my high-school debating team was the importance of definitions. Careful definitions set you up for a clear and convincing argument. Everyone is on the same page and so meaningful discussion can occur. Sloppy definitions lead to a debate where each team is arguing about different things and no-one ever addresses the other’s argument. I wonder if this is the problem between Chester and me, and the cause of my confusion.
Crucial definitional questions that Chester doesn’t answer with any sort of clarity are:
What is a negative emotion?
Based on the examples of negative emotions that Chester gives (such as depression, envy, anxiety, greed, anger, guilt, bitterness and pride), and in lieu of any solid definition, it seems that Chester thinks of negative emotions as “emotions that make you feel bad”.
Are all negative emotions sinful? Is depression sinful?
This is such an important question to answer. If negative emotions are always sinful, then Chester is telling us that depression and anxiety are always sinful. This would fly in the face of how I have been encouraged to think about these conditions.
At first glance, I wondered if Chester differentiates between negative and sinful emotions. If they are equivalent terms, then why not call the book ‘God’s transforming power over sinful behaviour and emotions’? Perhaps there is a nuance that allows a negative emotion to only sometimes be sinful. This idea is supported by Chester’s acknowledgement of righteous anger on page 74. If anger can be both sinful and righteous depending on the circumstance, does this leave room for depression to only sometimes be sinful?
Chester’s clearest statements about the sinfulness of negative emotions are on pages 81 and 82. The only problem is that they subtly contradict each other. At first Chester says, ‘We sin because we believe the lie that we are better off without God, that his rule is oppressive, that we will be free without him, that sin offers more than God. This is true of every sin and negative emotion [italics mine].’ Turning over the page he says, ‘This is a radical view of sin. It means many of our negative emotions are sinful because they’re symptoms of unbelief- the greatest sin and the root sin. Whenever we’re depressed or bitter, it’s because we believe God isn’t being good to us or that he’s not in control [italics mine].’
It is safe to say that Chester thinks negative emotions are sinful at least most of the time. Depression is consistently listed as a negative emotion, and it is specifically mentioned in the above quote as a sinful emotion. This plain reading of the text tells me that Chester believes depression is sinful.
What does Chester mean by the term ‘depression’?
Experts recognise depression as a complicated term. While most of us will have occasional low feelings, there is a big difference between this and what clinicians call ‘major’ or ‘clinical depression’. On top of this, there are a number of other forms of depressive illness. The situation is similar when it comes to anxiety.*
Chester never clarifies what he means by ‘depression’ or ‘anxiety’. He always uses the term without qualification, and does not offer any caveats about clinical illnesses as opposed to everyday low or anxious feelings. From this I have tentatively concluded that Chester believes all depression and anxiety to be sinful.
So where does this leave us?
Because I couldn’t pin down for certain what Chester’s view on depression and anxiety is, I found it very difficult to interact with his argument. Am I getting my knickers in a knot about nothing? Or is his view of and solution for depression and anxiety really as radical as it seems? After calming my urge to throw the entire book away, I did allow myself to be challenged by Chester’s argument. It would be a pity to apply so many qualifications to his argument that we water down its strength entirely.
The key areas that I have been challenged to consider are:
• Feelings of anxiety and depression can be sinful. When it comes to everyday feelings of depression and anxiety, it is important that we examine our thoughts and desires that have led us to feel this way. We cannot simply assume that feeling depressed or anxious is always excusable by our circumstances or biology.
• Even when someone has clinically diagnosed depression or an anxiety disorder, it is appropriate to remind them of the truth about God.
In the areas that I am unable to agree wholeheartedly with Chester, I would offer the following caveats:
• While Christians are able to offer help and guidance for those who are depressed, I would always advise that a depressed person consult either a medical practitioner or clinical psychologist. Chester never once recommends these avenues as being complementary to spiritual counsel.
• I could not recommend this book to a friend suffering from clinical depression. While it offers a necessary kick in the pants for those of us who occasionally give in to feelings of self-pity, I worry that it would just be kicking a genuinely depressed person when they are down.
I feel like I have said too much, and yet there is so much more to say. Did you react as strongly as me to the inclusion of depression and anxiety with sinful emotions? Does your own experience with depression or anxiety allow you to identify times when you really did need to respond with repentance and faith?
* Reference: www.beyondblue.org.au
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
You Can Change #5: Uncovering the Lies and Desires of Our Hearts
“That’s a bit harsh!”
This was my refrain as I read through Chapters 5-6 of You Can Change. As Chester again takes truths that are neither new nor especially complicated to their logical end point, I find myself baulking at his big view of sin. This is not to say that he is wrong and I am right. Much more likely, this is exactly what I need to hear.
Chester doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to extreme statements about sin and its root causes. Let’s just look at one such statement from these chapters. How did you feel reading the following?
“We sin because we believe that we are better off without God, that his rule is oppressive, that we will be free without him, that sin offers more than God.”(p. 81)
In short, sin is a symptom of unbelief.
On one level, this is not a difficult statement to understand, but it sure can be hard to get your head around! How can I simultaneously be both a believer and an unbeliever? It sounds a bit harsh! If I’ve already confessed to faith in Christ, what more do I need to change? There were a couple of concepts in the chapter that helped me to make sense of it, and more importantly, to know what to do about it.
The idea that we often have confessional faith combined with functional disbelief was useful in understanding the process of sanctification. If we think back to the moment we first believed, we would say that our faith was largely ‘confessional’ in nature. As time goes by, what we do will reflect more of what we confess, until on the last day our actions will perfectly match the faith we confess to have in Christ. What a glorious thought!
Passages such as James 2:14-25 (“…In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead…”) make so much more sense when we’re ready to accept how closely related belief is to sin. In the past I would have said that of course when we believe in Christ we respond in thankfulness by our deeds. In other words, because we believe a particular thing, we choose to act in a particular way. But what if the connection is tighter than that? What if when we believe a particular thing, we have no choice but to act in a particular way? In this case, our actions become watertight proof of what we truly believe. It follows then, that if we want to work on sin, we need to focus not on our behaviour, but on our underlying beliefs.
The concept of reflecting on specific sins to work out what lies lurk beneath them was, to me, mind-blowing in its simplicity. Most likely this comes down to how little time I spend pondering my own sin. As shameful as this is, my usual pattern is to briefly confess sin in general terms, or to ask for prayer about a specific sin, but then neglect to think about it any further. If sin is a product of my beliefs, no wonder progress is so elusive when I so rarely think about it. Perhaps I don’t think much about my sin because I’ve never known what to think, except that I should stop. The four truths that Chester reminds us of- that God is great, that God is glorious, that God is good, and that God is gracious- form a helpful framework to start the thought process.
Chapter 5 ends on a note that I hope to carry with me for a long time:
“To say to temptation ‘I must not do this’ is legalism. To say ‘I need not do this because God is bigger and better’ is good news.” (p. 104) Funny how much less harsh- and more helpful- the second statement is! This might just be the beginning of genuine change.
This was my refrain as I read through Chapters 5-6 of You Can Change. As Chester again takes truths that are neither new nor especially complicated to their logical end point, I find myself baulking at his big view of sin. This is not to say that he is wrong and I am right. Much more likely, this is exactly what I need to hear.
Chester doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to extreme statements about sin and its root causes. Let’s just look at one such statement from these chapters. How did you feel reading the following?
“We sin because we believe that we are better off without God, that his rule is oppressive, that we will be free without him, that sin offers more than God.”(p. 81)
In short, sin is a symptom of unbelief.
On one level, this is not a difficult statement to understand, but it sure can be hard to get your head around! How can I simultaneously be both a believer and an unbeliever? It sounds a bit harsh! If I’ve already confessed to faith in Christ, what more do I need to change? There were a couple of concepts in the chapter that helped me to make sense of it, and more importantly, to know what to do about it.
The idea that we often have confessional faith combined with functional disbelief was useful in understanding the process of sanctification. If we think back to the moment we first believed, we would say that our faith was largely ‘confessional’ in nature. As time goes by, what we do will reflect more of what we confess, until on the last day our actions will perfectly match the faith we confess to have in Christ. What a glorious thought!
Passages such as James 2:14-25 (“…In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead…”) make so much more sense when we’re ready to accept how closely related belief is to sin. In the past I would have said that of course when we believe in Christ we respond in thankfulness by our deeds. In other words, because we believe a particular thing, we choose to act in a particular way. But what if the connection is tighter than that? What if when we believe a particular thing, we have no choice but to act in a particular way? In this case, our actions become watertight proof of what we truly believe. It follows then, that if we want to work on sin, we need to focus not on our behaviour, but on our underlying beliefs.
The concept of reflecting on specific sins to work out what lies lurk beneath them was, to me, mind-blowing in its simplicity. Most likely this comes down to how little time I spend pondering my own sin. As shameful as this is, my usual pattern is to briefly confess sin in general terms, or to ask for prayer about a specific sin, but then neglect to think about it any further. If sin is a product of my beliefs, no wonder progress is so elusive when I so rarely think about it. Perhaps I don’t think much about my sin because I’ve never known what to think, except that I should stop. The four truths that Chester reminds us of- that God is great, that God is glorious, that God is good, and that God is gracious- form a helpful framework to start the thought process.
Chapter 5 ends on a note that I hope to carry with me for a long time:
“To say to temptation ‘I must not do this’ is legalism. To say ‘I need not do this because God is bigger and better’ is good news.” (p. 104) Funny how much less harsh- and more helpful- the second statement is! This might just be the beginning of genuine change.
Friday, July 22, 2011
You Can Change #4: I Struggle Because I Struggle
Having looked at the ‘why’ and the ‘how’ of change, it’s time to get down to the ‘what’ in chapters 4 and following. This is where Chester urges us to examine our change projects- the behaviour or emotion you want to change- to discover the underlying mistaken beliefs and desires.
In chapter 4 we are called on to think about a particular sinful behaviour or emotion and to pin-point exactly when we are most susceptible to it. Chester suggests that this can help us to hone in on the deeper issues of the heart that manifest themselves in sin. This rings true for me. If I am prone to being judgmental, then it is not only when I pass judgment on someone that I am believing or desiring the wrong things. Surely I am always carrying those misconceptions around in my heart and mind. But it is in the moment that I act on them, when they come closest to the surface, that I am most likely to be able to identify them. This in turn creates the opportunity for correction.
While Chester has raised a helpful principle here in Chapter 4, I found the flow of his argument difficult to follow. I think this is because of his use of the word struggle. If we were having a conversation about sin, and I asked, “When do you struggle?” you would probably take this to mean, “Under what circumstances are you most likely to sin?” The word struggle is used in reference to sin. If my change project is to deal with lust, then I might say that I ‘struggle with lust’, or that ‘lust is my struggle’.
Of course, we do at times refer to struggles that are unrelated to sin. If a friend tells you that their family is struggling, you would deduce that they are dealing with some difficult circumstances. If I tell you that I am struggling financially, then you would know that money is tight for me. These struggles are unrelated to sin.
And finally, the confusion factor sky-rockets when it is a difficult circumstance that triggers our sin. I could, in effect, say that I am struggling (with sin) because I am struggling (with life). Phew.
This relationship between circumstances and sin is key to Chester’s argument. It is a good argument, which when understood properly will help us dredge the depths of our hearts to bring to light what festers there. But he muddies the waters and raises unnecessary questions by failing to explain what he means by struggle, and by using the word in different ways from one section to the next.
The title of the chapter, and indeed the introductory paragraph, suggest that our struggles are the sins we are prone to. It seems, however, that from then on Chester uses the word in reference to difficult circumstances, before finally reverting to his original usage in part 3. Here are some excerpts that have brought me to this conclusion:
1. God cares about our struggles [difficult circumstances] (p. 68)
"But God doesn’t just look on our struggles from a distance. He has rolled up his sleeves, come down, got stuck in, and experienced our struggles first-hand… Jesus knows what it is to be hungry, assaulted, rejected, tired, lonely, tempted, needy, opposed and busy… Jesus shared our struggles." ( p. 69)
2. God does something about our struggles [difficult circumstances] (p.70)
"First, he uses our struggles… It’s easy to believe that about the good things that happen to us. It’s not so easy to believe it about the bad things. But the Bible is clear that God uses suffering to make us like Jesus." (p. 71)
3. Our struggles [sinful behaviours and emotions] reveal our hearts (p. 72)
"If you see a bush with thorns, you know it’s not a fig tree. It has the DNA of a thorn bush and it’s this DNA that causes it to grows thorns rather than figs. It’s the same with people. Our sinful behaviour reflects the sin in our hearts. Every sinful action and negative emotion reveals a problem in our hearts." (p. 73-74)
It is a pity that semantics subtract from an important chapter that sets the framework for the chapters that follow. When confusion arises, it may be helpful to remember the flow of the argument:
Difficult circumstances
can trigger
sinful behaviour and emotions
which we can examine to
reveal our hearts
In a sense, both our difficult circumstances and our sinful behaviour can reveal our hearts. Our sinful behaviour does so directly, and our circumstances do so via the behaviours they trigger. It may therefore be legitimate to say that ‘our struggles reveal our hearts’, while maintaining some ambiguity as to the meaning of the word ‘struggles’.
In chapter 4 we are called on to think about a particular sinful behaviour or emotion and to pin-point exactly when we are most susceptible to it. Chester suggests that this can help us to hone in on the deeper issues of the heart that manifest themselves in sin. This rings true for me. If I am prone to being judgmental, then it is not only when I pass judgment on someone that I am believing or desiring the wrong things. Surely I am always carrying those misconceptions around in my heart and mind. But it is in the moment that I act on them, when they come closest to the surface, that I am most likely to be able to identify them. This in turn creates the opportunity for correction.
While Chester has raised a helpful principle here in Chapter 4, I found the flow of his argument difficult to follow. I think this is because of his use of the word struggle. If we were having a conversation about sin, and I asked, “When do you struggle?” you would probably take this to mean, “Under what circumstances are you most likely to sin?” The word struggle is used in reference to sin. If my change project is to deal with lust, then I might say that I ‘struggle with lust’, or that ‘lust is my struggle’.
Of course, we do at times refer to struggles that are unrelated to sin. If a friend tells you that their family is struggling, you would deduce that they are dealing with some difficult circumstances. If I tell you that I am struggling financially, then you would know that money is tight for me. These struggles are unrelated to sin.
And finally, the confusion factor sky-rockets when it is a difficult circumstance that triggers our sin. I could, in effect, say that I am struggling (with sin) because I am struggling (with life). Phew.
This relationship between circumstances and sin is key to Chester’s argument. It is a good argument, which when understood properly will help us dredge the depths of our hearts to bring to light what festers there. But he muddies the waters and raises unnecessary questions by failing to explain what he means by struggle, and by using the word in different ways from one section to the next.
The title of the chapter, and indeed the introductory paragraph, suggest that our struggles are the sins we are prone to. It seems, however, that from then on Chester uses the word in reference to difficult circumstances, before finally reverting to his original usage in part 3. Here are some excerpts that have brought me to this conclusion:
1. God cares about our struggles [difficult circumstances] (p. 68)
"But God doesn’t just look on our struggles from a distance. He has rolled up his sleeves, come down, got stuck in, and experienced our struggles first-hand… Jesus knows what it is to be hungry, assaulted, rejected, tired, lonely, tempted, needy, opposed and busy… Jesus shared our struggles." ( p. 69)
2. God does something about our struggles [difficult circumstances] (p.70)
"First, he uses our struggles… It’s easy to believe that about the good things that happen to us. It’s not so easy to believe it about the bad things. But the Bible is clear that God uses suffering to make us like Jesus." (p. 71)
3. Our struggles [sinful behaviours and emotions] reveal our hearts (p. 72)
"If you see a bush with thorns, you know it’s not a fig tree. It has the DNA of a thorn bush and it’s this DNA that causes it to grows thorns rather than figs. It’s the same with people. Our sinful behaviour reflects the sin in our hearts. Every sinful action and negative emotion reveals a problem in our hearts." (p. 73-74)
It is a pity that semantics subtract from an important chapter that sets the framework for the chapters that follow. When confusion arises, it may be helpful to remember the flow of the argument:
Difficult circumstances
can trigger
sinful behaviour and emotions
which we can examine to
reveal our hearts
In a sense, both our difficult circumstances and our sinful behaviour can reveal our hearts. Our sinful behaviour does so directly, and our circumstances do so via the behaviours they trigger. It may therefore be legitimate to say that ‘our struggles reveal our hearts’, while maintaining some ambiguity as to the meaning of the word ‘struggles’.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
You Can Change #3: The Profound in the Basic
Do you ever watch Oprah? Yep, me too. One of her many catch-phrases is the “Aha moment”. An “Aha moment” happens when a profound moment of insight leads you to see things in a whole new light.
Chapters 2 and 3 of You Can Change contained some significant “Aha moments” for me. And I almost missed them. On first reading, I ploughed quickly through these “theoretical” chapters in an effort to get to the “meat” of the book; the bit where it tells you what to do.
I’m glad I went back for a closer look. The questions raised in these chapters, and indeed the answers that are offered, are not anything new for most Christians. Many of us would readily tick the box that says, ‘I am saved by Christ alone, through faith alone’, while trying to conquer sin under our own steam and for our own glory. We can take the most fundamental of truths for granted and forget to ponder their implications not just for our salvation, but for our sanctification (or transformation, as Chester likes to call it). We are quick to ‘move on’ from the basics, and in doing so, unwittingly make things harder for ourselves.
Often we don’t even know we’re doing it. I certainly didn’t. But as Chester pinpoints what are so often our real motives for change, and teases out the end point of such thinking, I find myself cut to the heart.
But then as he fleshes out what flows from truly grasping Christ’s death for us, it is like a soothing balm for the wound he has just inflicted. How much greater is what Christ can offer compared to what I can do for myself? If each and every sin we struggle with has already been pardoned, then the goal-posts have been moved. We are no longer fighting a losing battle every time we face temptation; after all, the battle has been won.
So why do we change? No longer are we in a desperate scramble to save ourselves or to keep up appearances. We change because we have been saved, and because we are growing into what we already are; a child of the Father, a bride of the Son, and the home of the Holy Spirit.
And how will we change? Not with self-imposed rules and discipline, but with repentance and faith. We can know that change is God’s work in us, and that through the Spirit, change is not only possible, but inevitable.
In the midst of all this came my two Aha moments:
1) Always ask “why”. I so often feel inadequate when someone comes to me struggling with a particular sin, because I never have anything concrete to offer them. I long to give them the answers to their problem and fool-proof strategies to avoid temptation. I can only imagine how much more profound and meaningful those conversations could be if I was slower to talk strategy and more willing to talk motives.
2) Do I really expect change? Or do I talk about change, while deep down believing that sin will always win out in the end? Do I surround myself with so many strategies and guidelines in my own efforts to conquer sin that I forget Christ’s achievement in conquering sin for me?
Perhaps my Aha moments are not that significant for you. Perhaps something else in these chapters has made you pause and see things in a new light. It’d be great to hear what has made you say “Aha!” How has being reminded of the ‘basics’ helped you think about your motives and methods for change in your change project?
Chapters 2 and 3 of You Can Change contained some significant “Aha moments” for me. And I almost missed them. On first reading, I ploughed quickly through these “theoretical” chapters in an effort to get to the “meat” of the book; the bit where it tells you what to do.
I’m glad I went back for a closer look. The questions raised in these chapters, and indeed the answers that are offered, are not anything new for most Christians. Many of us would readily tick the box that says, ‘I am saved by Christ alone, through faith alone’, while trying to conquer sin under our own steam and for our own glory. We can take the most fundamental of truths for granted and forget to ponder their implications not just for our salvation, but for our sanctification (or transformation, as Chester likes to call it). We are quick to ‘move on’ from the basics, and in doing so, unwittingly make things harder for ourselves.
Often we don’t even know we’re doing it. I certainly didn’t. But as Chester pinpoints what are so often our real motives for change, and teases out the end point of such thinking, I find myself cut to the heart.
“Trying to impress God, others or ourselves puts us at the centre of our change project. It makes change all about my looking good. It is done for my glory.” (p. 29)
“When we try to prove ourselves by our good works, we’re saying, in effect, that the cross wasn’t enough.” (p. 32)And as he identifies the ways I try to change, or the solutions I offer to others, I realise I am again relying on my own strength.
"It’s not just that trying to live by laws and disciplines is useless: it’s a backwards step. It’s a step back into slavery, which ends up undermining grace and hope.”(p. 49)Ouch.
But then as he fleshes out what flows from truly grasping Christ’s death for us, it is like a soothing balm for the wound he has just inflicted. How much greater is what Christ can offer compared to what I can do for myself? If each and every sin we struggle with has already been pardoned, then the goal-posts have been moved. We are no longer fighting a losing battle every time we face temptation; after all, the battle has been won.
So why do we change? No longer are we in a desperate scramble to save ourselves or to keep up appearances. We change because we have been saved, and because we are growing into what we already are; a child of the Father, a bride of the Son, and the home of the Holy Spirit.
And how will we change? Not with self-imposed rules and discipline, but with repentance and faith. We can know that change is God’s work in us, and that through the Spirit, change is not only possible, but inevitable.
In the midst of all this came my two Aha moments:
1) Always ask “why”. I so often feel inadequate when someone comes to me struggling with a particular sin, because I never have anything concrete to offer them. I long to give them the answers to their problem and fool-proof strategies to avoid temptation. I can only imagine how much more profound and meaningful those conversations could be if I was slower to talk strategy and more willing to talk motives.
2) Do I really expect change? Or do I talk about change, while deep down believing that sin will always win out in the end? Do I surround myself with so many strategies and guidelines in my own efforts to conquer sin that I forget Christ’s achievement in conquering sin for me?
Perhaps my Aha moments are not that significant for you. Perhaps something else in these chapters has made you pause and see things in a new light. It’d be great to hear what has made you say “Aha!” How has being reminded of the ‘basics’ helped you think about your motives and methods for change in your change project?
Friday, July 8, 2011
You Can Change #2: Small Steps
So, I’m to settle for nothing less than being like Jesus and reflecting the glory of God. That seems like a big ask to me. How am I meant to get my head around such a broad and lofty goal? Where on earth do I start?
I found Chester’s following comment immensely encouraging and helpful. He says:
“And what must we do to reflect God’s glory? Look on the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. Most of us don’t live lives that are considered great by the world. For us, holiness consists not in heroic acts, but in a thousand small decisions. But God gives us the opportunity to fill the mundane and the ordinary with his glory.” (p. 24)
When I was a little girl, I was desperate to learn ballet. I longed to wear a tutu and do a pirouette; the hallmarks of a ballerina. Imagine my excitement when, after two years of tantrums, wishing, negotiating and begging, my parents signed me up at the local dance school. Imagine my disappointment when I realised that you don’t learn to pirouette until GRADE 4! That was FIVE years away! And there were no tutus in sight until at least then either.
Big goals require small steps. If I had attempted a pirouette in my first ballet class, I would have fallen flat on my face and hung up my tiny ballet shoes in despair. Before I could pirouette, I needed to learn balance, posture and technique in a range of simpler exercises. Take the time to lay those solid foundations and a pirouette will come easily (well, easier!).
And so it is with sin and holiness. Tell me to ‘be like Jesus and reflect the glory of God’, and I’m likely to fall flat on my face. But take it step by step- working on one sin after another, focusing on one fruit of the Spirit at a time- and in five years I’ll be further down the road to Christ-likeness than I ever imagined possible.
Tim Chester asks us to work on a ‘change project'. This means choosing just one behaviour, emotion (more on this in a later post) or virtue to focus on along the way. The first time I read through this book, I didn’t bother with the change project. “I’ll just take in the theory”, I thought, “and see where I end up.” Not surprisingly, I ended up exactly where I started. Don’t do that. Choose a change project (you can call it something else if the name makes you cringe). Because as we’ve seen, being like Jesus and reflecting the glory of God doesn’t just happen in one puff of holiness. It requires careful reflection and small, deliberate steps to chip away at so lofty a goal.
As we read through the book together, we’ll be asking some big questions about our change project, reminding ourselves of some big truths about God, and considering how we can help each other to overcome sin in a series of small steps.
So, it’s time to lock in that change project and read on.
I found Chester’s following comment immensely encouraging and helpful. He says:
“And what must we do to reflect God’s glory? Look on the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. Most of us don’t live lives that are considered great by the world. For us, holiness consists not in heroic acts, but in a thousand small decisions. But God gives us the opportunity to fill the mundane and the ordinary with his glory.” (p. 24)
When I was a little girl, I was desperate to learn ballet. I longed to wear a tutu and do a pirouette; the hallmarks of a ballerina. Imagine my excitement when, after two years of tantrums, wishing, negotiating and begging, my parents signed me up at the local dance school. Imagine my disappointment when I realised that you don’t learn to pirouette until GRADE 4! That was FIVE years away! And there were no tutus in sight until at least then either.
Big goals require small steps. If I had attempted a pirouette in my first ballet class, I would have fallen flat on my face and hung up my tiny ballet shoes in despair. Before I could pirouette, I needed to learn balance, posture and technique in a range of simpler exercises. Take the time to lay those solid foundations and a pirouette will come easily (well, easier!).
And so it is with sin and holiness. Tell me to ‘be like Jesus and reflect the glory of God’, and I’m likely to fall flat on my face. But take it step by step- working on one sin after another, focusing on one fruit of the Spirit at a time- and in five years I’ll be further down the road to Christ-likeness than I ever imagined possible.
Tim Chester asks us to work on a ‘change project'. This means choosing just one behaviour, emotion (more on this in a later post) or virtue to focus on along the way. The first time I read through this book, I didn’t bother with the change project. “I’ll just take in the theory”, I thought, “and see where I end up.” Not surprisingly, I ended up exactly where I started. Don’t do that. Choose a change project (you can call it something else if the name makes you cringe). Because as we’ve seen, being like Jesus and reflecting the glory of God doesn’t just happen in one puff of holiness. It requires careful reflection and small, deliberate steps to chip away at so lofty a goal.
As we read through the book together, we’ll be asking some big questions about our change project, reminding ourselves of some big truths about God, and considering how we can help each other to overcome sin in a series of small steps.
So, it’s time to lock in that change project and read on.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
You Can Change #1: Pessimist, Realist or Optimist?
It is with pride that I call myself a realist. It is with a wry smile and a patient eye-roll that my husband calls me a pessimist. I fight back by labelling him an optimist- one of those starry eyed, rose coloured glasses people with only one foot in reality.
So where do you put yourself on the scale? Do you see the glass as half full or half empty? If you can’t work it out, think about the title of this month’s book… You Can Change. Your reaction to it might tell you which camp you fit in. Did you reach enthusiastically for the book, hopeful that in it you would find the answer to your struggle with sin? Or perhaps, like me, you groaned at the self-help sounding title, carefully checked the endorsements, and finally settled down to read it on the off-chance it would contain some wisdom about sin in the life of a Christian.
It is clear from chapter one that this is an optimistic book. We are challenged to believe that it is possible to change even our most persistent sinful behaviour and attitudes. What is also clear is that this is not a self-help book. Chester might be optimistic about change, but this is not a starry-eyed, rose coloured glasses type of optimism. This is not a book filled with empty platitudes about the power of positive thinking, will-power and self-improvement. Chester’s optimism in the face of sin is based firmly on the work of Christ in restoring us to the true image of God. As people who have seen the glory of God in the face of Jesus, we now reflect that glory as we’re transformed into his likeness.
It is here that I felt the sting of rebuke. It is one thing to be pessimistic about my ability to change, but surely the God who can forgive my sin can also change how I live. How could I doubt God’s ability to change me?
Yet along with the much needed rebuke came further questions. If one day we will ‘bear the likeness of the man from heaven’ (1 Cor 15:49), how much of that change can I expect to happen in the here and now? Do such enthusiastic claims need tempering with a good dose of realism this side of heaven? This is not a tension that Chester raises at this point, but it is one I felt the weight of.
I think it’s a Biblical tension. Reading through 1 John with a friend from church, we keep marvelling at the seemingly conflicting statements regarding Christians and sin. Chapter 2, verse 1 says ‘My dear children, I write this so that you will not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense- Jesus Christ, the Righteous One.’ And 3:9 takes it a step further. ‘No one who is born of God will continue to sin, because God’s seed remains in him; he cannot go on sinning, because he has been born of God.’ Wow. On one hand, John exhorts his readers not to sin, explaining how a life of sin is incompatible with being born of God. And yet he has begun his argument with the reassurance that if we do sin, we can rely on Christ the Righteous One to speak in our defense.
Perhaps my mistake is not in recognising the tension, but in being pulled too far to one side of it. I focus so much on the inevitability of sin and on God’s ability to forgive that I stop thinking big when it comes to dealing with my own sin in the here and now. I either put it in the too hard basket, telling myself that I’ll never beat it in this lifetime, or I downplay its significance, concluding that it doesn’t really matter because I have Christ to stand for me. I forget the 'bigness' of sin in God's eyes.
Chapter one ends with an exhortation to think big. As we think about what aspects of ourselves we would like to change, Chester urges us: “Please don’t settle for anything less than being like Jesus and reflecting the glory of God.” (p. 24)
See, I told you it was optimistic!
So where do you put yourself on the scale? Do you see the glass as half full or half empty? If you can’t work it out, think about the title of this month’s book… You Can Change. Your reaction to it might tell you which camp you fit in. Did you reach enthusiastically for the book, hopeful that in it you would find the answer to your struggle with sin? Or perhaps, like me, you groaned at the self-help sounding title, carefully checked the endorsements, and finally settled down to read it on the off-chance it would contain some wisdom about sin in the life of a Christian.
It is clear from chapter one that this is an optimistic book. We are challenged to believe that it is possible to change even our most persistent sinful behaviour and attitudes. What is also clear is that this is not a self-help book. Chester might be optimistic about change, but this is not a starry-eyed, rose coloured glasses type of optimism. This is not a book filled with empty platitudes about the power of positive thinking, will-power and self-improvement. Chester’s optimism in the face of sin is based firmly on the work of Christ in restoring us to the true image of God. As people who have seen the glory of God in the face of Jesus, we now reflect that glory as we’re transformed into his likeness.
It is here that I felt the sting of rebuke. It is one thing to be pessimistic about my ability to change, but surely the God who can forgive my sin can also change how I live. How could I doubt God’s ability to change me?
Yet along with the much needed rebuke came further questions. If one day we will ‘bear the likeness of the man from heaven’ (1 Cor 15:49), how much of that change can I expect to happen in the here and now? Do such enthusiastic claims need tempering with a good dose of realism this side of heaven? This is not a tension that Chester raises at this point, but it is one I felt the weight of.
I think it’s a Biblical tension. Reading through 1 John with a friend from church, we keep marvelling at the seemingly conflicting statements regarding Christians and sin. Chapter 2, verse 1 says ‘My dear children, I write this so that you will not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense- Jesus Christ, the Righteous One.’ And 3:9 takes it a step further. ‘No one who is born of God will continue to sin, because God’s seed remains in him; he cannot go on sinning, because he has been born of God.’ Wow. On one hand, John exhorts his readers not to sin, explaining how a life of sin is incompatible with being born of God. And yet he has begun his argument with the reassurance that if we do sin, we can rely on Christ the Righteous One to speak in our defense.
Perhaps my mistake is not in recognising the tension, but in being pulled too far to one side of it. I focus so much on the inevitability of sin and on God’s ability to forgive that I stop thinking big when it comes to dealing with my own sin in the here and now. I either put it in the too hard basket, telling myself that I’ll never beat it in this lifetime, or I downplay its significance, concluding that it doesn’t really matter because I have Christ to stand for me. I forget the 'bigness' of sin in God's eyes.
Chapter one ends with an exhortation to think big. As we think about what aspects of ourselves we would like to change, Chester urges us: “Please don’t settle for anything less than being like Jesus and reflecting the glory of God.” (p. 24)
See, I told you it was optimistic!
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