I'm Often Reluctant to Obey

I am often reluctant to obey. When it’s been a long day, when the kids’ attitudes have been every color under the sun, when I’d rather scroll and veg, when I’ve already spent a day of serving, when I am just people’d out and would rather hide—it’s usually those very ordinary moments that I am faced with an opportunity to obey, or not.

And because I know I should, I do. Pretty robotic of me at times, like today.

"I can save face for an hour or two,” I muse. Meanwhile, my heart is an annoyed mess still thinking about the book I’d rather be reading.


Consequently, my external actions of a smiling face showing up to the park to hand out popsicles to tired playground parents and kids do not tell a truthful story of a servant’s heart that joyfully pours out her time, energy, and resources for the sake of the gospel.

Given my ordinary, mundane Tuesday circumstances, I was really, really reluctant to obey—like in the turn lane about to pull a uey reluctant. But I stayed in the lane. I drove forward to the park.

Because I knew I should obey, so I did.

Because deep down, I knew my excuses were thin and my selfishness was clinging closer than the skin to my bones. I knew saying “yes" to Jesus would bring more joy than whatever lesser joy I would have definitely wasted my time on. I knew from past hesitations, that walking forward in obedience, even when met with inner turmoil and angst, brings lasting joy.

So here I am, I obeyed.  Looking eerily similar to the first son in Matthew 21 who told his father he wouldn’t go work in the vineyard, then regretted it and obeyed.

I’m not sharing this for you to congratulate me on my poor performance of obedience, but rather as an encouragement, that I am there with you crawling on the road of obedience. I want you to remember the tangible joy that is to be had in ordinary obedience of showing up and serving for the sake of the gospel—even when you arrive with a sour heart. Get out of the car, and obey. This is the stuff that eternally matters.

The Lord is faithful to change your heart and renew your mind as you gather alongside other believers who are excited about the mission ahead. He will use the obedience of others—half-hearted or otherwise— to strengthen your joy and reorient your heart. He will use the thankfulness of playground children with popsicles and the laughter from the merry-go-round to humble you and repent of your hardness of heart. He will use the encouragement from a Christian with her great-granddaughter to remind you that your labor is not in vain. He will, time and again as you step out in obedience in a number of ordinary moments, show you that sharing the gospel is the best way you can spend your time—even when it’s at a park with popsicles on a hot Tuesday afternoon.

When I arrived, I got out of the van with 5 children spilling out the side and my heart still unresolved.

When I stepped onto the playground, I knew this was exactly where I was supposed to be as the nations and neighbors gathered at the swing set.

Two hours later, I piled the sugar saturated and sweat soaked children back into the van, and drove off with a full heart and a truthful smile that reflected the thankfulness I had that Jesus would use even me, the first son in Matthew 21, that he would give even me the opportunity to share the gospel at the park today.

I’m glad my mind was changed. It was the Lord who changed my heart. Obedience will always be about belief.

Sure, I obeyed because I knew I should, but when you peel back layers of the war waged inside, we obey because we are compelled to. Because there is a belief that the Lord is good, his commands are not burdensome, and that the gospel transforms lives. Many times this is exactly the evidence of sanctification we have when we look backward. We obeyed, because we know Christ has called us to a greater joy. In fact, he's calling us to himself.

Taylor Swift and Me: How Being Our Brother’s Keeper Points Us to Righteousness

Social media, if we chose to participate, is an extension of ourselves that boasts what we love and where we spend our time; shows what captivates us; and chronicles the growth of families, gardens, and bookshelves. It’s a virtual arm, but rarely do we recognize that. And what we like, share, post, and send matters for the follower of Christ. We are the body of Christ, and as ambassadors, we represent him to a dark world. Sure, we know this, but when is the last time we pondered the affects?  And so, after being forced to think of how what we post online has real consequences, I felt the need to apologize, ask questions, and call believers to righteousness.

Yesterday, I hastily shared an Instagram post that lamented the sexualization of our culture and the Christian’s eager embracing of it by praising Taylor Swift.  I shared the post because in my grief over believers celebrating new music and subsequently having a tempting image flash across my screen a few dozen times, I found the post thought-provoking and worthy of our immediate consideration; however, after I have sat with the post and my initial disbelief (at a Christian sharing a picture, not at Taylor Swift acting like the unbeliever she is) finally subsided, I admit that the post I re-shared did not use gracious language nor a kind tone in which a Christ-follower is commanded to walk (Galatians 6:1). And because social media by default is an extension of our hearts (Matthew 12:34-40) and I am a representation of Christ, I am so sorry for portraying an attitude of harshness by mere association. Harsh, critical, and demeaning language never reflects Jesus Christ. By posting in my Instagram and Facebook  story, it was not my intention to belittle, criticize, or shame another individual for sharing the photo.  I know that there may have been some that were made to feel like a second-rate Christian for your actions, and I just want to say with all sincerity, I am very sorry. I love you very much, and hot-bottom issues like this are always, and should always be addressed one-on-one. If I can apologize to you personally, it would be my heart’s desire to do that.

And this brings me to what I believe are better questions surrounding the new album art.

Question 1: When I post something questionable, why do I get so defensive when a fellow Christ-follower engages is cordial disagreement?

Question 2: Am I actually my brother’s keeper and responsible for what I post?

Let me explain. 

Scenario 1: Christian Girl A shared Taylor Swift’s album art and when asked if she thought it was appropriate to have on her page, she began to justify reasons she posted it, why it was okay to post, and defended the picture as not a big deal. No, very wrong.

Scenario 2: Christian me [Renee] shared a thread bemoaning worldly influences from a source notoriously riddled with snarkiness and uncharitableness, and when asked about the critical spirit with which this account regularly spoke with, Renee started to justify that the post made good points, that those points were undeniably true, and therefore, it didn’t matter how the tone came across. No, also very wrong.

Both are wrong, both Christian Girl A and Christian Renee are wrong. Christian Girl A sinned. Christian Renee sinned. Equally. Equally guilty before the throne of God, equally deserving of death because of our sin. Yes. Death is what our sin deserves and we would be better to think on it more. Unfortunately, each one feeling justified and a little more superior than the other for her decision and defense on social media.

So this all caused me to dig deeper into how—in all things—we are our brother’s keeper, for better or worse.

The Christian life is a life not meant for isolation. It’s a life joined to another growing up into Christ (Ephesians 4:15). A life of fellowship. We are our brother’s keeper by our actions. However, we repeat Cain’s murderous acts in our hearts when we hold our freedoms to post whatever we want when we want it closer than our concern for our fellow believer (Genesis 4:8-10, Matthew 5:22-24)—that goes for the Christian Girl A and for Christian Renee.  In all our posting, we must do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than ourselves. Letting each of us look not to our own interest, but also to the interest of others (Philippians 2:3-4).

So let’s be very clear here and seek what, in faith, pleases God (Hebrews 11).

Is sharing a picture that was designed to stir the desire of the eyes and lusts of the heart an appropriate action for those who profess Jesus Christ as their Lord? Absolutely not. Sexual immorality in every fashion has NO place among God’s chosen people (Ephesians 5:3).

Is posting a thread that speaks harshly, condescendingly, and without concern for the heart while demonizing the person who has sinned an appropriate action for those who profess Jesus Christ as their Lord? Absolutely not. Any talk that does not build up or give grace to it’s hearers—no matter how true!— has NO place among the people of God (Ephesians 4:29, 5:4).

Sin always affects more than just yourself and it is far reaching. A scantily clad picture causes sexual immorality to abound to greater depths than any terms we will come to on our own. Demeaning speech causes boastful and hardened hearts that are consistently against more people than we care to admit. The affects of sin bleed on everyone in our sphere of influence and beyond—boy, girl, man, woman. And the believer is called to live a life of godliness (1 Peter 1, Galatians 5) in both word and in deed while walking in love toward one another (Ephesians 5). “Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor” (1 Corinthians 10:24)

While we may have (even unknowingly) murdered our brother in our hearts over a ridiculous album cover and spilled the blood of our fellow believer with our hateful and unwise words, the blood of Christ speaks a better word of hope for us (Hebrews 12:24). The Bible is clear that if we confess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness (1 John 1:9) because Jesus Christ himself canceled our debt by taking our punishment on the cross (Colossians 2:14). Because blood better than Abel’s—Christ’s very own blood—has been spilled on our behalf, we are free to walk in love toward our neighbor and let brotherly love continue (Ephesians 5:2, Hebrews 13:1, Romans 12:9-21).

May we not let anything stand in the way of fellowship and obedience, including our false sense of freedom to post things that do not please God on a social platform. The problem isn’t primarily Taylor Swift’s picture. It’s our heart’s contentment with impurity. Nor is the problem having a tongue to speak or fingers to type; it’s our heart’s desire to rule over others with an iron fist under the guise of zealousness.

Rest assured, the Lord disciplines the ones he loves (Hebrews 12:6)—and many times it is through the loving kindness of a believer pointing out our blindness to God’s standard of righteousness. For Christian Girl A, and for Christian Renee. May all that we say, do, post, and share seek to build up, encourage, disciple, and lead others closer to the heart of Christ. We are called to be our brother’s keeper loving one another more than we love ourselves. After all, isn’t that what Christ Jesus himself has done for his brothers? He surely keeps them to the end.

In love,

Renee

Loosening Orion's Belt: Silence, Sin, and Suffering

I don’t understand a lot of what happens in this life, though I incessantly try and calculate every event in my broken mind. However, in my restless attempts, I have come to learn that the ‘not understanding’ is a place where contentment grows when we stop trying to rationalize or excuse the ‘why God!?’ away.

There was a meteor shower this week and while I saw only one soaring, streak of light, my breath was taken away for maybe the nineteen thousandth time as I looked again at my favorite winter constellation—Orion—in the wee hours of the night. Immediately my thoughts jumped to Job and the Lord’s gracious response to Job in the midst of his great tragedy and pain. 

“Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades or loose the cords of Orion? Can you lead forth the Mazzaroth in their season, or can you guide the Bear with its children? Do you know the ordinances of the heavens? Can you establish their rule on the earth?” (38:31-34)

No, my Lord. No, we cannot. We are but dust before an infinite God, yet the Lord is remarkably mindful of us knowing our sorrow acutely (Psalm 8). But we don’t get the last word, or really any words at all, in our suffering; however, we are given the Word himself as a hope that springs eternal.

My excuses are flimsy.

My pouting is prideful.

My whining is a noisy gong.

Yet Job remains silent before God. I think this is where the contentment begins to grow—silence before the Lord. Lifting our eyes in wonder, marveling at his goodness and wisdom; because really, what do we have the right to say? (Isaiah 45)

But immense comfort comes when—instead of meticulously dissecting and analyzing why this or that—we acknowledge that every thing the Lord does, causes, plans, purposes is from a place of utmost compassion and unbridled mercy toward those he loves. He draws near to those who are his, even in the midst of evil sin, debilitating suffering, and deafening silence. Contentment’s roots deepen when we recognize that every ounce of suffering is a means of grace for the believer to look more like Christ as we follow him in obedience. It is meant for good. Meant. Planned. Ordained by a good and kind Father. (Genesis 50)

When Job—who suffered not as a result of his sin, but because the greater purposes of God—responds to the Lord, he is led to repent of his sinful reactions to his suffering and confesses of his finitude.

“I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.
‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’
Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.
‘Hear, and I will speak; I will question you, and you make it known to me.’
I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you...” (42:1-5)

So with Job—instead of making demands of God—may we seek to repent of our sinful reactions in the midst of pain and know as if we have seen with our own eyes, that the Lord’s ways—all of them—are always good and complete to make you more like the Son.  We can’t loose Orion’s belt, but we know the One who can do all things.

SDG.