Krissi

Abstinence is negation -- the setting of a zero limit on a behavior or thought; temperance is accepting a low degree of a behavior or thought that is not intrinsically sinful -- the intentional limitation of a behavior or thought. (It's important to include thoughts, no?) There are things in life that are not sinful, if moderated, but quite damaging, if excessively done. The word "indulgence" comes to mind. Most sins, however, are clearly known. A Christian has a check in his or her spirit about behaviors/thoughts that are not of Him. I think the goal is to glorify God in all thoughts and deeds, even those that are mundane. For many Christians, no drinking, for example, is the best way to glorify God. Drinking, in their mind, is such a potential problem that it should be avoided entirely. For other Christians, moderate drinking such as a glass of wine at dinner, glorifies God in the sense that it enjoys and honors His creation, a part of a good meal. Personally, I do not drink because I came from a family that drank 'liberally' and so turned away from this behavior as a Christian. Still, I do not think less of anyone who drinks in moderation ... drunkenness is sin. Frankly, if something is a temptation, being moderate is probably not a good idea. If it is a temptation, the best way to deal with it is to get rid of it entirely. Just say no. Furthermore, some people have personalities that tend toward overly indulging in certain ideas or obsessive behaviors. For them, it's probably best to avoid certain things entirely, though not because they are sinful. Lastly, even ideas and interests that can be obsessive and therefore need to be moderated. When I'm researching something I tend to think about it constantly and even dream about it. For many years I thought about architecture, for example ... ways of building, structural anomalies, etc. Obviously, it is not sinful to think about architecture, but when these thoughts crowded out other thoughts -- like shopping for dinner -- I pushed them aside so I could think about other things. Even today I have to moderate my many interests and passions. Again, the goal is to glorify God in thought, word and deed. Self-control is self-moderation. It's a limiting practice. Whether the goal is limiting anger, for example, or even drinking, self-control is the act of moderating one's desires and passions. Self-control is the virtue, the internal process. Moderation is the goal of that process.

There are many, many non-Christians (seculars) who are generous and do good deeds. Furthermore, they are anonymous and modest as they are generous. So what makes a good deed “good” from a Christian standpoint, is not the deed in itself, but the faith that prompted that deed. Though it is true that faith without deeds is dead, as James wrote, it is also true that good deeds can be without faith. Perhaps the way to look at this is to create the goal of not self-consciously doing good deeds, but rather being a good person (sanctification) whose deeds naturally flow from that inner goodness? Then the deeds would be out of faith, not just prompted by a soft heart as it is with secular people.

I'm not convinced that most conflicts or arguments are caused by pride. Rather, such fighting could be caused by differences in how we look at life as Christians, that is, the way a man, woman or congregation looks at the world through the eyes of faith ... a Christian worldview. Yes, we are all Christian, but it is also the case that we come from wildly varying backgrounds. In the West, we stress the former, our common faith, and then whitewash our differences -- deep inside, however, we know that conflicts will be reduced if we associate with people who look through a lens of faith ground to a similar specification. Conversely, conflict is more likely when Christians are forced to sublimate their particular heritage, worldview, class, theological particularities, language, ways of worshipping or whatever just to "keep the peace." Eventually these differences rise to the surface. When they do it results in conflict. There is nothing sinful about choosing to worship with people of like mind. That's what "church shopping" is about; avoiding contention and strife by seeking a place of worship at which the overwhelming majority of congregants think and worship similarly. The Protestant reformation happened at the point when Christians could no longer deny the impact made by theological and cultural differences between themselves and the dominant, unitary Roman Catholic church. They formed new congregations of like-minded Christians who had the potential, at least, of worshipping in peace. That was the ideal. And it still is. Today, when a congregation splits, we tend to view it as a tragedy. Perhaps we should see it as a sign of strength, that groups who look at the world differently voluntarily create new congregations with a focused identity. I know this is anathema to those who have bought into the idea that faith should be stronger than cultural difference, but maybe -- just maybe -- a peaceful, unstressed, congenial, loving community of faith that "fits" is more important than pretending that cultural conflicts in a group can be dealt with or even avoided. The goal is to worship Him, not to struggle with others. We're here to serve Him, not constantly grate against people who worship the same God but with their own particularities. This is NOT the same as the prideful assertion, "I am right and you are wrong." Not at all. It's merely saying "I don't feel comfortable with the way your group theologizes and worships and would rather not deal with the stress and strain of trying to be part of your congregation when more peaceful options are available." If we can be one Church, indivisible, without knowing each other ... we can One church, though apart, after knowing each other. A unified ecclesia is an abstraction, after all. The nitty-gritty of binding lives together is not abstract. I don't see any value in purposely joining with people with whom I fear I will inevitably conflict . Worshipping with people unlike myself is a Christianized secular value, not a purely Christian one. It's the result of buying into the secular, contemporary notion that "diversity is strength," or other such claptrap. On an individual level, a sorts of limited diversity is valuable ... but on the group level, diversity often creates strife. We must be wise as to which sort we're dealing with. Yes, individual conflicts are inevitable, but a deep and divisive conflict, the sort that cuts to the quick or breaks up a congregation is NOT inevitable. It can be avoided. So, avoid conflict by choosing wisely. The world may be a place of conflict and division but the church, writ small, doesn't have to be. Choose to be in a congregation that has a defined focus, a mission attitude and a culturally similar congregation. A mission attitude means that congregants see other Christians as just that -- OTHER Christians, not lesser ones -- and that the primary division in the world is between Christians and seculars, not Christian v. Christian.

Someone upthread in so many words wrote that humility itself is a gift of God and not something that we can set our minds to be or accomplish. To be humble is to surrender, not to aspire, that is. I think this is wise though the act of submission also seems very fuzzy and unattainable. What exactly am I responsible for? Submitting? Is submitting an act or gift of God? If humility is a consequence of submission, then what is God's role and what is mine, if any at all? It seems like an endless cycle. We must submit to be humble ... to live God's way. But every step here involves Him and His power, not our own determination or goals. Even submission is a gift. Somewhere in this cycle, there has to be an on-ramp, a place where the Christian is responsible for stepping forth ... or back.

Humility is an inward posture toward circumstances and others. Some people in humble circumstances – not wealthy, noticeable or powerful are nevertheless proud. But we assume they must be humble because of their circumstances. The converse is also true: Some people who are successful, powerful and well-known are quite humble but we assume they are proud. The Bible tells the stories of many powerful individuals who were humble … kings, generals, priests, leaders. These are the biblical “greats.” It’s easy to assume that a person who is successful, powerful or talented must be characterized by hubris. The mannerisms and accomplishments of the talented warrior, for example, who comes back to his city laden with spoil could make other men, particularly those who held back, quite envious. I can imagine these men accusing the successful warrior of pride. But this would be wrong. Humility must be read or discerned from the inside out; we must know someone deeply enough to make thoughtful and accurate judgments. Sadly, in spite of all the church rhetoric about loving each other, we know very few people well. Still, on the basis of external mannerisms, demeanor or accomplishment, we judge. The irony is that those who think of themselves as worthy of accusing another person of pride and arrogance have themselves taken a less-than-humble stance! What would be our reaction to a contemporary David or Moses in our small group or congregation? Would we assume they were proud? Could we contain our envy and suspicion? What I really want to write about here, however, is the phrase “in due time.” This is hope deferred – it feels like a suspended state, a time when God seems to hold back or withhold the answer to prayers I most desire. I have three long-term, increasingly desperate prayers, none of which have been answered. As years pass, I’m tormented by the thought that God could never answer these prayers even though they are biblical, morally healthy and uplifting to others. Although I know I shouldn’t, I question His goodness toward me (not His power). Obviously, He could answer these prayers. He must choose not to. Thus, I cling to the hope, the fading hope, that maybe, IN DUE TIME, He will lift me up. The phrase “in due time” has become a salve for my disappointed and broken heart. I don’t understand His delay. I don’t understand why some people experience instant miracles and others seem to suffer unto death. “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” Gal 6.9

I love this analogy. -- Living successfully as a Christian in this world may mean finding that sweet spot between 1) choosing to withdraw, secede or disengage and 2) entering into the world in such a way that we are subjugated to it. As Mr. Hank wrote, above, the goal may be to live in the water without drowning, not above the water or under the water but in it. For some of us, this may be withdrawing to an isolated little cottage in the woods with minimal "stuff" -- others may be called to work among secular people in a fast, materialistic city, surrounded by decadence. The answer is not the same. We are called to different life-duties. Our goal, however, is the same which is to rightly answer the call of Christ. As is said, "His calling is His enabling;" in other words, He will give us the strength to resist and endure the circumstances in which He places us. Perhaps some of the questions that have to do with pride and the various ways we live our lives can be answered by knowing His calling and then being where He wants us to be? Just a thought. The safest place to be is in the arrow-tip of His will. Or, to again borrow Mr. Hank's analogy, the safest place to be is in HIs ship ... firmly grasping a hand bailer. Conversely, the most dangerous place to be is out of His will. It seems that when we're out of His will, we've purposely chosen to put our own desires over His leading. We "worship" or preference ourselves over God. This glorifies ourselves, or our ability to make decisions for ourselves. It does not submit to His will and therefore does not glorify Him.

So many aspects of normal Western life are contrary to Christian principles including the sorts of things that small businesses have to do to survive and promote their service or product. Advertising -- both of oneself or one's business -- by definition exaggerates the positive and denies the negative. It deceives more than informs. Boasting is lying when it paints a picture that's not wholly real ... when it distorts the truth. If one boasts about real accomplishments and abilities, however, then it's not lying, per se, but self-promotion at the expense of others. It's immodesty. And, frankly, it's ubiquitous. Most people, after all, "put their best foot forward." Could it be that the problem with boasting is measured on a sliding scale on which it's okay to present yourself, company or candidate/pol in the best light, but not okay to crow and broadcast real accomplishments? This slippery or sliding scale is endemic in the business of politics. Think of the outright lies that politicians regularly dish out as well as their tendency to exaggerate their own accomplishments as well as their opponents failure! The excuse is that in a highly competitive environment in which one is expected to do these things (everyone else is doing it), to NOT lie and boast is the kiss of death (electoral or policy failure). I don't think the solution is to do less lying and boasting, as if a little bit of lying is acceptable given the circumstances, but having said this, I also don't know what the solution is in an environment in which deception, lying, self-promotion and destroying the opposition are the goals, not merely the means. When truth-tellers are eliminated from contention, only the most blatant of liars remain.

On my report cards in grade school were two grades listed apart from the others -- "citizenship" and "effort." I knew that "effort" was a consolation prize for kids who were lousy in the real subjects. Effort was a form of flattery, that is, and flattery a form of lying. A good grade for "effort" was the teacher's way of making me feel good about myself (though most of the time I got lousy grades in "effort" too!) It didn't work. I got "Cs" and "Ds" in reading, math and just about every other subject ... and knew I deserved those grades. The silly grade for "effort" didn't matter to me, and shouldn't have. I had figured it out. Thus, I think the worst thing about flattery is that in the end, it doesn't work. Flattery is always subject to discovery, of being found to be a lie. Flattery, then, puts a finger on the scale. It tilts the truth in a desired direction. One of my personal peeves has to do with parents who constantly tell their kids they're so great, so wonderful, so fast, so smart, so talented, so handsome, so much better than everyone else ... etc. Those kids thrive on flattery. At some point, however, they are forced to kneel on the same starting line with everyone else -- often, their real "ranking" is a hard for them to accept. Years of flattery, of their mum telling them they SHOULD be something which they are not is undone when the truth comes out. This was avoidable. Easily. They were never permitted to learn the truth of where they rank vis-a-vis others. They hadn't been exposed to real competition, only flattery. For this reason, I think open and fair competition is the best antidote to flattery. Telling the truth is the second-best antidote to flattery. We have to realize that the pressure to say "nice things" about each other is actually a pressure to lie. It is not kindness or gentleness or building up someone's "self-esteem." It's just lying. Similarly, speaking the truth is not mean or arrogant, but rather is straightforward and clear-sighted thinking. The truth perhaps shouldn't always be told, but every time we pretend that "X" is better than it is, we create an alternative reality that will eventually be knocked down. Thankfully, most of us have one person in our lives to whom we can tell the truth, a person we can trust, a person who can handle our judgments, right or wrong, a person who wants to see life as it really is, that is, to avoid flattery.

Perhaps this is overcomplicating things, but doesn't it seem that motives are never pure, that we rarely do something just for ourselves or just for God, but usually set goals in that fuzzy zone between self-centeredness and God-sensitiveness? We can never escape our minds. When we think or plot or make goals, WE are doing it ... hopefully under the inspiration of the Spirit, but it's still our minds and our subsequent dreams that motivate us. Furthermore, most ambitions have consequences that benefit us as well as others. There are very few "pure plays" in the Christian life. The only time I can be certain of having a pure motive is when my ambitions actually harm me, when I give sacrificially in such a way that my own desires are shelved, ambitions tamped down and goals unmet. I wish I could set goals knowing God's perfect future will but God's will unfolds so slowly that I have absolutely NO idea what He wants me to do in the long term. And that's the rub. Ambition always looks to the future. It takes a long-term stance. No one is ambitious for the hour ... ambition says, "This will be accomplished within five years ..." When leaders chart out the future -- the five-years plan, etc. -- they assume that these goals are achievable and that they, themselves have the abiiity and perhaps calling to achieve them. In other words, they assume success will be theirs. When someone says they want to evangelize the world by a certain date, and then that date passes without the world being evangelized, was God at fault or was the person setting godly goals with an ungodly ambition? I don't know. Could God set us up for failure by having us set goals we don't reach, perhaps through no fault of our own? Could His goal be our failure, or, to word it differently, could His goal be to squelch our ambition? I am no longer certain that God rewards obedience with success, ambition with accomplishment.

Faith requires that we be certain that a particular promise of God is true and understood correctly and given to us at that time and place. Without this deep confidence, doubt constantly nags at our mind making it difficult to move forward assertively. A flicker of doubt can ruin a moment of obedience. We must deeply believe that the word of God – the particular words of God for us, a rhema – has been given for a particular situation or circumstance. We must be certain that God has specifically spoken to us with a clear message or command, that God has told us to do or say something. This could be something as large as our life calling or as small as the command given to Paul to not go to a particular city but turn back. Doubt can either cause us to be reckless (plunge ahead in spite of misgivings), or timid (hold back timidly because you’re not sure what God has spoken to you). This may be where humility fits in this lesson -- humility is the correct calibration of faith between prideful recklessness and self-harming timidity. So, yes, faith is absolutely necessary, but it is a faith not just in an abstract God or church, but in a specific promise of God. Once we are convinced that God Himself has told us to respond in some manner, only then is Christian assertiveness/courage possible … perhaps probable. I think the stories of the great men and women of the Bible can be boiled down to obeying a calling/demand/voice/request because they were absolutely confident that that word – logos or rhema – was from God. (I would change the definition of assertiveness to read “the quality of being confident and not frightened to say what you God wants or believes.”)

The verb origin of the Hebrew word for humble/meek Pastor Ralph wrote -- “to afflict, oppress and humble” -- puts a cast on the meaning of humble that makes sense to me. Perhaps, humility, or being humbled, is not just an attitude of mind, but a consequence of how other people view us (as a failure, power/status-less, weak or abused, “boundary-less,” functioning socially as a doormat, living without goals or aspirations, etc.) The worldly view of humility is decidedly negative, then, a characteristic secular people don’t value. So, recognizing the disdain with which seculars regard the value of humility, Christians are commanded to be humble anyway, to depend on God and not care what other’s think. I don't see Moses as innately humble -- Moses, when young when his character was fully revealed, has a huge **** for power and prestige. This can be seen in his early life when his schooling in power at the house of the Pharaoh came to fruition when he murdered a civilian. Forty subsequent years in the desert destroyed his hope, future, goals and aspirations and sense of self. He had been crushed in the desert, not only humbled – though prepared for his future calling. He had been afflicted and oppressed, as the word origin of humble connotes. Also, note that God, in His conversation with Moses, never praised him for his humility, but chastised him for whining and complaining. So, the essence of humility in Moses was a consequence of being destroyed and devastated in midlife. It’s the beaten-downness of Moses that we see, his giving up of dreams, the devastation of the promise he thought had been given to him. etc. Sometimes submission is coerced by God, and in the case of Moses, 40 years of isolation in a hot desert surrounded by dumb sheep … made him dependent on God, that is, humble.

Motive means moving or movement, from the Latin "motivus." Thus, we call a car an auto-motive because it seems to move by itself (no horse). Too, we often say that we were “moved” by a great phrase in literature, for example. We also can be moved to help someone out of a purer form of pity, which is not sin. I do not believe that our motives will ever be entirely pure, though we get closer to that ideal as we mature in Him. We have been tainted by sin. Forever. Our salvation removes the stain of sin in the eyes of God, but not in our minds and bodies. Thus, we remain sin-bound until we die. I’m not saying we don’t improve or make strides toward ameliorating certain sinful tendencies, but only that we remain sinful in our deepest of cores … the Wesleyan doctrine of perfectionism is not true. Wesley says we need to “agonize” ourselves in our pursuit of sinlessness -- even he, at times, recognizes the futility of striving for perfectionism, for we never reach a condition of sinlessness in this life. We have to admit that our motives are never pure. Never. And our humility is never genuine either, though over the years it approximates that goal more closely. To guard our hearts means to recognize the inevitability of sinning and the struggle to not give into it. It’s a defensive posture. Guarding our hearts means keeping something from overwhelming us, whether that force originates from within or outside of us.

Perhaps the first humble-goal, here, is to be anonymous, to make a real effort to hide your identity (no signed checks). A person who is publicly known for charity such as Mother Theresa must be characterized by deeply rooted self-denial/abrogation in order to humbly handle the praise and admiration of others. So, if no one knows about your charitable giving and service you at least have the potential to be humble though it is possible to namelessly give and still be proud inside. Once, I lived in a city in which the salvation army had bell ringers outside department stores at Christmastime asking for donations. Every year, someone would visit to the various bell ringer and drop gold coins into their bucket. This is a good example of anonymous giving. He received no public praise. Hopefully, he remained humble. A second humble-goal could be to give only to people who forget your name or are unable to reciprocate. Thus, orphans (children, again) and widows (socially shunned unjustly) are two categories of recipients for whom it is “safe” to give without risking pride. Even Mother Theresa had clay feet. I remember when she left one of the clinics she started in India to go to a tony clinic in Los Angelos for treatment – cynics said that the clinics she started were good enough for the poor, but not for her. Also, a double standard exists in missions and food-for-the-hungry ministries. When missionaries and aid workers eat behind chain link fences, for example, as the starving locals watch enviously, what sort of message are they proclaiming about Christ? Not everyone greatly used by God lived in dire poverty and self-denial – sometimes God rewarded or continued their great wealth. Joseph was made ruler of Egypt (I’m sure he didn’t do his own laundry!); Abraham was known for his wealth and faith, not charity; Moses had great power as he told his people to give to others; Solomon, of course, had it all. IN the New Testament, however, those closest to Jesus gave everything they had to others – time, stuff, money and eventually their lives. Jesus Himself said that the poor will be with us always. Jesus had the power to change world poverty into wealth but did not. In fact, He said that though the poor are all around us and will continue to be among us, we will not always have Him. This was in the context of the woman who poured costly perfume all over His feet … an extravagance that could have fed many starving people. So, there are times, it appears, when the needs of others can be rightly ignored as we answer a higher calling, that of serving and worshipping Him … I feel uncomfortable writing this When medieval Christians build their cathedrals, they gave to the building fund, not the poor widow and child. Was this sin?

These questions assume that our response to someone's need must be to do something to alleviate pain, need or deficit. I don't understand, then, the role or function of intercessory prayer if we are to serve others sacrificially. Does intercessory prayer begin when our own abilities to serve are insufficient -- must we do all we can do before asking God to step in? If this is the case, we don't intercede FIRST, but only after we're exhausted, tapped out or unable to go on. I grew up in a secular family with a strong ethic of charitable giving. What follows is an anecdote ... My father was incapacitated before he died a few months ago, so I hired, for the last seven months of his life, hospice nurses. He was furious. He informed me that it was my "obligation" to meet his needs without outside help. He reminded me of our secular "doctrine" of concentric circles of responsibility -- I must meet the needs of family, then extended family, our "kind," neighborhood and finally nation. That was the order of giving. Furthermore, I was to give to him "until done," he said. That meant death. Mine. My hands were very dirty. During this time, I prayed for the strength to carry on. I prayed, too, to be delivered. It got to the point where I prayed to die first. This was a searing experience, to say the least -- to give not just to a needy elderly man, but one who was demanding, ungrateful and more than willing to let me die serving him. It made me question the ethic of the self-sacrificing service that Jesus requires in these parables. Are there limits to service? When do we meet other's needs ? Must we be willing to die in service? Many missionaries have died young, after all. They served until they dropped. They took risks with their health, exposing themselves to diseases from which they had no natural immunity. But there's another, more important question here that goes beyond self-preservation v self-denial. It has to do with the role of intercessory prayer. When do we pray that God meets the needs of others? When do we get our hands dirty and do it ourselves? What is the role of intercessory prayer when the needs are great and overwhelming? What is the role of intercessory prayer when we can meet those needs, though at great self-sacrifice? Are we required to "do" until death, or does God do for us? Do we pray for His help, or for miracles and deliverance, or are we obligated to labor until we can't go on any longer? I

Jesus was acting out a story-parable. Usually Jesus would tell a story that needed to be interpreted to understand it’s kernel of truth – interpretations were debated and, in some stories, not well understood. This time, however, rather than tell a story, Jesus acted it out. This message of this story must have been important, then, for the foot-washing act was difficult to misinterpret or forget. After He was done, Jesus went on to interpret his own actions, perhaps to make certain that the disciples fully understood what had just been acted out. He asks, “Do you understand what I have done to you?” Then, he explains the meaning of the act. First, He tells them that He is both their teacher and master. Second, He reminds them that He had just washed their feet, a servant’s job. So Jesus is both master and servant. Third, He tells them that they have to go wash other’s feet, that those who saw this parable being enacted had to do the same to others. Fourth, He enlarges the meaning of the parable so that they don’t interpret it as only having to do with foot-washing. Jesus lays down a principle that though servants are not masters – low-status people do not have the perqs of high-status people – they have to act as if they were, to " live a blessed life.” In other words, they have to act like Jesus, which is to voluntarily assume a low-status position in society.