Tom

My husband, Tom, is not a churchy kind of guy.  He loves the Lord and has organized our lives around obedience to the Word; he has committed himself to sometimes difficult Biblical principles even when it took a good amount of faith to do so.  But a churchy kind of guy he is not.  Consequently, we are not a churchy type of family.

Never has this dichotomy been more apparent than since our daughter began dating one of our pastor's sons.  I am tempted to feel even a little embarrassed about who we are as she gradually comes to integrate more and more with the church crowd and learns more of the culture of these families.  The issue has caused me to do a little soul searching of late.

Actually, I have done soul searching over this issue for most of our married life, because Tom is not your run-of-the-mill, Bible-toting Baptist sort.  More than once he has been accused (erroneously) of being drunk, but never Baptist.

To the point, Tom is fun.  (Oops, was that a dig?  Maybe it was…)  He is boisterous, creative, and funny; he likes to laugh, and he likes to make other people laugh.  He likes to hang with people who are engaged enough with him that they are not minding the clock, not worried about their wives, not tallying the bill, not counting the beers.  And not getting constipated if a curse word slips out or if someone tells an off-color joke.

Is it my imagination, or is that sort of camaraderie hard to find in among Christian men?

Well, it is.  But maybe I'm not being entirely fair in my indictment of Christian fellowship either.  Loving Tom and being married to him for 24 years means that I am deeply invested in seeing the good in whoever his is;  I am well practiced in whatever mental/spiritual contortions are required to construe his approach as a good one.  So, you be the judge here.

On the one hand, I can see Jesus hanging with Tom and his friends at the bar or at a party, laughing and enjoying them.  There is there a sort of joy in "fellowship," if you will allow that the word has meaning even outside the Christian context.  And there is also an atmosphere of non-judgment, a ready acceptance. 

Is that ready acceptance lacking among Christians?  Maybe.  On the other hand, is there really judgment in Christian circles, or is there only a perception of judgment because we all know the standards to which we aspire, and no one knows better than we ourselves how we fall short.  We all imagine that others are doing much better in attaining those righteous standards than we are.

Indeed, we are helped along in our imaginings when others subtly (or not so subtly) parade their righteousness for all to see.  I have watched Christians make intentional efforts to put their piety on display out of the noble conviction that they are lights in this dark world, out of an earnest desire to show us the path of life.  They insult us in their assumption that everyone must needs benefit from their munificent wisdom and virtue.

I have watched others parade their rectitude in what seems a mad scramble to keep up, to not be thought inferior or inadequate, to make a covering over their shame.

And I have, with deep sadness, witnessed God being entirely forgotten in the whirlwind of Christian fellowship.  Within these groups certain righteous standards are worn like a coat of arms, badges of honor, symbols of belonging.  But God Himself is conveniently absent.  It is uncomfortable to talk about prayer or the Word in those circles.  What passes for fellowship is actually commiserating and complaining, while talk of obedience and trusting in God is an uncomfortable conversation stopper.

But many, many, many - dare I say, most - honest believers fall into none of these camps.  They love the Lord and they live out their lives in obedience to His commands as best they know how.  Their hearts' desire is to learn to be more obedient, to grow in their enlightenment, to please Him and walk with Him daily.

This means that these honest believers want the joy of fellowship with their King more than they want the joy of fellowship with men.  It means that the restraint of their fleshly appetites truly holds appeal if it means a closer walk with their God.

Do these believers actually dominate the landscape of Christendom, or is it only that the aroma of Christ that wafts about them prevails wherever they are?

So where does this leave Tom?  Why is Tom, an honest believer, not attracted to the circle of Christian men?  He does not seem to even notice hypocrisy like I do, lucky for him, so it's not that.  It could be that feeling of inadequacy, that perception that he is simply not righteous enough.  It could be that, although generally a moral and upright guy himself, he does not want to uphold certain standards of righteousness in the particulars in order to be accepted.  It could be that he perceives the upholding of those standards as…boring.  It's hard to laugh when you're busy constipating over whether you should be laughing or not.  It's hard to enjoy a beer when you're busy worrying about whether your head is beginning to swim or not, and how many beers you can have before you’re setting a bad example for any potential alcoholic lurking about.

And now I've come full circle.  While Tom is an honest believer and our family has been blessed by his choices in the name of Christ, he is apparently not ready to be too fussy about some of his choices in the everyday.  In the end, that is between him and God, and I, even after 24 years of marriage, am not sufficiently knowledgeable about the condition of his heart or motivations to pass judgment. Let's just say that Tom definitely has a full understanding of grace.  Perhaps full to the point of being faulty -- but that is between him and God.

As it happens, however, Tom is the social force in our family.  That means that over the years we, as a family, have "done life" and come to love dearly three or four families who do not know the Lord.  These are our best friends.  These are the people who I would trust first to love our kids if Tom and I were to die unexpectedly.  Added to that is a plethora of other friends and acquaintances, none of whom know the Lord.  

Mind you, I go kicking and screaming into any new social venue.  If the word "plethora" can be used to describe our circle of friends, it is because Tom loves people, not me.  Yet I am the one who is a little closer to being, in a Christian sense,  "fussy about my choices in the everyday."  Barely, but still.  I am the one tending toward constipation if the kids are around while he's watching Family Guy, I get downright stuck up at the idea of going to a bar, and my moral indignation is in full fervor at the mere mention of stepping foot into a casino.  

But Tom loves people.  And all these friends know he is a Christian.  I wouldn't be surprised if some of them wonder how he integrates the two worlds, but they know he bears the name of Christ.  At least one family that used to openly sneer at the notion of being "born again," is now regularly attending a good, Bible-teaching church.  And I can't help but believe that others are closer to Christ, more open and softer in heart toward Him than they would have been without Tom's friendship.  Who knows what the future holds for them spiritually?

So as our daughter comes to be more engaged with the Christian culture in our church, should I be embarrassed about who we are?  Well, I don't think so.  It's a tough call, a nuanced situation to be sure.  Even I am not sure how much I am simply rationalizing because I love my husband.  But I do know that we are neck deep in opportunity to love on those who do not know Jesus, and we would not have these opportunities if we were safely ensconced in the Christian community.  

In the end, she will have to untangle this mess of truths on her own, but for now there is a certain security in her surrounding herself with church folk.  She has a good radar for what is false, and I trust she will discern hypocrisy when it presents itself.  Along the way I am sure she will also meet up with some of the majestic ones who exude the aroma of Christ, and I pray that she will follow their example.  But I also pray that from her dad she takes with her the lesson of purely loving on people, especially those who do not yet know the truth.

Scroll Saws and Jack Hammers

Sometimes when I go to church, I get the most out of teachings that leave me stone-cold and bored to death, annoyed that someone with so little to say, with so little insight, could have found his way behind a microphone in front of so many people. Sometimes I get a lot out of those very teachings because of the clash of the titans going on in my heart. Waves of uncharitable thoughts toward the unsuspecting speaker are crashing through my mind, fueled by irritation and disappointment that I came to be encouraged and enlightened in the Word, and now I'm stuck sitting there for an hour or more listening to banalities.

But I am in church, and my conscience is sorely pricked by these uncharitable thoughts, so I make every effort to combat them by reminding myself of the intrinsic worth and foundational truth of the ideas being expressed, however trite, and the value of all the personalities God has seen fit to put under the sun, even those who by nature lack insight.

Such was the case today. This was a guest speaker, of course. (I couldn't bear to go to a church where the regular teaching pastor put me through this every week!) But because I sit there arguing with myself for the entire teaching, I actually pay much closer attention, and in the end, always walk out freshly encouraged by something.

Today's fresh encouragement came in the form of being reminded that God made me exactly the way He intended, with exactly the strengths and exactly the weaknesses He designed, and He put me in exactly the life position He purposed to accomplish exactly the work He created for exactly me to do. Exactly.

This was a good thing for me today, because yesterday I indulged in a few hours of black perspective on the world, revolving, of course, around myself and my hopeless weakness. Not weaknesses -- just my general, wretched, sorry, weak excuse for a self.

I took some time, went out and prayed, and God's answer during my prayer time was to have my lovely second daughter call from where she's spending the summer as a counselor at a Christian camp. That took me sufficiently out of myself to regain a better view of things, because of course, that was the problem in the first place: I was completely absorbed in the black hole of myself.

And then I got up this morning and finished up my last blog entry before church, which always makes me happy. (The date seems to always remain the date of the original posting, even if I make changes to it days later. I'm glad about that, because the date of the original posting is the date of the origin of the thought, even if it takes longer than that to get it expressed just the way I like it.) I also wrote my husband an e-mail, catching him up on the goings on with the kids since he went out of town. That also made me happy.

So this guy who was speaking today is a good guy, I'm sure. I'm sure he's godly. However, if he were to take any one of those personality tests, most of which are very similar, he would undoubtedly score high in the personality category that I have the most trouble appreciating. It comes out in his teachings too, and that adds another level of gurgle in my gut as I listen.

And of all things, this is the guy talking about how God made us each just the way He wanted us, that "God doesn't make mistakes." (He actually said that in his teaching. He quoted a bumper sticker, basically.) This is the guy reminding me of what I already know is true, that God designed each one of us exactly the way He intended, to be His tool in glorifying Himself on this earth. And He will use each of His tools for their intended purpose, not for any other.

Just like a hammer would be an awful tool to use to open a bottle of pop, and a shovel would be an awful tool to drive a nail, and a wheelbarrow would be an awful tool to dig a hole, so would I be an awful tool for ... lots of things. There are a lot of things God would never use me for, because it would only result in a big mess.

And maybe it has resulted in big messes at times, when I've tried to be something I'm not, when I've tried to do a job meant for someone else. I'm embarrassed to think about it!

But it was wonderful and comical to realize that this very guy speaking, as much as I don't understand his type, is an awesome tool in God's workshop. God uses people like him in grand ways. I could never do what he does. And He could never do what I do.

What is it that I do? Well, I don't know -- but I do know that nothing fills me with more joy than putting words to ideas. I love ideas, and I love conveying them in exactly the right words. It's the craziest kind of joy to which nothing else can compare in this undistinguished little life of mine. I'd never reveal how often I read and reread e-mail, especially if I've just told someone something important to me. Sometimes I even do that with text messages. It's why I love this blog, even though I wrestle with the vulnerability of going public with my private musings. I can blow hours of a day putting something in just the right words and feel so accomplished afterward, like something very significant has happened that day. But on a day like that when my husband calls to ask what went on that day, I have nothing to tell him. This happiness and pride, this joy and fulfillment swells in my heart, but all I have to say is, "Not much," because nothing tangible did happen. I blew hours in front of the computer when I should probably have been cleaning something.

(Mind you, I'm not saying I put words to ideas well. I'm only saying it gives me joy to think I've done it well. And I also understand that most of my blog entries are self-indulgent and not worth the cyberspace they occupy. But it is enormously cathartic for my to be able to express them.)

Anyway, I ended up being refreshed in just the way I needed to be by that very annoying teaching. And I have a new appreciation for this guy who bugs me. Just like a jack hammer has no appreciation of the need for, say, a scroll saw, because it's too busy busting up asphalt. And a scroll saw sees no need for a jack hammer because it's too busy carving pretty little curves in pieces of wood.  So our diverse personalities often miss the importance of each other. But God makes jack hammers, scroll saws, and everything else in between, and He knows exactly where He needs to put each to use.

So if a scroll saw finds itself feeling weak, wretched and hopelessly useless some days, it needs to remember that it is weak, wretched and hopelessly useless if it's trying to bust up asphalt. It will be much happier if it contents itself with carving pretty little curves in pieces of wood, like its maker intended.

Christmas Break is Over…

I read this excerpt of Tozer's a few days ago. (I found it on the internet somewhere – can't remember where anymore.) But it's great food for thought.

I'm so guilty, especially now around the holidays with so many demands on my time, so many (lovely) people around, so little time alone. It's way too easy to float along, to forget my first love. But now Christmas break is over and it's time to get back to business.

I don't want to become a shallow Christian, one who plays the church-y game, who knows all the verses and how to talk like a Christian and especially how to look like a Christian, who runs around all the church functions like a big-shot, but has no personal walk with God. Oh Lord, save me from that. I want to live to obey You and to know You more fully.

(Truthfully, we don't do any running around at all the church functions…we don't do any church functions at all. And that's okay by me, actually.)

Anyway, this excerpt from Tozer reminds me that my Christianity is a journey, a pursuit, not just a fact. I was born again, and now, just like any newborn grows, I need to grow, not stagnate. And I need to make conscious choices to that facilitate growth, like reading, memorizing and meditating on the Word, and communing with God in prayer, praising Him, pouring out my heart and expressing my trust in His care.

This takes time. That's the kicker. It takes discipline to carve out the time. But O Lord, I want to do it. Help me be a growing believer.

God and Men

Excerpted from Of God and Men

To talk of "better" Christians is to use language foreign to many persons. To them all Christians are alike; all have been justified and forgiven and are the children of God, so to make comparisons between them is to suggest division and bigotry and any number of horrible things.

What is forgotten is that a Christian is a born-one, an embodiment of growing life, and as such may be retarded, stunted, undernourished or injured very much as any other organism. Favorable conditions will produce a stronger and healthier organism than will adverse conditions. Lack of proper instructions, for instance, will stunt Christian growth. A clear example of this is found in Acts 19, where an imperfect body of truth had produced a corresponding imperfect type of Christian. It took Paul, with a fuller degree of truth, to bring these stunted disciples into a better and healthier spiritual state.

Unfortunately it is possible for a whole generation of Christians to be victims of poor teaching, low moral standards and unscriptural or extrascriptural doctrines, resulting in stunted growth and retarded development. It is little less than stark tragedy that an individual Christian may pass from youth to old age in a state of suspended growth and all his life be unaware of it. Those who would question the truth of this have only to read the First Epistle to the Corinthians and the Book of Hebrews. And even a slight acquaintance with church history will add all the further proof that is needed. Today there exist in the world certain Christian bodies whose histories date far back. These have perpetuated themselves after their kind for hundreds of years, but they have managed to produce nothing but weak, stunted Christians, if Christians they can be called. Common charity forbids that we identify these by name, but any enlightened believer will understand.

Evangelicalism as we know it today in its various manifestations does produce some real Christians. We have no wish to question this; we desire rather to assert it unequivocally. But the spiritual climate into which many modern Christians are born does not make for vigorous spiritual growth. Indeed, the whole evangelical world is to a large extent unfavorable to healthy Christianity. And I am not thinking of Modernism either. I mean rather the Bible-believing crowd that bears the name of orthodoxy.

We may as well face it: the whole level of spirituality among us is low. We have measured ourselves by ourselves until the incentive to seek higher plateaus in the things of the Spirit is all but gone. Large and influential sections of the world of fundamental Christianity have gone overboard for practices wholly unscriptural, altogether unjustifiable in the light of historic Christian truth and deeply damaging to the inner life of the individual Christian. They have imitated the world, sought popular favor, manufactured delights to substitute for the joy of the Lord and produced a cheap and synthetic power to substitute for the power of the Holy Ghost. The glowworm has taken the place of the bush that burned and scintillating personalities now answer to the fire that fell at Pentecost.

The fact is that we are not today producing saints. We are making converts to an effete type of Christianity that bears little resemblance to that of the New Testament. The average so-called Bible Christian in our times is but a wretched parody on true sainthood. Yet we put millions of dollars behind movements to perpetuate this degenerate form of religion and attack the man who dares to challenge the wisdom of it.

Clearly we must begin to produce better Christians. We must insist on New Testament sainthood for our converts, nothing less; and we must lead them into a state of heart purity, fiery love, separation from the world and poured-out devotion to the Person of Christ. Only in this way can the low level of spirituality be raised again to where it should be in the light of the Scriptures and of eternal values.

AW Tozer