A long while back (a very long while back), I had attempted to implement 12 Spiritual Disciplines into my life – one for each month – as identified and explained in the book Celebration of Discipline.  For some absurd reason, the author (whom I greatly admire in spite of this initial poor arrangement of chapters) wrote one of the preliminary chapters about fasting (along with meditation and prayer).  Fasting?  Really?  I mean, someone who is in need of incorporating more discipline into their lives is most likely going to be extremely discouraged if fasting is the first couple of steps on the road to “spiritual maturity”.  Even Jesus’ disciples were performing miracles alongside him before they ever even fasted (remember how John’s disciples asked Jesus why He didn’t have his disciples fast, and He said, “No one fasts while the bridegroom is still present?”).  Jesus had his guys ministering through feeding the poor and healing the sick before he ever required them to fast – the time for fasting would come, but Jesus knew that fasting wasn’t for beginners.

The author, Richard Foster, was certainly intentional in his chapter arrangement, which he explains in the book.  But I’d rather start where Jesus started, and where he had his disciples start.  Jesus’ life began with angels singing to shepherds, and with kings bringing him gifts.  And once Jesus had gathered some of his disciples, he attended a wedding where he performed his first miracle.  So considering that Jesus began his life and his ministry with a party, and the fact that the holidays are upon us, it only seems appropriate to begin this particular spiritual journey with a similar approach:  The discipline of Celebration.  Also, it helps to start any kind of journey with an “easy” baby step.  And even Richard Foster says in his chapter on celebration, “Celebration is central to all the Spiritual Disciplines.  Without a joyful spirit of festivity the Disciplines become dull, death-breathing tools in the hands of modern Pharisees.”

Why is celebration so important?  Amidst all of the suffering in the world and the sin in our own hearts, is it not more important to focus on what we can do now to alleviate the suffering of others and to work on being more like Jesus?  Does celebration not seem somewhat trite compared to the other disciplines of prayer, service and of course, fasting?  I like what Foster says, “Far and away the most important benefit of celebration is that it saves us from taking ourselves too seriously.  This is a desperately needed grace for all those who are earnest about the Spiritual Disciplines.  It is an occupational hazard of devout folk to become stuffy bores.  This should not be.  Of all people, we should be the most free, alive, interesting.”

But I think there’s more still.  Enjoyment of life and all that is good is what we were made for.  It is our specific, eternal design.  We were created to live naked in lush gardens, in the continual presence of God.  He wanted us to have fun, to have the deepest sense of happiness and fulfillmen,t and deep communion with our fellow man.  Much of that was lost in the Fall; there’s work that must be done in order to survive, tragedies befall many, and “just getting through the day” is quite an achievement for many of us.  But God did not allow for all to be lost.  When we stop to celebrate, we get a glimpse of our eternal destiny, of our intended design, of His loving care and provision for us.  Celebration is not some insignificant reward for the work we’re supposed to do – Celebration is the work, it is the point of it all.

We’re often reminded during the holidays, whether through sermons, blogs, or even yet another viewing of “It’s a Wonderful Life”, to keep in mind what’s “truly important”, such as family and good friends.  Some people mean “perspective”, as in “keep in mind our blessings of a home and food on the table compared to so many others that are not as fortunate.”  And while these are certainly wonderful blessings for which to be appreciative, they are not the complete package.  We celebrate not for the things God has given us, but that He has given us Himself.

For the next five Mondays, I hope you’ll join me in discovering the spiritual joy of celebration.  I know I could use the opportunity to stay focused on what’s joyous and true during the upcoming holidays, and to discover how to celebrate with intention toward an eternal purpose.

Some days I can’t seem to wake up all the way.  The world seems like such a heavy place to wake up to that my body literally feels it, and the only thing that pulls me from the comfort of sleep is the guilt of knowing that my children are lonesome for mommy and their tummies are hungry.  The last few days have been those days.

It seems like so much is going on.  Friends and family members are going through rough times, the nation is going through rough times, the earth and all of its quaking is even going through a rough time.  And it’s no different in our home.  Facebook is awash with terrible things happening, from articles that my friends post to actual events in my friends’ lives.  The economy’s depressing, even the weather’s depressing.  And all I want is to crawl back into bed and continue having that dream I was having this morning about missing Lukus for a long time and then seeing his face again….but instead, the shrill cry of “Mom-meeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!” came from the girl’s room and I was forced back into reality.

When I was a kid all the way up until my college years, I could not understand why adults said and sang things like, “Come quickly Lord Jesus!”  I mean, I loved Jesus and all, but there was so much I wanted to do:  see Paris and Bangkok, I wanted to skydive, have an intense romance, get married, have sex, read every great book ever written and see how Smallville would end.  But now, I’m starting to realize why grown-ups always talked like they did – because now I’m grown up, with grown-up problems in a grown-up world.

Which is why I was relieved to realize that today is Tuesday, the day that Sheryl comes over.

I still don’t know Sheryl all that well (other than she makes an awesome honey-chicken curry) since we’ve only gotten together a couple of other times.  So when she messaged me on Facebook one day asking if I’d be interested in getting together regularly to pray for one another, I was a bit surprised.  But I could tell that I already liked and respected her, so I figured, “Hey, why not?  I’ve never done that with anyone before, but shouldn’t be too hard.”

With four little kids in the house at lunch and nap time though, it wasn’t so easy.  But we persevered in the midst of crying, poopy toddlers and sword-fighting and tattling kids.  I’m convinced that a mother’s ability to ignore her children is one of God’s greatest gifts to moms.  Otherwise, we moms would be sitting with our heads in our knees rocking back and forth in our closets mumbling gibberish and drooling out the sides of our mouths.  We ignore to survive (we also ignore to finish blogs).

Sheryl and I generally manage to have a coherent conversation even amidst all the interruptions, and our prayers are quick and often still interrupted.  But it doesn’t matter, because somehow, the day is still just as heavy, but my part of the load feels lighter.  It’s not because we’ve dumped our problems on each other, and it’s not even entirely because we’ve given our problems to God – it’s both.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I tend to choose one way or the other.  Whenever there was a minor crisis, I usually picked up the phone and called my mom.  I could gripe to her, cry, ask for advice, she was always there.  Except now she’s not.  And I’ve been forced to do what she tried to get me to do all along – go to God.

Except, without diminishing the greatness behind a relationship with God, “going to God” still didn’t seem like quite enough.  I felt kinda guilty about that at first, until I realized that God intended for us to rely on each other too, because we’re not just God’s children, we’re a family, and a family is supposed to go through things together.

Galatians 6:2 says, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ,” and James 5:16 says, “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.”  Any time I’ve ever heard that last verse, it’s always been a solitary statement: “the effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much” – the picture in our minds usually being that when a good person prays, they get their prayers answered.  But that’s not the context of that scripture.  The context of that scripture is that several people have gathered to confess their sins to one another and pray together, and that praying together for one another is effective.  It brings healing.  It brings forgiveness.  It brings hope.

And I can vouch for that, because in this grown-up world with grown-up problems, it sure is nice to hear, “How can I pray for you this week?” and be able to offer the same back to someone else.  It helps to talk to God, and it helps to talk to a friend.  But it’s effective when you find a way to do both at the same time.

Do you tend to do one or the other?  Or do you have a friend that you know you can always count on to pray for you and to allow you to pray for them?  Do any of you men think this is easier for women than for guys?

Calvinists

For part 1 “Charismatics” click here

If you’ve read part 1 of this blog, then you know I’m not out to prove all the things I think are wrong with these sects of Christianity.  Rather, while I still differ from each of these belief systems, I can honestly say that each one has enhanced my faith and lent perspective in unique ways, and I think anyone who falls into one of these categories could benefit by learning from any of their brothers and sisters who genuinely profess Jesus as Lord.  That is was this blog is about.

Lukus and I were on a lay-over in Dallas after a friend’s wedding in Oklahoma.  We called up our best friends from college who lived in Dallas at the time and asked if they wanted to hang-out during our 6-hour lay-over (this was when we lived in California).  Ignorance is indeed bliss, and had I known what I was about to learn, I might have opted to drudge through the airport boredom instead.

Our friends had attended ORU with us.  They had experienced right along side of us the bizarre misuse of spiritual gifts, the idolatry of wealth from preachers, and an oppressive power-mongering administration which tried to use spirituality to control the student body throughout our four years.  The four of us (and many others) graduated from ORU with deep jadedness and spiritual scars.  Damaging as it was, the experience had bonded us for life. (Incidentally, from what I hear now, the new administration at ORU is working hard at making reparations for the past, and in spite of the previous administration, ORU was a terrific school and I’d still probably recommend it.)  Nevertheless, anyone who came through ORU’s “dark days”, regardless of whether you knew them at school or not, there’s a bond, a mutual understanding between both of you that creates a certain connection.

So I couldn’t help but take it really hard when our closest friends told us that their doctrinal beliefs had taken a 180 degree turn toward Calvinism/Reformed Theology.  At first, I had no idea what Calvinism was.  I knew vaguely that John Calvin had been an influential theologian, but I had no idea what he stood for.  I honestly knew nothing beyond his name.

But as they began to explain the five points of Calvinism (Total depravity, Unconditional election, Limited atonement, Irresistible grace and Perseverance of the saints or “T.U.L.I.P.”), I simultaneously felt sick to my stomach, angry, and heart-broken.  At the time, I thought it had to be a cult.  What kind of theology would suggest that Jesus only died for some and not for all?  How could anyone suggest that God MADE some people and INTENDED for them to go to hell?  What kind of God would CAUSE evil in the world – the holocaust, the molestation of children, human trafficking – what kind of God would cause those things in order to bring about His own glory?

All of the plane-ride home I grieved – both for what I felt like was the loss of our friends to some bizarre belief system, and the fact that such a theology even existed and was FAR more common than I had ever known.  My research began as soon as I got home.  I poured over the Bible, in my restless sleep I was forming arguments, when I cleaned my house I was silently pleading to God to show me more answers, I filled random scraps of paper with my thoughts, questions and arguments.  In my heart, I knew that I was seeking real truth, not just the answers I wanted, but I was also terrified of what I might find.

When we moved back to Oklahoma a year later, it was good to see that our friendship had remained in tact, though it was strained considering that most of our conversations during that time revolved around a theological debate (which was, admittedly, my own fault since I’m completely incapable of avoiding elephants in the room, especially once I’ve had a couple shots of vodka in me).  It took me a while to mellow out on the issue and recognize that our friends were, thankfully, not part of a cult.  I tried to remain open-minded as much as I could.

When Lukus and I started looking for a church to attend, we found ourselves at a place that considered themselves “charismatic calvinists”.  They practiced the spiritual gifts and valued artistic expression in worship.  They were also such a wonderful, loving group of people that we kept attending – in spite of the fact that there were some significant doctrinal differences between us and the church.  I loved the people at our new church, but at the same time, I felt drastically outnumbered in my beliefs – and it was a very lonely feeling.  I wondered if all these people were seeing something that I wasn’t.

One day, as I walked around our neighborhood park, I was praying for more answers as I wrestled with scripture.  I wanted the Truth, no matter what it meant.  Then suddenly, very clearly in my heart, I sensed the Holy Spirit asking me, “What if it’s true?  What if that IS the kind of God I am?  Will you still serve me?” I cringed inside.  I was terrified that the Holy Spirit was about to inform me that everything I’d ever held true about God was no longer accurate.  But I wanted the truth, and I knew with my entire being that God was speaking to me in that moment, so it only took me about five steps before I answered, “Yes Lord, I would still serve you.”  Instantly, I felt like the Holy Spirit responded, “It’s not true,” and scriptures flooded my mind, verses that I didn’t even know that I knew, confirming what I had already felt was true – but that wasn’t the point.

The point was what our friends had been trying to explain all along – that God is God, that He is sovereign, and whether I accept that or not, it’s still the truth.  Man cannot shape God to His own design.  If God wanted to extend free-will, He could.  If He wanted to revoke it, He could.  If God wanted to harden hearts or wipe people out, He could.  If He wanted to extend grace to some, but not to others, He could.  I still don’t believe that’s how God chooses to operate, but previously, I had never really comprehended God’s power and grace, and what He could do if He wanted to.  Which meant that until that moment, I was incapable of being truly grateful and in awe of what God has and has not done in my life.  Regardless of the fact that I still believe in God’s gift of free-will toward man, and God’s love and goodwill toward all men, God wanted me to have a greater understanding of His sovereignty and grace

I don’t agree with Calvinism, I feel that I have some pretty strong arguments against it that maybe I’ll write out for my doctoral thesis someday.  But that’s not what this blog is about.  The point is do I trust God no matter what?  Do I accept His grace and recognize my own failure to attain perfection?  Do I recognize His sovereignty and that even when things go badly, that He is working them out for good?

Growing up in the Charismatic culture and especially in an Assemblies of God church, it wasn’t so much about an external abstinence from worldly things – no dancing, no tattoos, no alcohol – but it was still very much performance oriented:  how long do you pray in tongues every day?  How many people have you witnessed to this week?  How many people did you bring to church?  Did you dance during worship?  Did you give a prophetic word at church?  Have you laid hands on someone for healing and performed a miracle?  No?  Well, you need to try harder then.  Any Charismatic would be greatly offended if it was suggested that their doctrine was works-based because they do resist the ultra-conservative concepts of external “holiness”.  Nevertheless, it is works-based, except the works are not based on holiness, but rather faith – how big and how many acts of faith can you perform?

From the Calvinist perspective, I began to realize the arrogance of this mentality.  I began to recognize my sin, my pride, my need for a Savior more than I’d ever understood before.  I’d always recognized that the ORU scene was an abuse of the gospel, but still, in my alone times with God, I felt like I could never quite be “spiritual enough”.  But as I hung-around my Calvinist friends, I began to appreciate the work of the Cross more, and accept God’s grace for me.

And whereas the Charismatics saw every set-back in life as an onslaught from Satan, I began to question instead, “What can I learn?  How can I draw closer to God in this instead of merely resisting the devil?”  Even though I don’t believe that God causes the evils of this world, I came to understand more than ever that He’s still in the midst of it with us and we’re not on our own to “try harder”.

This understanding became indispensable to me during my mom’s illness.  Cancer is not from God, God did not give my mom cancer, and cancer is to be fought and resisted (though one Calvinist friend tried to tell me that my mom’s cancer was a gift from God).  At the same time, I learned that death from cancer is not a failure, it’s not the end, it’s not the worst thing that can happen, it’s not a sign of being less spiritual (though some charismatics would say otherwise).

From the Charismatics, I’ve learned how to fight, how to stand on the truth, how to discern an attack from the enemy, how to develop and use the tools that the Holy Spirit has given me.  But from the Calvinists, I’ve learned that whenever I fall, whenever I fail, God is so much bigger than my failure and that His grace is sufficient.

So even though we still disagree, I’ve come to appreciate the things I’ve learned from our dear friends, and in spite of our differences, this thing we still have this in common, and it’s the most important thing:  We know our God is great and we know that He is good, and that’s enough.