A Blurred View

Many years ago, when the Hubble Space telescope was lifted into space, amid all the hoopla of it being a technological marvel, one of the largest satellites to that date, and having the ability to see further into space than an optical telescope had ever seen, there arose one small problem. When they flipped the switch into the 'ON' position, it was blurry.

The image was blurry. And distorted. Not at all a true representation of what lay out there, further than we had ever seen before. It turns out that when the lens fabricated, the curvature was miscalculated. By less than 1%. (Expensive mistake.) The view into space was compromised because of a problem with the lens.

Our spiritual lives, too, can be compromised by the lens we use to view ourselves. (Yes, a cheesy intro, but I needed something to warm up.) In my experience, people (including myself) have three main lens defects. We view ourselves through the lens of what we do, the lens of what we have, and the lens of what people think us. That's how we tend to generate our identity, by using defective lenses.

When Satan tempted Jesus, he tempted the identity of the Son of God. "Jesus, your identity is in what you do, turn these stones into bread", "Jesus, your identity is in what you have, call down angels from heaven", and finally "Jesus, your identity is is what people think of you, they will worship you if you just bow before me." Jesus knew who He was, and what God intended Him to be. His identity was secure because His lens never faltered.

The Hubble telescope was eventually fixed by correcting the error in the lens. It took a lot of looking at the data to see where the error was, and then more effort to make the proper adjustments. Just like the Hubble, our lenses may need adjustment. Maybe as we evaluate our lives, make resolutions, and try to be better, it is possible we are attacking the wrong problem. Rather than worry about the uncomfortable behaviors that are the fruit of our identity first, we may need to examine the lens that we get that identity from.

And make adjustments. So that we can see clearly to fix the real problem.

Blessed By Resurrection

So in my last post I described the Paschal Mystery to you. The passing from death to new life. A spiritual cycle that we live daily as we die to ourselves and follow Christ. It is at the point of releasing the old that we get choice, and the effects of that choice are either spiritual growth or stagnation/decline

Up until recently, this has been hard for me to grasp. Particularly in the area of my relationships. Upon experiencing my miracle and beginning my restorative journey, I made a point of attempting to reconcile with every significant person that I had wronged. This was an arduous task, humbling and extensive because of the many bridges that I had burned.

While I knew that the relationships would not be the same (which in many ways was going to be a good thing), with the additional hurdle of trust being reestablished - I did have hope that fences could be mended and the relationships healed. In fact, at first that seemed to be true. Among the closest of my friends, I was told "I want to pick up where we left off", "I've missed our friendship and I'd like to begin getting together again" and "let the bromance begin".

Yet, one by one, these relationships have fallen off the map. Without words, avoiding explanation, the resuscitated patients died on the table. In hindsight what I can see is that these false starts were efforts by some at resuscitation. Not accepting the new man God was crafting, not being honest, avoiding the tough stuff, just trying to put things in the past.

God wants resurrection, new life, not a continuation of the old. This is not to say that all these relationships had to end for resurrection, but there had to be changes. There had to be a new spirit.

One 'death' in particular was very hard to take. One of my best friends all along. Someone whose path I seemed to be walking. Himself a former pastor. Had an affair. Marriage died. Spent time in the desert. God restored him to church leadership. I identified in his story. Yet, without warning, this friend got busy. Too busy to meet. Too busy to return calls. Too busy to respond to emails with any depth. Too busy to even explain what was wrong. I felt abandoned...I was abandoned.

It was a tragic death.

I spent a lot of time grieving this loss. We were on the same path. He much farther along. But he had been where I was treading. Up against his wall, spending time alone in his desert, experiencing new life. A friend of mine watching me struggle with this death and far in advance of me coming to understand the Paschal Mystery, had given me the counsel that I should look at how the relationship, and its demise, had blessed me.

I was stuck on grief and didn't know what to do with this advice. I was clinging to the old. Almost blindly grasping; lacking true wisdom, I wanted the old back. Resuscitation.

As God was guiding my life back to ministry, as I was experiencing the reality of His restoration, I began to understand what the blessing God wanted me to take away from this relational death. The value that was to be reproduced in my life. Don't fall back into the old ways. Don't return to your vomit. Do not be consumed with busyness. God is working a new thing. This path is His. But I have to be careful where I step.

I cannot again find my identity in what I do or what people think of me. My identity needs to always be firmly established in Christ. Period. Resurrection.

The blessing for me, was the reminder that I must keep my guard up against the pull of my root sin, the pride that battles against my new nature. That is my daily denial of self, before I take up my cross, and follow my Savior.

Paschal Mystery, Episode One

It's taken me awhile to type this particular blog. I made my notes for it in my journal December 7th and it's been a block to me. Haven't felt like I could post anything else until I get this one out. To me, this one is important and filled with applicable truth. A message that I've wanted to get JUST RIGHT (that's why I made notes), and that is probably why it has taken so long to get it out.

Sometimes I do that. In my desire to get things perfect (or as close to perfect as I am capable of), I procrastinate. I rationalize and put things off. My wife would deny emphatically that I am a perfectionist, but for me this is how my perfectionism is shown, avoidance.

Here I go. Putting away and attempts at perfection. This is a blog after all. So, the notes I made are away (I did read them though) and I'm just going to type this out "stream of consciousness" style.

It's called The Paschal Mystery. (The mathematician in me wants to type and pronounce Pascale.) Outlined by the early Christian mystics as they identified this clear pattern of life. Paschal means passing, from one state to another, specifically from death to new life. Jesus taught about the Paschal Mystery when he told his followers that unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it will remain a single seed. But if it dies, it will produce many seeds. Growth and reproduction are outlined in this principle.

Then Jesus did something amazing, he lived the Paschal Mystery. He died on Good Friday, was raised to new life on Easter Sunday, ascended to heaven and then released a new spirit on Pentecost. That is the Paschal Mystery. And it is repeated over and over throughout life. True life comes only through journeys of death and new life, when we do not grasp onto the old and allow the new to bless us.

Depending on who you read regarding this mystery, it can be summarized in many different ways. But I favor Ron Rolheiser's progression described in the book The Holy Longing.

death --> grief --> resurrection (new life) --> release (old life) --> spirit of new life

Christ died. Step one. The grain of wheat falling to the ground. The salvation of his disciples, and our own, would be impossible without this death. Because the hopes of the disciples were in the old life, their worldly expectations of the Messiah, they grieved. When Jesus died, so did their hope - or so they thought.

For me, the most profound step is what happens after the new life forms. When something in our life dies, whether it is a life, phase of life, hope or dream, a new life takes it place. Often whether we like it our not. This presents us with a choice. The same choice faced by the disciples when Christ was resurrected.

Do we cling to the old? That is not the Paschal Mystery. But it is common. Change cannot happen when we grasp for the old, cling to it and won't let it go. That was Mary Magdalene's first reaction, to hold onto the risen body of Christ, holding onto what she knew. She wanted resuscitation. Jesus asked her to let go; He wasn't constrained by the old, something new was going to happen; this was resurrection.

The second choice is to release the old life. Release it so that it can ascend, because it is only by letting it go can we receive the blessing. It wasn't until Jesus ascended that the counselor could be sent. It was better for his disciples that he depart from them.

This choice is easy to type in paragraph form, but sometimes amazingly difficult to execute in everyday life. Releasing doesn't mean forgetting. Then none of us could release our loved ones when they die. Part of releasing is not giving the old control. Not making 'the way things were' an idol. It is so difficult, it is the step that hangs all of us up at some point, if not the majority of the time.

Yet, good grieving consists in not just letting the old, good grieving allows us to let the old bless us. Jesus ascended and sent the spirit of the new life to his disciples. By letting go of the old, their old expectations of Christ, their old hopes for themselves in the coming kingdom, they were able to live out of the Spirit of the new life.

Life is full of hurts, losses, unfairness, disappointments, shattered dreams, and unreached potential. All these things (and more) deserve grief. But, unless I mourn them properly, they will never be able to bless me. Until I release my fantasies of what could or should have been, I will be doomed to live in bitterness and resentment.

That requires trust. Trust that there is a God who loves me. Trust that He is working all things for the good of those who love Him, of which I am one. I must trust that nothing is wasted in God's economy and I have a choice that will either lead to bitterness or blessing.

There it is. The Paschal Mystery presented imperfectly. If you have questions, don't be afraid to comment so I can clarify. What I want is for us to all be able to speak the same language spiritually.

Ignorance is not bliss. Now that I've identified this process, this mystery, I have been able to also see clearly the things I've been hanging onto. One you know you are hanging on, it is much easier to release what is dead and unhealthy in life. Helping to free me of bitterness, and continue to journey toward strength with joy.

Happy New Year!

I spent the New Year aboard a cruise ship, so this particular entry is a couple days late. But, I figured better better late than waiting until next New Year's Eve when none of this will make any sense. By the way, nothing like a cruise vacation as far as unplugging. On a ship in international waters, no phone, texts, tweets, computer, email, nothing buy my family and a choice book or two. Love it.

What an astounding year it has been. Started with the ultimate low of having to admit to my wife and closest friends how far I fell and ended with an ever increasing awareness of the joys of living in the grace of God. It was a year in the desert. A year of restoration and discovering trust. A year of working on a resurrected marriage rather than a resuscitating an old one. A year of taking the awkward, sometimes painful steps on the journey to strength. And a year that has ended with God allowing me the blessing of a second chance. God has done too much.

Looking ahead is humbling and overwhelming. I start a new job tomorrow. God's timing, yet He let me in on the timeline from the beginning. A reward for trying to learn the discipline of being still? Whatever it is I may not sleep tonight. My head is joyfully aswim with ideas and possibilities.

There is a new dimension to my calling. I feel it so clearly. Like giving birth. A book. I don't know where it will lead, but since God is calling me there, I will follow. Trust. Writing, proclaiming is not something I feel sure of, but I am sure of the one who restored me. So I'll make the steps.

So what of 2011? As I think about what I have begun to learn about myself lately, some of which I detailed in my post regarding the relationship within me between the physical and spiritual, I think the theme for this year is discipline. More specifically discipline springing forth from God's love.

Here's the thing, and I know for some of you this may be elementary Christianity 101 (although I'm fairly certain there is a huge camp of Christians that will be like I was in this), this is not an attitude of discipline so I will look the part in order to win His approval and look acceptable to those around me. That's the old mask, living the life of good intentions and self effort. Feigning spiritual disciple as a way to make myself righteous.

What discipline springing forth from God's love is living in the truth that I'm already accepted by God. He knows my brokenness and embraces me in spite of it. My core need for love is met by Him. It is the freedom to pursue Him knowing that my success or failure does not make Him love me more or less. Discipline becomes the response to love rather than the precursor to earning it.

I knew that the former was a trick of the enemy. But while my head knew it, my heart did not. The truth had not yet made the descent. Ironically, my effort was keeping the descent from happening. Harder I tried the more isolated from God I felt. Funny how that works.

This year's theme is perfectly timed by God. I'm coming out of the desert, with all the stresses and temptations that will bring with it. Spiritual leadership must spring forth from the spiritual life; a life of making myself fully known to God. Abandonment of the spiritual life, misplacing that priority, not living in trust, living the lie would likely (or certainly) lead the the same spiral of futility that I've already experienced.

I can't wait to see what God is going to bring in the next year (or decade). Experience has shown me an overwhelming majority of Christians leading the spiritual life I formerly did. The mask, the lie, the self effort, the loneliness. My prayer is that God will use what I learned in the desert to help me lead people to begin their journey inward and ultimately to a fruitful relationship of living out of the abundance of God's love.

Plato's Cave

Just started a new book, Homesick for Eden. In the first chapter, in order to set up his premise, the author refers to a video he saw in seminary, Plato's Cave. Mind you, this is a video that his instructor has to set up a reel to reel projector to show. Yet, by the miracle of the internet, I was able to find it in seconds on YouTube. A million thanks to whoever took the time and had the skill to convert this old video made of a conversation from Plato's Republic.

I found it to be a powerful allegory of the spiritual life. For now, I'll post it without comment. Share your thoughts and reactions with me; more on this video will definitely follow.

Merry Christmas.

New Math

One of the unique ways that God has crafted me is that He made me a mathematician. Good at sorting through all the information and constructing an argument or proof. Back in the day (wow, I am getting old), all it would take is a walk across campus for the seemingly disconnected pieces to fall together. I'd have a study group just so I could talk through problems, and people would come because someone always wants the answers. They'll even listen to a pretty geeky guy who thought he was cool to get them.

It's taken me awhile to see how God may want to use my mathematical background as part of my calling. I'm starting to get a glimmer of that. How those pieces fall together will be for another blog.

But what got me thinking math was a line I heard while listening to a podcast about living the spiritual life. It was said that this spiritual journey we are on has much more to do with subtraction than with addition. New math never made more sense.

Addition is about climbing up. About making ourselves worthy before God. Really being in control of our own spiritual life. Boiled down to its essence - addition is about playing god. So the fruit becomes busyness. Adding things to our spiritual repertoire. Going to groups, serving in ministries, working our way up the ladder to being a leader of some sort.

While it may lead to missing our calling, that does not matter. In the addition paradigm you will not be judged by what your calling was, but by how you perform. Worth is based on output. "How good am I?" becomes the mantra and that leads to a spiritual life without the spirit. Seeking approval, comparing ourselves to others, constantly striving to measure up to someone else's standards or expectations.

It also means that we can't bear with those who are not performing. There becomes a spiritual Darwinism. Survival of the spiritually fittest. We fear that such people may hold us back or drag us down, so they end up getting lip service, a pat on the back, and advice amounting to a charge to just live the spiritual life better. So when you have issues, questions, struggles that may arise from beginning a journey inward, we repel them thinking we are doing something wrong. We become whitewashed tombs. I know this well. All to well. That was the spiritual world I was immersed in and helped to propagate.

Subtraction is so counter cultural. Almost illogical. Progress spiritually is made by taking away. We call it letting go, or trust, or surrender. Whatever the terminology, it is marked by the absolute absence of our striving. Surrendering the way to God, rather than making it ourselves. Subtraction is anything but easy. In fact, the first steps required, those of the inward journey are so tough that I'd say most never attempt it.

It is trusting that God loves us even when our circumstances would have us believe otherwise. It is surrendering to the journey no matter how much we may want to avoid what we find. Letting God be responsible for the results as we take on the role of faithfulness. It is a submission to love.

While we talk a good game, subtraction means that we have to believe that we don't achieve God by doing holy things. God has made himself known to us. At no point do we have to start proving ourselves to him or showing how worthy we are. Nothing makes us merit his favor more than we already do by simply existing, by being the being creating in His image that He loves without bound.

If I want to be pleasing to the Father, then I must simply be still and know that He IS God. Everything else will flow from that truth. Desire for God, for truth, for justice, gratitude, service, calling...everything comes from Him. Subtracting ourselves. That is what conforming looks like in the kingdom. Not adding in new things to look the part, but subtracting to reveal what God planted in us when we were created in His image.

Despite his huge following, popularity, and status as a prophet, John the Baptist knew this to be true. I'll leave you with his words of the spiritual life of subtraction...

He must become greater; I must become less.

- John 3:30

Voyage of Sovereignty

The family went to see the latest tale of Narnia at the movie theater this afternoon - The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. For a movie adaptation, it was OK. It is understandable that they had to chop the tale up in order to fit it into an under two hour feature.

But the film did remind me of the story that I had read to my daughter some time ago. It is so much a story about God's sovereignty. About how He puts you in circumstances where you have the opportunity to face your true self. Where you are able to become less so that He can become more.

That is the story of pursuing God. Facing your true self, your root sins, core fears, and motivating desires and allowing God to do the (often painful) work of cutting away and shaping into the image of Christ.

God is very intentional about doing this - sovereignly - working all things, orchestrating events, knowing the outcome even when it all seems so unknown to us. And that is what happens for the three children who enter Narnia. There are things they each must face, lessons to learn, and a literal voyage for them to make. Aslan (Jesus) knows the outcome when He brings them through the picture. He's the alpha and omega, after all, knowing both the beginning and the end. Time unfolds in a straight line for us, but that is neither God's limitation nor concern.

Most explicitly this process happens for Eustace who must face the brokenness and division that his selfishness brings. First relationally with his cousins and citizens of Narnia, but also tangibly as his hording selfishness turns him into a dragon. Painful, humiliating, demoralizing, lonely...but necessary for him to cede that it is out of his own power to change. He must let the Lion dig deep within him in order to expose what is most hidden...his true self. Only when his true self encounters the living God can he be changed and love those around them. Only after the painful pruning process can he be comfortable in his own skin. Only after being a dragon can he realize that Aslan thought he was beautiful all along.

I love this part of the book best. If only the movie had done this 'conversion' scene justice.

God knows the outcome of my life too. I can't see it. All I have is the present, colored by the perspective of the past and my hope for the future. But I do trust that He's got me in exactly the place that is going to help me face my pride, false expectations, fears, and earthly perspective.

The past couple weeks, things have been rough around the house. Chock it up to all the change going on. Doesn't change how tough and painful and lonely the journey can be. In some ways, my wife seems worse with me around, like I am bad for her helping only to unsettle her and cause her anxiety that she has to allay. It seems that however I press into her, wall after wall goes up. Like I am inhibiting her progress.

I actually asked God why He wanted me here. It was not a question of regret. Not a question of uncertainty. It was just an honest 'why'. God, help me to see the big picture that you see. And His answer spoke of His sovereignty. I'm here because He has made me to handle the situation. In addition to how He's continuing to form me spiritually, He crafted me to be able to grow in a time like this. He knows the end result.

That's important because He also told me that it's not just for me that He had me return. It's for my wife. Her discomfort is the very thing that she must face at this stage of her journey. Seems that rather than inhibiting progress, I am essential for it. I am the circumstance she needs to compel her on her journey inward.

That's sovereignty. God sees the end. He has all the components in place to make that end a reality. And He does it out of His perfect love for us.

Indigestion

When my daughter was much younger, we used to be consumed by the four man children's group The Wiggles. We owned every one of their albums and videos. Three years in a row we went to their concerts when they passed through the area. (I am convinced the last year had nothing to do with my daughter and everything to do with my wife's love for the group.) The Wiggles all wore different color outfits and one year we all made our own shirts, one of each color, with home made iron-on decals on the front. I'd show you the picture, but then it'd go viral, I'm pretty sure.

One of the members of the group loved to eat. That was his special ability. (He was also the thinnest member, how was that possible?) His theme song started with the words "Food, food, wonderful food, to eat forever is my favorite wish!" How lovable. Unless desire for food becomes more than just enjoying the flavors and smells.

I am overweight. Always have been. Husky. I carry it fairly well, can perform in athletics, but it is becoming more and more evident to my belt. As for food, I do love the taste. Yet, I have also always noticed that in times of relational stress or dissatisfaction that I tend to load up on the sweets, crackers and chips. Like a high-carb nervous habit.

Recently, as part of my journey inward, I took a spiritual inventory. It summed me up pretty good. Almost too good; I do hate to be typecast. While I was reading the brief outline of characteristics of my type (and feeling like I was reading some of my blog posts) I happened to notice a link to "common addictions for your type". Not really feeling like I'm given to an addition (I'm not in a 12 step program after all), I clicked the link just so I could prove to myself that I wasn't completely predictable. Here's what it said...

Abusing food and over-the-counter medications. Bingeing, especially on sweets and carbohydrates. Over-eating from feeling "love-starved."

I almost spit the Parmesan cheese crackers out of my mouth that I was eating (Pepperidge farms makes these amazing crackers with Italian herbs and four cheeses on them....oh wait, hang on, trying NOT to be predictable here). Now, while over-the-counter meds are not my thing (and I shall definitely be avoiding them), the rest is dead on bull's eye. I abuse food, primarily when I feel love starved. Which has been often. So I've been on this weight roller coaster. I manage to lose some, but my relational system has not changed, so they come back (and bring friends, just like demons).

This has been an amazing internal realization for me. There is a tangible parallel between my emotional well being and my weight. God's timing in this realization is so completely perfect.

With my spiritual advisor last week, we were talking about relationships as I approach the time of coming out of the desert. She observed that God has used this time to carve out a large empty space within me and queried as to how I was going to fill it. In the last year and a half I've carefully laid a foundation of God within this space. Reserving it for Him, a place for He and I to meet.

It is with caution that I need to get back into the swing of ministry. After the extended time of fasting, it would be almost expected to gorge. To try to be the friend of everyone, to try to prove myself to anyone who would notice - to take a step back into my former people-pleasing ways.

When I was describing this to my advisor, before any of this addiction to carbs chatter started, I used the image of having the choice of two plates - one filled with french fries, and the other a heaping salad - the former filled with the things that will satisfy only briefly and the latter filled with the things of God. Literally, the image I used was a foreshadow of our conversation later.

Carbs are easily digestible. They feel good; they give an instant kick; they feel comfortable. But carbs don't nourish and they don't satisfy. In fact, when I eat a bunch of fries or crackers or m&m cookies, I only want more. That is such a picture of the people-pleaser. People's affirmation doesn't nourish the soul. Pleasing people doesn't last. It is a cycle of having to work harder to receive less and less, of eating more and more to quiet the loveless feeling.

The bridge here is my spiritual life. As I alluded to earlier, the timing of this realization is perfect (well, it is Christmas and there are lots of cookies, so it is big picture perfect). My craving for sweets can function as a thermometer for my feelings of love. A 'love-meter' of sorts. I can use those moments to remind myself that God loves me, Jesus died for me, the Spirit lives in me. In my weakness, God can be strong. I can continue to fill myself with the things of God rather than the images of love and approval that are the world's and won't last.

Am I filling up with the things of God or the Salad can be a spiritual reminder! The truth is that my relational system IS different. If for no other reason than I am different. But, it is still good to have a reminder of the discipline it takes to make good choices - with food, relationally, and spiritually. But, God's grace gets to shine through, because when I slip and eat a chocolate covered caramel Santa, I know that God still loves no matter how I perform. Grace and effort in tension. Grace will win every time.

Flying High

We went to the Bahamas for Thanksgiving this year. My parents have a timeshare, and in their generosity (or as my dad says, we are looking to spend your inheritance) they invited us to join them for the holiday. There were a couple short flights involved in making the trek down.

Flying for me is a matter of the mind. I start to think about the reality of being in a small metallic tube 5 miles in the sky. I wonder if the nice man who riveted the wing onto the fuselage was have a good day being fulfilled in his work or if he had somewhere to be when the whistle blew. And I know just enough about statics to be aware of the tensile strength of metal, but not enough to actually know what affects it. Air, while we cannot see it and take if for granted, is amazingly powerful.

With my mind filled with these thoughts, I can get a little jumpy during turbulence.

(A couple years ago, flying out of Vancouver, we fell several thousand feet during some extremely rough turbulence. During our ride, my daughter, who was six at the time, commented with laughter in her voice "this is just like a roller coaster!" I'd just finished screaming like a little girl and with my hand gripping the seat in front of me (like that'd do any good) I responded, "oh yes, just like a roller coaster." I wanted to be her pillar of strength.)

So, we were taking off on the first flight this Thanksgiving and I was starting my routine of over thinking when I had this thought, which I am attributing to the Holy Spirit...

What is different being on this plane as opposed to in a car or sitting at my cubicle at work or watching TV on the sofa with my wife? You may think me thick and say that the difference is quite obvious, you can see the ground in those latter scenarios. But really, there is no difference. My life is in the hands of an ever present, all knowing, omnipotent God in every event. Beckons the question: is my trust for God based on my perceived control in a given situation?

The Holy Spirit was reminding me that sitting on a plane is no different than sitting on my couch. My days are numbered by God, they are known in advance by Him, and no amount of couch sitting or redundancy built into a Boeing 737 will alter that one bit.

Trusting has to be based on the realization of what is out of my control, and letting God do His thing. Not paying lip service to trust, then building my own security. Living in the every day knowledge that God knows my needs and can take care of them at 32,000 feet just as easily as He can at sea level. My job is to keep my lamp lit and delight in His abundant love.

Lesson learned.

A Lesson from Father Abraham

I did not grow up in children's ministry and youth group. So, I missed out on felt boards and campfire songs among other things. When my daughter was two, we did not want her to experience the same deficit, so we bought a sing-a-long video of cheesy Christian songs. Great things about these songs is that, while they bring the cheese, they help you remember Bible stuff because you can't get the tune out of your head no matter how hard you try.

One of those songs was about Father Abraham. It goes "Father Abraham had many sons, many sons had Father Abraham, I am one of them, and so are you, so let's all praise the Lord." Then a body part would be called out like you were doing the hokie pokie, and the whole process would be started over. All of this highlights that Abraham is our spiritual father. No forgetting that.

Indeed, Genesis relates to us that God credited Abraham's (at the time Abram, I know) faith as righteousness. For many of us, that's where we think the story ends - there aren't any other verses of the song, right. Abraham became a pillar of the faith and lived a life of perfection because he is, after all, our spiritual father. If that's all we see, then we're missing the best part of the story.

A couple weekends ago, I had the opportunity to teach out of Genesis 17. Abram sins. Big time. Tries to make God's promises come to fruition. That's the thing about God, He gets touchy about his promises - if He makes them, then He's taking responsibility for them and our best efforts are to not get in the way. But Abram did get in the way and God let Abram stew in it for 13 years.

When God comes on the scene, first thing he says is for Abram to "walk before me and be blameless". Most I have read about this interpret the statement to mean that God wants Abram to do a better job obeying. He needs to be perfect. I disagree. God knows that is impossible.

This statement to Abram was an invitation. An invitation to come back. God was saying, "Abram, you screwed this up, you didn't listen and were impatient. You didn't trust me. But I love you. Come back. It was your faith and trust in me that made you righteous, see what happens when you wander away. Now come back and be perfect." God is extending grace to a sinner. Not the first time, and most definitely not the last.

God is extending grace. That offer does not stop once we enter our covenant with Him. This is something that I see Christians get wrong so often. We seem willing to accept the initial offer of grace, of the gift of Jesus, but somewhere along the line we feel like we have to begin to earn the favor of God. As if now that we are in the relationship we have to now earn God's continued love. Or, like Abram, we feel like we have to cover God's bases.

The life of a Christ follower seems to be one of tensions. There are two ways to tread on God's grace. We can just not care, determine that God is going to forgive us anyway, and do what we want. Disposable grace.

The other end of the spectrum is to feel like grace is not good enough. God needs help. So we have to look the part. Wear the mask. Act like we think God wants. Insufficient grace.

That second one was me. I KNEW about grace. I could tell people, quite convincingly, about God's grace. But I was effectively living as if that was not enough. God needed help. Thing is, if you are treading on God's grace, if you are living it out of balance, on one end of the spectrum or the other, it is going to blow up on you. For me I could not wear the mask any longer. Too tight. Too suffocating. Too frustrating that nothing was working. Too exhausting trying to make my own way.

Here's the thing, when God appeared to Abram, He already knew. You can't hide from the Eternal One. He knew what Abram would do when He made the original covenant with him. None of this was a surprise. Maybe it was a necessary part of Abram's learning to trust. Bowing on his face realizing he had just blown everything, expecting a firm rebuke, but instead getting an invitation to grace. Reading a little further in Genesis 17, God says "I have made you the father of many nations", it is already done. Your screw up does not change my plan.

That's my path and what I've learned about grace. I gave up everything. I was stupid and doing my own thing. Hacking my own path with a dull machete instead of walking the path Christ had already cut out. But God invited me back, to walk before Him and be perfect. Reminding me, or teaching me, to trust. Grace restores.

This experience of restoring grace is not unique to Abraham. It is my experience as well. My time in the desert is almost over. God is choosing to confirm my calling and restore my vocational ministry. It would be interesting to have God's foreknowledge and know now what He has made through me. Not until heaven.

My experience of grace has been humbling. Every step. I'm not perfect, nor will I be. (Abraham wasn't read on in Genesis). But I'm trusting, and that is exactly what God wants - for me to walk before Him so I can be perfect.