Two years ago, when I stumbled on a program that changed my life, I knew very little about the brain. I was sick then, very sick. This program, DNRS, told me I could undo years of chronic pain and suffering by re-wiring the pathways in my head. 

DNRS has five pillars, or core principles, but one of the most important is shifting focus away from symptoms. The symptoms of chronic illness – brain fog, fatigue, nausea, joint pain – are legion and affect every waking moment of your life. They’re also illusions. They aren’t real. They’re faulty signals your brain sends your body.

How is this possible? Well, the brain is vulnerable, especially in our modern world, as we’re exposed to more and more chemicals and moving at a faster pace and endure more stress, the brain can lose itself, unable to process the toxins and stress. It can go rogue, in other words, and assume things are harmful when they aren’t. 

The point of taking the focus away from symptoms is simple. Healing is not linear.

This is crucial to re-wiring your brain. If you assume healing is linear, you will become discouraged when you have a set back. And you will have setbacks. You will curse the day you found DNRS and throw a massive pity party. And that’s bad. 

Healing looks like this, the instructors said, and they threw up this picture. 

You can’t focus on your symptoms, they said. You must trust the process. If you implement the program, you will re-wire your brain. Your symptoms will go away. You will heal. But the process is not linear. You will have ups and downs. Stay the course. 

Alright, I said. That’s fine. No big deal. 

About six months into the program, I had my first setback. And, just like they said, I wanted to curse the day I found DNRS and throw myself a massive pity party. It was awful. I felt miserable. All the symptoms I endured before DNRS returned like they were pissed off about something, like I locked them in a cage without food or forced them to walk a crowded street naked. 

I stayed the course, though. I didn’t want to stay the course. I wanted to quit. But I remembered the photo above. I trusted the process. And, eventually, the symptoms went away.

GROWTH IS NOT LINEAR

We live in a culture that asks us to map out our lives, and tells us that if we do the right things, if we work hard and make good decisions, we will get everything we want. From a young age, teachers and parents ask us what we want to be when we grow up. Our culture asks us to pick a career for the entirety of our lives as teenagers, before we have a chance to live at all. It’s a ridiculous time in one’s life to make future decisions. But you must. And you must because in this culture it’s all about upward mobility. If you start on the path now, as the logic goes, the line on your life’s bar graph will reach the top faster. You soon discover, though, after a setback or two, that culture sold you a lie. 

Life is not linear.

Sometimes you move forward. Life hums along. Job is great. Family is healthy. Then, life happens, and you stop moving. You regress. You move backwards. Someone you love dies. You lose your job. Cancer strikes. You develop a chronic or mental illness. The list is endless.

Then there are other times still where it feels like you neither move backward nor forward. You’re stuck. You’re running in circles. Maybe you didn’t lose your job. But the one you have sucks, and you have no idea what to do about it. Maybe your spouse didn’t leave you. But your marriage is stale and lifeless, and there’s no end in sight. Maybe you have an amazing family, but your life feels purposeless. Seems delusional, but I’d rather move backward than stand still. Nothing is more disorienting than not moving at all.

In a culture where success and productivity are stand-ins for God, only one of the three things I mentioned above matters: moving forward. Moving backward and standing still are cousins to failure. They’re pointless and futile. You should avoid both at all costs. 

EVERY MOMENT MATTERS

But what if it all matters? Hint: it does. For those who trust God and desire to walk with him everyday, the setbacks matter just as much as the successes. It all matters. God uses all of it to mold and shape us into more loving and joy-filled people. God especially uses the loopty-loop seasons of life, because in these seasons we have no control and are therefore in the best position to trust someone other than ourselves. 

And trust is the word, here, the one I want you to remember. In this world, you will have trouble, Jesus said. You will lose yourself at some point in your journey. If you don’t, you aren’t trusting God. 

I want to say this respectfully, but if you meet every five and ten and twenty year plan for your life, I wonder whether you’re following God. You certainly aren’t taking any risks. You’re playing it safe, and that’s the opposite of living. There’s a kind of death people experience while still alive. It’s the death of your spirit, and it’s caused by fear and the status quo.

We want to believe life is linear, that every step inches upward. But it doesn’t. Sometimes you start over. Sometimes you endure a season of waiting. These seasons aren’t wasted time. You’re not losing or falling behind. God uses them.

Growth in all its forms, but particularly the spiritual kind, looks more like the picture above than a straight line. You will question yourself. You will become disoriented and maybe even depressed. You will suffer in ways you never thought possible. 

But do not give up. Trust the process. Show up everyday. Know that God is good because he is. The plans you have for your life are just that. Plans. Plans are fine. Sketch up the very best one you can. But know that it can and will and should change. 

I don’t know where you are on the timeline right now. I don’t guess it matters. If you are in a season where everything is going well, praise God. Two thumbs up. Trust God. If you are in a hard and difficult season and you feel like the world is moving one way and you’re moving the other, don’t lose hope. God is with you. If you’re lost right now, unsure about the direction of your life, meandering towards nowhere, stay the course. Be patient. Trust your Creator.

God works all things together for good. 

Grace and peace, friends.

Waiting rooms suck. One particular time, I found myself in a waiting room after my youngest son, Micah, slashed his ear on a bookshelf.

I walked into the ER at our local hospital around 10 a.m. Micah was in pain but handling the situation well. Meanwhile, I couldn’t stop staring at the cartilage and junk dangling from his ear. I nearly passed out. “If I can keep him calm for an hour or so,” I thought, “we’ll have his ear stitched and head back to the house.”

Five hours later, cartilage was still on the wrong side of his ear. And I was on the other side of happy.

Micah was now hurting and exhausted. I wanted to do something, anything, to help him. But I was at the mercy of a hospital who’s default pace was too frickin’ slow. We finally left the hospital at 6 p.m., nearly 8 hours after arriving.

Life has waiting rooms, too. Maybe you’ve spent time in one. I have. You might call this place the meantime, the wilderness, a season of transition or smelly arm pit.

Regardless, the waiting room is hard. Many of our “friends” are there. And by “friends” I mean pain, anxiety, confusion, anger. In life’s waiting room, you have doubts. You pray, but nothing happens. The world’s not crashing down, but your world is.

The waiting room often comes in the form of a diagnosis or being fired or losing your business. It’s the death of someone you love. It’s a spouse leaving or severe depression.

My experience in the meantime has included chronic illness, anxiety and failure, among others.

But I’ve learned a few things. Here are 6 important truths about the meantime.

1. God lives in the unknown. 

We’re a highlight-driven culture. That’s why we love shows like SportsCenter. It’s all about highlights. Only the most explosive dunks, longest home runs, and jaw-dropping goals make the cut. SportsCenter doesn’t show Steph Curry’s morning routine. Frankly, if it did, I wouldn’t watch. Neither would you. Who cares what he eats for breakfast? Just show him “making it rain” from the 3-point line.

Unfortunately, we buy the SportsCenter hype when it comes to life. The best moments are on the mountaintop. And we often equate God’s blessings with our current circumstances. If things are trending up, we feel blessed. But what about when life sucks? Not so blessed anymore.

In the meantime, you question God’s presence. Has He left me? Is He finished with me? Does He understand my confusion?

I need more highlights.

The truth is, God works in the meantime. Your life might appear more confusing than a junior high girl’s brain. But never equate confusion with absence. God restores order from chaos. He speaks when the world is silent. And he strengthens through pain.

Throughout Scripture, God reveals himself in the meantime. Abraham leaves his family and land, but God talks directly to him more than once. Jacob is forced to leave his family, but God meets him in the wilderness while he sleeps on a rock. A power-hungry king throws Daniel in a lions’ den. God sends an angel to shut the lions’ mouths.

God not only reveals himself in the meantime. He does so intimately. In Scripture, rather than sending signs, miracles or prophets (as he often does to communicate with his people), God appears to folks more directly. He isn’t absent in your struggle. He wants to reveal himself intimately.

Don’t get high on Instagram filters and SportsCenter highlights. God dwells in the unknown. Look for Him.

2. Living in the past is a death sentence. 

In the meantime, the past tempts you. It taunts you like a junior high bully. “You don’t know what you left behind. You made a huge mistake. God can’t be trusted. Come back here.”

Don’t listen.

Living in the past is a death sentence. Why? God, who is the only source of life, doesn’t live in the past.

God leads you towards the future. Always.

In Genesis 19, God spares Lot and his wife from Sodom and Gomorrah’s destruction. Before escaping, however, an angel gives them one command, “Do not look back or stop anywhere” (verse 17). Easy enough, right? Of course, it is…until God says this to you.

On the outskirts of their former home, Lot’s wife looks back. Immediately, she becomes a pillar of salt.

The angel’s message is a timeless warning that applies today. If you look back, you will die. You won’t turn into a pillar of salt, but regret, shame, and comparison will plague your life.

You must keep your eyes focused forward if you desire joy, peace, and hope. The past might be comfortable. It might be easy familiar. That’s why its screams are tempting. But the past is also void of God’s presence.

Your best days aren’t behind you. They’re ahead of you because God is there.

3. You might feel lonely. But you should never be alone. 

Loneliness and isolation aren’t the same. The first is inevitable in the meantime. The second isn’t. In previous seasons of waiting, Tiffani and I intentionally surrounded ourselves with people who prayed with and for us. While we struggled, we knew Christian community would sustain us. So, we sought it out.

I believe in community. If you don’t have one, the meantime will feel longer and more difficult. Christian community holds you up when you can’t stand. Christian community restores perspective when pain and chaos tempt you to throw in the towel.

Finding this community requires vulnerability on your part. But maybe vulnerability is the very thing God wants to refine. Regardless, don’t travel through the meantime alone.

4. You can’t manufacture your way out of the meantime.

I’m a fixer. I blame my engineering background. I’m convinced the impossible math equations, countless hours of homework and thousands of dollars spent had one purpose: teach me the art of problem-solving.

If you’re not an engineer, just blame America for your desire to fix things. We’re fixers. In this country, the best fixers have a corner office and a fat bank account.

But the skills that make Americans successful make the meantime crappier. There are no magic formulas in life’s waiting room. Brainstorming sessions and hard work usually lead to more problems.

Look, I’m not naive. I know there are “get out of the meantime faster” cheat codes. You can seek out pleasures – drugs, sex, shopping. You can get busy with futile planning, the kind that appeases your ego but serves no real purpose.

You see, my friends, in the meantime, God works. In you, yes. But he also goes ahead of you, cultivating the ground, preparing it for your next season. By-passing or minimizing your time in the waiting room only hurts you.

This is what happened to the Israelites in Deuteronomy 1. Moses sent spies into the Promised Land. After salivating over the choice fruits, they stumbled upon the natives. And these fools were large. So large, in fact, the spies forgot about the miracles and provision God showed them in the wilderness. Rather than trusting their Creator, they peed their pants, ran back to Moses and told lies about their time in the Promised Land. They did so hoping they would not have to return to the Promised Land where they would most assuredly pee their pants (again) and die.

The story goes on, though. After some time, the Israelites realized they made a mistake. They should have trusted God, regardless of the gargantuan nature of the peoples living in the Promised Land. So, they go forth, weapons in hand, to take possession of what is rightfully theirs.

The problem? God’s not there. And they get slaughtered. Oops.

Here’s the point. The Israelites tried to manufacture their way into the Promised Land. And you can’t manufacture God’s blessings or promises. God isn’t a dog. He won’t sit on your command, and He won’t cover your back just because you impatiently run ahead of his promises.

The meantime isn’t a place where God expects you to “do.” It’s a place he expects you to “be.” God does the work. Forcing your way out likely involves hurting yourself or someone else. It will always involve instant gratification. And it will never involve the presence of God.

5. Your emotions are legitimate, but they don’t define reality.

In the meantime, you will experience a spectrum of emotions, many of them dark. When they come, express them. If you need to cry, cry. If you have doubts, verbalize them. Don’t suppress your emotions, especially the hard ones. I know you want people to think you have it together, but you can’t selective suppress emotions. So, burying bad emotions (anger, frustration, despair, etc.) means you also bury good ones (joy, peace, love, etc.)

The path to bitterness is paved with buried emotions.

At the same time, your emotions can deceive you. Pain, despair, and anxiety have a way of blinding your perspective and drowning your hope. You’re lost right now. But God knows exactly where you are and what you feel. 

Emotions are great teachers. They reveal things to us – what we’re passionate about, what we love, etc. But emotions are terrible masters. You can’t allow feelings to define your reality. Let God do that.

6. God has a purpose for the meantime. 

You can’t imagine another day in the wilderness. “Will this ever end?” circulates through your mind like a 24-hour Ferris wheel.

The past five months, I’ve studied the Bible’s accounts of men and women in life’s waiting room. Some wait for years. Others wait for days or weeks. Regardless of the time frame, every person who encounters the meantime and lives to tell about it shares a common trait.

They refuse to give up.

Don’t throw in the towel. Don’t lose faith. Trust God. Yes, even in the meantime (especially in the meantime). He can be trusted.

In the meantime, the voices of evil say you will never find stability, joy or meaning. They say God has abandoned you. They want you to believe throwing in the towel is your best option.

God says he has a purpose for the meantime. This season won’t terminate on itself. You will reach the other side stronger and closer to Him.

If you’re in the meantime right now, I’m praying for you. It’s not easy. Change sucks. Unknown is uncomfortable. But don’t give up. This season is temporary. God is preparing the way for something great. And he’s making you more like Him.

If your life is going well right now, praise God! But the meantime is coming. Remember these truths.

Grace and peace, friends.

As the birthdays pile up, I find my passion waning. I used to have stores of energy. I was so excited about the future. I had an unwavering desire to see the good and beautiful. I desired change. I believed I could make the world a better place.

I was in my twenties, and I had mostly arrived there unscathed. Sure, I endured little sufferings, here and there, minor bumps and bruises. But nothing that required serious attention.

Then, my life fell apart. The first deep wound came when Tiffani discovered my addiction to porn. Was my marriage over? Would all my dreams drown in this ocean of sin, an ocean I built with my own hands? They didn’t. But I was changed by the ordeal. I was ashamed. I hurt someone I loved, and that hurt me.

Then, my body failed me. It failed me in spectacular fashion. It deserves a round of applause. In a few months, I went from healthy and running marathons to spending most of my time in the bed. Over the next several years, I lost so much. I lost almost everything. I had no idea why I was so sick. The unknown combined with the pain made my days unlivable. 

With God’s grace and much effort, I’ve resurrected my life from the ashes of despair. 

But I’m not the same person. No one endures suffering and stays the same. You change, for better or for worse. With every stab of life’s blade, the pull of skepticism becomes stronger. The wounds heal, but I still see the scars. I feel them, as I rub my fingers across the wounds of days past. I hate wounds. I hate pain. I don’t want to put myself out there and risk another blow to my soul. 

As a young pastor, I noticed that many of the elders and older Christians were skeptical about the younger generation, and about the world. 

“I was once like them, with all their passion and desire,” they would say. “Just give it time, eventually they will see.” 

I found this mindset frustrating. And troubling. These are the people we appointed to lead us towards the divine? They’re enslaved to cynicism. You can’t lead anyone in shackles. 

Are they not supposed to empower others with their years of wisdom? Had experience not revealed the myriad of ways God moves and heals and reveals himself? Had the years of walking with God not increased their desire and passion? 

It hadn’t. Time leached their optimism. I didn’t understand why. 

Now I do. 

After years of failure and suffering, I find the same cancer spreading in me. And, make no mistake, this mentality is cancerous. It’s evil. It’s anti-God, a disease that drains your soul. It retards your spiritual growth. It makes you bitter and angry and skeptical toward anything or anyone who threatens the status quo. You become the gatekeeper of nostalgia rather than a trail guide for the future. You think you’re duty to Christ is to protect people from failure rather than lead them on a journey towards God. 

What causes people to become cynical as they get older? Refusal to learn and grow from suffering. Suffering is a non-negotiable. You will experience it. How you respond to suffering determines who you become. 

I want to allow suffering to form and shape me deeper into the image of God. I refuse to allow suffering to fortress my heart and mind. So, how do you grow from suffering without becoming cynical?

Here are a few lessons I’ve learned the hard way, through experience.

1. Live in reality. 

When confronted with change, many people choose to live in a world that no longer exists rather than embrace the truth in front of them. They prefer the way things used to be. They refuse to live in reality. 

And when you refuse to live in reality, you can’t grow. You can’t experience God. So, all the things of God – love and joy and peace and hope – evaporate. And what fills the void? You got it. Cynicism.

What does it mean to live in reality? It means you see your life as it is, not as you would like it to be. It means looking yourself in the mirror and realizing you are the problem. It means living in this moment, right now. It means learning from the past, but never living in it. It means hope for the future, never anxiety. It means listening to the stories of real people. It’s an openness to change, to let go of any belief or perception that hinders the presence of God, that keeps you chained to the past. 

2. Embrace uncertainty.

Every person I’ve encountered who was cynical about my decisions or motives, had this thing in common: he or she knew, without a doubt, their way was the right way. I was wrong. No further questions necessary.

Suffering is supposed to shatter our certainties, to help us see that we don’t know. One of the sure signs that someone hasn’t grown from suffering: they’re always right. 

Certainty isn’t a spiritual virtue. Certainty isn’t from God. God is Mystery. In the Bible, when someone comes near to God, do they become more certain? No, they become unsure about, well, everything. They’re perplexed, bamboozled. As you grow near to God, you become less certain. In fact, you see certainty as unhelpful, unnecessary, a roadblock, a stumbling block. People who are close to God, who know God, don’t need certainty. They just need God. 

3. Never stop changing. 

When suffering and failure come, the temptation is to close down, to guard your heart and mind. But you can’t do this without also shutting down love and hope and joy. This is the great irony of suffering, that you must remain vulnerable if you want to enjoy capital-l Life. 

When hard times turn people cynical, it’s often because they build large walls to keep the pain away. They stop taking risks. They stop learning. They stop growing. These people think they must do this to protect themselves. This isn’t protection, though. This is spiritual suicide.  

4. Discover your true self. 

Thomas Merton once said, “There is only one problem on which all my existence, my peace and my happiness depend; to discover myself in discovering God. If I find him I will find myself, and if I find my true self I will find him.” 

Suffering is an invitation to find your true self. What is your true self? It’s the part of you that’s untainted, that’s whole and pure. It’s the part of you that doesn’t need to prove or attain. It’s not greedy or jealous. It’s not attached or addicted. It’s the part of you whose identity is Christ. 

Most people don’t discover their true self because the journey’s too hard. It involves looking at the man in the mirror and examining his motives. But this is the way we transform. It is the only way. This is why Jesus’s first sermon, in Matthew, began with “Repent.” Repent means to change your mind. Jesus tried to tell us. If you want to experience God, stop trying to change your circumstances. Change yourself.

Until then, you live in self-deception.

5. Develop a sense of wonder. 

Wonder is essential every good and life-giving virtue. Joy. Love. Hope. Peace. All of them hinge on wonder. Abraham Heschel says, “The beginning of our happiness lies in the understanding that life without wonder is not worth living. What we lack is not a will to believe but a will to wonder.” 

He’s right. He’s so right. 

Wonder is an awareness, a particular way of seeing the world that looks for God in all things, at all times. Even in the darkest moments, God is here. Maybe you don’t understand it. Maybe you can’t feel his presence. But you know the Divine in this moment. So, you know this moment has meaning.

You know people who develop a sense of wonder, don’t you? They have a different aura about them. The hopeful energy is tangible. You can feel it. These people never take themselves too seriously. They give to each moment exactly what it requires. They aren’t enslaved to the opinions of others. 

If the moment calls for grief, they grieve. If they moment calls for celebration, they celebrate. If the moment calls for silence, they don’t utter a word. 

Wonder is cynicism’s kryptonite. 

6. Only focus on what you can control. 

For years, I compared my suffering to others. I played the self-pity game. I asked God why my suffering was so much worse than the rest of the world. And you what happened? I suffered more. 

I’m learning now that it’s a waste of time and energy to focus on things I can’t control. 

Here’s what I can always control. My response. Always. I can’t control what happens to me. I can control how I respond. I can choose joy. I can choose love. No matter what. 

When suffering comes, you can choose self-pity. You can choose to play the victim. Or you can choose to find something good and meaningful and beautiful. Either way, the choice is yours. Just remember, your choice shapes your reality.

People who grow cynical don’t believe this. They don’t believe they have a choice. They’re caught in that vicious cycle of victimhood. They find their identity in comparison. This is not the way of Jesus, who walked all the way to the cross, without blaming or comparing or self-pitying. He didn’t waste energy on circumstances he couldn’t control. He focused on his response. He focused on love.

I want to follow the way of Jesus. 

__________

We don’t have to allow suffering to make us cynical. We can age without bitterness. We can allow years of heartbreak and failure to shape us into the image of God.

I want to become more like God. As the birthdays pile up, I want to become more loving, more hopeful. I hope you do too. 

Grace and peace, friends. 

When I was four or five, I thought I could fly. No, really. I started watching Superman. Clark Kent could do it. Why couldn’t I? I didn’t have a cape, though. Everyone knows the power is in the cape. So, I asked my grandmother to make me one. I showed her a picture of Superman’s cape. I told her I needed it to look exactly like the real thing. She said okay. 

A month later, the cape arrived on my front door. I ran my fingers across the large S, and imagined where I might visit the first time I placed the cape on my back, extended my arm in the air and began to fly.

I prepared my things. I put on red shorts and a blue shirt and tied the cape around my back. I pulled my Red Ryder wagon out of the garage and into the front yard. I climbed on top of the wagon, shuffled towards the rear, took two large steps, and then one giant leap. 

The ground never felt so hard. My lip and nose never hurt so bad. I cried, either from pain or disappointment. My whole world was shattered. I had big plans. I had lands to visit. I had lives to save. Why couldn’t I fly? What did I miss? I knew the answer was nothing. Sometimes reality welcomes you like a good friend and sometimes it hits you with the force of a thousand tons. 

I think we all have these moments, though, at different points in life, when we’re so sure about something only to have life bloody our lip and force us to reassess. Life is hard. This is one of the truest maxims of being human. You go full steam towards something – a marriage, a job, etc. – never thinking this something might fail. Then, it does. 

Sometimes, this happens with faith. There was a time when I was so sure about everything. That wasn’t too long ago. I was sure about God. I was sure about my church. Life hummed along like a Mary Poppins song. I walked around with bravado.

Then, I received my first bloody lip. A pastor at the church where I worked sat me down and told me he was worried about my family’s salvation. My theology, he said, was flawed, and if I didn’t change, I might not live with God forever. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This man knew me. He knew my heart. I wasn’t even sure what part of my theology he was talking about. I thought I was mainline. I was. 

Slowly, my faith began to unravel. It felt like death. Once again, I was plopped against the side of my Red Ryder wagon, lip bloodied. Here’s the thing about falling down, though. You can get back up with a clearer, truer sense of reality. When I got up from my Red Ryder wagon as a five-year-old, I knew I would never fly. And, over time, I came to accept my limitations. I could live in a truer, more meaningful reality. And so it is with faith. 

What is transformation?

Christian folks talk a lot about transformation. It’s a buzz word. It’s also a mysterious word. What does it mean? How do you transform? I think we know the answer, but we don’t like it, so we search for something more palatable, an answer that’s easier to digest. Transformation is quite simple: it’s when something old falls away. Transformation is when you let go of something you’re addicted to, something that used to serve you, guide you, move you along in life, like a set of beliefs. 

We don’t like that, though. We don’t like letting go, do we? I don’t. It feels like death. It is death, in a sense. At some point, however, life will force you to let go, to re-examine your worldview, your theology, your perceptions of God. How you respond in these moments determines the quality of your days moving forward. Will you kick and scream and become bitter? Will you scratch and claw to protect this outdated worldview? Or will you let go and transform? Will you release your grip on certainty and embrace a new way forward. 

Through a lot of hard work, that’s what I did. I decided to let go of some old, outdated parts of my faith. I want to share some of these things. Now, understand, you might not agree with what I’m about to say. That’s okay. I’m not the ultimate authority, and I leave open the possibility that I’m not right. Correctness is a silly goal to pursue anyway. 

Here are 8 things I used to believe about being a Christian.

1. We are inherently sinful.

The Bible begins in Genesis 1, not Genesis 3. In Genesis 1, God creates man, look down on him, and says he is good. And that’s what we are. At our core, we are love. We are created in the image of God. 

Original sin is a shame-based identity. It’s a proclamation about who you are, a proclamation that runs counter to who God has already claimed you to be. You are NOT born sinful. Every inclination in your heart is NOT towards wickedness. 

You are good. You are holy. You are love. 

Original sin is a mockery to God. It tells God that what he creates is inherently flawed. We should repent for believing such a thing. Sure, we make mistakes. We sin. But sin is NOT our identity. 

2. God is male. 

Can we agree that God is outside of gender? Sure, God is male. But God is also female. God is also neither male nor female. We use these terms to help us make sense of God. In reality, though, God is beyond language. God is outside of words. 

Why does this matter? It matters because a male-dominated image of God has limitations, especially if, like me, you have a large father wound. For a long time, I thought God was distant and angry. I thought that because of my experience with my father. If my Christian community had taught me that God is nurturing and attentive and caring, maybe I wouldn’t have spent so many years fighting with my Creator. Maybe I wouldn’t have spent so much of my life afraid of God, running around trying to prove myself. 

Our image of God shapes who we become. I believe God is male. I also believe God is female. We need both images if we hope to become whole.  

3. The Bible is the primary revelation of God.

I no longer believe the Bible is the primary revelation of God. I believe creation is the primary revelation of God. Creation existed long before sacred texts. For many, many years, God’s people didn’t have anything resembling the Bible. They had creation and each other and that was enough. 

When creation is the primary revelation of God, we’re more attuned to reality. We’re more connected to one another. We look for God in the world, which is the point of the Bible anyway, to remind us that regular people can hear from God in life-changing ways. 

I love the Bible. But I don’t want to become a Christian who knows the Scriptures inside and out, but has no idea how to interact with God in the world. What have I gained if I can recite large swaths of Matthew, but I don’t care about the plight of my neighbor? 

4. Complementarianism is God’s design for men and women.

Complementarianism says men and women have separate, but equal roles. That’s not true, though. The roles given to women, according to this view, are mostly secondary roles, helping and aiding men. Women are under men and must submit to them. 

I’ve listened to and learned from too many gifted women teachers to believe women can’t lead. They can, and they should. We hamstring the coming of God’s kingdom when we refuse to allow women to teach and lead. How different might our churches look today if we never adopted this view? They would be healthier, more balanced and nuanced. 

God’s kingdom shouldn’t recognize gender roles. God doesn’t recognize male or female, as Paul says in Galatians 3. I’m not the head of my household. Tiffani and I share leadership and parenting roles. She’s not under me. I’m not under her. We work together. Sometimes she leads because she’s more suited for it. Sometimes I lead. 

Biblical headship and submission aren’t things. Christian patriarchy made them things. We can say this view gives men and women equal roles, but it doesn’t. This view keeps men in power. It keeps men on top.

5. Heaven and hell are future destinations.

Much of the Christian imagination centers on what happens after you die. That’s a great strategy for building large churches. It’s not a great strategy for growing people into the image of God. Why? It’s based on fear. And fear can’t transform. So, you have a lot of people who spend the entirety of their lives thinking they’re worshipping God, but they’re actually worshipping their anxiety. You know this because these people never change, and they protect doctrines and institutions above all else. 

Also, when heaven and hell are future destinations, you don’t care about the actual world. You don’t care about preserving creation (it’s all gonna burn) or fighting against injustice (God will take care of that on the last day). End Times Christians live in self-preservation mode, and that’s the anti-thesis of God’s design.

The Bible doesn’t spend much time talking about the afterlife. Jesus didn’t talk it much. Neither did Paul or Peter or John. The writers of Scripture were much more interested in how you live right now. Heaven and hell are realities you can experience in this very moment. You can choose to embrace joy and peace and love. You can also choose cynicism and pride and lust. Everyday. The choice is yours. 

6. Evangelism is the primary purpose of a Christian’s life. 

I used to believe the goal of being a Christian was to convert as many people as possible. When I worked at a church, the number of people I baptized was a metric (the metric?) for the success of my ministry. 

Over time, I’ve come to realize that I was just converting people to my way of seeing Jesus. Much of evangelism is an ego trip, a pride-filled quest to see how many people you can convince. It takes no interest in the well-being of people, apart from their eternal status with God. Evangelism doesn’t invest in people. It’s not concerned with wholeness. It doesn’t care if Sally needs money to feed her family or if Jim abuses his wife. All that matters is that you say this prayer or get dunked. Then, we move onto the next person. This seems like the opposite of how Jesus went about his ministry. Jesus cared for the whole person. He did take away sins, but he also healed.

I still believe in evangelism in the sense that I still talk about God to other people, like I’m doing here. But I no longer need to convert anyone. I just need to share how God has shaped my life, and I’ll let God handle the rest. 

7. Going to church is essential to spiritual growth.

When I was really sick, I didn’t go to church for two years. I couldn’t. I was triggered by smells and chemicals and past wounds. If I went to church, I would spend several days in bed. During that time, I learned how to find God in new and different ways. I saw God in creation, in the trees and flowers outside my home. I saw God in simple things, like the beating of my heart, the breath in my lungs. I re-imagined how I encounter God, and I felt closer to my Creator than I ever had. 

I love the church. I’m thankful for the community of God. But I also know some people can’t attend church. Abuse or trauma or disability keeps them away. If you’re in this boat, I understand. I’ve been there. You can still grow spiritually. Look for God where you are. Do the work necessary to heal. Find a few people you love and trust, if you can. 

But don’t listen to the voices of shame. Don’t pay attention to people who would make you believe you’re not a real Christian. Those are the voices of power and privilege. 

8. Christianity is the only true religion.

Christianity is a beautiful expression of God’s love and faithfulness. Christianity, however, doesn’t own the deed to Truth. Truth is universal. Even if I believe Christianity presents the clearest, most holistic picture of salvation and hope and healing – and I do – I also believe I can learn something about God from voices outside of my faith. 

This isn’t about accepting other religions. This is about a mindset that stays open and curious, that refuses to tell God where he can and can’t reveal himself.

Sometimes we get too attached to words. Here’s something that’s true: anywhere you see love, you see God, whether that something is Christian or not. Buddhists and Hindus and even atheists can teach me something about God, if I have the eyes to see. 

________

We create boxes for God, and God wants to lead us out of them. This feels like dying. God calls it transformation. It takes courage and perseverance. You must be willing to embrace anxiety and discomfort. But, on the other side of transformation, you experience a new and better life.

I feel more peace and joy than I ever have in my life. I feel more connected to creation and to humanity. I feel less need to prove or convince. That’s the beauty of transformation. 

Grace and peace, friends. 

It was a Sunday morning. I sat on my boys’ bed, trying to think of something to say. The day didn’t start well. Noah and Micah both said unkind words to their mom. Sometimes kids wake up moody – fortunately adults grow out of this. 

“Do you know why I love to write?” I said. 

Silence. They didn’t know. Micah, forever seeking to lighten the mood, finally spoke up. 

“Because you want to be famous and buy a mansion.” 

Now, I was silent. Micah was right, about the famous part, at least. I’m sure I’m drawn to writing because it’s my ticket to being noticed. I also know that Micah talks a great deal about being famous and owning a mansion. And I often wonder if that means I’ve failed as a parent.

“I write,” I said, “because I believe in the power of words. The words we say or don’t say impact people. I want to use my words for good. I want both of you to do the same. “

Words are powerful. That’s why I write. That’s why I sit down at my desk and do battle with the blinking cursor. It’s hard work. I once heard someone say writing burns calories, and that makes sense if you’ve ever tried it. Writing exhausts you, physically and mentally. But what writing takes from the body, it returns to the soul. After I write, my soul feels nourished. I feel alive, more in tune with God and creation. 

WORDS HAVE WEIGHT

Words are transformative. In Genesis, God creates the heavens and the earth, the animals and the trees, with words. He speaks creation into existence.

When the Savior of the world becomes one of us, John describes him as the Word. Words create. Words redeem. Words restore.

Dabar is Hebrew for “word.” The ancient peoples believed words had weight. They had actual substance, like brick or gold or silver. They believed you could create realities with your words. Words could literally build mountains or destroy worlds. World could create civilizations or tear them down. How silly, right?  

We fancy ourselves enlightened and advanced. But I think the ancient peoples knew something about words we have forgotten. 

WORDS CREATE WORLDS

When Hitler tried to take over the world, how did he do it? Not with force. He did it with words. Most historians agree Hitler was one of the greatest communicators the world has ever seen. With his words, he awakened the imagination of a country. He manipulated them to believe they were superior. Hitler’s words led to the death of sixty million people. Do you see it? 

When Abraham Lincoln met Harriet Beecher Stowe, he said, “So you’re the little woman who wrote the book that made this great war.” The book was Uncle Tom’s Cabin and the war was, of course, the Civil War. Lincoln recognized the power of words to mobilize people. 

When Martin Luther King grew tired of watching his people mistreated at the hands of a toxic and unjust system, how did he go about changing it? That’s right, with his words. He used words to lay the foundation for a new world, a better world. 

I could go on, but what’s the point? If you don’t see it by now, you won’t ever see it. Words create worlds. Without the words of Hitler and MLK, our physical world would look much different, for better or for worse. The Hebrews had it right. Words have weight. They have substance. We can use them to create, to build up. We can also use them to destroy, to tear down. 

SATAN CARES ABOUT WORDS

I’m not sure how Satan works. If a singular evil force does exist, though, I’m sure that force cares about words. Satan knows the power of words. One of Satan’s great tasks is to make you believe words don’t matter. So, he floods your consciousness with a never-ending stream of words, most of them meaningless and insignificant, until you operate in a reality where words no longer matter. Social media is a great tool for Satan.

In a world like this, the caretakers of words – the pastors, authors, poets – move to the margins of society. Religion becomes shallow and superficial, a means to promote an agenda rather than confront the deeper realities of God. When we attend church, we get nothing from it. We’re bored, uninterested. We’re too drunk on the words we ingested beforehand. The inevitable result of a world like this is disconnection, from one another and from God. A fractured, ungrounded society.

What I just described sounds eerily like the world in which we live. Is Satan winning the war on words? We need to resurrect the power of words from the tomb of social media timelines and 24/7 attachment to technology. We’re drowning in a sea of meaningless words. Drowning.

WHAT KIND OF WORLD WILL YOU CREATE WITH YOUR WORDS

You have a great and powerful gift. How will you use it? What kind of world will you build with your words? Will you construct a world woven with beauty and hope and love? When people come into your presence, will they rest in the atmosphere of your world? Do you know someone like this? I do. When you meet someone who has created something special with their words, you feel it, don’t you? You don’t want to leave their presence. You feel loved. Rested. Secure. Your heart opens. Your anxious mind rests.

You can be one of these people. No special talent is required. Just begin to use your words to build up, to encourage, to heal, to make others feel loved. You must be intentional. Building a world where others feel safe requires work and effort. But just imagine the reward from your work. Real, actual lives transformed.

But you can also use your words to create a world of fear and shame and cynicism. You probably know people who do this as well. When you’re in the presence of these people, hopes fades. You leave worse than you came. And maybe you didn’t understand why. But now you do. This isn’t an accident. These people built this world, intentionally. When you enter the presence of a world like this, you change. You have no choice. This is why good parents tell kids to choose friends wisely. And why mature adults do the same thing. The very presence of some people can shrink your soul. 

Much of what is wrong with our culture today has to do with our negligence of words. We have this great power, the power that formed the world, on the tips of our tongues. If every single human from America to Asia decided this very moment and every moment moving forward to only speak words of Life, evil would disappear. This new world would choke out rape, abuse, theft, and every form of brokenness.

Right now, you can alter the trajectory of your spouse’s life with your words. With your words, you can build a God-consciousness in your kids, a consciousness that will alter generations to come. You can transform the culture in your home, at your workplace, your church, with your words. Words have weight. Words create worlds. What kind of world are you creating with your words?

I want to use my words to create a world where love lives, where the presence of God is oxygen. I think you do too. We can transform the world. We can resurrect humanity from the tombs of loneliness and shame and fear. We can do it with our words. Let’s start today.

Grace and peace, friends. 

When I started in ministry, I was clueless. I had passion, but no foundation. I didn’t tell the elders this before they hired me. I made them believe I knew much more than I did. I wanted the job, and I trusted my desire to learn. I would figure it out.

Part of figuring it out was sitting down with the senior pastor. I did this as often as I could. He taught me practical things, like how to interact with people at a hospital and how to prepare a sermon, things like that. He taught me about God, too, but he mostly trained me on the nuts and bolts of ministry. I do, however, remember one theological conversation with haunting clarity. I remember it because his words opened my eyes to the god of shame. 

It went like this. As we sat around talking about heaven, I asked him what he thought heaven would look like. He went on about pearly gates and shining figures and worship songs to God on repeat. I listened and nodded, but inside I wondered if heaven was really this way. I hoped not, if I’m honest. How many times can you sing I Can Only Imagine before you get bored? Five, six tops. He carried on for sometime, and then all of a sudden he stopped and stared out the window and took a deep breathe and said, “I just hope I’ve done enough to get there.” His demeanor shifted as he uttered these words, like a bully just stole his lunch money. 

I was bamboozled. Bewildered. Flabbergasted. I sat there in the kind of silence you might feel after seeing your mom naked. I couldn’t believe what he said. “I just hope I’ve done enough to get there?” 

There must be more to the Christian experience than striving and striving only to hope we’ve done enough to make it into Glory. I can tell you from conversations with many people and with the man in the mirror, the god of shame looms large in our consciousness. I left the g lower case. Did you notice that? That’s because the god of shame is no God at all. It’s evil masquerading as light, and for too long we’ve allowed shame to hold the brush and paint our image of God. 

We don’t have to settle for this, though. Shame derives much of its power from silence. It’s a covert, stealthy little devil that does most of its work in the sewers, in the bowels of our hearts and minds. We begin to overcome shame by talking about, by calling it out, like I’m doing here, and like I hope you will do in your corner of the world. Shame and God are incompatible, like peanut butter and any flavor of jelly besides grape. If you put strawberry or apricot jelly on your peanut butter sandwich, you’re a monster and need professional help. I’m joking. Kind of. 

I want to highlight some symptoms of shame we might not recognize in the hopes that we will tear down this false god and begin the necessary work of healing. 

Here are 7 subtle signs of shame. 

1. Perfectionism

Perfectionism stunts emotional and spiritual growth. Perfectionists fear mistakes, and they believe failure is an indictment on their identity. These people create an unattainable, unrealistic ideal for their lives, and maintaining this illusion requires of lot of mental and physical resources. Perfectionist rarely add anything new or meaningful to the world because they fear their contribution isn’t good enough. 

Perfectionism is hopelessly addictive, too, a vicious, snowballing cycle of shame. The cycle begins when you make a mistake. When you do, you feel small and unworthy. You beat yourself up, and to avoid such feelings in the future, you conclude you must try harder to avoid imperfection. So you double down on your efforts, and now the cycle is in full swing and continues gathering steam until you’re entire existence is riddled with blame and doubt and cynicism and low self-worth. 

I know this cycle all too well. I’m a recovering perfectionist. I struggle everyday with this little devil. And that’s one reason I write, to exercise my demons, to remind myself that good enough is okay. Good enough is more than okay. It’s courageous. It’s an act of worship, an acknowledgement that only God is perfect, which frees me to be good enough.

Perfectionism promises to protect you from rejection. It promises to keep the negative emotions away. But it never delivers on its promise. Never. 

2. Scarcity

Scarcity is a fear-based belief of not having enough. Scarcity says I must hold back some piece of myself, whether financially, emotionally or physically, because I might not have enough tomorrow. When scarcity is in charge, communities circle the band wagons and rally around likemindedness. They refuse to entertain new ideas or ask new questions. They hoard time and energy and resources, and they mistrust anyone who doesn’t look and think like they do. 

In relationships, scarcity says I can’t give everything to you because you might hurt me. Scarcity reveals a lack of trust, and it’s the enemy of healthy marriages. Intimacy, which is the ultimate sign of thriving relationships, is impossible with scarcity. 

Scarcity will make your world shallow and your God distant. Give up the lie that you don’t have enough. You have everything you need, right now, to love your spouse and your kids and your church and your God. You have an abundance, in fact, because you serve a God who freely gives. 

3. Legalism

Legalistic and rigid Christian communities are built on shame. Legalism would have you believe that you must get it right, and if you don’t, you’re in big trouble. In a culture like this, you can’t change. You can’t ask questions. The ultimate goal is conformity, not freedom. God can’t exist inside a culture of conformity.

Just the other day, someone sent me a message and said they were concerned for my soul because of something I said on Facebook. They shot me verse after verse trying to convince me to change my thinking, so I wouldn’t burn in hell. This is typical of legalism. Any view that doesn’t align with theirs is threatening. 

You can’t grow spiritually when you paint reality in black and white. God is found in the grey areas, outside the gates of our certainty.

4. Hurry

I’m convinced we’re addicted to going fast and never slowing down because we’re trying to outrun our insecurities. We think if we stay busy enough, for long enough, we will never have to reckon with the realities resting just below the surface of our souls. What are those realities? I don’t know. But I do know they’re all tentacled to shame. 

God instructs us to be still, so we can know him. But we’re afraid that in our stillness, we’ll discover that we’re angry or unworthy of love or terrified of disconnection. So, we choose to go faster and pretend those emotions don’t exist, and this is exactly what shame would have us do.

Yes, if you slow down, you might have to wrestle with some demons. But here’s the thing you realize: demons derive their power from distance, and once you become intimate with them, you have the power to defeat them. And on the other side, you find peace and wholeness.

5. Refusal to establish boundaries

One of the best lessons I learned from my chronic illness was the importance of saying no. The Sacred No is a holy and courageous act in a culture where saying no appears selfish. 

Christians are especially vulnerable because we’ve been taught to serve others, even at the expense of our own well-being. It’s okay to give until your gone. You’re following in the footsteps of Christ, are you not? 

No, you’re not. Jesus had boundaries. He retreated from the crowds. He told people no. Jesus never sacrificed his values for others. Refusing to establish boundaries comes from the fear of disconnection and the belief that you aren’t important. 

God isn’t glorified if you serve the whole world but lose yourself in the process. The man in the mirror is the greatest gift you have. Take care of this gift. 

6. Lack of integrity

Brene Brown says, “Integrity is choosing courage over comfort; choosing what is right over what is fun or easy; and choosing to practice our values rather than simply professing them.” 

Many Christians mistake rules and loyalty for integrity. We sacrifice our integrity on the altar of the institution. We refuse to speak to truth to power, and the casualties are the marginalized and the oppressed. 

True integrity brings with it the risk of disconnection. That’s why most people subtle for a cheap alternative, like rule following or morality, a proxy for integrity without the fear of loss. Cheap substitutes, however, are just that. They don’t give you the benefits of the real thing. People who live with real integrity are vulnerable and joyful and have an authentic connection with humanity and a deep desire for wholeness. People who settle for cheap substitutes are often fearful and resentful and close-minded. The disconnect between their core values and their life choices forces them to numb their hearts and minds. Numbing is a red flag that you’ve sacrificed your integrity for some lesser god, like comfort or fitting in.

If you pursue integrity, you will experience pain and loss. But you will also experience transformation and a deep connection with God. 

7. Co-dependency

Co-dependency is the inability to define yourself apart from another person. It’s the by-product of low self worth and fear of disconnection, both of which are offsprings of shame. In our culture, even in Christian cultures, we seem to champion this sort of behavior, two people who are inseparable, who have no idea who they are apart from the other. If you don’t know who you are without your partner, you’re in a parasitic relationship, not a healthy one. 

True love grows inside a relationship between two independent people who could live separately but choose to live together.

True love grows inside a relationship between two independent people who could live separately but choose to live together. Relationships like this can flourish because both sides are free to express themselves. Inside a relationship like this, you find authenticity and transparency and accountability because neither person fears disconnection. Neither person forces the other to conform to their own expectations, but each side gives freedom to allow the other to become the man or woman God created them to be. 

______

Shame is dangerous. It erodes our souls and keeps us small. But we don’t have to settle for shame. We can overcome it. We can choose a better way forward. Though shame will always exist because it’s part of being human, we don’t have to allow shame to run the show. We serve a God who’s greater than shame. May we have the courage to do the hard work of healing. 

Grace and peace, friends.