In the aviation world, they have a rule called the 1 in 60 rule. Maybe you’re familiar with this rule. I know nothing about flying airplanes (or, “large choo-choos,” as I called them when I was a wee lad), so this rule is new to me. The 1 in 60 rule says that for every one degree a plane goes off-course, that plane will miss its target by one mile for every 60 miles it travels. That means, for example, if I board a big choo-choo in Birmingham headed for, say, NYC, and my plane is one degree off course, we will miss our target by 16 miles. My plane would end up parked in the Atlantic rather than La Guardia, in other words. 

Now, maybe you aren’t an engineer like me and don’t share my affinity for numbers – I geeked out on these calculations for an hour – but you should. One degree of change is a small, minuscule, infinitesimal change. But, over time, this small, minuscule, infinitesimal change creates a large change. A change that is hard to notice becomes one that makes international news. 

The same is true with life. Every day, we make decisions that steer our life one way or another. One degree shifts that guide our life towards a destination. No one wakes up one day and realizes their marriage is on the rocks. Whether a marriage thrives or dies depends on small decisions that occur over a long period of time. 

Don’t like that example? Here’s another. Does a persistent anxiety (not the clinical kind, but the unrest, uneasiness kind) hover over your life? Where did it come from? You didn’t used to feel like this? What’s wrong? 

Think small. When you wake up, how do you start your day? Do you grab that electronic box and scroll social media or read the latest news? Seems like a small thing, right? You only look for a minute, maybe two. But, over time, you’re sending a signal to your medulla oblengata, a signal that’s rooted in fear and scarcity. A drop every day, and eventually the buckets overflows. You see what I’m saying? 

I call these small decisions microhabits. I didn’t come up with that term. I’m merely hijacking it (aviation pun not intended, I promise). Microhabits are like compounding interest. You do them for a long period of time, with no tangible change. Then, like an explosion, change happens. 

Microhabits can be good or bad. You have them right now, lots of them, and these small habits shape your life. In fact, I believe your life is the sum of your microhabits. 

I want to talk about some microhabits that can transform your life. These are small, insignificant decisions that could alter the trajectory of your life. If you keep at these for days and weeks and months, you will transform your life. You will find yourself becoming the person you always thought you could be. 

Here are 9 microhabits that will transform your spiritual life. 

1. Read one Bible verse and meditate on it. 

Too often, reading Scripture is another item to mark off our to-do list. Read three chapters of Matthew. Done. Scripture has no effect on our lives when we approach it this way. If the Bible is the inspired word of God, then we need to breathe in each and every word we read. 

Take Matthew 22:37, for example. 

“Jesus said, ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’

There’s enough meat on them bones to feast for weeks. What does it mean to love the Lord with all your heart? Stop. Close your eyes. Really think. What is the state of your heart? Do you feel shame? Why? Is there some area of your heart where you’ve refused to let God in? What might it look like to give ALL of your heart to God?

You can make excuses for not reading three or four chapters. But you can’t make an excuse for not reading one. 

2. No technology for 30 minutes after you wake up. 

I should say an hour, but this is a post about microhabits, so we’ll set the bar low. 

A study from IDC research said 80% of smart phone users check their phone within 15 minutes of waking up. This is too high. 

If you check your phone as soon as you wake up, you allow the opinions and agendas of other people to dictate your day. You alert stress hormones in your brain. You prime your brain for distraction. 

What you do in the first moments of your day lay the foundation for that day. Start with a strong foundation. Be pro-active. 

Here’s a shortlist of things you can do instead of check your phone: 

Read. 

Go for a walk.

Cook breakfast. 

Pray.

Talk to your spouse. 

Listen to a podcast or audiobook. 

Take a long shower. 

3. Before you go to sleep, focus on one positive experience for at least 15 seconds. 

You have the power, just by focusing your thoughts, not only to change the chemistry in your brain, but to alter your DNA. 

God designed the brain this way. But change doesn’t come easily. Our brains have a built-in negativity bias, so if you want a positive experience to transform your brain, you must focus on it for an extended period of time (at least 15 seconds). And you need uninterrupted silence. 

I find the best time to do this is right before I go to sleep. I close my eyes, think about one positive experience from the day, and allow that experience to sink deep into my bones. I tie that experience to an emotion (like gratitude) and let that emotion flow through every limb and organ. 

This is a short, simple exercise that will transform your life. 

4. Entertain one new thought or idea. 

In a world where everyone lives in a self-erected echo chamber, empathy dies. And without empathy, humanity has no chance. I once heard someone say that humans can never call into question more than 1 percent of their current worldview (thoughts about themselves, political views, theology, etc.). That’s part of the problem with deconstruction. It’s a firehose of new ideas all at once, which causes the existing structure to crumble to the ground, leaving you disoriented and cynical. 

But you can listen to one opposing view on one part of your worldview every day. This isn’t about deconstructing faulty beliefs. This is about listening to someone else’s story. This is about recognizing our shared humanity, that we’re all part of the larger Story. 

This is about nurturing empathy, the oxygen of love, the bedrock of human connection and flourishing. 

5. Exercise for 5 minutes. 

Exercise is essential to health, which means it’s essential to spiritual well-being. How we take care of our bodies reveals what we believe about God. Exercise is one way we take care of our bodies. 

Exercise improves mood, boosts energy, reduces the risk of almost every disease known to man, and promotes better sleep. In my own life, I’ve found that exercise, even in short bursts, connects me with God by untangling the web of thoughts and emotions that build throughout the day. It re-centers me. It grounds me. 

To receive the benefits of exercise, you don’t need to run a marathon. Five minutes of walking will do just fine. 

6. Go to bed 30 minutes earlier. 

Or 15 minutes. Just go to bed earlier than you do right now. This isn’t a self-help exercise. Sleep is a spiritual exercise. And our lack of it reveals our inability to trust God. 

I love this verse in Psalm 127:2. “In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat—for he grants sleep to those he loves.” 

These words remind me that I’m not in control, that sleep reflects trust in God. It says I don’t have to do it all, know it all, solve every problem. I can rest.

We don’t get enough sleep, and our lack of sleep is eroding our health. Study after study proves this. More than anything, though, making the decision to go to bed earlier shows that you believe God is in control. 

7. Do one thing for someone other than yourself. 

When I was healing from a chronic illness, one of the core components of healing was to find ways to help other people. That’s crazy, right? How can helping others heal a chronic illness? 

Studies prove that serving can reduce chronic pain and increase happiness. It can even help you live longer. Why? Helping others connects you with a larger purpose. It reminds you that you exist for something more than meeting your own needs. It fosters a mindset of abundance, not scarcity. It connects you with humanity and with creation and with God. 

Start small. Pick up a piece of trash on the side of the road. Put up the dishes. Donate to a charity. Do one thing every day. And your life will improve.

8. Make your bed. 

Now, some might think I’m stretching it with this habit, and maybe I am. But I don’t think so. 

Again, I’ll refer to my own experience. As I began to heal from years of chronic illness, making the bed was one of the first habits I implemented. 

Here’s why. Making your bed sends a signal to your brain that you are in control of your day, not the voices and opinions of others. That you believe in the power of focusing on the small, insignificant matters in your day. That you will live this day with intention. That you will be thoughtful and responsible. That God gave you this day, which means you have a purpose. 

It’s a small thing that can have a huge impact on your life. 

9. Tell one person that you love them. 

Do you tell your spouse you love him or her? Your kids? Your parents and friends? You should. Everyday. So, today, and every day moving forward, make sure you say, ”I love you” to at least one person. Shoot them a quick text.

This is a habit about living without regret and recognizing that everyday is a gift from God, and being loved is the greatest of all gifts. 

_________

Microhabits are the key to capital-l Life. If you don’t like these, find your own. The number of microhabits you can implement outnumber the sand grains in the Sahara. Find the ones that make you a better, more loving person. And start them today. 

Grace and peace, friends. 

Two years ago, I found DNRS. You don’t know what DNRS is, but I’m about to tell you. It’s a program for people who suffer with all manner of chronic illnesses. The principles of DNRS healed me, a miracle of the highest order, I assure you. Just ask the fifty doctors I frequented from all over the globe, some of whom considered the very best in their field, none of whom could identify the foundation of my plight. 

DNRS could, though. The source was a brain gone haywire. After years of immense suffering, I began to heal within weeks.

How is this possible? Neuroplasticity. That’s a clunky word. I know. It just means your brain has the ability to change itself. It means that you can quite literally transform your life by shifting the thought patterns in your brain. 

One of the first and most important things you learn in DNRS is that your identity never changes, regardless of how you feel or the circumstances around you. At your core, my instructors said, you are healthy. This is who you are. You don’t feel healthy. I didn’t. I felt awful, in fact. I felt like I got run over by a regular bus and a larger bus, at the same time. How could I feel this bad and be healthy? 

I was healthy because health is an inherent right of mine and yours. Just like love and joy and peace. They are my identity. We often get wrapped up in feelings. We assume because we feel something, it must be true. It is not true, though. Feelings are not facts. Feeling are neither good nor bad. We choose what to do with them, how we respond to them. Do we accept them as truth or call out their lies? 

I assumed because I felt miserable I was unhealthy. The pain, however, was the result of a bad signal in my brain, and I could re-wire my brain by changing the story I told myself. 

Your brain changes based on the stories you tell yourself. On one level, I don’t know why God designed the brain this way and I intend to ask him when I see him. I intend to ask God a lot of questions, in fact. I have a running list. I’ve asked Tiffani to place the list in my casket so I will have it on the other side. If, for example, you suffered from trauma at a young age, the stories you tell yourself about people and the world are hard to unlearn. The brain locks these stories deep in its core, and you will need a lot of good therapy and courage to change them. This seems unfair. The good news, though, is that you aren’t enslaved to your stories. On another level, though, this makes total sense. The fact that our brains can change means we have the opportunity everyday to choose heaven or hell, life or death. The choice is ours, and only ours. We’re not shackled to our circumstances.

For years, I allowed my circumstances to write my story. I settled for a story that made me a shell of the human God created me to be. Never settle for a story like this. 

God created you to live a great and wonderful story. So, if you’re not living the life you want, change the narrative. Tell yourself a different story. That’s what I did. And, almost overnight, my life began to change. 

It sounds too easy and self-helpish. I know. But it’s not. It was Paul who told us hundreds of years ago to take our thoughts captive and make them obedient to Christ. He didn’t know the science behind his words, but he knew, based on his experience, that you can alter the course of your life by refusing to allow your thoughts to form your steps. 

So, what stories are you telling yourself that are not true? What thoughts marinate in your mind that are not from your Creator? 

What are you not telling yourself that you should? Who do you want to become? Do you want to become a leader in your church? Your family? Do you want to love people with a greater passion? Do you want to learn and grow in your faith? Do you want to stop judging people or living in fear? Are you tired of swimming in a pool of shame? 

Then change your story. Tell your brain what you want it to become. If you are tired of living in addiction, for example, then tell yourself everyday that you aren’t an addict and that you’re stronger than the thing that holds you down, and then act accordingly. If you want to love your spouse more deeply, tell your brain that your spouse is beautiful and you are thankful to God for him or her and that your love for them will never die. 

Maybe you don’t feel that way right now. That’s fine. Remember, just because you feel something doesn’t mean it’s true. Sometimes, your brain sends you false signals. You have the power to over-ride them. The truth is you love your wife. You love your husband. Regardless of what you feel. 

Again, we’re not talking about self-help here. This is God stuff. God designed our brain. And he designed it to change. 

I won’t lie to you and tell you this is easy. It sounds easy. But it’s very hard. Interrupting years of toxic, unhealthy messages feels like breaking an addiction. It feels that way because it is. 

The brain, you see, doesn’t assign moral value to narratives. If you tell yourself that you aren’t worthy of love or that the world is a scary place and the most important thing is to stay safe, your brain stores that message and bathes it in a cocktail of emotions. 

The message you’re telling yourself is, of course, unhealthy and stunting your growth. Your brain doesn’t know that, though. The more you tell you yourself these things, the stronger that pathway becomes in your brain. So, if you choose to push back against years of hardwired messages, pack a lunch. In your lunchbox, include a bag full of perseverance and another full of courage. You will need both. 

_______

Any message not rooted in love and joy and peace is not from God. You are made in the image of the Creator of the universe. The core of who you are, your identity, contains the very essence of God. You don’t have to believe toxic, unhealthy messages. You have the power to change the course of your days, to carve out a new path. You have the ability to transform your life, to peel away unhealthy messages simply by telling yourself new ones. 

God will walk with you in this. I believe God walks with anyone who chooses the narrow road, and you feel his presence because as you strive for healing, you’re also striving for God. And that’s the goal, here, is it not? To seek God, to live everyday we have on this earth for him, to try our very best to pull back the layers of shame and fear and guilt and so on, so we can get to the core of who we are. 

The core of who we are are is God. 

So, off you go. Change the narrative. Stop living like you are a prisoner in the cell of your own mind. You aren’t. You’re free. You’re a child of God. Anywhere you find God, you find freedom, which is everywhere because God is in all things at all times, even the worst and darkest places. You have everything you need to become a man or woman created in God’s image.

Grace and peace. Amen.

I ate lunch with my pastor a few weeks ago. He asked me how things were going. “Stupid busy,” I said. I used those exact words. I used them because they’re true. My life is stupid busy. My kids have reached the exploratory stage of life. You know, that stage where every sport and activity opens up to them and they want to try to them all. As a parent, you want your kids to try different sports and activities. But your resources are finite. Mine are, at least. So, you pick and choose, but investing in even one sport in my town feels like a full-time job. My kids play two. So, in essence, I have three full-time jobs, which is not conducive for one’s mental, emotional or physical health.

I told my pastor all this. He thought about it for a moment. “You’re in the busiest season of your life,” he said. “I remember when my kids were the age yours are now. We teetered on exhaustion. We didn’t know from day-to-day how we would find the time or energy or money to do all the things that needed to be done. Hang in there. Enjoy this season. It will get better.” 

I would like to say this made me feel better, and maybe it did. But I wanted a magic bullet or a quick fix. I wanted him to open a line of communication with God and come back with a five step plan to make my life easier. I would settle for an extra hour or two. But I preferred a step-by-step plan, ordained by the Big Man Upstairs, and guaranteed to resurrect my energy and free time from the ashes of my over-saturated schedule. 

What I really wanted to communicate, though, but didn’t have the courage, was that I’m stressed. No, that’s inaccurate. I’m drowning. If I scan the different arenas of life – social, spiritual, financial – I’m behind in all of them. I come home exhausted. I wake up exhausted. “I’m tired” is the tagline for my life. 

I wanted a magic bullet because I know they exist. I know families with kids who did what I do but aren’t drowning in fatigue. I see them all the time on social media. You see them, too. 

If you separated my tired self from true self, I would tell you those pictures aren’t real. I know they’re a mirage. But my tired self is the one scrolling my timeline. And my tired self doesn’t see things clearly. He sees reality through the lens of comparison and discontentment. 

THE DANGER OF SOCIAL MEDIA

Social media is dangerous in all seasons of life. It’s particularly dangerous, though, in seasons where stress is high. High stress is fertile ground for a legion of unhealthy, toxic behaviors.

You’re tired, exhausted, running on physical, emotional, spiritual fumes. The house is a wreck. You forgot that today was show-and-tell at your third grader’s school. You open the mail and find a bill from the orthodontist. You open your e-mail and find a link to pay for your son’s select soccer season. Your car needs new tires. You just clocked out on another 50+ hour work week.

In the madness of this, you plop down on the couch, open Facebook or Instagram or Tik Tok or whatever, and what do you see? Picture after picture of beautiful families who have it together. The Welborns with their white tees on the sand, all three kids smiling. Man, do they have it together. How do they have it together? What am I missing? Why is my life a wreck?

You keep scrolling. Oh, would you look at that? The Fowlers are on another vacation. Are they on vacation every week? Oh, and would you look at the Simmons. They’re at Disney. Again. Oh, and they all have matching shirts that say #BROKE, except the “O” is replaced with a Mickey logo. The Simmons have it together, and they’re funny. How do they do it? I mean, seriously, how much money do they make? God, I want to go to Disney. Or the beach. I need a break. Why can’t I have that life? Why am I failure? 

We do this, don’t we? Or is it just me? We assume we’re the only ones crawling through life. Every other family has it together. They have access to the magic bullet. 

THE TRUTH ABOUT THE PERFECT LIFE

Here’s the truth: no one has it together. The photos you see on social media aren’t real. Every single human in the history of the world struggles through life just like you and me. Maybe the Simmons do travel to the beach every week. Maybe you do know someone whose house is so clean you can lick the floors. 

But, here’s what I know about humans. Something is array in another arena of life. Maybe Mrs. Simmons wrestles with mental illness. Maybe her marriage is on the rocks. Maybe her relationship with her children is shallow, superficial. Maybe Mr. Simmons is a workaholic. Maybe he cares more about the state of his golf game than the well-being of his family. I don’t know what is array in this family’s life. But something is array. 

I don’t say isn’t an indictment on the families you see as you scroll through social media. I say this because I know the reality of being human. To be human is to struggle, to wrestle with finitude, with limitations, with weaknesses. We fight and scratch and claw through our days, and this doesn’t dismiss the beauty and joy of life because there’s plenty of that. Plenty of smile-worthy moments. 

It just means that life isn’t Instagram photos. It’s not. No family is picture perfect. No family has it together. Let me say that again, louder this time, for the folks in the back: no one has it together.

So, one of the most important things we can do for our mental, emotional, spiritual and even physical health is divorce the pictures we see on social media from this idealized image of having it together, as if such a thing exists. 

WHAT IT MEANS TO LIVE A GOOD LIFE 

Social media also deceives us about what it means to live a good life, a meaningful life. Social media says if you could just have his job or her Type A personality, you would be happy. If you had the freedom to frequent the Floridian shores or the resources to hire a maid or a yard guy or a personal masseuse, you would instantly find happiness. Social media wants you to believe that happiness is so close. It’s just beyond your grasp. The only thing you need is one more thing. 

And we know this is a lie. We know acquiring more is a bad recipe for peace and joy. The things of God grow in the incubator of contentment. Write that down.

Jesus himself warned us against the temptation to acquire more in an attempt to find Life. “Watch out,” Jesus says in Luke 12:15, “Be on guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.”

Well, then, what does life consist of? What is the good life? 

The good life is a life lived with honesty and integrity, where we value telling the truth and making the right decisions more than we value our personal comfort.

The good life is one where we value our self-care. Where we have the courage to look at our spouse and say I’m tired and need a break. I don’t need to go to Florida, but I do need a few hours alone tonight. I need you to take care of the kids. Very few adults have the courage to prioritize their self-care. But the ones who do know something about capital l-Life. Jesus says this life is available to us right now. Most days, I don’t think that’s true. People who value self-care know Jesus is telling the truth.

The good life is one where we care more about who our kids become than than the awards they receive. My kids can win Mr. or Miss Name Of Your High School. They can be the star quarterback or cheerleader or whatever. But if they’re not good humans who love God and treat people with respect and tell the truth, I’ve failed as a parent. 

The good life is one where we’re content in this very moment right now. We don’t long for another thing, not another vacation or a higher paying job or a larger house. Contentment is an EpiPen for anyone overwhelmed with stress. Take a shot and your systems return to normal, almost overnight.  

The good life is one where we love ourselves and our neighbor and our community. We give time and money to those in need, rather than hoard it all for ourselves. 

This is what matters. And this is what so few parents pursue, starting with yours truly. I don’t pursue these things nearly as often as I should. I get caught up in the rat race, hung up on riding the hamster wheel, climbing ladders that lead to nowhere.

When my kids are grown and gone, what do I want them to remember about me? That I spent my most of my hours working so I could keep up with the Joneses? That I spent all my time in the yard, making sure my lawn and flowerbeds were Instagram worthy? #Blessed. That my house and car were flawless? That we went to Disney every other weekend?

Or do I want them to remember that I was present in their day-to-day lives, that I played silly board games or had tea parties or whatever, that I taught them how to find joy in this moment, and that you don’t need a mansion or a vacation to have a good life? 

Of course the answer is the latter. If it is, why don’t we stop this silly social media comparison game? Let’s stop pretending that just because the Simmons post a new photo every weekend from a different location, that they have a better life than you. They don’t. They just have a different one. 

Life is hard. You don’t have it together. You can’t do it all. So, prioritize the things that matter. Let’s be okay with good enough. Let’s be content with the blessings in front of us. 

Grace and peace, friends. 

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.