There were many people who interacted with Jesus throughout his life. They peered through a window to listen, stood in the crowd while he healed, sat among friends with him at dinner, watched him debate the religious leaders. But there were only a few who were in close enough proximity with Jesus to discover the transformative power of his grace.

After a long day at the beach, Jesus invited his friends to get in their boats and sail to the other side of the sea. Mark tells us some of them “took Jesus with them in the boat” while “other boats” were sailing with them also (Mark 4:35-36). Among all of the boats on the trip, only one was carrying the savior of the world.

As a powerful storm arose, threatening the lives of the entire fleet, it was the men inside the boat with Jesus who were in a position to see him calm the wind and waves. Every boat benefited from the miracle, but only a few were in close enough to Jesus to witness its source. Having front row seat to watch Jesus exert his power over a storm made them realize he was even greater than they had imagined. Even beyond this specific miracle, there were things these men experienced simply because they were with Jesus all the time.

One of the requirements to growing spiritually is putting ourselves in more consistent, close proximity to Jesus.

Many of us, if we took inventory, would realize that we’ve been sailing in one of the other boats. We’ve had prior experiences with Jesus, we’re familiar with him, and we respect him enough to be generally moral people who go to church and say grace before meals. We are generally heading in the direction he’s leading, but we can’t remember the last time we genuinely asked ourselves with wonder, “who is this man?”

So, what does it look like to live in greater proximity to Jesus? The classic spiritual disciplines are important – time in God’s word, prayer, and community with other believers. But we build on those by engaging in what Dallas Willard calls, “a conversational life with God.” It is from this kind of hand-in-hand relationship that God desires to more deeply transform us and from which our obedience flows from love. Proximity isn’t fifteen minutes of a twelve hour day. It’s the casual flow of conversation, speaking and listening, carried throughout the day. Like the disciples in the boat, there is more for us to experience with Jesus when our interaction with him isn’t limited to a few moments during the week.

After a bunch of tests, the doctor came in to give me the results. Rather than reading medical jargon from a chart, he asked me one question that stunned me. “What do you do for work?” he said. That was probably the last thing I expected from him, but it cut immediately to something deep inside. I was ashamed to tell him I worked in full-time vocational ministry because I knew that he was connecting my work life habits with my health. And as a ministry leader, I was expected to model healthy leadership.

The diagnosis was simple. The pain and pressure in my chest weren’t from a heart attack, they were from stress. I was operating without limits and had mismanaged what was entrusted to me. In that season of life and leadership, I slowly bought into the lie that the best leaders do it all. Busyness was a badge of honor. Sleep was for dead people. And so I filled my days running from one thing to the next, up early and out late, racing around trying to keep it all afloat, filled with the arrogance of autonomy, unaware that my identity was wrapped around me being all things to all people. While I was being applauded for my effort and the growth in our ministry, I was extremely unhealthy on the inside.

More telling than my over-full schedule, was the reality that my hidden life with Jesus was minimal. My prayer life was on-the-go and usually went something like, “Lord, give me energy.” And my time in God’s word was mostly planning the next talk I had agreed to lead. As a result, my life became severely incongruent. While I spent my days inviting people to find life in Jesus, the way in which I was working for him was threatening my own.

It took the fear of a heart attack to get my attention and realize there’s a better way to lead that is actually more fruitful in the things that are lasting. It’s not difficult to draw a large crowd, but it’s a whole different thing to model and lead towards healthy relationships and genuine transformation.

There’s a way to work hard that flows from a healthy interior life with God. The pivotal question for me, that’s become a frequent litmus test is, “who is leading my life?”

Jesus invites us to “come and follow” (Mk. 1:17) not “go make it happen.” When I’m leading my life, I’m susceptible to the influences and identities that lurk inside me. Those always push me to perform and over-function. Those ugly parts of me have something to prove.

But when I let myself be led by God, I become dependent and slower, because I realize it’s actually God who has the power to change things, always beginning with me. What’s counterintuitive about leading from a place of following is more of the right things get done when Jesus leads the way. Our willingness to let ourselves be led by God is the most central dynamic in spiritual leadership, whether in our vocational life or at home.

Looking to our roles for answers to the question of purpose often creates discontent and can breed a feeling that we’re missing out on something important God has for us to do. What results is sort of a cosmic game of hide and seek where we try to guess where God wants us, assuming it’s usually somewhere other than where we are at the moment.

But Jesus pointed to a more important question we should be asking that connects us to a transcendent purpose. Rather than spiraling over whether or not we are in the right roles, in the right environment, or in the right relationships, we should center our attention on the question, “who am I becoming?”

When the disciples asked Jesus about the work God had in mind for them, Jesus answered them saying, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent” (John 6:29). Rather than give them a role to play, transformational faith in Jesus was the focus. Paul, in Romans 8, describes the central aim of God’s work in us as the process of us being “conformed to the image of his Son” (vs. 29). God’s central purpose for us is that we would become more and more like Jesus as we live in relationship with him. The driving question through our life should not be about what we do but who we are becoming. As we focus on how we might become more like Jesus, we begin to see that all of life and every moment is an opportunity for communion and faith.

This question leads us to pray more often, “God, how are you wanting to work in my life right now, right where I am, so that I become more like you?”

God wants to use our present circumstances, our roles and environments as the laboratory for what he wants to accomplish in us. And if he wants to move us along to something new, he will get our attention. But when our headspace is geared towards what we think is missing, we miss out on the sacrament of the present moment.

Becoming like Jesus as our central purpose permeates every area of life. What we do vocationally and the important roles we play aren’t in and of themselves our purpose, but rather the environments in which God accomplishes his purpose for us by transforming us into the image of his son, Jesus. And participating with what God is doing in us always leads to opportunities for him to work through us. Even the most trivial roles can take on new life when our sense of purpose is bigger than the role itself.

Do we sometimes need a role or environment changes? Yes. But when our focus is on becoming like Jesus, God seamlessly moves us along into the right environments meant to set the stage for how he wants to work in and also through us. There is tremendous freedom that comes when our sense of purpose shifts from what we do to how God wants to actively change us in our present circumstances. This is how we stop running from one thing to the next and learn to experience purpose even in the seasons and spaces of discontent.

I’ve been excited to share an update with you and also extend an invitation. Twenty-three years ago I drove to my first directed spiritual retreat while serving on Young Life staff. What I experienced in that time began to shape how I have walked with God since, and ignited a life long passion to help others cultivate a more engaging relationship with Christ and live in greater clarity about the sacred purposes God uniquely created for them.

While we know our connectedness to Jesus is central to the life of our own souls and crucial for the important roles we play in the lives of others, living into an abiding relationship with Jesus can be challenging. Like any relationship, it requires attention.

To that end, I’ve been dreaming about creating space for men and women to pull away from their everyday lives to find rest, restoration, and perspective by exploring sacred rhythms that nurture intimacy with Christ and by making sense of the story God is writing with their lives.

That dream has come into focus and is called VISTA.

Alongside my role at our wonderful church, Redeemer Dripping Springs, I will be launching Vista this fall. Through curated spiritual retreats, Vista exists to clear the way for men and women to encounter Christ and live more fully into the life they were created for in Him. Vista is an active resistance to the pace, pressures, and pains that cause us to live disconnected from the One who knows us best and in whom we find fullness of life.

The Lord tells us: “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and confidence shall be your strength” (Is. 30:15).

I would love for you to consider joining an upcoming Vista experience. Our first day-long retreat is Friday, August 28th. If you’re longing for more with Christ and need a refreshing break from the hurriedness of life, Vista is for you. Click the link below to check it out, and consider sharing with anyone you think might be interested. Hope to see you there!

https://vistaministries.com/

Just as athletes practice movements that build muscle or scholars study to grow their understanding, there are habits and rhythms we can engage in with the Lord that cultivate a healthier thought life and soul. The Bible isn’t silent on how to navigate the anxieties of life.

Philippians 4:5-8 is perhaps the best road map in that it offers a practical rhythm we can incorporate during our moments of distress.

Spend a few minutes slowly reading the passage below.

“Remember, the Lord is coming soon.

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise” (NLT).

This excerpt from Brad Hambrick and Marilyn Marrero’s book, A Counseling Commentary on Philippians is particularly helpful…

“Even if the current part of your story is tense, the whole of your story can still be good. Paul isn’t saying that our emotions should always remain tranquil. He is saying that when something upsets you, you don’t need to let it change the overarching narrative of your life. Good books still have dark chapters.

We tend to ruminate on our fears when we get anxious. Even when we know what is true, anxiety is sticky. This passage shows us that replacement is a better strategy than restraint. Instead of telling ourselves “just stop being anxious”, Paul gives a list of replacement prompts… whatever is true, honorable, right, etc… turn our minds to these things when your anxiety begins to build.”

The invitation in this passage is to stay conversationally connected to God through our anxiety. We want his voice to be the loudest voice we hear. Hiding difficult emotions only makes them worse. So we name them with God and then pick a replacement prompt. As we set our minds to what is good, God’s perspective comes in and changes the story for us and guards us as we remember the good story unfolding in our lives.

What God wants the most from us in our anxiety is for us to come to him, address what lives inside us, and experience the peace he is offering as we pray and set our minds on the beauty and redemption evident in our lives through Him. Like the athlete or scholar, using replacement prompts in our prayers with God isn’t one-time miracle pill that works overnight. It’s a habit that enlarges our soul over time.

Spend a few moments reflecting on the questions below.

1. What line resonated with you the most from the Philippians passage above? Why?

2. How would you rate your overall sense of anxiety lately on a scale of 1-10 (you can’t pick a 5)?

3. What are the main things that trigger anxiety for you?

4. What is your default response when you find yourself anxious? What do you turn to?

5. What are some specific things evident in your life that are “true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, worth of praise” that you might focus on in place of your anxious thoughts?

6. What do you think it means that the “peace of God will guard your heart and mind”?

Each time I drive away from the ranch, I’m reminded of how most people go through life relatively unknown, yet there is incredible freedom available when we bear witness to the events of each other’s lives. There is a restoration that comes from allowing others to see the real stuff happening with us behind the curtain.

However, allowing ourselves to be known feels risky. There’s fear of rejection if we were to drop the guard or stop playing the fit-in game. There’s concern people might not like what they see in us. And because we’ve been wounded before, we construct targeted defense mechanisms designed to keep people at the right distance. Behind our humor, helping, success, and gamesmanship is a person desperately longing to find unshakeable acceptance.

What we find in the God of the Bible is a Savior who bears witness to our lives, the good and bad together. He knows every anxious thought that races through our minds, He knows the corrupted desires that lurk in our hearts, He knows our failures and regrets. He knows our hopes and dreams for what our lives will become. He sees exactly us as we are.

And though nothing is hidden from him, He moves towards us with grace and acceptance. In his incarnation, Jesus became flesh to bear witness to our lives up close with the hope of reconciling us into a relationship with our Creator. He meets us where we are but doesn’t leave us there. The attentiveness of Jesus stirred Nathanael…

“When Jesus saw Nathanael approaching, he said of him, ‘Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.’” “How do you know me?” Nathanael asked. Jesus answered, “I saw you while you were still under the fig tree before Philip called you” (John 1:47-48).

Being seen by Jesus changed his life.

Part of how we demonstrate the love of Christ to a lonely world is to see one another as Christ sees. Like Jesus, we bear witness when we slow down long enough to engage with people more deeply, call out what’s there, and hold space for people to be as they are and not as they should be. In doing so, we hold the power of liberation as we imperfectly offer a glimpse of what people can fully experience with Jesus.

As writer Wayne Muller says in Sabbath, “At our best, we become Sabbath for one another. We become space, that our loved ones, the lost and sorrowful, may find rest in us. We become Sabbath, where the sorrows of the world are safely poured and gently dissolve into the unfathomable immensity of rest, and silence.”

What struck me most during our float was how the guide could anticipate every rock and current ahead and get us doing the right movements so we were positioned to safely navigate each section. Without the expertise of someone with local knowledge, we would have been blindly reacting instead of purposefully moving.

On the journey of following Jesus, we desperately need guides to help us navigate the different sections of life. If we’re honest, most of us live sort of blindly reacting when it comes to our awareness of God’s leading in our lives. Our diet of sermons, podcasts, books, and Bible studies are a helpful starting place, but most of us lack the inner life skill necessary to move what we hear from our head to our hearts. Knowledge is powerless if it doesn’t make its way into our lives in a way that makes us more like Jesus.

For that journey, in the realm of our heart and soul, we need men and women who have logged miles through the obstacles of life and understand from personal experience what it looks like to faithfully (not perfectly) walk with Christ over a long period of time. We need proximity to people who know what to look for, understand what’s ahead, and are familiar with the pitfalls along the way.

The question is not whether or not we need a guide, the better question is: who is intentionally helping you navigate your journey with Jesus?

Who is helping you read and understand Scripture? Who is helping you become more aware of and responsive to God’s leading in your life? Who is helping you learn to pray? Who is helping you make sense of your circumstances and adopt the right movements so you are purposefully living into the life Jesus created you for? Who have you given permission to see behind your false self?

Though it’s common, there is great danger in walking alone. Culture has sold us the lie of hyper-individualism.

The constellation model of mentoring, applied as a dynamic in spiritual growth, suggests the most effective spiritual development happens through a network of relationships rather than an over-dependence on a single person. Our need for a constellation of mentors emerges from a recognition that life is too multifaceted for any one person to provide all the guidance.

One of the greatest factors that shapes who we become is who we are surrounded by. The currents of the world are perilous to our journey with Jesus if we haven’t invited the right people into our lives to show us the way forward.

The root of the tension that exists in us as it relates to influence is an issue of glory. When we’re oriented to a greater glory, we discover a deeper validation that frees us from mishandling our influence with others. But in seasons when the momentum of our lives are oriented towards our own glory, we crush the people around us by asking them for treasures they do not possess.

In our online culture, the lines of glory often seem blurred, especially in circles of Christian influence. We post and peddle a version of ourselves, sometimes in the name of God, that may not be congruent with who we are most of the time. We want the false-validation that comes from being seen as someone worth noticing. All of our projecting is hard to reconcile with the way we see Jesus approach influence.

While Jesus certainly would be justified in promoting himself, he rarely did so. He seemed almost reluctant to broadcast his work for fear the masses would try to make him something he was not. Jesus, the king of glory, preferred being secretly incredible. Many times after healing someone, he would ask them not to tell anyone where the miracle came from.

When he transformed nearly 150 gallons of water to wine to save the day for a family hosting a wedding, only a few people close to Jesus knew he was the one behind the miracle. John tells us that upon tasting the water to changed to wine “the master of the feast did not know where it came from” and gave credit to the bridegroom for such an incredible gesture that he would save the best wine for the end of the party (John 2:9-10).

What strikes me is what Jesus didn’t do in that moment. Rather than stepping forward to capitalize on his miracle for the sake of his message, Jesus let the bridegroom become the hero. Almost as quietly as Jesus transformed the water, he was content to slip away with his friends and family and let the real story remain a mystery.

The power of being secretly incredible is that if often makes others the hero. Through our hidden actions, we have the ability to lift others up so they might experience the transforming power of God’s grace. This emptying of ourselves is precisely what Jesus did with his life, death, and resurrection so that we might share in his glory.

Listen to what John says about the highlight reel of Jesus’ life. “Now there are also many other things Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written” (John 21:25). How fitting that as we peer back through history, we only see a small piece of all that Jesus did in his life. So much remains unknown, except to those who experienced it first hand. The most powerful redemptive stories are ones we will never hear about this side of heaven… the quiet obedience of faithful women and men who freely give of themselves.

At the height of his influence, John the Baptist was confronted with this tension. His crowds had begun to thin out as many people were now going to Jesus. When asked about his waning influence from a concerned follower, John replied, “He must become greater, I must become less” (Jn. 3:30). John understood the issue of glory and oriented himself to that which was greater, Jesus.

This seesaw experience epitomizes most people’s journey with Christ. Our life of faith consists of moving through a repeating pattern of oscillating between spiritual highs and lows with periodic threats of catastrophe due to the lack of stabilizing rhythms with the Lord through the mundane majority of life.

This was Elijah (1 Kings 19).

After his mountain top experience of defeating the prophets of Baal, Elijah learns Jezebel has threatened to kill him. Despite having seen God do so many wonders, he becomes fearful and flees into the desert, where he asks the Lord to take his life. He was overwhelmed and depressed, and at the threat of personal crisis, he forgot who he was to the Lord.

An angel who visited Elijah while he was in the desert told him, “the journey is too great for you.”

I hear a version of those words often as I listen to people talk about their lives. Without a rooted identity and persistent connectedness to Jesus, the journey of living into the life God intends is too great for us. In our own strength and will, we don’t have what it takes, and therefore need to embrace the habits that form us more deeply in Christ through all seasons of life.

As Elijah gained his energy, he traveled to a cave in Mount Horeb, the mountain of God. Elijah goes to be alone with the Lord. There he’s honest with God about his fear and insecurity, and the Lord graciously speaks to him in a low whisper and reminds him who he is created to be and that he’s not alone. God reorients Elijah and sends him back out on task.

One of the most stabilizing rhythms we should consider heading into a new year is visiting our own Mount Horeb. We need a consistent, scheduled, slowed-down time and place to get alone and honest with God so that we might hear Him speaking. He’s always speaking, but our life motion isn’t always still enough to hear.

Infrequent spiritual highs are not enough to sustain us in the life of faith, especially during times of personal crisis. If we’re not routinely rooting ourselves in Christ through solitude and prayer, we are what James describes as “a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind” (James 1:6).

But we had under-developed frontal lobes. So we would play rock, paper, scissors and the loser was forced to paddle out into the pond on the giant crocodile float while everyone else bombed him with cow patties. One point for every direct hit. The preferred cow patties were dry on the outside but squishy in the middle so they held together through the air but offered a gift on impact.

Amidst the barrage of manure, a bigger danger always loomed… staying afloat on the crocodile. Almost everyone ended up in the snake water because they would lose their balance trying to navigate the cow patties being hurled their way. Boys became men when they fell in that water.

If you were to describe the condition of your soul this advent season, I wonder if trying to stay afloat would be accurate? Finding equilibrium with all we face in life is difficult. A jam-packed schedule, a tough season of marriage, parenting challenges, financial strain, job dissatisfaction, relational conflict, health setbacks, the political climate, and family dysfunction are only a few of the things flying our way that threaten to destabilize us.

Without constant attunement to the Lord, the nature of our circumstances becomes the primary influence over the condition of our interior life. No wonder we are fearful, anxious, and untethered.

In the “limit-experiences” of our lives, the Lord comes to us through the prophet Isaiah with an invitation… “Incline your ear, and come to me; hear, that your soul may live…” (Is. 55:3).

These words of compassion from the Lord are timeless. Come to me… listen to me… your soul will come alive. We find our center balance, despite the turbulence of life, when we engage with God through prayer and the slow reading of His word. While God doesn’t necessarily take away our difficult circumstances, he does offer the gift of his presence as we walk through them. It’s in the unhurried presence of God where we discover the contentment and restoration we desire.

The reminder of Advent is that God is available to us. As Isaiah says, when we come to the Lord and open ourselves to hear him speak, our souls find life.

Imagine for a moment that your worst failure was broadcast for others to see. The humiliation, fear, and shame would be crippling. In a sense, this was where a woman who had been caught in adultery found herself. She was literally discovered in the act only to be carried out and placed in front of an angry mob. She had nowhere to hide. As you might expect, Jesus interfered and offered her dignity and grace. We love this about Jesus. He sees the worst about us and moves towards us with acceptance. He isn’t disillusioned with what happens behind the closed doors of our lives.

But Jesus does something else with the woman that is an overlooked part of their encounter. After offering her redemption, Jesus tells the woman to sin no more. He didn’t just accept her, he called her to a different life.

In contemporary culture, we are led to believe we become most ourselves when we live life on our own terms, according to our own truth. The result is that we’ve become highly self-absorbed. In Christian circles, this belief system has attempted to sanitize Jesus into a benign father figure who loves us as we are but has nothing to say about the life we have chosen for ourselves. Why would we want a Jesus who might disagree with us?

But the scandal of Jesus is he wasn’t an agreeable religious figure who really just wanted us to be nice people who get along well. Jesus “is the image of the invisible God” and “all things have been created through him and for him” (Col. 1:15-16). In reality, Jesus is the Lord over all creation, which includes us. He is the authority whether we choose to accept it or not.

His words to the woman caught in adultery have a lot to say to our culture. Consider...

In calling her actions sin, Jesus tells the woman her decisions were wrong. Because he loved her, Jesus wanted more for her than the life she was currently experiencing. And though she had been rescued by him, a new life required obedience to the authority of Jesus over her. His authority was clear…“from now on sin no more.”

It’s only through obedience to God that we discover the meaningful life a self-absorbed worldview unsuccessfully promises.

While Jesus lovingly meets us wherever we are in life, he also invites us into unimaginable freedom and joy if we live into his will for us. Obedience is an active choice to leave our sinful patterns behind, yield the postures of our heart that block God’s way to us, and walk in the way of Jesus. It’s a surrender of self-authority. The pathway to the life we are longing for isn’t found by living according to our own shifting version of truth, it’s found by placing ourselves under the leading of Jesus over us so that we can experience a loving, personal relationship with him. What we discover in surrender is that what he has for us is substantially greater than what we imagine for ourselves.

Jesus taught, “Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 10:39).

During the time he wrote Psalm 143, David was in the midst of a life crisis. Without knowing the specific details, his journal gives us a window into the condition of his heart during a season of immense pressure. He was overwhelmed and desperate for the refreshing presence of God to lift him out of his fear and insecurity. In his own words, very real forces had moved against the well-being of his soul.

We can identify with David as we have adversaries too. Most often, the adversaries of our soul are not threats to our physical safety, but rather the behaviors and thought patterns that disrupt our connection to and experience of Jesus, who is the “living water” of our soul (Jn. 4:11-15). If ignored, these dynamics cause us to miss out on the abundant life Christ has in mind with us.

Three of the most common adversaries to our soul are superficiality, comparison, and pace.

SUPERFICIALITY. By nature, stewarding our soul in Jesus requires habitual, contemplative practices as well as close, meaningful community. We are limited in our ability to know God without knowing ourselves. That’s because the setting of our lives is the place where God meets us. To know ourselves deeply, we must have an ever-deepening experience with the love of God. And what flows out of a beneath-the-surface relationship with Jesus is the potential for beyond-the-veneer relationships with others. Allowing others to see and speak into what’s really in our lives is one of the means by which God nurtures us.

COMPARISON. One of the major sources of disequilibrium in the spiritual life is the restlessness that comes from examining the quality of our lives against what we perceive in the lives of those around us. We see what others have, the experiences they broadcast online, how their children behave, projections of their marriages and friendships, their sense of having figured life out and wish those things were true about ourselves. While we see only glimpses, we assume all is well with them while knowing all is not well with us. In our soul, comparison makes us feel that God is withholding something from us, which leads to self-pity, discontent, and mistrust. These beliefs barricade our hearts from faithfully moving into the good places where God is leading.

PACE. The work of God in our lives and in the world is unhurried. Not always, but most often God speaks to us and guides in ways that are slow and subtle, requiring uninterrupted space to prayerfully discern. But our fully engaged lives are not positioned well for attentiveness to the Savior’s leading. We live out in front of God, racing along wondering why we live in perpetual exhaustion, uncertainty and seldom sense God’s presentness in our lives. In order to discern and align with God’s leading, we have to pull back our lives and create intentional space to pray, listen, worship, and allow God’s word to saturate from our heads into our arid hearts. There is a freshness of soul that comes only through time spent with the Savior.

1. What words best describe the condition of your soul lately?

2. Which adversary did you most identify with? Why?

3. What are some specific ways God might cut off the adversary that you named?

Choosing the way of Jesus is no different. In fact, following Jesus is the path of most resistance. There are clashes that exist inside us between our desires and God’s will. The Apostle Paul speaks to this in Romans 7:15 when he says, “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” He puts words around what every believer knows to be true in their own life; that it’s difficult to surrender our own preferences and choose what God intends even when we know God’s way is better for us. We also grapple with how to navigate our experiences of sorrow, disequilibrium, and doubt.

External forces also make walking the path of Jesus difficult. There is a real enemy that seeks to destroy us, our families, and the redemptive work of our hands. By and large, the currents of culture aren’t pushing us closer to Jesus. Navigating the kingdoms we live in while living into our citizenship in the kingdom of God creates friction. And the pressures of materialism, comfort, and mindlessness are strong.

Moving against resistance for the greater reward of life with Jesus is costly. There is suffering involved.

The term “quiet quitting” has been used to describe the workplace phenomenon of employees who reduce their work efforts to only the absolute minimum required for their job. Although they don’t formally resign, they quit any work or commitment beyond what’s explicitly listed in their job description.

Quiet quitting could probably describe many believers who associate with Jesus, but whose day to day behaviors point to a slow disengagement from the habits required to cultivate a meaningful relationship with Christ. Perhaps one of the reasons for this is the high cost required over time to live counter to the internal and external forces we face. Even though we know intellectually and from past experience the way of Jesus is better, we settle for a life in God we wish was different.

This is why genuine, purposeful community with other believers is essential. Every person who sets out to follow Jesus desperately needs people in their life who have access behind-the-scenes and are willing to come alongside and push together against the headwinds that come with following Christ. We are not as strong as we think we are. Left to ourselves, we are prone to gravitate down the path of least resistance.

*https://elifesciences.org/articles/18422#SA2

Current is a powerful force. While some currents are visible on the surface, like those in a fast-flowing river, other kinds live beneath the surface and can be almost imperceptible like those that exist in the ocean. Without recognition of their influence and a deliberate effort to move against them, these kinds of subtle currents can take you towards destinations you may not realize you are headed.

In his book, The Emotionally Healthy Church, author Pete Scazzero writes, “Most leaders shipwreck or live inconsistent lives because of forces and motivations beneath the surface of their lives, which they have never considered... But an authentic relationship with Christ takes us to the depths – the shadows, the strongholds, and the darkness deep within our own souls that must be purged.”

In other words, following Jesus requires an awareness of the unhealthy currents that exist in us, an acknowledgment of the possibilities if those forces are left ignored, and a deliberate effort to participate with God as brings us into wholeness. God knows us fully and specifically. He is aware of what exists in our deepest places. He is leading the way as he works to make us into his image. But without self-awareness and an active resistance to the remnants of our old lives, we are susceptible to drifting away over time.

Spiritual growth is not a passive process. To live the life we were created for, we must carefully cultivate our hearts by stewarding our relationship with Christ as what we “seek first” (Mt. 6:33). When we seek him first, he promises that we will find him. God is working in his people, though seldom forcefully. He sees ahead for us and patiently invites us to follow along knowing the goodness in store when we say yes. We can have an eternal assurance of our salvation, but if we neglect the formation God desires in us, we miss out on the full life available in Jesus now. We float along in life wondering if there is more we were meant to experience.

I wonder what we would see if we could look into our lives from the Lord’s perspective? As an exercise in awareness, consider bringing these questions into time with the Lord:

1. What are the subtle currents in my life right now carrying me away from the Lord?

2. Where will these currents take me? How will these play out in my life over a long period of time?

3. What are some ways I might more deliberately seek Jesus first in this season of my life?

Since then, I’ve engaged in and encouraged others in the regular practice of Christ-oriented solitude. I believe it’s a vital component to living the life we were created for in Jesus. It’s difficult to experience a spacious life with the Lord if we are void of the restorative rhythms that even Jesus needed. Maybe you’re like me and sometimes find yourself spiritually disconnected, reactive, and unclear about how God is leading in your life. While our vacations might be physically and mentally restful, they have done little in the arena of our souls. What we need most is deliberate, extended time with our Savior in order to cultivate our life with Him.

From my view, the desire for restorative rhythms has intensified in recent years. Maybe that’s because of how plugged in we are to endless streams of information and how full our schedules have become. As author Eugene Peterson writes, “we are in perpetual motion.” We must takes our cues from Jesus and create regular space to get alone with our Lord in larger intervals to find the deep rest and clarity we are craving, and to be sent back into our lives reoriented around the leading of God.

Recently, a friend called to talk about her upcoming solitude retreat. That conversation prompted me to write down a few thoughts about how to spend a day with the Lord. The flow outlined below can be compressed into smaller time frames or expanded into something longer. This is a guide and is not meant to be rigid. Allow for interruptions from the Lord during your time. While there are many ways to approach a day of solitude, this road map emphasizes what Brother Lawrence calls “practicing the presence of God.”

FRAMING THOUGHTS

Get away from home and create space that is free from external distractions. You will have plenty from within. Have a plan ahead of time for where you will go and what you might need while you are there so that you can be fully present. Turn your phone off for at least the majority of your time away.

REST

Build extra time for sleep the night before. Let your body and mind settle into an unhurried disposition. During your solitude, you won’t achieve anything. The goal is to BE with the Lord, not DO something for the Lord. This can create a tension in us as we untangle ourselves from our insatiable need to accomplish.

RECALIBRATE

Start the morning by moving your body and letting yourself awaken to your surroundings. Take a walk – listen, notice, smell, go slow. This is about activating a sense of awareness that you will bring into the rest of the day as you center your time on the presentness of God.

RECOGNIZE

Spend slow time reading Scripture. Start by praying a Psalm then move onto other passages from there. Tune into what God might be saying, to what catches your attention, to what stirs in you from the Holy Spirit. Let yourself linger as you read, asking questions and using your imagination. Practice interacting with the Holy Spirit as you read instead of just absorbing the information on the page.

REFLECT

Enter a time of openness. Let your mind wander, write down the scattered thoughts that swirl from your time in Scripture. Don’t solve anything, don’t produce anything. This is an opening process that keeps you from moving on too quickly from the living word of God that needs to make its way into your soul. Pay specific attention to anything from the Scriptures that caught your attention. Ask yourself “why that?” It’s normal for your mind to feel cluttered and unfocused. We aren’t conditioned to be still.

RECEIVE

Move into a focused time of worship, confession, and prayer. Work through the flow of person (yourself), partner (spouse/roommate/closest friend), parenting (kids), people (anyone in your life), and profession (career).

REPLENISH

Cultivate habits of joy. Do something that ignites wonder… art, music, adventure, other reading, time in nature, take a nap, workout, cook… whatever is life-giving. Practice being conversational with the Lord as you go. He will be there with you.

RESPONSE

Towards the latter part of the day, prayerfully write down 25 things you are thankful for. The more specific the better. Practice making each entry a moment of verbal gratitude to the Lord.

REVISIT

Close your day by reflecting on how you experienced the Lord through the day. What did he say to you? What surprised you? What is something from your day that you need hang onto? As you awake for the following morning, pay attention to any waking thoughts that emerge.

In keeping with the customs of his Jewish culture, Jesus traveled to Jerusalem to attend one of the annual celebrations. In the city was a well-known place called Bethesda, also known as the House of Outpouring. According to lore, an angel would routinely come down from heaven to stir the waters in its pool and the first person to get in would be cured. The promise of healing attracted many people with physical needs who spent their days gathered in the pool-side shade studying the water for any sign up disturbance. The Bethesda pool was where they went to find their way into a different life.

During his visit to the city, Jesus made an appearance there. He didn’t shy away from engaging with hurting people. When he arrived, there was a large crowd resting at the water’s edge, but one man in particular caught the Savior’s attention. For thirty-eight long years this man lived with great need, and year after year, any glimmer of hope that his circumstances might change had slowly eroded. Jesus could see his pain and the disappointment hanging off him.

Likely to not fault of his own, the man lacked the ability to walk without assistance. He was missing what he believed he needed to live the life he imagined for himself. And so he watched life pass him by as he spent his days focused on the pool, stuck on the mat he called home. It’s not uncommon to experience disappointment with how life has turned out, especially into adulthood. Beneath disappointment is the belief that we are missing something we need to find satisfaction in life. And we have our own pools we gather around in hopes of getting what we are looking for. These pools are often careers, achievements, status, different circumstances, possessions, relationships, or a different version of ourselves. In them is the false-promise that, “If I have this or if this happens, then everything will be ok.”

In an effort to draw his attention away from the pool, Jesus asked the man, “do you want to be healed?”

Not aware of the divine power residing in Jesus, the man by the pool was deflated. “I have nobody to help me get in the water quick enough,” he responded. It’s evident he saw Jesus as someone who might help him get what he wanted somewhere else. For him, the pool offered deliverance and Jesus was a potential aide to get him where he wanted to go. But what he really needed wasn’t to get in the pool, it was to engage with the Savior before him. What he was missing was Jesus.

Jesus wasn’t offering to get him where he wanted to go. As Tim Keller writes, “Jesus says in this situation, ‘No, I’m not taking you into the water. I am the water.’” At the Savior’s command, the disabled man was healed. In the disappointments of life, Jesus comes to us and asks if we want to be healed. He’s inviting us to shift our gaze from the pools we are fixed on to the God who is present in our places of hopelessness. Only he can make us into who we never were. Only Jesus can bring the thing we need most - the abiding presence of God and the contentment that comes as we learn to let go of empty promises and find our salvation and satisfaction in him.

1. As you think back over this story, what caught your attention?

2. What is something that you believe is missing in your life? Where have you found yourself disappointed with how things have turned out?

3. What have been your pools lately? Where have you been looking to find what’s missing?

4. In what ways have you viewed Jesus more as your personal assistant than your Savior?

As Jesus began his final journey towards Jerusalem, he found himself traveling through a wilderness region situated between the Gentile territory of Samaria and the Jewish territory of Galilee. It was in this out of the way place where Jesus encountered a group of ten lepers who lived in exile. Because of their contagiousness, they were relegated to a village off the beaten path where they planned to live out their remaining days in isolation.

By choosing an unconventional route, Jesus bumped into these people on the margins of society that he would have never encountered had he gone the conventional way to Jerusalem. But Jesus didn’t live life in a straight line. He often went out of his way, putting himself in the lives of those who were overlooked. This is the marvel of Christ’s incarnation, the surprising arrival of God into a shattered world. He showed up in person to seek out find broken people so he could exchange our death-sentence for a resurrected life in the kingdom of God. Jesus is an including God who reaches out wide, past all barriers, to welcome people from every situation.

When Jesus approached their village, the lepers recognized him. Keeping their distance, they began to cry out to Jesus for help. “Go show yourself to the priests,” he said in keeping with the laws of his day. In his radical invitation, Jesus was instructing them to courageously leave behind the village in which they had been bound and venture into a new life.

As the lepers trusted Jesus and began heading to visit the priest, they were physically healed from their disease. Luke tells us, “as they went they were cleansed.” First they were obedient, then they were changed. They couldn’t stay where they were and be healed. Healing requires movement. Similarly, we can’t stay rooted we are emotionally, spiritually, even physically and become the person God intends. We have to leave behind the villages in which we are bound to move towards the full life Jesus is inviting us to follow him into. At the revelation of their bodily transformation, one of the lepers turned around and came back to Jesus.

Seeing this man’s return, Jesus asked, “where are the other nine?”

The leper who returned to Jesus did so because he was taken by the sense of belonging he experienced. He was a Samaritan; culturally an outsider among them. It was remarkable that Jesus would heal the other nine who were likely Jewish, but unfathomable in the norms of their day that a Samaritan would also experience generosity from a Jewish man. Not only did Jesus show up personally in his forgotten town, the Savior healed him too despite the barriers between them.

Upon this man’s return, Jesus exclaimed “your faith has made you well.” In this, Jesus wasn’t implying it was this man’s faith that led to his physical healing. His physical healing was a free gift. Rather, Jesus is saying it was his faith expressed in gratitude that made this man well in a new way. The kindness of Jesus healed his body, but the inclusiveness of Jesus captured his heart. As pastor Rich Villodas writes, “The other nine were healed, but it’s possible to be physically healed yet not spiritually well.” A thankful heart to God is what cultivates an environment in our souls for God’s healing work continue.

1. As you think back over this story, what caught your attention?

2. What are some ways you might avoid living life “in a straight line?”

3. What “village” do you need to leave behind to move towards the full life Jesus intends for you?

4. What does the practice of gratitude to Jesus look like in this season of life?

5. Consider some of the recent ways God has worked in your life. Take some time to “come back to him” and thank him in prayer.

Having made it safely through a storm on sea, the boats carrying Jesus and his friends reached the Sea of Galilee’s eastern cliff-lined shore, an area known as Gerasenes. To their surprise, a man approached them from a graveyard who Luke describes as “having demons.” While those traveling with Jesus envisioned this man as experiencing a literal demon possession, we can see ourselves in him as we think about those parts of us that remain off-limits or unhealed. The dark corners in our lives aren’t necessarily demons but their influence can cause us to become someone who we never imagined we would be.

Luke tells us this man was “from the city” (vs. 27), however his former life was a distant memory as he found himself now living among the dead. Once surrounded by family and friends, he was now alone and suffering. Author C.S. Lewis writes in Mere Christianity that “good and evil both increase at compound interest." Our dark corners, if unaddressed, become a powerful undercurrent beneath the surface in our lives that carry us away from the full life we were created for in Christ and into wildly different destinations than we set out to go.

When the man in the tombs encountered Jesus, he recognized Jesus was no ordinary person. There was a power that exuded from the Savior, but the evil spirits within caused him to receive Jesus, not with relief, but guilt. “Do not torment me” he pleaded. He saw Jesus as someone who might punish him. But Jesus hadn’t come for retribution, he came to seek out and free lost sons and daughters from their graveyards.

Jesus then asked him, “what is your name?”

I am Legion, a man with many demons, he replied. Notice how the man didn’t give his old name from his life in the city. He had become Legion, his graveyard identity. What exists beneath the surface of our lives has a similar identity-shaping effect. Unhealthy or unholy habits, past failures, lies we’ve believed, or the hurts done to us can shape our self-perception. If not attended to, they become the story we tell ourselves about who we are, reflected in the names we call ourselves.

By asking his name, Jesus was bringing his identity into the light in hopes he might liberate the man with many demons. Hidden things remain unhealed. In a mysterious turn of events, Jesus released the man from his demons and gave them permission to enter a herd of pigs eating nearby. As the word got out about what happened, people who knew the man from town came to investigate for themselves. There in the graveyard, a place representing loss of life, they found Jesus with their old neighbor who had been resurrected to a new life.

Luke then tells us “the man from whom the demons had gone” (vs. 38) was sent back to the city where he came from. Legion was now the man from whom the demons had gone. Jesus healed him, and in doing so, gave him a new name which revealed his new identity. As he stepped into his new life back in town, the story he told about himself wasn’t centered on who he was in the graveyard, but the new freedom he discovered when Jesus showed up in his life.

1. As you think back over this story, what caught your attention?

2. What are some of the hurtful names you call yourself? Why those?

3. Read and reflect on Revelation 2:17.

4. Consider the new name that Jesus calls you. What do you think it might be? Why that name?

5. What are some dark corners present in your life right now? What do you think it would look like for you to allow Jesus to heal those places?

Jesus visited Bethsaida, a town on the north side of the Sea of Galilee where Andrew, Peter, and Philip were born, several times in his life. During one of those trips, a blind man is brought to Jesus by his friends who begged the Savior to restore his sight. Mark tells us it wasn’t the blind man asking Jesus for help, it was his companions. While it’s not clear why the man himself wasn’t the one making the request, it’s possible he was reluctant to engage with Jesus.

Moved by their persistence, Jesus took the hand of the blind man and led him away from the others so he could have a private moment with him. It must have been disorienting to leave the safety of his friends to follow where Jesus was taking him, but sometimes God has to move us to a place of vulnerability to open us up to the change he wants to bring about in our lives. This man needed a safe first experience with Jesus to develop trust. When he could trust Jesus with his hand, he was more likely to trust him with the rest of him.

In a surprising turn of events, Jesus spit in his hands and wiped it on the blind man’s eyes. As the saliva began to soak in, the blind man’s vision began to form.

Jesus, being playful, asked him, “do you see anything?”

The images that began to register were out of focus, but the man could recognize people in front of him walking, though they looked like trees. After a few moments, Jesus touched the man’s eyes again, though this time without the spit. Everything then became clear. It didn’t take Jesus two attempts to fully heal the man because he couldn’t get it right the first time. Jesus chose to take the blind man through several experiences to accomplish all he wanted to in him. First in leading him by hand, then with spit, and finally with just a touch. His touch healed the man’s eyes, but it was his gentle guidance and the wonder brought by his spit that began to heal the blind man’s reluctant heart. Jesus gives us all the attention we need.

It was in a deeply vulnerable moment with Jesus, out away from the others, where the blind man was healed. Many people had encounters with Jesus right in the ordinary flow of their lives, but those people willing to follow him up a mountain or across a lake were part of the transfiguration experiences with Jesus. Jesus seemed to have something more revealing for those who would say yes and follow him into the wilderness. Had the blind man refused the invitation of Jesus to take a walk with him, Jesus might have still healed his eyes but he could have missed out on the personal attention he so desperately needed from the Savior. God had more for the blind man to experience that required stepping away for a time from everyone who was with him.

While the sight this man needed was physical, Jesus offers eternal perspective to anyone who comes to him in need of clarity. He is “the light shining in the darkness” who came to give sight to both the physically and spiritually blind. Sometimes we find ourselves in a similar place as the blind man with spit on his eyes. We’ve had real experiences with Jesus before but life currently feels unclear and there are things we aren’t sure how to process or navigate. To us, Jesus asks us the same telling question, “do you see anything?” In doing so, he is inviting us to follow him into solitude where he can work deeply in us and then lead us back into our lives with fresh perspective.

1. As you think back over this story, what caught your attention?

2. When is the last time you experienced a sense of wonder in your faith?

3. What is an area of your life where you currently lack vision? Where do you feel reactive?

4. What have your rhythms been lately around spending uninterrupted time with Jesus? What might need to be adjusted?

After a day at the beach together, Jesus was ready for a break from the crowds so he invited his friends to push out in boats and head to the other side of the Sea of Galilee to a region known to be less populated. Even Jesus needed time away from the constant demand for his attention. He was depleted and wanted to be with a smaller group of friends where he could decompress.

Sometime in the night, their sailing trip took a turn for the worst when an unexpected storm blew in. Mark describes it as a “great windstorm” (vs. 37). The weather was so ferocious it caused waves to break over the side of their boats, putting them at risk of sinking. As the men rushed around bailing out water and maneuvering to steady the boat, the inevitability of drowning began to set in. Despite having sailed these waters many times, the boatmen found themselves in what felt like a hopeless situation.

To their surprise and frustration, in the middle of the turmoil, weary Jesus was in the kind of deep REM cycle sleep brought on from sheer exhaustion. While the wind was raging, Jesus wasn’t reacting the way they expected. The inactivity of Jesus gave his friends the sense he wasn’t concerned about them. Don’t you care!?! (vs. 38) they shouted at him in anger as they woke him up. They felt alone and out of control.

As Jesus opened his eyes, he could see the fear on their faces. He knew what they needed. “Peace! It’s time to be still!” (vs. 39) he commanded the storm. But these words weren’t just for the wind and waves, who recognized the voice of Jesus and obeyed him. Jesus was also speaking to his friends. He was saying, I know it feels like there is no way through this, but take a deep breath. It’s time to stop white-knuckling your way. I’m not asleep because I don’t care… I’m asleep because I’m in control. I am in this with you. At the words of Jesus, the windstorm on the sea and the worry-storm inside his friends went from chaos to calm.

Knowing they hadn’t fully understood his divine power and deep love for them, Jesus pressed his friends, “why are you so afraid?”

This simple question from Jesus must have landed heavy on their over-worried hearts, especially now they were on the other side of the storm. While the intensity of what they faced was real, how they were responding to a difficult situation was revealing of how they viewed Jesus. They knew he was someone they wanted to learn from, but hadn’t come to believe he was the one who “holds all things together.” When confronted with the divine power of Jesus over nature, the men in the boat were stunned and recognized they hadn’t really understood or trusted him.

Surviving a storm with Jesus became a vivid invitation for his friends, and us, to have confidence in the power, presence, and plan of God when life feels out of control and we find ourselves afraid of what might happen.

1. As you think back over this story, what caught your attention?

2. Where in your life might Jesus be asking, “why are you so afraid?” Where is a space you have perceived God to be inactive?

3. How do you tend to respond when you feel overwhelmed? What does this reveal about how you view the Lord?

4. How do you think the disciples might have responded differently in the storm? What would that look like for you as you currently or at some point will face a crisis in your life?