Two men approach a church to pray.

One is a well-respected religious leader in the community. He’s an elder at his church; leads a parachurch ministry, and volunteers at the local foodbank. He never misses a quiet time and tithes regularly.

The other is a drug dealer that everybody in the community looks down on. He’s a destructive presence in the city. A traitor to his community. A man of immorality.

The first man walks into the church and begins to pray: “God, thank you that I’m not like other people—thieves, adulterers, sinners—or even like that drug dealer over there. I fast twice a week and tithe a tenth of all I have.”

The second man doesn’t even enter the church building. He doesn’t dare look up to heaven. He beats his chest and prays quietly, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

Now pause to ask yourself this question: Whose prayer will please God?

The drug dealer. Why? Because although his life has been plagued by sin, his prayer is born from a humility that sees and acknowledges the depth of that sin.

The religious leader’s prayer is saturated with self-righteousness, and this self-righteousness blinds him to his own sinfulness. In reality, his “prayer” really isn’t much of a prayer at all—it’s self-congratulatory self-talk that is more focused on himself than God.

The Pharisee And The Tax Collector

Jesus shares a very similar story in Luke 18:9-14 about a Pharisee and a tax collector. It’s difficult to overstate just how scandalous and offensive this parable would have been to Jesus’ original audience.

Pharisees were near the top of the spiritual hierarchy in the first century. They were a well-respected spiritual movement that was esteemed for their rigorous dedication to the law. In the eyes of the community, they were “the good guys.”

Tax collectors on the other hand were the lowest of the low. They worked for Rome, the nation that currently occupied Israel. So they took money from Israelite families to fuel the machine of oppression—and often skimmed more off the top to line their own pockets. They were national and spiritual traitors who had betrayed their people and their god. In our times, this would be like discovering your neighbor secretly worked for a hostile nation while simultaneously fundraising for a cult. For their betrayal, the tax collectors were despised.

Like us, Jesus audience would have been tempted to construct a spiritual hierarchy, with the Pharisees near the top and the tax collectors at the very bottom—so if anybody was going to pray a prayer that would please God, it would be a Pharisee.

But in the end, Jesus says it’s the spiritual traitor, not the spiritual leader, who “went home justified before God” (Luke 18:14). Jesus inverts his audience’s understanding of the world.

Why does the tax collector walk away justified? Because his prayer was born out of humility, while the Pharisee’s heart was calcified by self-righteousness. Jesus sums up the moral of the story like this: “For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

God will exalt the humble and humble those who exalt themselves.

He will elevate the lowly and lower those who elevate themselves.

Both James 4:6 and 1 Peter 5:5 echo this claim: “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.”

The Antidote for Self-Righteousness

In this parable, the opposite of self-righteousness is humility, but the antidote for self-righteousness is understanding the depth of your sin and the magnitude of God’s holiness.

When we see our sin clearly, and meditate on the holiness of God, our good deeds no longer look so impressive. And suddenly, it’s much easier to pray like the tax collector: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

From the perspective of the world, looking at your sin with clear-eyed honesty could quickly lead to despair—the scope of our sinfulness could be overwhelming. But in God’s Kingdom, looking at our sin honestly leads us back to the cross where we encounter Jesus—his loving, gracious, merciful presence. So instead of despair, seeing our sin clearly is the path to humility and gratitude and a deeper understanding of the scope of God’s mercy.

And this the difference we see in these two men: The Pharisee is blind to his sin, and in that darkness self-righteousness grows. The tax collector sees his sin clearly, and that honest examination cultivates humility.

Today, may we meditate on the unfathomable magnitude of God’s mercy and love.

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Lots of people are talking about Christopher Nolan’s new movie, Odyssey. I saw it a couple weeks ago, and loved it!

As I’m sure you know, The Odyssey is an epic poem written by Homer that tells the story of Odysseus, a man trying to make his way home after fighting in the Trojan war for ten years.

One of the core features in Homer’s story is that humans must reckon with the gods. Often , this looks like a requirement to appease the gods. This notion that humans must appease the gods is not novel to Homer or the Greek pantheon. The centrality of appeasement is a thread laced through religions throughout history

A Religion Of Appeasement

In a religion centered on appeasement, your job is to behave appropriately at all times, otherwise you run the risk of falling out of your god’s good graces. Your standing before god is not stable or secure—it will rise and fall based on your behavior. If you offer the right sacrifices at the right time, and do enough good in the right ways, and obey enough commands on enough days, then maybe—just maybe—you’ll appease god. Your actions allow you to cross the threshold into that god’s good graces—but don’t get too comfortable—because your inaction and sin could cause you to fall out of grace.

Now consider how different this is from Jesus’ invitation. Jesus doesn’t invite us into an unstable relationship where our standing ebbs and flows based on our behavior. No, Jesus invites us into a secure relationship that is rooted in unconditional, unwavering, unearned love. In God’s Kingdom, you cannot climb into God’s good grace, nor can you fall out of his grace based on sin. Instead, God’s grace is based on his goodness, not your goodness. Our relationship with God is not based on how good we are, but how good God is. And our forgiveness is not based on our obedience, but on Jesus’ obedience.

Appeasement vs. Friendship

In John 15, we learn something incredible: Jesus doesn’t invite us into a relationship of appeasement with God; he invites us into friendship with God. Friendship, not appeasement. Listen to Jesus words in John 15:15:

”I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.”

Friends. Jesus calls us friends. Not peons who must prove our worth. Not acquaintances who must appease God. Not employees who have to earn their keep or else be fired. Friends.

Now listen to the way Jesus loves his friends. This is just a few verses earlier in John 15:9:

“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.”

Jesus doesn’t offer us half-hearted love, or begruding acceptance. No, Jesus offers you the same love that the Father offers him. This is that unconditional, unwavering, unearned love. It’s deep, affectionate love. God loves loving you. He treasures you. Delights in you.

If you are a follower of Jesus, then you are a friend of Jesus. And nobody forced Jesus to be your friend. Nobody twisted his arm. He invites you into friendship because that’s what pleases him.

Obedience Flowing From Love

Friendship doesn’t mean obedience is unimportant. On the contrary, obedience and worship are the natural and necessary overflow of a heart that enjoys friendship with God. It just means that our obedience is a response to God’s grace, not an attempt to earn that grace. In John 15:13, Jesus teaches us that, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Love compels us to sacrifice our life for our friends. Jesus loved us sacrificially by laying his life down on the cross, not we love our dear friend Jesus by sacrificially obeying him.

I my own life, it’s easy to slip back into this mindset of appeasement with God—thinking that my standing rises and falls based on my behavior.

So here’s the good news—the gospel—that we’re invited to revel in today: Jesus has invited you into friendship, not appeasement. You do not have to anxiously spend your days trying to appease God, worried that your sin might outweigh your obedience, fearing that you might sin your way out of grace.

Instead, as Jesus reminds us, spend your days abiding in his love. Remain in his love. Make his love your home. And obey him as a response to that incredible love.

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“I all done!”

This was the happy declaration my two year-old son made as he finished chewing the last bite of dinner. He immediately stood up in his booster chair, waiting for me to come pick him up to set him on the ground.

Except he didn’t actually wait for me to pick him up. Instead, as soon as I stretched out my arms towards him—but before I actually reached him—he began leaning forward towards me, fully confident that I would catch him.

I want you to picture the scene.

His little toddler body plunging forward.
He doesn’t jump; just lets himself fall forward.
Like a trust fall in reverse.
There’s a moment of free fall.
His feet no longer planted on the plastic high chair.
If I don’t catch him, his body will smash into the ground headfirst.
He’s fully committed.
And completely unafraid.
There’s no concern in his heart.
No fear.
He’s smiling.
He’s happy.
He’s fully confident that his daddy will catch him.

In fact, the idea that I wouldn’t catch him doesn’t even cross his mind. The notion that I would let him fall is utterly preposterous to his trusting toddler mind.

After he fell into my arms—and I did catch him! — a thought popped into my mind.

“That’s a lovely image of what it means to trust God.”

Jesus Invitation: Become Like Children

In Luke 18:17, Jesus declares, “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”

Jesus echoes this idea in Matthew 18:3. “Unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

As we step into God’s Kingdom, we are invited to embrace the posture of a child—trusting, dependent, and reliant.

Like my son, we are invited to become fully convinced of our heavenly Father's goodness, utterly confident that he will not abandon us. God’s unwavering goodness allows us to live with a settled peace in our hearts—the peace we witness in a nursing infant resting in her mothers arms, or a young boy playing happily with his father without a care in the world afflicting his mind. These children are absorbed in the goodness of their parents—their little hearts resting peacefully in the loving presence of mom or dad.

In a similar way, the invitation into God’s Kingdom is an invitation to be enveloped in God’s goodness. And as our hearts learn to rest evermore deeply in His goodness, we finally find what we’ve been chasing: peace.

“A peace that surpasses all understanding” is how Paul puts it in Philippians 4:7. When this deep assurance of God’s goodness fills our hearts, the notion that our heavenly Father would stop loving us becomes preposterous.

Childlike Vs. Childish

It’s important to note that not all of us grew up with loving biological Fathers—so all this talk of trusting God like a Father can sound foreign. And all of us have imperfect parents to some degree—I certainly let my kids down at times. So part of our journey to become like children will be to open our hearts to be reparented by God.

It’s also important to note that our faith is childlike—trusting, dependent, assured—but it is not childish. We are not naive about the hardship of the world. We know God is not a cosmic vending machine who exists to satisfy our every wish. We recognize that the presence of God’s goodness does not magically produce an absence of hardship.

Childlike trust does not mean naively presuming this broken world will always be good to us; instead, it means trusting that our good Father will always be with us in the midst of hardship—actively loving us, never abandoning us, and working all things for the good of his glory and our sanctification.

And so we, like my free-falling son, can be confident of God’s goodness.
We can bank on it.
We can rely on God.

Today, may God grant you the grace to live like a child—resting securely in his love, confident of his goodness, depending on his provision.

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Photo Credit: Holly Landkammer

In my last post, we explored how Jesus calls us to love all people. Yes, even difficult people. We are not permitted to love some people and loath others.

But that’s easier said than done. It’s one thing to acknowledge that we are supposed to love difficult people, but it’s another thing entirely to actually embody and express that love.

So here’s the question we need to explore: How do we become the kind of person who can love difficult people?

How do we learn to forgive the person who has genuinely wronged us? How do we extend patience to the person who drives us crazy? How do we love somebody who hates us?

Becoming New Kinds Of People

To answer this question, first notice how the question itself actually implies part of the answer. Let’s take a second look at the question:

How do we become the kind of person who can love difficult people?

If we want to love difficult people, we must become a new kind of person—we must grow and change. It’s not enough to be convinced that we should love difficult people; we need God to perform heart surgery so that love—instead of hate—becomes our (super)natural reaction when we encounter difficult people.

And as we think about becoming a new kind of person, there’s a very specific person we’re seeking to imitate: Jesus. Because Jesus was the kind of person who prayed for the men who were murdering him while he hung on the cross. That’s the kind of person I want to become. That’s the kind of love I want to imitate. But I’m a long way from there. Hence, I need God to renovate my heart.

Put simply, learning to love difficult people is a journey.

It’s a process that takes time. Additionally, every person’s journey will be unique because we all have different stories, different wounds, and different struggles. So there’s no simplistic, sure-fire guide to loving difficult people. No “3 Easy Steps To Loving Your Enemies.” No shortcuts to our sanctification.

However, there are general principles of wisdom that can guide all of us along the way. So let’s take a look at four ways we can embark on the journey to imitate Jesus’ love.

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Four Practices That Help Us Love Difficult People:

1. Internalize God’s love: We learn to give love by receiving love. You’ve probably heard the saying, “Hurt people hurt people.” Well the opposite is true as well. “Loved people love people.”
   
   We learn to give love by first receiving love.
   
   It’s not enough to know about God’s love; we must actually encounter and internalize God’s love at the core of our being. We need God’s love to seep into every crevice of our heart, pushing back the fear and shame and selfishness that have taken root.
   
   Because as God’s love fills our heart, it becomes a reservoir we can draw upon to love others. Put simply, internalizing His love empowers us to embody His love.
   
   Has your heart internalized and metabolized the radical love of Jesus? Has your Spirit drunk deeply from the endless well of his affection?

2. See your own sin clearly: We combat self-righteousness through self-awareness. We learn to offer compassion to other sinners by seeing our own sin clearly. Because once I have an appropriate understanding of my own sin, it’s easier to love my fellow sinner who stands in front of me.
   
   In his book The Raggamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning describes humanity as a band of “ragamuffins”— a motley crew of needy, sinful, broken people. And once you admit your own ragamuffin nature, it’s easier to love your fellow ragamuffins. On the flip side, if you downplay your own sin, it’s only natural to begin looking down on the poor fools below you. Manning writes:

   “If we attend with perseverance to our own sorry story, we’re not only disinclined to judge others peremptorily; we’re also well-disposed to extend mercy indiscriminately to the rogues and ragamuffins who God places on our path.

   
   Do you have a healthy awareness of your own sin? Or do you think you’re spiritually superior to others?
   

3. See People Through Jesus’ Eyes: Recognize The Image of God In Others. When you look at that difficult person, what do you see?
   
   A terrible person? An idiot? A sinner? A fool? An annoyance?
   
   Any of those things could be true about that person. I have no doubt that Jesus looked at people and saw their sin and foolishness more clearly than any of us do.
   
   But when Jesus looked at difficult people, he also saw something else: the image of God.
   
   Jesus certainly saw sin and selfishness, but he also saw worth and value.
   
   Jesus could stand in a sea of sinners, and rather than seeing worthless creatures to write off, his eyes beheld beloved creations worth dying for. Not because our actions make us worthy—they actually do the opposite— but because he created us to be image-bearers with intrinsic worth and objects of his divine love.
   
   So next time you find it difficult to love somebody, try this: think about how Jesus sees them?
   

4. Discern: Love Takes Different Forms In Different Situations. Loving difficult people doesn’t just require sacrifice; it requires discernment. Jesus life models this for us as well. Jesus loves the Pharisees by calling out their sin honestly—his words cut like a chainsaw to pierce through through their hard-heartedness. He loves Peter enough to rebuke him when he unwittingly opposes God’s mission, telling his dear friend, “Get behind me satan.”
   
   Life is full of difficult, confusing, and terrible relational situations. We experience betrayal, disappointment, abuse, and a whole host of challenges. In these moments, it’s not always easy to understand what love looks like. In some of these moments, love will beckon us to confront wrongdoing, draw boundaries, stand up to injustice, or remove ourselves from a situation.
   
   Love never looks like hate, but it does take many different forms. Knowing what love looks like requires prayerful discernment, and often conversations with wise friends.
   
   Are you navigating a difficult relationship that requires discernment and wisdom? Ask God for help—and seek out wise friends.

As you think about your own journey to imitate Jesus’ love for difficult people, which of these four practices might God be inviting you into?

May our lives increasingly be animated by love—just as Jesus’ life was shaped by love.

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I want you to think about a person or who is difficult for you to love? Or a group of people who are challenging to love?

Maybe it’s because they’ve genuinely wronged you, or they support politics you find indefensible, or their theological convictions don’t align with yours, or because they just annoy the heck out of you.

Maybe it’s because they’re too liberal or too conservative.
Too judgemental or too unbiblical.
Too self-righteous or too accommodating.
Too aggressive or too passive.
Too much of a pharisee or too much of a sinner.

Maybe it’s because they’re a Trump-supporter, or a socialist, or an atheist, or a 5-point Calvinist, or a Christian nationalist, or an illegal immigrant, or an addict, or a self-righteous preacher, or pro-choice activist, or an obnoxious co-worker.

Ok, you got a person in mind?

When we find it challenging to love somebody, the inner mechanics of our heart begin to pull us towards a dangerous temptation: we categorize challenging people into one of “them” so that we can justify withholding love.

In our hearts, there’s an “us”—and we’re obviously the good guys. And then there’s “them”—who are clearly the bad guys. And once we categorize somebody as one of “them,” we stop seeing that person as an image-bearer worthy of love and begin seeing them as an enemy who deserve our disdain. Disdain leads us to demonize people, which leads us to dehumanize people, which in turn justifies mistreating people.

Modern Day Pharisees

Our world is increasingly polarized and divided. Lines are drawn, sides are picked, and love is often tragically scarce.

The world of the Bible was no different.

The Pharisees model this “us” versus “them” mentality. They had a few categories they loved to lump people in. There were the “prostitutes,” the “tax collectors,” and a helpful catch-all, “the sinners.” The Pharisees perceived themselves as God’s righteous remnant. They thought their theology was dialed; their behavior pristine. And when they looked out at the rest of the world, they saw a bunch of ungodly wretches, which, in their minds, justified their scathing condemnation and unbridled disdain.

But as you read the Gospels, you quickly bump into two issues with this:

First, it turns out the Pharisees, who were the most convinced they had everything right, were actually the most out of touch with Jesus’ agenda. The ones who perceived themselves as righteous were actually self-righteous. That should breathe a little humility into our hearts and give us pause when we think we have it all together.

Jesus Loves “Them”

But here’s the second and more significant thing we need to notice: When he walked on earth, Jesus loved “them.” He regularly spent time with “them.” He ate with “them”. He hung out with “them.”

Even when people legitimately had evil intentions—like when Roman soldiers nailed Jesus’ hands to a cross while spectators spewed insults—Jesus responds with love. From the cross, he prays for his murderers. “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Even when people’s agendas are genuinely wicked, Jesus’ agenda is still love.

So in our exceedingly polarized world that increasingly justifies hatred, followers of Jesus have a vital task: we must imitate Jesus’ relentless love.

Be Neighborly

In Luke 10:25–37, a Jewish teacher approaches Jesus to test him. After a brief exchange, he correctly identifies the heart of the law—love God and love your neighbor—and then asks Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?”

The mans question betrays his heart: He thinks there are certain people God expects you to love, and other people you don’t need to love. It’s the same “us’ vs. “them” thing we do today.

To answer this man’s question, Jesus tells a story we call “The Parable Of The Good Samaritan.” In the story, a priest and Levite walk past an injured man, unwilling to pause and help. These two men should be “good guys”—they’re supposed to be “one of us.” But they fail to love. Instead, a Samaritan pauses to love and help the injured man.

This story would have sounded scandalous to Jesus’ Jewish audience. Because everybody in that crowd would have categorized a Samaritan as one of “them”—an enemy, a sinner, a spiritual outcast.

So Jesus flips everything on its head in this story. The good guys are the bad guys and the enemy is the hero. The Samaritan is held up as a paragon of love.

So we return to the question: Who is your neighbor?

Jesus’ response in this story is clear: Everybody is your neighbor.

Every single person you encounter on earth, even the one who makes your blood boil, is an image-bearer you are called to love.

To be a little more specific, Jesus telling us not to ask “Who is my neighbor?” That’s the wrong question. Instead, we are called to be neighborly to everybody.

Love Your Neighbor. Yes, Even That Person.

Jesus teaches us to love all our neighbors. And all means all.

Love your liberal neighbor.
Love your conservative neighbor.
Love your self-righteous neighbor.
Love your atheist neighbor.
Love your grumpy neighbor.
Love your immigrant neighbor.
Love your atheist neighbor.
Love your gay neighbor.
Love your annoying neighbor.
Love your homeless neighbor.
Love your Muslim neighbor.
Love your Mormon neighbor.

Love your neighbor even if they disagree with your theology.
Love your neighbor even when you disagree about politics.
Love your neighbor even if they cut you off on the freeway.
Love your neighbor even when they hurt you.
Love your neighbor even when they hate you.
Love your neighbor even if they nail you to a cross.

Disciples of Christ are called to mirror Jesus’ neighborly, compassionate love to all people.

Love Takes Many Forms, But Love Never Looks Like Hate

Love can take many forms in different situations: gentle words, intense confrontations, thoughtful critiques, and passionate arguments. How we go about loving different people is a difficult question that requires discernment. But, to state the obvious, love never looks like hate. Love can never look like loathing, denigration, demeaning or dehumanizing.

While we must cling to conviction in an age of tolerance, we must never let our theological convictions keep us from living with compassion. Contempt does not change hearts or build God’s Kingdom; only the sacrificial love of Jesus has that power.

So today, as you walk through a world that is full of strife and enmity, you are sent to be the tangible presence of Jesus’ love.

So go love your neighbor, whoever they may be.

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When I worked as a youth pastor, I occasionally had students ask questions about heaven because they were concerned that they would get bored there.

They imagined heaven as an ethereal place in the clouds where we float around in stoic tranquility. Or worse, they worried heaven would be like an eternal church service. They were already tired of my preaching after 25 minutes—so how could they endure an eternal sermon.

I could always resonate with their thoughts and anxieties because I had similar ideas rattling in my head when I was growing up. My ideas about heaven were shaped more by cultural images than scripture. As I’m writing this blog, my mind is drifting to scenes from the animated movie All Dogs Go To Heaven.

I loved engaging in these conversations with my students because they created space to explore what scripture actually teaches us about our eternal home.

New Creation

The Bible’s vision of our ultimate home where we will enjoy eternal life is not some castle made of clouds with chubby cherubs floating around, nor is it a never-ending church service with an endless stream of preachers. Instead, the Bible describes our ultimate home as a new creation—a recreated earth that we will inhabit with resurrected bodies.

In this new creation, we will walk and talk and eat and play. And best of all, God will live there with us. Talking about this new creation, Revelation 21:3 states, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them.

The next verse goes on to read, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” And the one sitting on the throne said, “Look, I am making everything new!”

God will make all things new. Death is defeated. Sorrow banished. Pain eradicated.

This is Eden 2.0, the union of heaven and earth where God’s presence and goodness are fully available on earth—a reality and mode of existence that is no longer marred by sin.

Eden 2.0

Imagine a world where death and heartache and depression and war and cancer and injustice and slavery are gone; a reality where you experience enduring contentment and joy and peace; imagine seeing Jesus’s physical body—seeing him smile at you with warmth and affection.

That’s where I want to live!

And this is precisely where scripture promises we will live. In the book of Acts, Peter describes this new creation as “the restoration of all things.” Not a cloud realm with never-ending sermons, but a physical earth that is free of evil.

Now, there’s plenty we do not know about the new creation. What age will our bodies appear to be? Will we have jobs? If there’s no pain, what happens if you fall out of a tree that you’re climbing? Can we explore outer space? We don’t know with certainty. But these are wonderful questions to ponder because they help to stir wonder and hope.

I’m convinced that the new creation will be so wonderful—such a radiant, life-giving, extraordinary reality—that our hearts cannot even imagine how great it will be.

Why does any of this matter?

Why does it matter that we have a clear understanding of what our eternal home will be—especially if there’s still a bunch of uncertainty.

Here’s one reason: Your vision of heaven will shape your hope.

To state it bluntly, if you think heaven is going to be boring and monotonous—a place that is technically free of sin but essentially void of life—then you’re not going to spend much time or energy hoping in that place.

But if instead your vision of heaven is a new earth, full of beauty and wonder, that you will inhabit in a new physical body—one that is not afflicted by sin and will never die. Well that’s something worth hoping in.

Our ultimate hope is not that we would one day escape this cursed earth, but rather that God would fully restore and redeem and recreate our cursed earth. That he will fully eradicate, once and for all, the curse of sin and death so that we could live with Him in bliss.

And whatever you hope in will shape how you live your daily life. If your deepest hope is to be rich, then you will orient your life around that hope, cranking out long hours and grinding to get that promotion. If instead your hope is to raise successful kids, then you may actually avoid working long hours and refuse a promotion if it would pull you away from your family.

But if your deepest hope is to one day enjoy life with God in the new creation, that hope that hope will begin to reshape your priorities—freeing you from chasing lesser things, anchoring you in what lasts, and training you to live as a citizen of the kingdom that is coming.

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“What if God isn’t as good as I’ve imagined him to be?”

Do you ever find yourself fretting about a question like this? Maybe it’s not something you consciously think about—more like an unvoiced fear, a whisper in your heart, an anxiety humming just beneath the surface.

Sometimes the Gospel sounds too good to be true.
Sometimes our sin seems too bad to be forgiven.
And in those moments, our mind begins to spiral.

Maybe God isn’t as loving as I was taught.
Maybe he’s not as gracious as I hope.
Maybe he’s not as patient as the Bible says.
Maybe he’s not as compassionate as I wish.

Maybe God’s grace has limits.
Maybe his love is transactional.
Maybe his presence comes and goes.

Maybe His goodness has been overstated.
Maybe his power has constraints.
Maybe his grace rises and falls based on my behavior.

Maybe the gospel really is too good to be true.
Maybe my sin really is too bad to be forgiven.
Maybe God isn’t as good as I’ve imagined him to be?

But today, I’d like to flip this question on it’s head and invite you to ask a different question:

“What if God is even better than you’ve imagined him to be?”

What if God is more loving than you’ve been taught?
What if he’s more gracious than you’ve dreamed?
What if he really is as patient as scripture declares?
What if he’s even more compassionate than you could imagine?

What if his grace really knows no limit?
What if his affection for you is deeper than you’ve dreamed?
What if presence never leaves you—not even for a moment?

What if there aren’t words in the English language to adequately describe how good God is? What he’s even more powerful than your mind can comprehend? What if his kindness has never faltered for a single moment in all of human history? What if he’s more holy and more gentle, more transcendent and more imminent, more beautiful and more awe-inspiring?

These questions may feel difficult to entertain because they stretch our theological imagination and clash with our fears. Our anxiety and shame will rise up to shout them down.

But Ephesians 3:20 describes Yahweh as the God “who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.”

Notice how God’s power and goodness in this verse don’t just barely outpace our imagination. No, God can do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine. Paul is reminding us that God’s power and goodness is mind-bending—our finite brains cannot comprehend the scope of God’s capacity and greatness.

It’s easy to fret that God might not be as good as we’ve imagined him to be—but what if he’s even better?

Try chewing on that today.

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A couple weeks ago, I was preaching through 1 John 2:28-3:3, which includes this marvelous line:

“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1)

When we put our faith in Jesus, we are adopted into God’s family as his children. And as John reminds us in this verse, our adoption exemplifies how God has lavished love on us. God is not stingy with his love; no, he is extravagantly generous. The painting above is Rembrandts depiction the prodigal son being embraced by his father. It’s one of my favorite works of art because it’s captures the good news of the Gospel: we are embraced be God as his beloved children.

When I was preaching on this verse, I paused to highlight some of the gifts that accompany our adoption, and I wanted to expand on some of those ideas in this post. So here are ten gifts that we receive when we are adopted as God’s children:

As God’s child…

1. You are God’s beloved child—his “treasured possession.”
   God doesn’t tolerate his children; he treasures them. He treasures you. He loves loving you. In the Old Testament, God describes Israel as his “treasured possession.” The Hebrew word there is segullah. It’s a word used to describe a possession that is deeply valued and cherished. When God adopted you, you became his segullah—his treasured possession.
   

2. God likes you—and he wants to be near you.
   For many of us, the notion that God might actually like us is even more difficult to trust than the idea that he loves us. We’ve (unfortunately) found ways in our hearts and minds to view God’s love to be something that is real yet impersonal. God’s loves the world, and I happen to be in the world, so I’m allowed to sneak in with the crowd. But the idea that God likes you is personal. It’s affectionate. It’s warm. And it’s true. God likes you so much that he sent Jesus and invited you to live in his kingdom.
   

3. Relationship with God has been permanently restored—God’s grace does not ebb and flow.

   In our anxious moments, we sometimes worry God’s grace will rise and fall like the tide based on our behavior. If I’m good, the tide rises and God’s grace washes over me. But if I’m bad, the tide will fall and God’s grace is withdrawn. Thankfully, this isn’t true! As God’s children, our relational union with Jesus is permanently restored, and nothing can fracture that union.
   

4. You are freed from shame and fear of rejection—our hearts can rest peacefully.
   The internal voice of shame haunts and accuses us, whispering to our heart, “You’re too bad to be loved.” This accusation leads to fear of rejection. But the good news of the Gospel is that, though we have done shameful things, God now honors us as his beloved children. And though we were once banished, we are now embraced. In Luke 15, Jesus tells the story of a father who runs to embrace his prodigal son, and then honors his beloved child with a feast. That prodigal is you; so that embrace is yours.
   

5. You live in God’s Kingdom now—the place where God’s goodness and blessing are fully available.

   When God adopts us, he moves us into his home—His kingdom. And the presence of God’s Kingdom on earth means the goodness of heaven is invading earth. And you get to make this place—a kingdom of blessing and goodness and abundance—your new home.
   

6. You can experience the kind of life Jesus experienced: abundant life.
   Think about the kind of life Jesus experienced. A life of peace and joy and connection with His Father. A life of perfect contentment. A life free of anxiety. A life full of meaning and joy and love. When God adopts us, he invites us to enjoy the kind of life the Son of God enjoyed. Now, this side of heaven, our experience abundant life ebbs and flows; nevertheless, this life is now available to us, and we are invited to spend our lives being increasingly transformed into the image of Christ so that we can experience this abundance more deeply.
   

7. You are Invited to live in moment-by-moment connection with God.
   You don’t have to wait to die to be with God. As God’s beloved child, you are invited into real-time relational connection with God. You are invited to abide in him moment-by-moment, attentive to His presence, resting in His love, walking in His spirit.
   

8. Adoption soothes our longing for significance.

   The human heart is hardwired to crave significance. This is not bug; it’s a design feature—God created us to hunger for significance. Our problem is that we tend to search for significance in futile places. But when the human heart tastes God’s love, that hunger can finally be satiated. Significance is not found through success or status or accumulating wealth—it’s found in our identity as God’s beloved child.
   

9. You have a new purpose—becoming like our Father (holy) and joining the family business (mission).

   When God adopts us, we pick up the family business. We become apprentices of Jesus who continue his ministry—loving and blessing the world, and inviting people to live in His Kingdom. But to do this effectively, we need to become more and more like our heavenly Father, growing in holiness so that we can be conduits of heaven.

10. You have an inheritance waiting for us in the new creation.
    In 1 Peter 1:3-4, we are reminded that when we are reborn as children of God, we are gifted “an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you.” There’s plenty about our eternal life in the new creation that we don’t know about, but here’s one thing we do know: it will be even better than we imagine. This is what Paul gets at in 2 Corinthians 2:9 when he writes, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.”

If you’re interested in listening to the entire sermon, you can follow this link to check it out.

May you spend the rest of your day basking in the goodness of being God’s beloved child.

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Let me begin with a memory: I was hanging out with a group of friends. One of them made a sarcastic comment about me. They meant no harm. They were just being playful. I knew they loved me. But their words did hurt—they poked an insecurity in my own heart.

The word we speak can cause tremendous damage, creating carnage that is often unnoticed and unnamed.

Sometimes we intentionally weaponize our words. We want to hurt people. We use our words to lash out, to demean and dehumanize, to belittle and berate. We call people names. We try to make them feel dumb. We sharpen our words like arrows and aim for wounds to maximize the damage.

In other moments, our we wrap destructive words behind false earnestness—we like pretend our intentions are pure, but in reality, our we aim to wound. These are the passive aggressive comments subtly slide into a conversation, but they cut like a knife. Or the sarcastic comment that hides contempt. We speak harsh words wrapped up in humor, or jagged statements laced with false sincerity.

Often, we unintentionally wound people with our words, like the sarcastic comment I experienced. Without trying to, we dismiss a person’s pain or minimize their struggle. We offer advice in an attempt to be helpful, but actually leave a person feeling missed and even more alone. We tell a joke to get the group to laugh, but it comes at the cost of our friend.

Weaponizing Our Words

Scripture is clear that the tongue can be used as a weapon, sharpened like a sword, used hurt and to tear down. Check out these verses:

• Psalm 57:4 – “Their tongues are sharp swords.”

• Psalm 64:3 – “They sharpen their tongues like swords and aim cruel words like deadly arrows.”

• Jeremiah 9:8 – “Their tongue is a deadly arrow; it speaks deceitfully.”

• Proverbs 12:18 – “Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.”

• James 3:6: The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.

The imagery is striking: Words can be weapons. The mouth is often a tool of destruction.

Words Of Life

But here’s the good news! The words we speak can also offer life—the mouth a tool that brings edification and healing. Our words can provide comfort, spark hope, or express love. Gentle words can be a balm to wounded hearts; words of forgiveness can soothe a soul haunted by shame; a sincere apology can bring restoration to the destruction that hurtful words previously caused.

The book of Proverbs regularly speaks about the life-giving power of the tongue:

• Proverbs 15:4 – “A gentle tongue is a tree of life, but perverseness in it breaks the spirit.”

• Proverbs 10:11 – “The mouth of the righteous is a fountain of life.”

• Proverbs 12:18 – “The tongue of the wise brings healing.”

• Proverbs 16:24 – “Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body.”

Two Paths

So here’s the thing we need to remember: Words are powerful. We often throw words around willy-nilly, not realizing that the words we speak have the power to wound or heal; to spark destruction or offer life.

Proverbs 18:21 puts it like this. “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.”

Death and life. When words leave our mouth, these are the two paths they can travel. Every sentence we speak is headed somewhere. It is either moving toward life or toward death. There is no neutral ground. Our words are not harmless background noise; they are seeds. And every seed grows something.

A sarcastic jab can spark shame.
A harsh critique can nurture fear.
A careless comment can foment insecurity.

But a timely encouragement? That can spark courage.
A sincere apology can cultivate healing.
A a gentle word can provide comfort.

This is why Ephesians 4:29 encourages us to “let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up.”

Taming The Tongue

If we want to speak words of life, we must train our tongue. Or as James 3:8 puts it, we must tame our tongue. Actually, what James says is that our tongue needs to be tamed, “but no human being can tame the tongue.” Instead, we need God’s help to tame our tongue.

It’s tempting to think that this retraining of the tongue will primarily take place out in public, or on the internet—because these are the places we most frequently weaponize our words. But in reality, transforming our speech begins in private life and in our interior life.

• Private Life: The person who wants to speak life-giving words in public must first learn to tame the tongue in private. So here are a few questions to ponder:

  • How do I use my words behind closed doors?

  • How do I talk about people when they’re not around?

  • How do I speak when the crowds aren’t listening?

• Interior Life: Our words flow from our heart. More specifically, they are the overflow of our heart. Destructive words flow from a heart void of love; life-giving words flows from a heart with a deep reservoir of love. So here’s the bottom line: If you want to change the way you speak, you need God to change your heart.
  
  And here are a few questions to ponder:

  • What do my words reveal about my heart?

  • If I am going to speak life-giving words, what does God need to transform in my heart?

  • Who am I prone to speak ill about? What am I holding in my heart towards that person.

I’m the chief sinner in all this. I use my words to judge others, I gossip when people aren’t around, and I speak impatiently to my children when they haven’t done anything wrong.

But I want to keep learning how to speak words of life. I pray Jesus empowers you to do the same.

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Our actions are not random. Instead, our actions are the fruit of deeper realities—our character, our desires, our wounds, our fears, our values. What surfaces in our life rises from a deeper place in our heart, like bubbles rising to the surface of the sea.

This is true for the particular sins each of us struggle with as well. Our sin is not random. Sin has roots—it’s rotten fruit that grows from some place within our hearts.

Let’s look at a few examples.

• Samantha struggles with greed. She hordes money, rarely practices generosity, and is constantly preoccupied with accumulating more and more wealth. But the greedy behavior is simply the rotten fruit of something deeper—Samantha is afraid. She’s worried she won’t have enough. Her greed is actually born out of fear, so if she wants to grow, she’ll need to address this fear, not just the greedy behavior.

• When Barry doesn’t get his way, he gets angry, and when he gets angry he gets mean. His words are sharp and jagged, wounding those who suffer under his rage. But his anger is rooted in a deeper issue—Barry wants to control. He has a vision of how the world should operate and how people should act, and when things don’t align with this vision, he erupts. So in order to deal with these angry outburst, he’ll need to address his idolatrous desire to control.

• Ben gossips. He talks poorly about people when they aren’t around, belittling them and scoffing at their behavior. But Ben’s gossip is the rotten fruit of a deeper root issue—Ben is deeply insecure. He worries that he’s not good enough, smart enough, or spiritual enough. So if Ben wants to stop gossiping, he’ll need to address the insecurity in his heart.

These characters are woefully simplistic, but they prove the point: Sin is the fruit of deeper root issues. So if we want to deal with our sin, we must deal with these roots.

Two Types Of Root: Sin and Woundedness

Notice that the root of our sinful behavior could stem from two different places. On the one hand, sinful behavior may flow from a deeper and different manifestation of sin (judging others flowing from pride). Or the root of our sin could be born out of our woundedness (gossip flowing from insecurity).

Often these two things—our sin and our woundedness—are not neatly separated. Instead, both are often at play. And sin is still sinful, regardless of the root, but understanding the root of our behavior provides self-awareness that opens up pathways towards growth that we wouldn’t have seen before. After all, it’s difficult to grow when you don’t even know what the actual issue is.

So here’s the key idea: We grow spiritually when we address the root of our sin, not just the behavior.

Or, to say the same thing another way: Sinful behavior changes when we address the root of that sin. Our external behavior is transformed indirectly by addressing the root issue.

Wisdom From A Monk

Basil, an influential monastic leader touches on this topic. In a book written for his monastic communities, he asks, “What shall they do who have repented of sin but fall into the same sin again?” The question asks how we should respond to sins that we consistently struggle with. Basil’s response is simple: get to the root. Here’s what he says:

“He who has offended once and incurs this same sin again is seen to indicate this about himself: first that he is not purified of what is prior to the sin, from which, as from a kind of noxious root there sprouts the same ills as before. It is as if someone cuts off the branches of a tree but leaves behind the root. As long as the root remains in the ground it will eventually.”

That paragraph may sound lofty and archaic, but Benedict is basically just saying that when we continue to struggle, it often means we have not yet addressed the root cause of that sin. It’s like pulling up weeds but leaving the roots intact. If we don’t address the root issue, sin will regrow and reappear.

Getting Curious About Sin

All of this leads us to an important principle: We must become curious about our sin.

I don’t mean that we condone sin. We must never do so. But as we repent of our sin, we also become curious. We explore the root of our sin. Here are a few questions you could begin asking:

• What is the root of this sin? What drives this behavior?

• Why do I struggle with this specific sin and not others?

• What is going on inside of me when I act in this way? What is going on around me in my external world?

• What do I think this behavior will get me? How do I think it serves me?

In the aftermath of sin, we often experience shame. We find ourselves wrestling with self-condemnation and self-loathing. But Scripture invites us to confess our sin and rest in grace. And grace frees us to be curious about our sin.

Making Curiosity A Spiritual Discipline

If you’re interested, here’s a little framework to help you practice all of this. Find a quiet place to sit with God, and ask these three questions:

1. Confession: What is a sin you find yourself struggling with in this season? Name that honestly in God’s presence.

2. Rest in Grace: Spend time internalizing God’s grace by meditating on Psalm 103:

   10[God] does not treat us as our sins deserve
   or repay us according to our iniquities.

   11 For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
   so great is his love for those who fear him;
   12 as far as the east is from the west,
   so far has he removed our transgressions from us.

3. Curiosity: What might the root cause of this sin be?

It’s tempting to condone our sin, or to slip into feelings of condemnation, but God’s grace frees us to confess sin without fear of punishment, and then to practice curiosity to get to the root of our sin.

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I know we’re already a few weeks into January, but I wanted to share a few of my favorite Christian books I read in 2025. In the next week or so, I’ll send you a list of my favorite novels and stories.

1. The Connected Life: The Art And Science Of Relational Spirituality — by Todd Hall

   I loved this book—easily one of my favorites of the year. The Connected Life focuses on relational spirituality, integrating psychology and Christian spirituality to explore how our relational life shapes our spiritual life. For good or for ill, our relationships shape who we become.

   As a reader, I love collecting frameworks—memorable words or phrases that capture and categorize the human experience. This book is full of really helpful frameworks. Plus, Todd Hall is a friend of mine, and it’s always fun to read a book written by somebody you know.

2. Interior Freedom — by Jaques Phillipe

   This little book is an absolute gem. When I first heard the title of this book—Interior Freedom—a jolt of longing welled up in my heart. I crave interior freedom from fear, anxiety, shame—freedom that comes from internalizing God’s love and resting in His presence. This book is full of wisdom for anybody who shares that longing.

3. Abba’s Child: The Cry Of The Heart For Intimate Belonging - by Brennan Manning
   I love reading Brennan Manning because he never stops writing about God’s love—and he does so with beautiful prose and raw honesty. In this book, he invites us to honestly confront our internal world—the fearful, performative, shame-filled self that lives within all of us—so that we are more free to rest in Jesus’ gracious, generous, generative love.

4. The Unseen Realm: Discovering The Supernatural Worldview Of The Bible - by Micheal Heiser
   This book is fascinating. Heiser argues that the Bible presents reality as a world full of unseen spiritual beings—angels, demons, and divine powers—that play an active role in the story of Scripture, and that modern readers often miss this worldview because we filter the Bible through post-Enlightenment assumptions rather than the ancient Near Eastern context. He works through the narrative of Scripture to show how embracing the worldview of the biblical authors brings fresh clarity and insight to scripture.
   
   Heiser often makes his claims more strongly than I would (he states ideas as “facts” that I’d frame as “possibilities”), but even if only half of his ideas are true, there’s much to learn this book.

5. Your Jesus Is Too American: Calling The Church To Reclaim Kingdom Values Over The American Dream— by Steve Bezner
   One of the great dangers in the American church is that we try to baptize the American dream—we wrap up American priorities in Christian wrapping paper and call it “Biblical Christianity.” I’m just as guilty of this as anybody else. But in this book, Bezner encourages us to cling to the priorities of God’s Kingdom—to treasure what Jesus treasured and prioritize what Jesus priortized—and to resist the cultural undercurrent that pulls us to treasure things like wealth, success or political power as the ultimate goals in life. I’ve not met Steve Bezner, but he strikes me as the kind of guy I’d want to be my pastor.

6. Telling Secrets - Frederick Buechner
   Buechner is an excellent writer. He writes beautifully, and packs alot of wisdom into a little book. Buechner was a pastor/writer, born in the 1920’s. This is a candid memoir that explores pivotal, and often painful, moments in Buechner’s life. He uses these stories to reflect on how important it is to confront and name the realities in our lives that, if we’re honest, we’d really prefer to ignore.

   When we hide our suffering, then our pains become secrets that carry immense power in our life, often in dangerous and destructive ways. But if we “tell” our secrets and acknowledge our pain, then the power in these moments is positively inverted—sparking transformation rather than destruction.

7. The Return of the Kingdom: A Biblical Theology Of God’s Reign - Stephen Dempster
   This book traces the theme of God’s Kingdom through the entire narrative of Scripture, exploring how the Bible tells a single, coherent story of divine rule established, opposed, and anticipated. In Genesis, God establishes his divine kingdom. In Revelation, we read about the future consummation of this Kingdom. Between these bookends, every book of the Bible explores how God is moving to build his kingdom on earth. And here’s the good news—you and I have a role to play in this cosmic kingdom. This is a great book to read if you’re working through the gospel of Matthew, where Jesus constantly talks about “the kingdom of heaven.”

8. Experiencing Scripture As A Disciple Of Jesus: Reading The Bible Like Dallas Willard — by Dave Ripper

   In this book, Dave Ripper works to synthesize how Dallas Willard engaged with the Bible. One of the foundational ideas that I appreciated is that when we pick up our Bibles, we should seek to engage the author behind the words. Reading scripture isn’t simply a discipline where we aim to learn about God; instead, it’s a practice where we seek to actually encounter God in a real, experiential manner.
   
   It’s worth stating that this book is quasi-biographical as it explores how Dallas Willard engaged scripture (the title and subtitle could have easily been switched), so if you’re not open and interested in Willard’s work, then you probably won’t enjoy this book. But if you appreciate Willard, then this book is well worth a read.

I’d love to hear from you if you’ve read any of these books, or if you have a favorite book from 2025!

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In my last post, I wrote about the importance and power of listening. As a follow up, I want to share an extended quote about the listening from Deitrich Bonhoeffer. This is one of my favorite quotes of all time. It’s brilliant. Here it is:

“The first service that one owes to others in the fellowship consists in listening to them. Just as love to God begins with listening to His Word, so the beginning of love for the brethren is learning to listen to them. It is God’s love for us that He not only gives us His Word but also lends us His ear.

So it is His work that we do for our brother when we learn to listen to him. Christians, especially ministers, so often think they must always contribute something when they are in the company of others, that this is the one service they have to render. They forget that listening can be a greater service than speaking.

Many people are looking for an ear that will listen. They do not find it among Christians, because these Christians are talking where they should be listening. But he who can no longer listen to his brother will soon be no longer listening to God either; he will be doing nothing but prattle in the presence of God too.

This is the beginning of the death of the spiritual life, and in the end there is nothing left but spiritual chatter and clerical condescension arrayed in pious words. One who cannot listen long and patiently will presently be talking beside the point and be never really speaking to others, albeit he be not conscious of it. Anyone who thinks that his time is too valuable to spend keeping quiet will eventually have no time for God and his brother, but only for himself and for his own follies.”

5 Things I Love About This Quote

I love so much about this quote. Here are a 5 specific lines I appreciate:

1. “It is God’s love for us that He not only gives us His Word but also lends us His ear.” The creator of the universe attunes his ear to your voice. He listens to you. He’s always listening to you. Amazing.

2. “Listening can be a greater service than speaking.” We often think we have to speak to contribute something meaningful. We feel like we need to offer advice, provide and answer, offer a solution, or share our perspective. But listening is often a more meaningful “contribution”—a more impactful way to love others—than speaking.

3. “Many people are looking for an ear that will listen.” People desperately want to be heard. We all do. We long for another person to bear witness to our story—to acknowledge our hurts, our longings, our opinions, and our dreams. When another person listens to us, it provides an experience that affirms to our own heart that we matter—we aren’t invisible or unimportant.

4. “They do not find it (an ear to listen) among Christians, because these Christians are talking where they should be listening.” Bonhoeffer does not mince words: Christians are often poor listeners. We speak when we should listen. We offer advice when we should lend our ears. We try to fix people when people simply long to be heard.

5. “One who cannot listen long and patiently will presently be talking beside the point and be never really speaking to others, albeit he be not conscious of it.” If you don’t listen to people, then you can’t actually speak to people. Sure, you can open your mouth and articulate words, but those words will be empty and ineffective. Your words will buzz around the room…and then do nothing. Listening enables us to speak words that can actually land in people’s hearts—powerful words that can comfort, heal, encourage, challenge, convict, and build up.

Your Listening Ears Mirror God’s Loving Heart

Bonhoeffer wrote these words in the 1930’s. The need for listening ears has only increased since then. Modern society is plagued by an epidemic of loneliness that leaves people isolated and disconnected, and digital interaction with screens (or people through screens) has rapidly replaced face-to-face interaction. The recent rise of AI chatbots, which offer a pseudo experience of being listened too, will only amplify this problem.

All of this presents the church with an extraordinary opportunity: Your listening ears mirror God’s loving heart. In our world of isolation, loneliness, screen-addiction, and constant sound, your willingness to listen creates an oasis and a desert—you become an outpost of Eden where people encounter God’s love through your attentive ears.

What an opportunity! May Jesus’ church increasingly be full of men and women who are ruthlessly committed to listening.

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Lately I’ve been noticing how much I like the sound of my own voice. It’s a bit painful, and slightly embarrassing, to admit that how self-preoccupied I can be. But it’s true.

I like offering my perspective.
I like sharing my opinions.
I like sounding smart.
I like making suggestions (even when nobody asked for them).

Obviously, there are moments where it’s good and right to speak up, but I’ve been struck by God’s wisdom in James 1:19: “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak.”

Unfortunately, I often do the very opposite: I’m quick to speak, and slow to listen.

Yikes.

I know I’m not the only one with this struggle. We live in a society that elevates the loudest, brashest, most bombastic voices, but listening ears are harder to find. Social media offers us a megaphone for us to broadcast our opinions, but the internet is certainly not a place known as a place where people are “quick to listen.” I’m aware that there is irony in me even writing this—highlighting our lack of listening while using the internet to “broadcast” my ideas.

Nevertheless, here’s what I want to remind us of today: Listening is one of the supreme ways we love others. Listening is loving.

Listening Speaks Louder Than Words

Listening often speaks louder than words. In fact, listening often communicates love fare more powerfully than words can. Because, as the the saying goes, “words are cheap,” (or at least they can be), but the act of listening embodies and expresses care.

Listening speaks volumes. It communicates to the other…

“I see you.”

“You matter.”

“You are not alone.”

“Your story is important.”

“Your experiences are not unimportant.”

When you listen, you actually create an experience of love—something all of us desperately need. The human heart needs love like our stomachs need food. We crave love. And it’s not enough for somebody to simply tell us, “I love you.” We need to taste and experience love, and listening is one of the best ways to offer this experience of love to the people around you.

We Listen Because God Listens

One of the reasons we should commit to be attentive listeners is because God is a listener. We listen because God listens. Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes,

“It is God’s love for us that He not only gives us His Word but also lends us His ear.

So it is His work that we do for our brother when we learn to listen to him.”

God listens. He is always listening. He’s never too busy, never distracted, never disinterested. He attunes his ear to our voice, hears our cries in moments of anguish, and hears our requests night and day. As Bonhoeffer reminds us, listening is “His work.”

The reason God listens to us is because He loves us. So when we listen to others, we mirror God’s love to them and we join God in “his work.”

Your listening ears mirror God’s loving heart. And there’s no better gift than this!

Listening: The Perfect Christmas Gift

As Christmas rolls around and you hunt for the perfect present for your friends and family, can I offer you a gift idea: be a good listener.

In our hurried, noisy world, one of the greatest gifts you can offer is an intentional willingness to listen.

Be slow to speak, and quick to listen.
Ask questions. Then ask follow up questions.

Put your phone away. Turn the screens off.
Offer all your attention—not half-hearted, quasi-distracted listening.

Focus on really seeing them. Really hearing their heart.

Let others have the last word.

Your listening ears mirror God’s loving heart. And there’s no better gift than that!

As the beginning of this post made clear, this is obviously not something I’ve mastered. I struggle to be a good listener. At times, “struggle” would actually be too generous because it implies effort—and sometimes I’m not even trying to be a good listener. I’m focused on being heard.

So I will be joining you in striving to be slower to speak and quicker to listen.

If you’re willing to share, I’d love to hear from you in the comments! Here are some questions to get the gears in your mind going—pick one and share your thoughts:

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• What makes listening difficult for you?

• Who has listened well to you? Who has embodied God’s love through listening—and how has that impacted?

• How is Jesus inviting you to be a more intentional listener in this season?

Last week I wrote about the disconnect between our conscious theology (what we know intellectually to be true; what we profess to believe) and our unconscious theology (what we actually trust to be true; what we fear might be true).

We may know God’s love is unearned and unwavering, but our heart is still stuck fearing His love is transactional and fickle.

We may know prayer is powerful, but our prayerlessness reveals that our heart actually thinks that prayer is maybe, sorta, kinda, powerful—and that our own human effort is more important.

We may know that greed is sinful, but our heart is actually convinced that greed is satisfying—that it paves a path to abundant life.

This week, I want to think about how we bridge the gap between our conscious theology and our unconscious theology. Or, put more simply, I want to think about how we grow to actually trust the things we claim to believe.

Learning To Really Trust What We Affirm To Be True

A key part of our spiritual journey is becoming people who actually embody our beliefs. Our heart must be transformed by the truths we affirm, otherwise our theology is like a blueprint for a house we never build—it could be totally solid in theory, but it’s not shaping the way we inhabit the earth.

It’s not enough to cognitively affirm that God is loving, we must learn to actually live in light of His love. To wake up each day knowing that the creator of the universe delights in you, and to go to bed at night, resting in his affection. As Dallas Willard writes, “We don’t believe something by merely saying we believe it, or even when we believe that we believe it. We believe something when we act as if it were true.”

So how do we do this? How do we grow to actually trust the things we know to be true? How do we deeply internalize our theology so that it shapes how we live?

There’s lots to be said about this, but here are a few things to get this journey started.

4 Steps To Trust Your Theology More Deeply

1. Name your unconscious theology: Honestly name the truths that you struggle to trust. Here’s one way you could do this: Write down everything you know to be true about God—his attributes and character. Once you’ve done that, look over that list and ask yourself, “What on this list do I struggle to trust? This kind of honest reflection builds self-awareness, and while self-awareness alone doesn’t change us, it is a doorway to transformation.

2. Ask yourself: “Why do I struggle to trust ___________?” Now that you’ve identified specific truths that are difficult to trust, ask yourself WHY?
   
   Why do I struggle to trust that God loves me?
   Why is it so difficult to trust that he listens to me?
   Why is it so tough to internalize his grace?
   
   We all struggle to trust different truths—something that is difficult for me to trust may come naturally to you. While I’ve often struggled to trust that God loves me and likes me, resting confidently in His love may come easy to you. However, you may struggle to trust that God is holy or powerful.
   
   But one thing is true for all of us. Our struggle to trust certain truths isn’t random—there are reasons these specific things are difficult for us to trust. Typically, these reasons are rooted in our story—our past experiences, the ways we’ve suffered, wounds that sparked insecurities, our family of origen, the church we grew up in, disappointments and setbacks, unfulfilled longings, prayers that seemed to go unanswered, etc.

3. Share your reflections with friends. As you begin to explore what you struggle to trust, and why it’s difficult to trust these specific truths, invite others into your reflecting. Sit with good friends who can listen and process with you. Intentionally seek out men and women in your church who are gifted listeners and question-askers, and ask them if they’d be willing to help you reflect on your story. It might be important to find a therapist or spiritual director to join you in this journey at this point. But the bottom line is that we grow spiritually when we are connected relationally, and our growth often stalls out when we try to go it alone.

4. Ask God to help you experience your theology: In every arena of life, trust is forged most deeply through personal experiences, not just explanations. It’s not enough to be told that God is loving; we need to encounter and experience this love first-hand. We don’t just need to hear another sermon on the power of prayer, we need to experience prayer as powerful. So ask God to allow you to experience whatever it is that you struggle to trust.

There’s much more to be said about the process of internalizing our theology. But these four steps give us a concrete start.

May we increasingly become people who don’t merely confess beautiful truths about God, but people who live as if those truths are actually real—because they are.

There’s often a chasm between what we profess to believe and what our heart really, actually, truly trusts to be true.

Consider these two ideas:

• Prayer is powerful.

• Jesus loves you.

If you’re a Christian, I’m sure you can affirm these notions. You know cognitively that these ideas are true. But if we could take an x-ray of your hearts, we might discover something different. Not resolute confidence, but distrust that clashes with your belief.

This is true for each one of us.

We may know “prayer is powerful,” but in the depths of our heart we might actually believe something very different about prayer—that it’s pointless, that it doesn’t really change anything, that our own effort is more powerful than prayer. Our own prayerlessness reveals our distrust.

And while we may know God is loving, we often struggle to rest confidently in this love. We could write an excellent paper extolling the nature of God’s agape (yes, we know the greek), yet somewhere in our heart lurks the haunting fear that God is merely tolerating us. Or that His love rises and falls based on our performance. Or that God might love the rest of the world, but not us.

Conscious Theology Vs. Unconscious Theology:

What I’m describing is the difference between our conscious theology and our unconscious theology. (I first heard these terms from Dr. John Coe, one of my spiritual formation professors at Talbot Seminary. I don’t know that he’s written about the idea so I can’t footnote it).

• Conscious theology is what you cognitively know to be true—the theology we affirm and articulate. It’s what we’d write in a theology paper, what we profess to believe, and what we conceive of as truth.

• Unconscious theology is what our heart really trusts to be true—or often what we fear to be true. It’s what has been internalized at our core; our actual vision of reality.

And here’s the important thing to remember: Our life is shaped more by our unconscious theology than our conscious theology. Put more simply, our life is shaped by what we really, actually trust to be true, not just what we affirm to be true.

Our prayer life often falters, not because our theology is flawed, but because we don’t actually believe that theology.

The way we relate to God is a reflection of what our heart has actually internalized about His love, not what we’d write in a doctrinal statement about his love.

This means that it’s possible to have lots of good theology rattling in your head, but to remain unmoved and unchanged by that theology because it’s never really taken root within your soul and psyche.

This doesn’t mean knowledge or cognitive belief is unimportant. Far from it! It simply means that we must go on a journey to deeply internalize the ideas we’ve affirmed to be true. We must move from cognitive assent (nodding our head at an idea) to deep trust (building our life on that idea). It’s about deepening our trust so that we actually live in light of that truth—to live as if it’s true. Dallas Willard writes, “We don’t believe something by merely saying we believe it, or even when we believe that we believe it. We believe something when we act as if it were true.”

A Case Study: The Journey To Trust God’s Love

Let’s again use the example of God’s love to explore all of this.

Imagine a teenager accepts Christ. As a fledgling disciple, it’s utterly imperative somebody come alongside her to teach her about the nature of God’s love. After all, the only alternative to good theology is bad theology, so this student desperately needs disciplers who explore and explain the scriptures.

But while good doctrine is imperative, it’s only the beginning of this young woman’s journey. Because that good theology will now bump into all sorts of barriers and hurdles within her heart—wounds that make it difficult to trust God’s love, a family system that reinforced the idea that “love is conditional”, deeply rooted shame that makes her feel unlovable, a culture of performance that ascribes worth to behavior, etc.

So a year after her conversion, she may have a solid theology about God’s love—which is great!—but she may still struggle to really trust that Jesus loves her because of these internal barriers. Her unconscious theology will clash with her conscious theology, hindering her from actually resting in God’s love confidently.

So now somebody will need to help her navigate and exegete, not just scripture, but her own heart.

Because God’s love cannot be a nice theory; it must become our reality.

From Theory To Reality

The same is true for every other doctrine. Our ideas about the prayer, the depth of God’s grace, the reality of heaven, and substitutionary atonement must all be internalized in a similar way. These ideas cannot just be theoretically true—they must become real. They must become as real as oxygen and gravity and the neccessity of food.

When the necessity of prayer becomes as real to us as the necessity of oxygen, then prayer becomes breathing—a natural, normal act that we couldn’t imagine abandoning.

Just imagine how powerful it would be to live in a community of disciples who have deeply internalized their theology; a church that increasingly learns to live in the reality of their beliefs. It would be a community of disciples who rest joyfully in God’s radiant love, and trust his extraordinary power, and orient their life around his unwavering goodness. That’s the kind of community I want to be a part of!

Here’s a prayer that you can pray today that invites God to bridge the gap between your conscious theology and your unconscious theology. “God, help me trust more deeply what I know to be true. Help me to embody my theology—to live as if it’s true. Help me to internalize your truth at the very core of my being so that it radically shapes who I become and how I live.”

“He Is.”

I just finished reading Brennan Manning’s Abba’s Child (which is wonderful, and well worth reading). Manning shares a great anecdote about G.K Chesterton.

Standing on a London street corner, G. K. Chesterton was approached by a newspaper reporter. “Sir, I understand that you recently became a Christian. May I ask you one question?”

“Certainly,” replied Chesterton.

“If the risen Christ suddenly appeared at this very moment and stood behind you, what would you do?”

Chesterton looked the reporter squarely in the eye and said, “He is.”

Deliberate Awareness Of Jesus

As you go about your day today, Jesus is with you. Really and actually.
Today you can walk with him and talk with him.
You can rest in His love and enjoy His affection.
You can experience his goodness and encounter his presence.

Manning goes on to write, “An awareness of the resurrected Christ banishes meaninglessness—the dreaded sense that all our life experiences are disconnected and useless. It helps us to see our lives as all of one piece and reveals a design never perceived before.”

And so Manning encourages us to live with “a deliberate awareness of the present risenness of Jesus.”

I love that phrase: A deliberate awareness of the present risenness of Jesus.

Let’s make that our goal each day. Let’s train ourselves to be deliberately aware of the risen Christ who is near. Let’s intentionally train our mind to be aware of Jesus’ presence. Let’s ruthlessly fight to attune our hearts to His love.

Live each day as if Jesus is standing right there with you. Because as Chesterton reminds us, He is.

Tantalus is a character from Greek mythology, a king who committed crimes against the gods—stealing their ambrosia and their secrets and giving them to mortals.

For these crimes, Tantalus was sent to Hades where he was placed in a pool of water beneath a fruit tree. However, whenever Tantalus stooped to drink, the water receded and he was left with a parched throat. And whenever he reached for fruit from the tree, the branches withdrew, leaving his stomach empty. Poor guy.

Tantalus was cursed with perpetual unfulfillment—forever reaching to satisfy his hunger and thirst, yet always left empty.

Our modern world has transformed each one of us into Tantalus—always reaching for something to soothe the existential aches in our heart, searching for something to satisfy our longings—yet constantly coming up empty.

The Birth Of Perpetual Unfulfillment

Our culture is dominated by materialism and screens. And the marriage of materialism and screens has given birth to a society of perpetual unfulfillment—a world where we constantly scroll and stream and binge and buy and consume, and yet none of this actually satisfies the deep longings in our hearts. Instead, we are left starving for something to soothe our internal cravings.

Like Tantalus we are always reaching and never satisfied.

We buy and buy and buy, but never have enough.
We scroll and scroll and scroll, but are never content.
We consume and consume and consume, but are never filled.

Our screens amplify the message of materialism, promising to bring satisfaction and contentment if we’d just buy this thing or take that trip; look like this model or drive that car; own these sneakers or wear that brand—and yet when we reach for these things, satisfaction somehow remains out of reach. Unlike Tantalus, we might actually get our hands on the car or the sneakers, but our heart remains discontent and restless.

True Contentment Is Found Through Communion, Not Consumption

We actually get our English word “tantalize” from Tantalus’ name. And one of the most tantalizing—and destructive—lies swirling in our culture is that contentment is found through consumption.

Read that again: Contentment is found through consumption. The modern world is built around this belief.

Our phones dangle possessions and pleasure before our eyes, and our world promises that MORE and BETTER actually do satisfy. These ideas really are tantalizing. It’s so tempting to believe that contentment is found through consumption. I feel this regularly in my own life. Sometimes at night, I find myself sitting in bed scrolling through eBay, looking at things I don’t need. Or I stay up later than I should watching Netflix, trying to wring a drop of meaning out of my screen. Or I get fixated on buying something—a pair of soccer cleats, a hat, a board game—thinking that owning that thing would move me another inch towards the good life. I do these things because my heart has bought into the lie that consumption leads to contentment.

But this is a lie.

No amount of entertainment can soothe the existential longings rattling around in your heart. Nor will a bigger house or a better summer vacation.

Because true contentment is actually found in communion, not consumption. Abundant life is found in God’s presence and communing with Christ.

Rest For Restless Hearts

When we talk about “communing with Christ”, we’re not talking about cognitively assenting to God’s existence, or having prayed a prayer of salvation years ago. Communing with Christ means actively and intentionally interacting with Jesus in real-time. It means we strive to spend our days resting in his love and abiding in his presence, talking to him and listening to him, saturating our mind in His teaching and paying attention to the Holy Spirit.

Satisfaction is found, not when we consume more and more, but when we commune and connect more deeply with Jesus. As Augustine put it centuries ago, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and your hearts are restless until they rest in you.”

In John 3:13, Jesus is speaking with a Samaritan woman and he tells her, ““Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

You could almost imagine Jesus entering Hades to share this message with Tantalus. “Tantalus, even if you could get your hands on that water, you’d quickly find yourself thirsty again. But I offer living water. I satisfy the deepest longings in your heart.”

You can spend hours drinking from the digital stream, but you will never be satisfied. And you can spend your life chasing wealth and possessions, but you will never be content. Because only the living water that Jesus offers will quench the thirst in your heart.

In the loving face of Jesus, we finally discover what our hearts have always craved: affection, connection, meaning, purpose, salvation.

So do not settle for fleeting pleasure when you’ve been offered eternal joy. Don’t make peace with perpetual unfulfillment when Jesus invites you to drink living water. Don’t settle for consumption when you’ve been offered communion.

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Last post I wrote about the danger of idolizing self-reliance. Today’s post is a follow-up where that continues exploring the dangers this false god poses in the life of a believer.

Self-Reliance Skews Our Understanding Of Discipleship

One of the dangers of embracing self-reliance is that it skews our conception of what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

Imagine a young girl who goes on a field trip to the zoo wearing a pair of broken glasses. Her lenses are badly fractured, with cracks stretching from end to end.

When she gets home that afternoon, her mother asks her what her favorite animal was.

“The elephant,” she exclaims, “Because it has 5 feet!”

A skewed perception hinders us from seeing reality as it really is. For that little girl, her broken lenses made an elephant trunk look like a fifth leg.

And for a Christian who views discipleship through the lens of self-reliance, we end up with a distorted picture of following Jesus. Self-reliance radically skews our understanding of discipleship.

Here’s what happens: When we embrace self-reliance, we start trying to be independent, self-sufficient, I-need-nothing disciples when Jesus has actually called us to be dependent, needy, God-reliant followers.

We attempt to follow Jesus “in the flesh”—relying on our own strength and power—instead of walking “in the spirit” and relying on God’s power.

We attempt to prove ourselves to God, striving to earn His favor and merit His love, when God has actually invited us to rest in an ocean of love and grace that is freely given.

We try to grit our teeth and white-knuckle our way to overcome sin when scripture actually beckons us to experience freedom by abiding in Christ.

“Self-Reliant Disciple”: A Dangerous Oxymoron

So here’s the thing to remember: In God’s Kingdom, there is no such thing as a self-reliant disciple.

In fact, the idea of a “self-reliant disciple” is an oxymoron. The words “self-reliant” and “disciple” have no business being side-by-side. Because to be a disciple necessarily means to be a person who depends on Jesus.

At its core, discipleship is about needing Jesus, relying on Jesus, and depending on Jesus.

Here’s Jesus in John 15:5: I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.

Read that last sentence again. Apart from me you can do nothing.

We can do nothing of spiritual significance apart from Jesus. Attempting to be a disciple in our own strength and power is like a branch trying to grow fruit while being disconnected from the tree trunk. It doesn’t work.

Instead, to be a disciple in Jesus’ Kingdom means we must become like children—dependent, reliant, and trusting. As Jesus puts it in Matthew 18:3, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of heaven.”

We Mature By Becoming Like Children

My son Asher is almost 2. He can walk. He’s learning to talk. His little brain has developed enough that he can understand much of what we say to him. He knows where to find his shoes and where his favorite toys are.

But Asher is still a child—dependent and reliant, trusting in me and Kelly to provide for him.

As a disciple living in God’s Kingdom, you are a child—called to depend and rely on Jesus, trusting that God will provide. And God, being a perfect Father, always loves taking care of you. You are his beloved child, and his deepest desire to bless you.

In God’s Kingdom we mature by becoming like children.
We grow up by becoming small—learning to live like kids.
We become strong by admitting weakness.
We find power by embracing weakness.

This is all very counterintuitive, and yet it’s God’s life-giving invitation.

So take off those fractured lenses and ditch self-reliance so that you can see discipleship for what it truly is: a relationship between a dependent child and a loving Father who loves to provide.

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Hidden Idols

Some cultural idols are easy enough to recognize. In our churches, we frequently talk about the dangers of idolizing wealth, sex, and success. While these false gods may still be difficult to resist, most of us are aware of their presence in our culture.

But other idols are much more difficult to identify.

Some idols are so wrapped up in cultural approval—so widely embraced and normalized—that our eyes become blind to their presence in our lives. These counterfeit gods sneak into our hearts—and often our churches—and we may worship them without ever realizing it.

Today, I want to name just one of these hidden idols: self-reliance.

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The Allure Of Self-Reliance

Let’s define self-reliance like this: depending on your own power, ability, and wisdom to navigate life. American culture trains us from a young age to embrace this self-reliant attitude.

To be strong, not weak.
To be self-sufficient, not needy.
To be independent, not dependent.
To be in control, not under the control of another.
To pull ourselves up by our bootstraps instead of looking for help outside of ourselves.

This is the American way. It’s an alluring, tantalizing way of life, because it offers us a sense of power and freedom.

But it is not the way of Jesus. In fact, Jesus calls us to embrace our weakness, acknowledge our neediness, and admit that we are not in control. He beckons us to reject a self-sufficient posture so that we can embrace the posture of a child—dependent, reliant, and trusting.

In the Gospels, Jesus frames it like this. “Truely I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of heaven.”

Put simply, Jesus calls us to reject a self-reliant life so we can embrace a God-reliant life—a life where we find power, strength and wisdom in our relational attachment to Jesus.

Looking To Christ

Notice, we do need power, strength, and wisdom to navigate life—we just don’t find these necessities within ourselves. Instead, we discover these resources in Christ. As we abide in Christ, actively depending on His presence, then his power, strength and wisdom fill us and flow out of us. Our needs are met, not by looking within, but by turning to Christ.

We see this idea throughout Scripture:

• We are called to abide in and depend on Jesus. Because apart from Jesus, we can do nothing of spiritual worth, but once we’re connected to Jesus, we can live fruitful lives.
  
  ^“I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5)
  

• We are called to embrace our own weakness, because embracing weakness is the path to receiving supernatural power from God.
  
  ^“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness”…For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (1 Corinthians 12:9-11)
  

• We are called to admit our neediness, because then—and only then—our hearts are in a position to receive Jesus’ merciful provision.
  
  You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see. (Revelation 2:17-18)
  

• We are called to walk with the Spirit, because the Spirit is the one who has the power to overcome the sinful desires raging in our hearts.
  
  "So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.” (Galatians 5:6)

Self-Reliance Is A Barrier To Abundant Life

One of the reasons we must reject-self-reliance, is because it hinders us from receiving and experiencing the abundant life God offers. As the Revelation passage above highlights, self-reliance asserts, “I’m good on my own. I don’t need anything. I don’t need help.” And just as a dam hinders the flow of a river, this mindset becomes a barrier that hinders us from drinking in the living water Jesus offers.

So if we want to enjoy abundant life in God’s Kingdom, we must become like children—dependent, reliant, trusting.

This is counterintuitive and countercultural.

It’s counterintuitive because it’s tempting to think that abundant life is found by throwing off weakness and asserting our self-sufficiency. But in reality, abundant life is actually found specifically by admitting our weakness and neediness. We don’t find abundant life by looking within ourselves, but by looking outside of ourselves to God.

It’s countercultural because embracing childlike dependence confronts a cherished myth that swirls in our culture. This myth sounds something like this: “You can manufacture abundant life by leveraging your power, ability, and wisdom.” It’s rarely stated this plainly, but this idea is woven through our media, culture and history.

But this is a lie. It’s not real. You cannot leverage your power and ability to manufacture true abundant life. Yes, you can attain wealth, success, pleasure and relationships, but you cannot find enduring joy, or supernatural healing, or salvation from sins, or transcendent purpose, or a peace that surpasses understanding.

Becoming Like Children

In America, we elevate those who elevate themselves. But in God’s Kingdom, Yahweh elevates those who depend on him (see Philippians 2:1-10). He lovingly embraces those who embrace childlike dependence; those who trust in their heavenly Father—not their human hands—for guidance, power, and strength.

Abundant life is only found in Jesus. Not in our effort or achievements.

So today, here’s the invitation: become like a child.

Reject self-sufficiency so you can live a God-dependent life.
Embrace weakness so you can experience God’s power.
Admit your neediness to so you can receive God’s help.
Live like a child, so you can enjoy His Kingdom.

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In John 12, we encounter an interesting story about the relationship between life and death in God’s kingdom.

The story begins with a group of Greeks who want to see Jesus. They’ve heard of the miracle working rabbi who preaches with authority, and now they want to encounter him first-hand. So they ask Philip (one of Jesus' disciples) if they can see Jesus. Philip goes to Jesus, but rather than immediately welcoming the men, Jesus shares an interesting, and somewhat cryptic, word.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”

Pulling an image from his agrarian culture, Jesus is essentially saying two things:

1. If a grain never falls to the ground it remains alone—though it lives, all it will ever be is a single kernel of wheat.

2. But if a grain falls and is buried in the earth, it multiplies—though it dies, it produces new life and more wheat.

So what is Jesus getting at here? Put simply, Jesus is teaching us that in God’s upside-down Kingdom, death becomes a pathway to new life.

We see this most concretely in Jesus' own death and resurrection. Like that grain buried in the ground, Jesus' body is buried in the ground and his death “bears much fruit”—sinners are saved, demonic forces are defeated, and the goodness of heaven invades earth.

Jesus' own resurrection is actually the first fruit of his sacrificial death. Paul underscores this point in 1 Corinthians 15:20 writing, “Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.” But this principle applies to our lives as well.

If we want to experience the abundant life Jesus offers, we must learn to die to our old, sinful, selfish way of life.

Death Is The Pathway To Life

Kelly and I have been planting trees and bushes in our backyard. But before we could plant anything new, we had to pull up the old weeds. Those weeds had to die so something new could grow.

Our hearts hold their own garden bed, and all sorts of stuff grows there. Ideally, the fruit of the Spirit takes root—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. But when I examine my own heart, I can see that selfishness and arrogance and cynicism have taken root there. So if love and humility and hope are going to grow within me, these old weeds must be uprooted.

The same is true for all of us.

If we want to grow in humility, pride must die.
If we want to cultivate compassion, our judgmental attitude must die.
If we want to nurture generosity, greed must die.
If we want to live by faith, self-reliance must die.
If we want to experience greater intimacy with Christ, distraction must die.

The list goes on and on. Death is the pathway to life.

Dying To Live

Let’s go back to John 12 again. Jesus concludes this teaching in verse 25 with a seemingly contradictory statement: “Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

OK, so if you love your life, you’ll lose it? And if you hate your life, you’ll gain eternal life? That seems…a bit odd. But when it’s connected to the image of the dying grain above, the meaning becomes more clear. Jesus is arguing that you cannot discover new life unless you first lose your old life. The weeds must go if new life is to grow.

If you try to hang on to your old way of life—the selfish, self-reliant, self-seeking way of life—then you will never experience abundant life. You’ll miss out.

But if you abandon that old way of life—if you die to the sinful, selfish way—then you are finally free to embrace Jesus' way of life and experience abundant life.

It’s worth pausing to ask: What might you need to put to death? What has grown in your heart that needs to die?