There was a time, not so long ago, when my world was very dark. Have you ever stood outside, on a moonless night, with the thick, velvety air pressed all around you and the inky black sky above, and realised that you could see precisely nothing? That’s the kind of dark I mean.

Of course, I had all the feels as well; sadness, disorientation, confusion, an underlying sense of panic, but, primarily, the overwhelming sense was one of complete obscurity. I couldn’t see through the impenetrable blackness all around me, I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face.

I had never been in a place like that before. It wasn’t until a long time afterward that I was able to be thankful for such a darkness, but right in the middle, I longed for light, for the path to be made clear, for God to give me a sign.

GIDEON’S FLEECE

A story kept coming to me during this time—one about a man named Gideon from the Old Testament, whom God raised up as a mighty hero and rescuer of Israel (Judges 6-8). The Israelites had been harried for seven long years under the hand of the Midianites (who were related to Israel through their common ancestor, Abraham).

The angel of the Lord appeared to Gideon one day while he was secretly threshing wheat, so as to hide the grain from the marauding Midianites. 

The angel told Gideon, “Go with the strength you have, and rescue Israel from the Midianites. I am sending you.” 

Gideon wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t so much that he doubted God, but rather he doubted God would use him. He wanted proof.

He asked God for a sign. He would put a woollen fleece out overnight on the threshing floor and if the fleece was wet with dew in the morning and the ground around it was dry, he would know for sure that God was with him and would help him rescue Israel.

The following morning, Gideon awoke to find a wet fleece on a dry floor. In fact, it was so wet that he was able to wring it out into a bowl, filling it to the brim. Convincing, yes?

Not quite enough for Gideon. Maybe it wasn’t God’s doing, just some strange quirk of overnight temperatures and precipitation and such.

He asked for a second sign, imploring God not to lose patience with him. He would put the fleece out again, but this time he asked that the fleece be dry in the morning while the ground all around would be wet.

Amazingly, that’s exactly what happened. And that’s where the story also ends, at least in relation to the signs. 

Gideon does go on to march against the Midianites, winning a decisive battle and freeing the Israelites from their control. The book of Judges, which chronicles these events, tells us that the Midianites never recovered from that day onward. The people of Israel were so impressed with Gideon’s bravery and leadership, that they tried to make him king, but he refused, 

We’re told nothing, however, about Gideon’s thoughts or feelings after receiving the second sign, only that he went confidently into battle soon after, clearly believing God to be with him.

I had always taken this story to mean: ‘ask God for a sign and the way will be made clear.’ And so, as I entered my dark night of the soul (although I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time), I repeatedly asked God for a sign. Not so specifically as, ‘make this or that happen’, but more like ‘show me which way to go.’ Metaphorically speaking, I was laying out my fleece each night, looking for a change; either a wet fleece and dry ground, or a dry fleece and wet ground. I didn’t much mind which one it was, I just wanted some indication of God’s presence, showing me which direction to take.

Like Gideon, I wanted to be brave but I didn’t want to make a decision without knowing for sure that God was with me in it. 

Bafflingly, it felt like God remained silent. I couldn’t understand it, I felt like I desperately needed a sign, I was actively looking for a sign – and yet my world remained dark. 

THE SIGN WAS  THE SIGN

I kept wondering about the story of Gideon and the message I thought the story communicated – ask God to show you, and then go that way – yet I couldn’t understand why God wasn’t coming through for me.

And then, suddenly, it hit me. The sign was the sign.

The story of Gideon wasn’t so much about direction but about trust. God already knew the way and could see the future mapped out, even if Gideon couldn’t. And Gideon didn’t need to be able to see that future to trust that God was already in it and that He had already gone before him. He just had to believe.

God had proven to Gideon He was able to do both things in relation to the fleece, and that, in fact, nothing was impossible with God. 

This was the God who had led the Israelites out of Egypt and through the Red Sea on dry ground. This was the God who had spoken to Moses from the depths of a burning bush which had not been consumed. This was the God who had called faithful Abraham out of the wealthy and prosperous civilisation of Ur to come to a place that only God knew, to a place that would become his home.

The sign was the sign – God can do anything. He already had my future mapped out, I just had to trust Him with it and step out. 

I needed to make a decision. 

STEPPING OUT IN FAITH

I’d like to be able to say that I then stepped out boldly and unafraid into a darkness that seemed all-encompassing. In reality, however, the fact that I couldn’t see where I was about to place my first step was terrifying.

Although deeply unhappy with where I was, I was also really scared to leave the place of no-decision. At least it was safe. At least it was known. At least I didn’t have to wrestle with all the doubts and fears that come when trying to make a decision – will it be the right one, will my family be ok, what if this changes everything…?

I was really scared to say ‘yes’ to God, without a single clue as to where He would take me. But I finally understood that the lesson of the story of Gideon wasn’t about waiting for the perfect sign before stepping out, but rather stepping out in faith, believing God had gone before me—and then watching God go to work.

They say that courage isn’t the absence of fear, but feeling the fear and doing it anyway (although the definition of stupidity is much the same which is why life can get complicated at times).

I noticed, almost immediately the moment I stepped out, a small glimmer of light. Things shifted in my world, doors began opening, new relationships began to flourish, and the darkness began to edge away. Like someone who has been deep underground, I felt my eyes adjusting to the light, my skin soaking in the warmth of the sun. 

“Sometimes when we’re in a really dark place, it can feel like we’ve been buried, but we’ve actually been planted.” – Christine Caine

I discovered that what had felt like a sentence of death was really a season of dormancy. I was like a seed, waiting for the right kind of conditions to grow. And, strangely enough, the truth is that most seeds germinate best in dark conditions. 

The darkness wasn’t an unhappy accident of fate, but a determined season of God. Things needed to die in the darkness in order to be reborn again in the light. 

THE DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL

Even now, still thinking about that time, I become still and quiet, deep within my soul. It’s a difficult period to contemplate, a time of profound pain for me. 

The dark night of the soul is, as Inayat Khan writes, a total annihilation of all that you had believed in and thought that you were. Yet as Joseph Campbell states, “the dark night of the soul comes just before revelation. When everything is lost, and all seems darkness, then comes the new life and all that is needed.“

I’ve recently been reading ‘Confronting Christianity’ by Rebecca McLaughlin, who tackles the topic of suffering in Chapter 11 of her book. This chapter perhaps wouldn’t have resonated with me back then as it does now; I would venture to say that I had, generally speaking, suffered very little in my life up until that point. 

Rebecca offers a biblical framework around our concept and experience of suffering, sharing the story of two sisters, Mary and Martha, whose brother Lazarus had died (John 11:1-26). When Jesus finally arrives at their house, Lazarus has been dead for four days and both sisters are grief-stricken. We wonder that Jesus, who could have come sooner, didn’t, and instead chose to stay away. Yet even when Jesus does come, he does not fix Martha’s problem but instead invites her into a deeper, more profound realisation…

“Jesus looks her [Martha] in the eye and says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” As you stand here in your desperate grief, your greatest need is not to have your brother back again. It’s to have me.

This statement is yet more shocking than Jesus’ failure to come in the first place. Far from being the “good moral teacher who never claimed to be God” of modern mythology, Jesus here claims not that he is offering good guidelines for life, but that he himself is life: life in the face of suffering, life in the face of death.

Jesus’ power over death is absolute. I believe it is the only hope we have in the face of our inevitable end. But what fascinates me about this story is how little focus there is on Lazarus himself. Rather, the narrative draws our gaze to profound questions…In this strange stretching of the story, we get a glimpse of the whole biblical framework for suffering. The space between Lazarus’ death and Jesus’ calling of him out of the tomb is the space in which Martha sees Jesus for who he really is: her very life.” |  Rebecca McLaughlin, Confronting Christianity, pages 199-202

OUT THE OTHER SIDE

The dark night of the soul is the place where we confront the reality of death, natural or spiritual, perhaps for the first time. It’s the collapse of everything we thought we knew and understood, a painful shedding of possibly our identity, relationships, career, habits, or belief systems that had allowed us to construct some meaning to our lives.

It is often a time of existential crisis as we wrestle with our identity, our sense of self, and the purpose and meaning of life.

Yet it’s also the place where we confront Life, the true Life of the world, maybe, too, truly for the first time. “Our suffering is an entry point to relationship, a relationship formed through suffering as much as through joy. If, as Jesus claims, the goal of our existence is relationship with him, finding him in our suffering is the point.” (Rebecca McLaughlin)

As C S Lewis, British writer, literary scholar, and Anglician lay theologian, who experienced overwhelming grief at the loss of his wife, commented,  “Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pain. It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” 

I wasn’t necessarily a better Christian walking out the other side of that dark tunnel. I wasn’t necessarily wiser, braver, or more certain of my next steps. The pain I experienced didn’t suddenly evaporate like mist in the bright light of day, and I wasn’t instantly fixed.

And yet, somehow, I had changed. When I emerged, finally, I did so with a deeper recognition of where I needed to be putting my trust, a better understanding of what is truly of value, and a resolution to allow the painful experience to shape me into a better person moving forward.

And I can still recall the moment in the middle of that dark night of the soul when I suddenly understood the call of God to mean that I must step forward into the darkness. And that, as I took that first step, light began to spill in through the darkness, illuminating my path, and I discovered that the One I was following had been there all along. 

(Not a reader? Take a listen instead ⇓)

Faith Under Fire

It’s been nearly five years since the religious community I grew up in ‘regretfully accepted my withdrawal from fellowship‘. In reality, I did no such thing, their statement was simply an awkward and disingenuous way to excommunicate me because I could no longer affirm, without reservation, particular tenets they held to be watertight and immutable.

I feel that had the Bible genuinely been our mutually agreed authority, there would have been no good cause to excommunicate me and plenty of good reasons to continue affirming me as a Christian in the Lord (as I do them).

I struggled a lot in those first few years with what I perceived to be the injustice of the situation. I have always been someone who has taken life, in general, pretty seriously (perhaps, my husband would wryly comment, a little too seriously at times) and my faith, in particular, quite seriously.

As a child, I had been aware of several church members who had been excommunicated through the years, with the church being told of such a decision by a public announcement issued from the front after the service. Children were always ushered out during these announcements, such things considered unsuitable for young ears, but we were not unaware of the solemn hush that would fall as we made our way outside, with the grim news eventually making its way to us regardless, through the whispers of our older, more astute peers.

It seemed to me, as a 12-year-old, that excommunication was the most awful thing that could ever happen to a person, worse than death; an all-encompassing, church-wide determination that a person had failed to keep the faith and had become a heretic or, worse, an apostate.

To experience it myself, then, many years later was shocking. It implied I had not measured up to the expectation of Christian living, and this judgment sits uncomfortably with me. I had no glaring moral issue or unrepented sin that would give cause for such action. And yet, I felt like Hester Prynne, with the letter ‘A’ (for apostate, in my case) painted in bold, vivid red on my back for all to see.

The seeming dismissal of the authenticity of my faith was and still is painful and difficult to understand. I wondered silently, had I failed to keep the faith?

All The God Colours

For someone raised in such a black-and-white tradition of viewing both scripture and the Christian life, adjusting to life outside of this – beyond the pale – has been both liberating and confronting.

I have learned about the messy but vital reality of the local church; filled with sinning and flawed humans who are being renewed daily by the grace of God, asking their questions and voicing their doubts along the way. And when I say messy, I don’t just mean a few hymn books out of place in the proverbial church pew.

There are many things that Christians agree on – the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus, that God created all things, that humanity is estranged from God and in need of forgiveness and redemption, and that Jesus will one day return, bringing with him the new heaven and the new earth.

And then there are the things that Christians don’t agree on – eschatology (end times theology), the nature and workings of the Spirit today, old earth/young earth, what kind of worship is the right kind, the role of women in the church…

In my former Christian community, end-time theology was extremely important. A robust understanding of the (mostly accepted) end-time view was expected. Some would even go so far as to say that holding the correct end-time view (which must include Russia as the ‘bad-guy’ protagonist), was a vitally important part of bone-fide Christianity, right up there with the virgin birth and the resurrection. (Given Jesus had very little say about Russia, or the apocalypse for that matter, I had decided to largely untrouble myself with such conversations (unless they’re simply two Christians shooting the breeze – albeit somewhat left field, over a cold summer bevvie…).

In the wider Christian world, the end-times are often hardly given a thought. Sure, Jesus is coming back, and all things will be put right in the end, but the timing and mechanics are largely a mystery when all’s said and done. Jesus himself even said, “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.“

In contrast, a lot more time is spent on the here-and-now: how are you living; are you moving closer to God, does your life show the fruit of the Spirit?

An in-depth understanding of the atonement was also required. It was not enough just to say that you believed Jesus had saved you, you also needed to be able to explain exactly how this was done. Was it his life? His death? His blood? Was he a substitute (definitely not) or was he a representative? And what did you know about propitiational atonement?

Propitiational atonement? You may as well be speaking double-dutch. Some Christians wouldn’t have a clue what you might mean by that funny, old-fashioned word, but they sure as heck know that Christ died for their sins, and so they could have a relationship with God, and their faith is firmly placed in this truth.

(And, in fact, the community can’t even come to a consensus among themselves on the mechanics of the atonement, and multiple splits have occurred and still occur on this subject alone, with neither group affirming the other as true Christians).

Exposed to widely varying (and, in many cases, extremely interesting) perspectives on all manner of biblical topics, I have been forced to reexamine my own position and reevaluate, in many instances, how I had been taught to read and approach scripture. What may have once appeared to be the only way of reading the text was suddenly only one of several ways, and viewing scripture in light of all its nuances often opened up new ways of understanding, both scripture and others’ interpretations of it.

Suddenly I was no longer sure I was right on every single thing because I realised I’d never had the opportunity to genuinely consider alternative interpretations or views. Neither was I sure that being right was the point of the exercise.

People will try to tell you the Bible is black and white on every subject but it’s not, not by half. There’s plenty of grey, and bold, glorious colour too. There’s space for openness and conversation and listening and learning and for seeing things from different angles.

It’s a living book, this word of God, intimately speaking to each one of us as if it were written for us alone. It contains a kind of magic, a mystical power that changes our hearts and transforms our lives. And so sometimes we’ll hear its song like a harmony played on different instruments. And yet holding these harmonies together is the beautiful melody, always true, always constant, always trustworthy:

For someone raised to judge the authenticity of someone’s Christianity by their degree of understanding (or perhaps more accurately, their (correct) position on a myriad of doctrinal matters), this shift in perspective has not come without its challenges.

Challenging Your Status Quo

The way we think, the habits we form, the people we become are shaped by many things. We typically develop unconscious biases as a result of the things we were taught and the observations we made throughout our childhood. These implicit and explicit biases are influenced by our backgrounds, personal experiences, societal stereotypes, and cultural contexts, and when we look at religious life, it’s not so very different.

Many things that we do or think as Christians find their origins in scripture – but, conversely, a lot of things don’t and, more often than not, are simply generational traditions passed down until they become commonly established practices or beliefs (without necessarily any particular biblical weight behind them).

‘Traditions’ are described as inherited, established, or customary patterns of thought, action, or behavior (such as a religious practice or a social custom) or a belief or story or a body of beliefs or stories relating to the past that are commonly accepted as historical though not verifiable.” They can also be “the handing down of information, beliefs, and customs by word of mouth or by example from one generation to another without written instruction”, “cultural continuity in social attitudes, customs, and institutions”, or “characteristic manner, method, or style”. – Merriam-Webster Dictionary

I wrote more about traditions here so my intention isn’t to talk about them in any further detail in this article, only simply to point out that while there’s nothing implicitly right or wrong with traditions (the Bible never condemns traditions of themselves), Jesus’ words in Mark 7:6-8 remind us that traditions shouldn’t ever supersede God’s Word.

One of the biggest shifts in my journeying beyond the pale has been to attempt to recognise when these occasions of bias arise, and learning to examine the thought patterns, past beliefs, practices, or traditions that I may have once held to be true and immutable, challenging them in the light of scripture.

I think this challenge to our preconceptions and biases should form part of our spiritual disciplines throughout our Christian life, not just in moments of crisis, deconstruction, or external challenge.

As NT Wright comments, part of the genius of genuine Christianity is that each generation has to think it through afresh; not just receiving the faith but also keeping the faith; that is, constantly evaluating our beliefs and practices to see if they reflect the original apostolic teaching, traversing the space between certainty and disbelief with skepticism and faith held in both hands.

‘Part of the genius of genuine Christianity is that each generation has to think it through afresh. Precisely because God wants every single Christian to grow up in understanding as well as trust, the Christian faith has never been something that one generation can sort out in such a way as to leave their successors with no work to do.’ (N T Wright)

I wasn’t taught to hold this sense of healthy skepticism as a critical reality of my journey of faith. Rather, everything that I had to know and could know was supposedly imparted before my water baptism, and my Christian life thereafter – until death or Jesus returned – was simply about ‘protecting the truth’ and not ‘leaving the truth’ (don’t let the heretics in and don’t become a heretic).

Yet I have learned that the truth is far more simple than I first imagined and, further, is not a commodity to be owned or protected by us. It’s God’s truth and He can and has protected it throughout the ages. Our job is simply to make sure we’re walking in that truth – keeping the faith; constantly asking ourselves if our personal beliefs and practices continue to line up with the teaching of the apostles (and being committed to adjusting, if necessary).

The Teaching Of The Apostles

While being a Christian is certainly communal, and while Christians tend to believe mostly all the same fundamental creeds, and while the creeds and practices of Christianity can be taught and preached and are, in many ways, intrinsically invaluable to religion, true religion is the individual and deeply personal matter of one’s binding to the person of Christ.

Religion, therefore, in the truest sense of the word, cannot be passed down. It must be personally received by each individual, for themselves.

The Book of Acts, which recounts the early days of the first-century church, records what this looked like. The recurring theme throughout the book is a threefold message of salvation, repentance, and abiding, which every person who would call themselves a believer wholeheartedly adopted and received:

salvation + repentance + abiding

First, a message of salvation was preached; the desperate natural state of humanity and how God set out to rescue humanity, through Jesus, whom He raised from the dead. The scope of God’s story is, of course, much larger than our own personal salvation, but the primary message of evangelism is that we are estranged from God but that He has made a way home.

Then, a message of repentance was taught; the need to reject one’s former way of living and take hold of God’s provision of living water by being born again of water and spirit. This is the primary message of discipleship, a decision to become a follower of Jesus, who is both Lord and Christ. It is, as Eugene Peterson puts it, a long obedience in the same direction.

Finally, a commitment to abiding in Jesus – keeping the faith – was communicated; which includes the necessary reality of being part of the community of believers. By becoming a follower of Jesus, we are no longer just an individual Christian, but part of a collective body, the body of Jesus Christ. We are part of the church: a gospel-shaped, gospel-saturated, and gospel-sending living and breathing organic reality.

What’s also incredible to contemplate is that when we abide in Jesus, we are also in common union – community – with all those who are also abiding in him, both in our present time and throughout the ages, a great cloud of faithful witnesses of the risen King, the people of the kingdom (1 John 2:28, John 15:1-27, Hebrews 12:1-2).

We are connected right back to those at the epicentre of the most explosive and world-changing event: the resurrection of Jesus Christ. We are connected by the precious blood of the lamb and nothing can separate us from the love of God, apart from us choosing to leave the light and walk again in darkness (Romans 8:31-39).

Written about 300 years after the birth of Christ, the Apostles’ Creed summarises the foundational Christian beliefs taught by the early church and is an invaluable touchstone for us as we constantly examine whether we are keeping the faith.

“Examine yourselves to see if your faith is genuine. Test yourselves. Surely you know that Jesus Christ is among you; if not, you have failed the test of genuine faith.” 2 Corinthians 13:5

Keeping The Faith

Keeping the faith is the practice of constant personal evaluation; examining the state of our heart, being truthful about the orientation of our life, and showing evidence of the Spirit being present, through the adding to our faith of virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness, and love (which are all outworked in community).

Repentance is not a one-time act but a constant reorienting of our hearts towards God every single day of our Christian journey, a daily decision to walk in the light and not in the darkness. Do we remind ourselves of the place in which we used to be, the dominion of darkness, dead in our transgressions and sins, and ensure that we have not, like Lot’s wife, looked back, turning the direction of our life towards those former things which have passed away?

Believing (from the Greek word pisteōs (πίστεως), meaning to entrust) is firstly a posture of the heart. Are we continuing to place our trust, like faithful Abraham, in the provision of living water that comes from God? Are we reminding ourselves each day that we are saved by grace, through faith, and not by our own efforts, it is the gift of God? Are we resting in that promise? Or have we, like the foolish Galatians, begun adding additional spiritual acts to the formula of salvation, convincing ourselves that our performance somehow contributes to God’s work of grace (in our life or others)?

And are we abiding in Jesus, outworking our life of faith in the community of his people? Do we remain connected to the vine, bearing much fruit as Christ works in us and through us? Are we remaining in Christ’s love, keeping his commandments by loving our fellow Christians in the same way that Jesus has loved us? For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and, likewise, we cannot be fruitful unless we remain in Jesus.

Whether you find yourself in a season of drought, part of a flourishing faith community, at the edges of everything you’ve ever known, or out beyond the pale, I would encourage you to remember this: the Christian life is not an academic exercise. The strength of our faith is not judged by the intensity of our emotions; faith is trust and it’s only as good as the object of our trust.

The question, then, isn’t “do you truly believe” but, “who do you trust“? Are you pointing to Jesus, are you resting in his grace, and are you demonstrating his love?

Are you keeping the faith?

Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong.

“But you, dear friends, must build each other up in your most holy faith, pray in the power of the Holy Spirit, and await the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will bring you eternal life. In this way, you will keep yourselves safe in God’s love. And you must show mercy to those whose faith is wavering. Rescue others by snatching them from the flames of judgment. Show mercy to still others, but do so with great caution, hating the sins that contaminate their lives.

Now all glory to God, who is able to keep you from falling away and will bring you with great joy into His glorious presence without a single fault. All glory to Him who alone is God, our Savior through Jesus Christ our Lord. All glory, majesty, power, and authority are His before all time, and in the present, and beyond all time! Amen.” | Jude 1:20-25, NLT

(Not a reader? Take a listen instead ⇓)

 

There are many crossings a human will make in a lifetime.

Our introduction to life is just the first.

From the dim, watery, stillness of the womb, we are thrust out into the bright light of day; into this dizzying kaleidoscope we call life. 

Our lungs, filled with fluid and collapsed upon themselves like waxy, paper bags, suddenly inflate, as our intricately crafted nervous system reacts to the sudden change in temperature and environment. We breathe, for the first time on our own; the oxygen of this yet unknown world moving into our bloodstream and coursing through our bodies.

With a single, magical, breath, our circulatory system reorients itself and our heart transitions from right ventricle dominant to left ventricle dominant. The left ventricle will be responsible for sending blood throughout our body, while the right ventricle functions in an entirely new role of sending oxygen-poor blood to our lungs.

Breathing. Sentient. Alive.

A rapid and complex adaption has taken place, changing us from dependent fetus to independent newborn. We are the same and yet we are entirely changed.

This is our first crossing.

Fully formed, yet still a child, years will pass before we start to put away childish things. Sometime around our 16th or 17th birthday, we will begin our next crossing, moving into biological adulthood.

This crossing will be saturated with change, transitioning us in a few short years to full independence. We will emerge, butterfly-like, with our newly inflated wings fluttering in the breeze and a strong sense of our own values and personal boundaries. We will feel transformed, unconstrained, ready to take flight.

Yet we will also still feel, for all the world, like the bemused caterpillars we once were. We imagined we would know how to navigate this world above but it is largely still a mystery, a vast expanse that threatens to swallow us whole. Adulthood is a strange, new terrain.

We have made our second crossing and we cannot go back.

We will live several lives throughout adulthood, each one connected to the last by moments and memories, intersecting and joining together like the gossamer thread of a spider’s web. Sometimes we will recognise the echoes of ourselves from another time, another place, but in other moments, our glances backward will both bewilder and astonish; who is that stranger that carries our face?

We will perhaps begin to understand, too, that all of this life, this experience that humans share, is another kind of crossing, a change from this to that. 

Yet it is also a journey through a world that, at its core, will fail to satisfy us, deep within our soul.

We realise we were always meant to change, it’s in our DNA. But into what we wonder. Is all of this life meant for something more? Who am I really meant to become?

“If I find in myself desires nothing in this world can satisfy,
I can only conclude that I was not made for here
If the flesh that I fight is at best only light and momentary,
Then of course I’ll feel nude when to where I’m destined I’m compared.

Am I lost or just found? On the straight or on the roundabout of the wrong way?
Is this a soul that stirs in me, is it breaking free, wanting to come alive?
Cos my comfort would prefer for me to be numb
An avoid the impending birth of who I was born to become.

Speak to me in the light of the dawn,
Mercy comes with the morning.
I will sigh and with all creation groan as I wait for hope to come for me.
For we, we are not long here,
Our time is but a breath, so we better breathe it.
And I, I was made to live, I was made to love, I was made to know you.
Hope is coming for me.”

C S Lewis Song | Brooke Fraser

Max Lucado, pastor, speaker, and best-selling author comments, “If we think that this life is all there is to life, then there is no interpretation of our problems, our pain, not even of our privileges. But everything changes when we open up to the possibility that God’s story is really our story too.”

God’s story – the one written in the stars and carried on the wind – is the story of who each one of us was intended to be. It’s a story that confirms we were made for more than just this life, that we’re meant to cross over into something greater, something eternal.

It’s a story of promise; of knowing and being known, of being fully and completely alive.

God is not far from each one of us, as near as the tongue in our mouth, as close as the heart in our chest (Acts 17:28, Romans 10:8). Another kind of life awaits us on the other side with God, but, Jesus says, unless a person is born again, they cannot cross over (John 3:5).

There is another crossing, more important than any we’ve ever made before. One that will cause us to once again pass through water, this time emerging as a new kind of human, breathing a new kind of air, into a new kind of life.

Jesus came preaching of this other kind of life. The gospel of Matthew writes that when Jesus arrived on the scene, he went and resided in the land of Naphtali, the ‘way beyond the sea’, so that the words spoken so long ago by Isaiah the prophet might be fulfilled: “the people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light, and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death, on them, a light has dawned” (Matthew 4:15-16, ESV).

In fact, he was that life itself, and he demonstrated its power through the miraculous; healing sickness, forgiving sins, multiplying bread and fishes, walking on water…raising the dead (Matthew 15:30, Matthew 14:13-33, Luke 8:49-56, John 11:25).

He was the light that dawned in the darkness, illuminating what lies on the other side of the crossing; a kingdom defined by mercy and love, failure and forgiveness, exile and homecoming. Its citizens, he said, were otherworldly; children of light and salt. (Matthew 5:2-11, 13-14, Luke 15:11-32).

He told us how to get there; by going through him. He is the crossing, the gate, the door, the way to this kingdom. No one finds that life, but through him. His is the only name under heaven by which we can be saved.

To believe Jesus really is who he said he is begins another crossing.

“For God loved the world in this way: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Anyone who believes in Him is not condemned, but anyone who does not believe is already condemned, because he has not believed in the name of the one and only Son of God.” | John 3:16-18, CSB

Moving from skepticism to belief, we choose to pass through water and are buried with Jesus in his death (Romans 6:3-4, Romans 10:9-10). Emerging once again from water, this time we have been reborn, by water and by spirit, into a living hope. From spiritual death comes a resurrected life; the process of radical regeneration through the Spirit has begun (Titus 3:5, Colossians 2:12).

Breathing. Sentient. Alive.

Like newborn babes seeing the world for the first time with wide-eyed wonder, we survey the spiritual landscape that now stretches out in front of us. The real journey – the journey of a lifetime – lies ahead.

But we are not alone in our resurrected life; it comes with the promise of help (Ephesians 1:13-14). The spark that has been lit in our hearts will grow and be sustained by nothing less than the same power that raised Jesus from the dead, renewing and transforming us day by day into the likeness of His image.

Spirituality alive and redeemed to God, yet our mortal body remains at the mercy of time and change. The curse of Eden has not yet been completely undone.

We age and decay, even though inwardly we are being renewed day by day. And though we may die, yet we will live again, of this we are sure. The resurrection of Jesus is our touchstone; we’re confident that what was done in Jesus will be done in us also. The Spirit living in us assures us that we are God’s child.

For this perishable part of us must put on the imperishable, and this mortal part of us, the part that is capable of dying, must put on immortality. After all, mortality cannot inherit the eternal. We must have complete and utter freedom from death. It was promised, long ago in Eden, and so it will be. He who has promised is faithful.

Our earthly existence, clothed in the only body we have ever known, will make one last and great crossing. A final and breathtaking change will occur and we will be instantly and irrevocably clothed in a body which comes from heaven itself; our mortality utterly swallowed up by life.

“I came”, Jesus said, “that they may have life and have it abundantly.” | John 10:10

This will be the moment of our most significant crossing and we will never be the same again.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Because of his great mercy He has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” | 1 Peter 1:3, CSB

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This article was first published 18 November 2021.

Life can be described as one long journey with many different paths and choices along the way. Like any kind of journey, the journey of life requires us to be aware, to plan, and to make decisions about how we’re going to reach our destination, looking for navigation points and signposts to guide us along the way.

We could choose to relinquish any idea of intentionality, but approaching life in this haphazard, unplanned way makes the likelihood of us reaching our desired destination more a random accident of fate rather than any kind of expected certainty.

Much like a traveller prepares for any kind of trip through careful researching, resourcing, and planning, being intentional in how we live and the choices we make increases the probability of us actually reaching our goal.

Intentionality can be defined as “with purpose” or “an aim or a plan”, but more than simply something that one “hopes or intends to accomplish”. The dictionary definition of ‘intentionality ‘ is ‘thoughts, beliefs, desires, hopes which consist in their being directed towards some object or state of affairs‘. It is a word that’s connected to specific aspirations, dreams, objectives, or goals, and is the opposite of being aimless, purposeless, mindless, or drifting.

Sometimes people can confuse intention with action. Yet living intentionally doesn’t require massive, dramatic action. While it would be impossible to live intentionally without some kind of action, it shouldn’t be confused with doing. Intention falls into the category of being; who we are and who we intend to become.

Living mindfully, or intentionally, then, is learning to value ‘being’, as much as we value ‘doing’. It’s operating with purpose, rather than on autopilot or being disconnected from what’s going on.

Living intentionally requires us to ask who am I right now, and who will I be in the future. The question of ‘how do I make that happen’ becomes a natural result of the mindset of intentionality.

Living with intention doesn’t complicate life or overstress it, it simplifies life. It allows you to live on your terms, proactively, in the direction of your purpose. It clarifies everything that you’re surrounded by and allows you to strip away the complexities that don’t fit with your desired goals, aligning what you do with your personal values and who you intend to become.

It’s important to remember that living intentionally doesn’t necessarily guarantee successful or happy outcomes in every scenario. What it does guarantee, however, is the ability to navigate life’s ups and downs in a positive way. Paul the Apostle commented on the value of self-regulation and true happiness (which is not found in circumstances or possessions), when he says, “I have learned in whatever state I am to be content” (Philippians 4:11-13). He knew who he was and he knew where he was going and in knowing this, he was able to be deeply content, despite some terrible circumstances he experienced.

When we consider intentionality in the light of spiritual life, we realise just how important living intentionally is to achieve our goal.

The goal of being more like Jesus doesn’t come naturally or happen randomly, it requires purposeful choice in a specific direction. Having the mind of Christ is something that is developed in us, not something we’re naturally born with.

There’s a whole chapter in the Bible devoted to ordinary people made remarkable by the intentionality of their choices. Consider the impressive lineup of men and women found in Hebrews 12, who found their place there by their intentional and responsive obedience to the work of God in their lives. Who they were – their belief, their mindset, their intentions – was what God approved of; their actions were secondary to the way – or better yet, the direction – in which they chose to live.

Intentionality can be synonymous with mindfulness, that is, choosing to be mindful and ready to respond as and when situations arise.

The book of Romans tells us how important it is for our minds to be transformed (12:2), and the letter to the church at Philippi tells us what our minds need to be transformed by (4:8) but it is the letter to Timothy that really shows us how this is done (2 Timothy 1:7) – “the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid but gives us power, love, and self-discipline”.

We’ve been given the ability to be transformed by the Spirit of God through powerful, intentional choices in our lives. God’s Spirit motivates us to love and self-discipline, emotions that are connected to our spiritual health. It’s our emotions that tell us important data about our personal values and learning to listen and respond to those emotions, in step with the Spirit of God, forms a powerful framework for intentional living.

Here are 5 areas I believe we can focus on that will help us live more intentionally and mindfully each day:

1. Be present: make contact with the present moment.

Focus on where you are right now. Appreciate the present moment and learn to let go of past distress or future worries. Allow the peace of God to sit comfortably in your heart and really spend time being in the present. Ask yourself, who am I in this present moment and what am I seeking to cultivate in this present moment, without any sense of judgment around those questions.

2. Be aware: be aware of your thoughts and feelings.

Listen to what your emotions and thoughts are telling you, again without judgment. Emotions are important data, aligned with your personal values, and listening carefully to these will better help you to make intentional choices and decisions as you move forward.

Ensure that the choices and decisions you make are responsive, not reactive, and that you’re connecting emotionally in that process. However, don’t be led by your emotions or thoughts alone, but rather, consider what information they might be trying to tell you and use that information to make more intentional choices.

Is what you’re doing connected to your purpose and leading you toward your goal? This may include making choices that others might think of as ‘purposeless’, such as saying ‘no’ to something (when normally we might feel compelled to say ‘yes’) or taking time out from activities or people (when normally this would seem antisocial or lazy). Remember, for every ‘yes’ – things that we step into or agree to, there is a corresponding ‘no’ – things that we choose to move away from or not participate in, and vice versa. ‘Yes’ or ‘no’ are not ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ but rather are considered outcomes of our intentional way of living: knowing what to pick up and knowing what to set down.

3. Be non-judgmental: allow things to be as they are not as you would wish them to be.

Learn to withhold judgment of situations or people. You aren’t in control of everything or everyone and allowing your thoughts to focus on unpleasant circumstances or people in a judgmental way only causes unnecessary stress and anxiety to ourselves. It also distracts us from being able to make positive, intentional choices in the moment, which are related to our own personal values.

Instead, learn to be with things as they are and ready to change mindfully when it’s required.

4. Be compassionate: calm the inner critic.

There is no condemnation for those in Jesus, yet we often replay our failures over and over, hyper-focused on where we failed or what we did wrong in the past.

We need to accept what has been with compassion, understanding that whatever has happened, good or bad, can’t be undone. Yet those things are also lessons, and offer us guidance and a sense of renewed direction in decisions we are yet to make.

When we fail to accept our past decisions with compassion and understanding, we hold ourselves back from receiving the wisdom that those experiences bring and using those lessons to make better, more informed decisions in the future.

5. Be connected: find your tribe.

We were not meant to do this journey of life alone. Part of living intentionally includes choosing to walk alongside trusted companions, those people who constantly direct our attention to the significant things of God, who encourage us to be our most authentic selves, despite difficulties, and who love us wholeheartedly through good times and bad.

Paul the apostle tells us to ‘be followers of me, even as I am of Jesus’. Paul isn’t trying to impress us with his importance or success, rather, he’s pointing to the interconnected, intentional nature of Christian life. We look to others and, ultimately, of course, to Jesus, for guidance, mentorship, and companionship in the journey of life. Connectedness through community is a key aspect of being intentional in our lives.

Finally, be fearless in pursuit of what sets your soul on fire. As scripture puts it: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength… Love your neighbour as yourself.”

 

There is no standard scholarly agreement on what exactly is meant by the word religion, so defining religion (from the Latin religiō) can be a bit tricky. In fact, prior to the 16th and 17th centuries, the concept of religion, as a distinct set of beliefs or doctrines, didn’t really exist.

Today, we would probably summarise religion as a unifying social-cultural system of beliefs and practices relating to sacred, supernatural, or spiritual elements. We may tend to also think of religion, particularly in a Christian context, as somewhat creedal, that is, as a set of ideas, formulas, regulations, or practices that are defined in some formal way, such as through statements, creeds, confessions, and denominational distinctives.

The word religion, from the Latin religiō, meaning ‘to bind’, is a word which in the ancient and medieval world was used to refer to individual virtue of worship; respect for what was sacred, and a reverence for the divine. It described an attitude of being rather than a creedal position and it related to the individual rather than the collective.

The act of binding to – of religio – is an act of faithfulness to something or someone, to which one is bound as if by a pledge or duty. It’s similar to when someone makes an oath of allegiance to their country, effectively binding themselves to that country and pledging to respect, uphold and obey its laws. 

In fact, companions to the word religio would be words like duty, fealty, allegiance, or obedience. Used with its original meaning in mind, it’s a worthy addition to a list of descriptors we might use for the relationship that is formed when someone surrenders authority over their life to Jesus.

Religion is actually a necessary undertaking of every Christian who wishes to give their life and allegiance to Jesus as king and who chooses to surrender to his guidance and leadership in their life. This binding to Jesus – religio – and the reality that he becomes everything in a person’s life – is what it means to become a child of God, joined to the mission of God to the world and submitting to His will, in Christ, for our lives. It is an act of individual virtue of worship, not simply an acceptance of a creedal statement or list of practices.

“So, then, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with the saints, and members of God’s household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone.” | Ephesians 2:19-20 CSB

For many of us, however, this isn’t our experience of religion.

What we may have experienced or grown up with and what we would describe as religion is probably; adherence to a distinct set of beliefs, doctrines, or practices (some of which find their roots in scripture, some which don’t).

Perhaps our family’s beliefs eventually became our own; their set of doctrines were absorbed as ours, and we found ourselves one day ‘a Christian, attending church’, without giving too much thought to the process by which we got there. We accepted, without question, someone else’s religion, as we might accept an old, hand-me-down sweater, thinking to make it our own.

Religious is perhaps what many of us became; that is, we converted to Christianity by adopting a set of beliefs and practices related to the historical figure of Jesus. Our religiosity as Christians might have been further defined by our identification with one particular denomination’s creeds and practices over another.

Yet both these actions are not describing the true nature of religion. The differences may be subtle, almost indistinguishable from one another; however the reality is that what we may have ended up giving our allegiance to was a system, rather than to Jesus.

While being a Christian is certainly communal, and while Christians tend to believe mostly all the same fundamental creeds, and while the creeds and practices of Christianity can be taught and preached and are, in many ways, intrinsically invaluable to religion, true religion is the individual and deeply personal matter of an individual’s binding to the person of Christ.

Religion, in the true sense of the word, cannot be passed down.

‘Part of the genius of genuine Christianity is that each generation has to think it through afresh. Precisely because God wants every single Christian to grow up in understanding as well as trust, the Christian faith has never been something that one generation can sort out in such a way as to leave their successors with no work to do.’ (N T Wright)

“Don’t think of worship in terms of attending a church service, singing praise and worship songs or honouring the name of Jesus. The meaning of worship touches much larger questions. Namely, worship is all about who has the authority over our lives. Who will have our submission? Who will be given first place? Who will win our love, allegiance and devotion? True worship is absolute committal, surrender and submission to God.” | Frank Viola, Insurgence

Counterfeit Religion

Paul the Apostle wrote his letter to the Galatians addressing an idea that had taken root at that time that right standing with God depended on what Jesus did plus additional ‘spiritual acts’ that are undertaken, that we are made “right with God by what we do“.

However, this is performance-based Christianity – in fact, probably a rather apt description of our modern understanding of religion. Paul reiterates to the Galatians that anything which adds to our standing in the eyes of God, apart from the performance of Jesus on the cross, is legalistic teaching and counterfeit Christianity.

“Foolish Galatians, who has cunningly deceived you, before whose eyes Jesus Christ was openly set forth as crucified? Are you so foolish? Having begun in the Spirit, are you now completed in the flesh? He therefore who supplies the Spirit to you, and works miracles among you, does He do it by the works of the law, or by hearing of faith?” | Galatians 3:1-5, New Heart English Bible

Patterns of thought, actions, or behaviours, which are deemed ‘godly’ ‘spiritual’ or ‘biblical’ can often become the outward markers of people who are perceived to be religious but may, in reality, mask a heart far from allegiance to Christ.

Anything apart from ‘binding to the cross of Jesus’ results in toxic faith – religion that has gone wrong, leading to dependence on others’ approval and not God’s. Anything that adds to our standing in the eyes of God, apart from the performance of Jesus on the cross, is legalistic teaching and binds us to human systems of belief or worship, and not to God.

Yielding our allegiance to a set of beliefs, as the primary driving force, will result in Christians who may have a form of godliness but who deny the miraculous power of transformation implicit in such a life; a Christian life marked by the cruciform love of Jesus (John 13:5).

It is, quite simply, putting the cart before the horse.

As Christian Evangelist Gordon Fee comments, “If you had asked Paul to define what a Christian is, he would not have said, ‘A Christian is a person who believes X and Y doctrines about Christ,’ but ‘A Christian is a person who walks in the Spirit, who knows Christ.‘” (Gordon Fee, 1934-2022)

There is a subtle yet crucial difference and the long-term effects of mistaking one for the other can be disastrous.

Christian life will become joyless, suffocating, without meaning, and without power. This kind of Christian morphs into ‘clouds without water, carried along by the wind, inflated but empty; fruitless trees in autumn, whose branches are disappointingly empty at harvest time.’ They become rooted in performance, rules, patterns of behaviour, and intractable systems of belief that leave very little room for any theological growth or deeper understanding. The lifeblood of faith – the crucified and resurrected Christ – seems almost an afterthought when laid alongside the many parameters they will use to define their religion.

Critically, a true and meaningful relationship with God will never be sustained on this basis.

“When faith is completely replaced by creed, worship by discipline, love by habit; when the crisis of today is ignored because of the splendor of the past; when faith becomes an heirloom rather than a living fountain; when religion speaks only in the name of authority rather than with the voice of compassion – its message becomes meaningless.” – Abraham Heschel

This is why Paul makes what initially seems to be a brief and insignificant statement regarding the gospel (but is, in actual fact, one of the most powerful statements he makes), “Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendant of David; such is my gospel.” (2 Timothy 2:8, ISV).

The starting point – the impetus behind the act of binding to (religio) for the Christian life is faith by grace alone in the crucified Christ. The animating and life-transforming force in a Christian’s walk with God is the resurrection life of the living Christ; a cruciform life.

This, and this alone, is what any Christian must first and foremost be bound to.

“When I came to you, brothers and sisters, announcing the mystery of God to you, I did not come with brilliance of speech or wisdom. I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” | 1 Corinthians 2:1-3, CSB

Journey To Cruciformity

Choosing Jesus, truly choosing him above all else, means rethinking everything you thought you knew about your faith and what – or who – your life is bound to. It means learning that your identity must rest on the rock of Christ, not in others’ opinions of you or in the set of beliefs to which they subscribe, even if those beliefs are ones which you would agree with. It means making decisions others can and will criticise and judge you for. It means being much less certain in your own abilities and more certain in the reality of God’s grace in your life.

It means wrestling and arguing with God, with fervent prayer and pleading, to finally arriving at the understanding that God will provide everything that you need. It means, perhaps, starting again at the place where Jesus needs to truly become the Lord of your life; that he has your complete allegiance and your life is bound to his.

You may discover that what you have been searching for, all this time, to feel whole and secure, will only be found in the one who loved like no other, laying down his life for his friends (John 15:13).

“To this I hold, my hope is only Jesus, for my life is wholly bound (religio) to his. Oh, how strange and divine, I can sing: all is mine. Yet not I, but through Christ in me.” | City Alight

Jesus taught his disciples that following him meant that one had to be willing to “pick up their cross daily” (Luke 9:23; 14:27). Cruciformity is, in essence, conformity to the cross; a life that is shaped by the narrative of the cross.

Cruciformity was the beating heart of God’s mission to the world demonstrated in full measure by the ministry of Jesus, who came “not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:28; Mark 10:45; John 13:1-17). The cruciform life, therefore, is one that is a living exegesis of the story of Jesus, beginning firstly in identification with his death and then flowing outwards in a living embodiment of his resurrection.

Cruciformity does not mean ‘being spiritual’ or ‘belonging to a faith community‘ or ‘seeking spiritual direction’. Of course, it may involve those things but the cruciform life is grounded in the wholehearted trust that God will keep His promises, demonstrated in the crucified Jesus, and this trust is constantly affirmed and expressed by a transformed life.

A truly cruciform, gospel-shaped life starts with the activity of God. It is God who is saving us and it is God who is renewing us. It is God who accepts our belief in the sacrifice of Jesus and sends His Spirit into our lives to regenerate us as new creatures in His Son.

A cruciform life is one that is pointed in pursuit of Jesus and utterly and completely bound to him.

“A person who lives by the indwelling life of Christ through the Holy Spirit is a person who is under Law. But it is not the Law of Moses. Nor is it a Law that some preacher created from his own personal standards. No, the Law I’m referring to is ‘the Law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:3). This Law is like the law of gravity; it’s a constant force or power. You and I have an indwelling Lord. The Law of God has been written on our hearts because Jesus Christ lives within us by his Spirit. This is the promise of the new covenant. Spiritual people (religious people)(italics, ours) are those who live by the Lord’s life that indwells them. They know by instinct what the will of God is (1 John 2:27). Where the Spirit leads them, they yield to it (for the most part) – no matter what the cost. And life and peace are the results (Romans 8:6). The external Law, then, is no longer an outward thing full of dead letters and cold commands. It has been transferred into the indwelling life of Christ. To live by Christ is our highest calling as people of the insurgence.” | Frank Viola, Insurgence

“Christ carried the burden of our sins. He was nailed to the cross, so we would stop sinning and start living right. By his cuts and bruises, you are healed. You had wandered away like sheep. Now you have returned to the one who is your shepherd and protector.” | 1 Peter 2:24-25, CSB

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*“The word ‘theology’ literally means ‘thinking about God‘. One classic definition of theology was given by St Anselm. He called it ‘faith seeking understanding‘ and for many this is the true function of Christian theology.” | Paul Badham

Our theology – what we think about God – is therefore important. How can we begin to know and understand ourselves and our place in this expansive creation if we have no sense of the One who made us and the purpose for which we’ve been made?

However, a robust and living theology will spring from knowing and experiencing who God is and what He has done for us, in Jesus, and is not simply giving agreement to a statement or creed of ‘theological beliefs’.

By affirming the biblical narrative, that we are saved by grace through faith alone, we begin a journey towards a deeper understanding of who God is, which only grows as our Christian life progresses. Our theology is, perhaps then, best described as an expedition of discovery, rather than a destination at which we arrive. We discern more and more about the heart and mind of the Creator as our life progresses. This knowing and experiencing – this walking with God – renews us day by day to become more like the crucified Lord we follow.

Jesus was the exact representation of God and the very imprint of His nature (Hebrews 1:3, John 14:10-11), the Word-made-flesh who took up residence amongst us (John 1:1-14). By knowing him, we can know God (Colossians 1:15, Hebrews 1:3, 2 Peter 1:3).

To know God is to know Jesus, whom He sent (John 17:3) and, therefore, the true starting point of our theology as Christians is looking to Jesus and, fundamentally, to Jesus crucified. Our theology begins with cruciformity; a life first and foremost surrendered to the crucified Christ in faith.

Theology, true theology – thinking about God – will be seen and witnessed in cruciformity (Galatians 5:22-23); a life pointed in pursuit of Jesus and utterly and completely bound to him.

This article was first published 10 February 2021

(Not a reader? Take a listen instead ⇓)

“But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it, we await a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.” | Philippians 3:20-21, ESV

“Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s.” | Mark 12:17, ESV

I was born and raised in New Zealand, the land of the long white cloud and a ratio of nearly six sheep for every one person. I often remember as a child watching the sun in summer sink below the horizon late at night, and, in winter, layering up as warmly as possible through the short, dark, freezing days of relentless rain and oftentimes snow.

My husband and I moved from New Zealand in 2008, the year our youngest child was born, and we settled in the beautiful Northern Rivers region on the east coast of Australia. We have lived here now for nearly 14 years (this month, in fact) and, even though New Zealand will always be ‘home’, Australia now feels like home too.

So, it felt more than overdue that I and our three children became Australian citizens and, during this past year, we did just that, an event that, frankly, I didn’t expect to feel quite so much emotion over.

As I took my pledge and officially became an Australian citizen, I realised there is nothing quite like the feeling of belonging, of becoming a part of the whole, of finally being a bona fide member of a community. Being able to properly call myself an Australian was a feeling of joy and welcome I hadn’t quite expected.

I’ve never really given the concept of citizenship much thought in the past. As a New Zealander, my citizenship was something I was born with; all its rights and responsibilities intrinsically held simply by virtue of my birth in that country.

Yet applying for citizenship in another country was a different matter altogether. This was a choice, a conscious intention on my part to assimilate with the country and its people. I would be required to understand the nature and values of the country to which I wished to belong.

I would be asked to commit to contributing to and participating in the community. Together with the privileges and advantages that would come with my new status, there were also rights and responsibilities I would pledge to uphold.

This experience and the process of applying for and being accepted as a citizen of Australia turned my thoughts towards citizenship of a more serious and spiritual kind; that of our status, as Christians, as citizens of the kingdom of God.

Adam’s Country

We’re all, by birth, citizens of an altogether different country, Adam’s country, born deep in the darkness of the kingdom of men. Adam’s country is one in which we are both spiritually dead and physically aging; bound by mortality on a one-way, downhill journey from cradle to grave.

Death is not just the enemy of life itself but also thwarts the purpose for which humanity was created. Even the smartest, wealthiest, or most influential men and women soon pass from the world’s stage, their personalities and achievements more often than not fading from memory.

In Adam’s country, humans invariably live for their own purposes and intents, rather than the higher calling for which God created us.  As the world rapidly moves towards an increasingly secularised society, much of what we now see around us is just a shallow and warped reflection of the heart of our Creator, the One in whose image we were originally made.

Adam’s country is one that is corrupted by greed, injustice, and selfishness. Inequity is rife; and more often than not, the rich simply get richer and the poor get poorer. It’s estimated that in 2022, around 689 million people live in extreme poverty (on less than $1.90 a day). One of the most striking examples of the unequal distribution of resources on the planet is the existence of chronic hunger in many parts of the world.

Our stewardship of the earth and its resources has been negligent at best and grossly egocentric at worst. The land has long been mismanaged and polluted, with toxic chemicals sprayed on crops and then making their way into the rivers and lakes.

Extensive farming and deforestation have destroyed the habitats of many species of wildlife causing a shocking decline in their numbers or even extinction. It’s estimated that we’ve single-handedly managed to send over 900 species extinct since 1500, with over 40,084 species (across all taxonomic groups) thought to be threatened with extinction (estimated in 2021).

This is the country that, as humans, we’re all born into, participants in the global species we call Homo Sapiens, the kingdom of men. This is the reality of what it means to be human.

(Yet even in this kingdom of men, God is still working, setting up whomsoever He will, and one day, we know the kingdoms of this world will become the kingdom of our Lord and Messiah (Revelation 11:15).

Heaven’s Country

When we become Christians, we don’t stop being human, but we’re well on our way to becoming a new kind of human. Made spiritually alive in Christ, God sends His Spirit into our hearts as both a seal and promise of His commitment to renew and transform us. We continue to live in the world but we’re no longer of it in quite the same way, belonging now to Heaven’s country.

Heaven’s country is one that is full of love, justice, and glory. It’s one of abundance, flourishing, and life everlasting. The One who rules over it is perfect, all-wise, and completely righteous, and He intends to restore and renew this world and its inhabitants, filling it with His glory and majesty.

When Heaven’s country finally comes to earth, there will be no more tears, neither crying, suffering, or pain, for God will have made all things new. This is where our citizenship is now held and this is where our Saviour will appear from, carrying, as it were, our citizenship card with him.

I read the following commentary (below) at the time I was applying for Australian citizenship and it seemed to me an accurate analogy of the spiritual reality that occurs for anyone who becomes a Christian:

“In the citizenship pledge, Australian citizens pledge their loyalty to Australia and its people. Australian citizens may also hold the citizenship of another country or countries if the laws of those countries allow. This is known as dual, or multiple, citizenship. However, even if a person is also a citizen of another country, an Australian citizen within Australia must follow all Australian laws at all times. Some Australian laws must also be followed by Australian citizens even when they are overseas.” – Australian Department of Immigration

Our spiritual reality now becomes our primary allegiance. We have become dual citizens; still human, and living and belonging, to some degree, to Adam’s country but now also not just human, more specifically, now a different kind of human, a citizen of Heaven, with all the responsibilities and privileges that are afforded us as children of God.

Paul the Apostle describes this strange state of dual citizenship in this way:

“For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee.” | 2 Corinthians 5:1-5, ESV

We’re still living in the here-and-now; we experience the routine, mundane, messy reality of ordinary human existence, but we’re also living in hope and expectation of the soon-to-be; mortality swallowed up by life and our earthy existence completely renewed and transformed, as the privilege of our heavenly citizenship degrees. God’s Spirit, present and active in our hearts and lives, assures us of this truth.

Render Unto Caesar

It’s often a difficult tension to navigate, the halfway space between here and there. How, in practical terms, do we ensure our primary allegiance as people who look for a city whose builder and maker is God?

Yet how are we also to be salt and light, to fulfill our Christian commission, among the communities and people with whom we live and work? How exactly are we to be in the world but not of it?

Jesus addresses the reality of the tension of Christian citizenship existing alongside the commission given to Christians in John 17.

“I am praying for them. I am not praying for the world but for those whom you have given me, for they are yours. And I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, keep them in your name, which you have given me, that they may be one, even as we are one…I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world.” | John 17:9, 11, 15-18, ESV

He doesn’t pray that Christians are removed from the world, but rather that they are protected from the evil one. He then seems to give a summary of the relationship that exists between Christianity, secular government, and society in Mark 12:17 where he comments, “Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s”.

Our responsibilities, as citizens of Adam’s country, remain, even after we become Christians, and, as the early church had clearly understood, Christians are to be model citizens in the countries in which they live, showing respect to all people, including those in authority (1 Peter 2:13).

As Christians, we recognise that “…there is no power but of God, the powers that be are ordained of God” (Romans 13:1). Therefore, respect authority, pay your taxes, don’t engage in illegal behaviours, be law-abiding citizens, pray for those who have the rule over you.

But we also need to remember that our primary citizenship is now a heavenly one. Our allegiance has been given to Jesus, the king, and our commission from him is to be salt and light in the world.

Christians need to be aware that we are not attempting to patch and repair the kingdom of this world, Adam’s country, by our continued involvement or participation in it. Like a religious system built on faulty foundations, the entire structure of Adam’s country must be dismantled, and be replaced by something far superior (Heaven’s country).

Rather, we are to point the world to a far better kingdom and to the just and righteous king who rules over it. We are people of the new heavens and the new earth and we long, with all of creation, to see this finally become the reality in all the world.

We aren’t improving the kingdom of this world, we are bringing the kingdom of God into its midst, and we do this most effectively and faithfully together through the reality of the local church.

“In one simple sentence: what Christians want for the nation should first be a witnessed reality in their local church.” | Scot Mcknight

The Radical Mission Of The Church

The radical mission of the church is this: First we are to seek peace in our local fellowship, to end strife, and to seek reconciliation with God and with one another. Out of this peace-shaped, kingdom-shaped church we spill over peace into the world (Scot McKnight).

The church, where you will find the citizens of Heaven’s country, will glow with the redeeming love of Jesus, demonstrating this love both inside and outside the church through kingdom mission.

In the world but no longer of it in quite the same way, we, the church, must navigate with care and wisdom the duality of our existence; rendering the appropriate dues to the Caesars of our world, but never to the point of collusion, knowing we no longer serve this world’s king.

Whatever we do is now in service to God and becomes the sacred vocation of our heavenly citizenship. “The hope for the world is the local church, and that the heart of God’s plan is found in creating a whole new society in a local church” (Scot Mcknight).

Our mission is not secular but spiritual, and this guiding principle will help us navigate the decisions and choices we need to make on a daily basis as dual citizens.

God’s church exists not for itself but for the benefit of those who are not yet members. . . . [and] the church which lives for itself will be sure to die by itself.” The church is not a religious club and it does not have a secular mission. Instead, it is a worshipping and sending community.” | Michael Green

By faith, he [Abraham] dwelt in the promised land as a stranger in a foreign country. He lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.” | Hebrews 11:10, ESV

(Not a reader? Take a listen instead ⇓)

“By the 14th century, the Norman invasion of Ireland was struggling. Too many Normans had “gone native”, assimilated into Irish life. The remaining settlers had retreated to just four eastern counties: Louth, Meath, Dublin, and Kildare. These four “obedient shires” were the only part of Ireland still under the control of the English crown. The king’s perimeter was marked with wooden fence posts pounded into the Irish turf. These were called “pales,” from the Latin palus, meaning “stake.”

Over the following centuries, the English settlement fortified its boundaries by turning the fenceline into an impressive barrier: a ten-foot-deep ditch surrounded by eight-foot banks on each side and ringed by a thorny hedge. These ramparts were never meant to be an impregnable wall, but they did provide a daunting obstacle to raiders stealing across the borders for English cattle. Within the Pale ditch, settlers lived under the protection of the crown. But once you passed “the Pale,” you were outside the authority and safety of English law, and subject to all the savageries of rural Ireland. “Beyond the pale” then became a colloquial phrase meaning “outside the limits of acceptable behaviour or judgment.” | C N Traveler

I recently wrote about my separation from the religious community I grew up in and the overwhelming response to my article was both encouraging and thought-provoking.

Many people wrote to me, both publicly and privately, to let me know that the article had deeply resonated with them. They expressed that they, too, have had many questions over the years, wrestling with inconsistencies while attempting to find their place in a system they secretly suspected they didn’t fit.

Not many people feel free to speak publicly of their reservations or doubts and I understand this fear and hesitancy. They want to avoid similar censure and they know the penalty for dissenting is potentially severe; loss of relationship, rejection, and ostracisation.

Many also wrote expressing their distress at my experience (regardless of whether it had been theirs or not) and offering their blessing on my continued journey. I deeply appreciated their warmth, kindness, and understanding.

Others expressed dismay that I was no longer part of the community; how would I receive nurture and support? With whom would I now fellowship? Couldn’t I have just stayed to change the culture? Beneath their words there seemed the suggestion of a more serious question; wasn’t this just the beginning of a descent into loss of faith and the inevitable and eventual drift from God?

Others were less complimentary with their feedback. My article was deemed to be slanderous and inaccurate, and I, the author, simply a narcissistic, bitter ex-member, obsessed, while I was “in”, about my ‘rights’ being impinged upon or ‘the (annoying) call of true discipleship interfering with my personal life’.

Now that I was “out”, I was simply an aggressive and confrontational vandal, looking to break something with whatever stones I could throw.

My ‘questions’ were excuses, and, they implied, I ought to be cancelled.

While I thought a lot about the people for whom this article resonated, and I deeply appreciated that they had shared their thoughts with me, I thought more about the other two kinds of responses.

Firstly, I wondered about those who had simply dismissed me and what I had to say. I pondered the mentality that refused to acknowledge any part of my experience as valid, believable, or worthy of discussion.

I wondered at the psychology that would paint me as the intolerant troublemaker rather than the wounded truth-teller.

And I wondered at such blind certainty of their supposed privileged position and their categorical dismissal that God could legitimately be found anywhere outside their own walls. Their confirmation bias was on full display by the way in which they chose to interpret and respond to my narrative.

I thought, secondly, about those who now considered me beyond the pale, out beyond the protection and comfort of the only community that was able to provide such things. Blessings and opportunities galore had been mine for the taking, had I only just remained within the palisade walls. No such blessings or opportunities (or if there were some to be found, they would be few and far between), awaited me outside those walls.

No one survives out there, they seemed to be whispering to one another. She’ll die, for sure.

Well, I didn’t die.

It hasn’t been an easy journey, I’ll not pretend otherwise, but outside those walls is not the wilderness you might imagine it to be. I’d been told that there was nothing worthwhile out there, but I discovered those are simply the words of fearful men, hemmed in by their own definitions and not living free in the Spirit of Christ.

God is out there. He is everywhere, and the more you listen for Him, the clearer He speaks. He is with us always, even when it feels like we’re wandering through a wilderness, even if we’re walking through the valley of the shadow of death.

Beyond the pale, I found men and women, fellow Christians, who deeply love Jesus and are committed to following him. I found people who are not afraid of difference but are compelled by the love of Christ to listen, to reason together, and sharpen iron one with another. To my astonishment, I discovered that they knew the names of the faithful; Abraham, David, Deborah, Isaiah, Mary of Magdala, Paul, and many more.

I discovered my place in the history of the church and learned the names of people from long, long ago – Clement of Rome, Ignatius of Antioch, Iraneus, Polycarp, Junia, Prisca, and Quintilla, brothers and sisters in the great family of God.

I became reacquainted with Scripture in new ways, seeing the Bible as a book to marvel at and pore over, the spirit-breathed and living words of Heaven’s Creator, active and able to deeply transform our hearts and lives, shaping us for His purpose. I learned to loosen my grip on needing to know and understand everything  right now, and learned instead to say, “God, show me more of You.”

My way of thinking about the Christian life shifted dramatically. It became very simple (note that I use the word simple, not easy): Confess Jesus is Lord and Saviour (believe the story of Jesus as told us in the gospel) and then take up your cross and follow him, bearing the fruit of a life of repentance. All else is just noise.

I discovered the messy but vital reality of the local church; filled with sinning and flawed humans who are being renewed daily by the grace of God, asking their questions and voicing their doubts along the way.

I learned what it felt like to be pastored to and personally prayed over, concepts that, bizarrely for a Christian, felt foreign and strange to me.

I discovered some churches that weren’t for me and found others that were. The Christian world is nothing if not perfectly imperfect and there’s a lot of diversity out there. It’s not for me to judge the legitimacy of their place as one of the Lord’s lampstands (Revelation 2:5), but it is my responsibility to use discernment when choosing a church home (1 John 4:1-5).

I found myself asking: what am I responsible to bring and what am I responsible to nurture? In this sea of Christianity, how do I best serve and represent Jesus in the place where I now find myself?

Let me now answer some of the questions that have been put to me. It may be that these are questions on your mind too.

Who Do I Fellowship With?

Well, other Christians of course. A Christian is someone who has “confessed that Jesus is Lord and believes in their heart that God raised him from the dead.” (Romans 10:9). They’ve demonstrated their belief by repenting of their former way of life and by being baptised into the saving name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit (Matthew 28:19). They’ve been transferred out of the dominion of darkness and into the kingdom of the Son of God’s love, a kingdom of life and light.

The first letter of John puts it this way:

“What was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have observed and have touched with our hands, concerning the word of life —  that life was revealed, and we have seen it and we testify and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us —  what we have seen and heard we also declare to you, so that you may also have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son, Jesus Christ. We are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.

This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light, and there is absolutely no darkness in Him. If we say, “We have fellowship with Him,” and yet we walk in darkness, we are lying and are not practicing the truth. If we walk in the light as He Himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin.” | 1 John 1:1-7, CSB

If we abide in Jesus, then we are in common union – community – with all those who are also abiding in him, both in our present time and throughout the ages, a great cloud of faithful witnesses of the risen King, the people of the kingdom (1 John 2:28, John 15:1-27, Hebrews 12:1-2). We are connected to one another by the precious blood of the lamb and nothing can separate us from the love of God, apart from us choosing to leave the light and walk again in darkness (Romans 8:31-39).

The ordinance of communion – taking bread and wine together –  is an important part of our Christian life, as members of Jesus’ body and God’s family. It is a key element of Jesus’ covenant with each one of us individually and collectively as his church, the price of which was his own blood.

Written about 300 years after the birth of Christ, the Apostles’ Creed summarises the foundational Christian beliefs taught by the early church and is a bold declaration of Christian faith in Jesus Christ. It particularly affirms the teachings regarding Jesus, that of his virgin birth, his crucifixion, his death, and his subsequent resurrection; core elements of the gospel of good news.

It is a primary statement of faith shared by Christians around the world, uniting them in common with the work achieved in and through Jesus. No Christian worth their salt denies this creed.

The church, the universal church, exists outside denominational walls and extends beyond historical boundaries. There is only one body of Jesus Christ, and holding to this spiritual reality means holding to the reality that fellowship with the body happens when we abide in the body.

Why Couldn’t I Stay And Change The Culture?

Cultures don’t happen overnight. Made up of an interconnecting set of goals, roles, processes, values, practices, attitudes, and assumptions, the culture of an organisation is practically its DNA.

Changing a culture takes committed leadership, and often requires years of concerted and consistent effort, including intensive work to communicate and reinforce new ways of thinking, desired values, and changed behaviours. In fact, in the case of organisational transformation (such as church), it can take a minimum of seven to 10 years to change the culture.

But we humans are very resistant to change in general and attempting to change the culture of an organisation is particularly difficult as it’s deeply embedded in the system. When people believe that their culture is superior to other cultures, they tend to resist any influence other cultures may bring (you can read more about this here).

I came to realise that I didn’t have 15 years, or 10 years or even seven years up my sleeve. My children had reached their formative and impressionable years and there were many aspects of this culture that I didn’t want them to absorb or be absorbed into. I also realised that while I had been hopeful of the possibility of a shift in culture, I had not fully understood how deeply embedded it was in the heart of a system so strongly resistant to change.

This was a culture that has existed for years and years, unchanged and unchallenged. It did not want to change and it saw no need for change. I began to understand it would take many years of sustained and concentrated effort by many more persons than myself, to see any kind of tangible difference.

I felt I had more hope of reaching the moon than I did of changing this culture by staying.

Have I Lost My Faith?

I said that this journey hasn’t been easy. And it hasn’t.

When a person experiences loss of community, they also have to contend with what can feel like loss of identity. While we would all agree in theory that our identity rests, or should rest, in Jesus, in practice we are also deeply shaped by our place within community, in knowing and being known by the people who surround us.

Beyond the pale is initially daunting and lonely. Everyone you ever knew is on the other side of that fence.

I was reminded during this time of the story of Hagar, who had been driven into the wilderness by the harsh treatment of her mistress Sarah (Genesis 16:6-13).

Miserable, lonely, and afraid, the Lord found Hagar beside a spring in the wilderness and spoke words of comfort and hope to her. She names God in that place as ‘El Roi’, meaning, “You are the God who sees me.”

I have repeated this to myself many times in the past few years when doubt and discomfort has crept in. Not doubt in God, but doubt that He still had His hand over my life, that He was the God who looks after me, that I was still seen and known.

Having faith is firstly a posture of the heart, an orientation of trust in or towards something or someone. My faith was placed in Jesus at 16 years old and my trust in God remains firm. I remain confident that the Spirit will lead me in all truth and that the important things God wishes me to know, He will make known.

I trust Him, even when I am confused about His plans for me, even when I don’t understand the lessons He’s teaching me, even when I can’t see what the future holds.

I trust Him even when I’m wracked with anxiety and overwhelmed by uncertainty. I trust Him even when life is challenging and change is necessary. I trust Him because I believe that the same Spirit that rose Jesus from the dead lives in me. If God is for me, who can be against me?

This journey has challenged me in ways I never imagined and I’ve wondered many, many times, how did I get here? But I know, for sure, He is still the God who sees me and takes care of me.

I have not lost my faith.

Where Would I Find Nurture And Support?

The wilderness is an unforgiving landscape, where all reliance on self is brutally highlighted for what it is, inadequate, insufficient, a lie. To my dismay, I initially found myself echoing the murmurs of the children of Israel in the wilderness. I wondered, had God brought me out here to die?

This was the first lesson I had to learn: Jesus never promised this Christian life would be easy.

The second was this: God always provides.

It was not the wilderness I imagined it to be. God sent people into my life during this time: good, loving, solid, Jesus-loving people, who prayed with me, ate with me, opened their homes and shared their lives with me.

They personally testified to God’s goodness in both good times and bad. They encouraged me to persevere in faith, nurture forgiveness, run after grace, and ground myself in God’s love. “Love bears all things“, they reminded me, “believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.“

Like the children of Israel who had wandered in the wilderness, God had ensured I was still provided for.

“There’s honey in the rock
Water in the stone
Manna on the ground
No matter where I go
I don’t need to worry now that I know
Everything I need You’ve got”

Honey In The Rock | Brooke Ligertwood

Where To From Here?

I am a Christian for the rest of my days. I believe in Jesus Christ, descended from David, risen from the dead. This is my gospel.

But as to the next step? I don’t know what God has in store for my future.

I hope to be a part of a flourishing and vibrant church. I hope to serve and witness alongside people whom I get to love and know deeply, and by whom I feel seen and loved in return.

I hope to be a worthy example of faith for my children and a trusted companion and woman of valour to my husband.

I hope that God uses me in many small, indiscernible ways to help grow His kingdom here on earth. If He has larger, more visible plans in mind, I hope I have the courage to step into His calling for me.

I hope to avoid pain and difficulty and loss, but I know these will inevitably come my way, so I hope to be brave and true when they do.

And in all these things, I recognise that I will be flawed, always flawed, but I continue to give thanks for the grace of God and the blood of Jesus, which cleanses us from all sin.

Most of all, I hope to hear the words of the king on that final day: “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your Lord.”

(Not a reader? Take a listen instead ⇓)

Acceptance By Grace Through Faith Alone

The simple truth that we find acceptance with God by grace through faith alone is the Bible’s most beautiful theme. Grace began long ago when God set in motion the means for humanity to find their way back to Him, to find their way home. He promised Adam and Eve that a redeemer would come who would save humanity from the consequences of their sin. That redeemer would be His very own Son, born for the specific purpose of reconciling the world back to God (John 3:17). The earth waited, enduring times of difficulty and futility, restless and expectant for the promised Prince of Peace to appear.

With the arrival of Emmanual, ‘God-With-Us’, the reality of a whole and healed relationship with God for every person was realised. Brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death was finally overthrown in the person and ministry of God’s Son, whose death on the cross struck the final blow to mortality.

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end.” – Isaiah 9:6-7, NIV

Salvation Isn’t Earned

This work of salvation, in its entirety, was set in motion and completed by God. Humanity had no contribution in any of this. The Bible is very clear that salvation is given freely, as a gift, and is never attained by works.

“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God.” – Romans 5:1-2, NIV

Paul the Apostle was a champion for the need for a grace-led, faith-full life. He had been converted from a life steeped in religious tradition and law, a life in which a man could become ‘more righteous’ before God than his fellow man, simply by achieving greater adherence to law. Yet Paul learned that right standing with God was not to be achieved through law-keeping – and in fact was impossible to be achieved this way – but by personal belief in God’s promises. Paul learned of the true gospel and He speaks of it often throughout his letters in the New Testament – that of being ‘saved by grace through faith alone and not by works, least any man should boast’ (Ephesians 2:8-9).

Paul is very adamant that justification – that is, “right standing with God” – is by faith alone. What are we to make then of the words of Paul’s contemporary, James, who writes “As you can see, a man is justified by his deeds and not by faith alone.” (James 2:24). It seems, at least initially, that these two men are in contradiction with each other.

Justified By Deeds And Not By Faith Alone

In reality, James and Paul are actually in complete harmony and a closer look at James’ letter not only gives us a better understanding of what faith really is, but also warns us of the sobering reality that information doesn’t always equal transformation.

Paul wrote his letter to the Galatians addressing the growing idea at that time that right standing with God depended on what Jesus did plus additional ‘spiritual acts’ that are undertaken, that we are made “right with God by what we do“. This is performance-based Christianity and Paul reaffirmed to the Galatians that anything which adds to our standing in the eyes of God, apart from the performance of Jesus on the cross, is legalistic teaching and counterfeit Christianity.

James, when writing his letter and speaking of ‘what we do’ is concerned with counterfeit Christianity of another kind – the unauthenticity of a life that is ‘Christian’ in name only. He is tackling another dangerous distortion of the gospel of grace, the idea that believers can ‘continue in sin that grace may abound’. That the new life is the same as the old life, the only difference being that a person has become ‘saved’. That is to say, that nothing about the way the believer behaves or lives after being saved is necessary to change, that verbally expressing our faith in Jesus is enough and that we don’t need to ‘do better’ because God’s grace covers all our shortcomings anyway.

The truth, James says, is that yes, we are made right with God by believing and professing our faith in His promises. Yet, it cannot be real faith, the faith that counts with God, unless its demonstrated by an active, loving response to God’s grace. This is, as Paul agrees, “faith working through love.” (Galatians 5:6), demonstrated in a Christian’s life by ‘what they do’.

James starts his letter by asking an important question:

“Do you think you’ll get anywhere in this if you learn all the right words but never do anything? Does merely talking about faith indicate that a person really has it? For instance, you come upon an old friend dressed in rags and half-starved and say, “Good morning, friend! Be clothed in Christ! Be filled with the Holy Spirit!” and walk off without providing so much as a coat or a cup of soup – where does that get you? Isn’t it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense.” – James 2:17-24 MSG

He goes on to reiterate his meaning in the plainest of language, saying “Just as the body is dead without breath, so also faith is dead without good works.” (James 2:26, CSB).

Works Are Essential Evidence Our Faith Is Real

The kind of faith that is real, saving faith is shown to be vital, living and demonstrable in action.

To illustrate his full meaning, James gives two examples from the life of Abraham, whom he describes as ‘the friend of God’ (James 2:2). The first was when God promised Abraham a great line of descendants, even though at the time Abraham and his wife were both old and childless. Abraham didn’t doubt God for a second and James cites this faith (Genesis 15:6) as “reckoned to Abraham as righteousness.” Abraham believed God was ‘good for His word’ and this is why, James says, he was justified.

Paul, when also commenting at length on the life of Abraham (Romans 4), does not say “Abraham worked for God and therefore was justified.” Neither does he say “Abraham undertook acts of love and, because of this, was justified.” or that “Abraham made progress in character reformation and therefore was justified. He says, “Abraham believed God and that faith was credited to him as righteousness.” He and James are both referring to the same event in Abraham’s life and are both drawing the same conclusion – that Abraham was ‘made right with God by his faith.

However, James goes on to reference a second event in Abraham’s life, found in Genesis 22. Here, God is testing Abraham, looking for the kind of works that show Abraham’s faith to be not just words but real and living – demonstrable in action. This is not the same kind of justification which gave Abraham right standing with God, but rather a test of Abraham’s original profession of belief. Was it the living kind of faith which produces a genuine response or a dead faith that has no effect on life at all?

James therefore has a different meaning in mind than Paul when Paul concludes that people aren’t justified by works. James is answering another question entirely: Does the ongoing and final reckoning of our righteousness depend on works as the necessary evidence of a true and living faith? The answer to that question is an unequivocal yes!

If you were to ask James and Paul, “How does a person obtain right standing with God and receive ‘the righteousness of God‘?”, both men would answer “As a gift of grace. Trust God, believe His promise and that faith alone will be counted as righteousness.”

However, if you asked them, “Does our final right standing with God depend on works of love?”, Paul will answer “No, not if by ‘works’, you mean deeds done to show that we somehow deserve God’s blessings” (his point in Romans 4) but James will answer “Yes, if by ‘works’, you mean evidence of a faith that is alive and active in a believer’s life”. Both are in agreement with each other, based on those definitions.

Works, in the way that James defines them, prove that our faith is real. When James says that we are not justified by faith alone, he means that the faith which justifies or makes us ‘right with God’ does not remain alone but bears the fruit of the new, spirit-led life. Any other kind of faith is counterfeit, in reality, dead, and completely useless.

What Does Living Faith Look Like?

“Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.” – 1 John 4:11

Living faith is really another name for discipleship; learning to replicate the pattern and example left by Jesus in both word and action.  Paul concludes his letter to the Galatians by discussing this very thing, making it clear that being called to ‘freedom in Jesus’ is not an excuse to do whatever we want, but rather ‘freedom to serve one another in love’ (Galatians 5:14). It’s in the believing and doing that faith is made alive, vibrant and visible.

James agrees with Paul in this, again referencing the life of Abraham:

“Wasn’t our ancestor Abraham “made right with God by works” when he placed his son Isaac on the sacrificial altar? Isn’t it obvious that faith and works are yoked partners, that faith expresses itself in works? That the works are “works of faith”? The full meaning of “believe” in the Scripture sentence, “Abraham believed God and was set right with God,” includes his action. It’s that mesh of believing and acting that got Abraham named “God’s friend.” Is it not evident that a person is made right with God not by a barren faith but by faith fruitful in works?” – James 2: 21-24, MSG

Depending on God and accepting His gift of grace – truly accepting it – will radically transform our lives. It will challenge everything we do, our belief systems and possibly even misplaced prejudices about others. It will compel us to behave justly to others, with impartiality, even though the world around us might not be just or impartial. It will compel us to do better and be better, not so that we ‘earn God’s favour’ but so that our faith can be seen as a reality, not just a matter of empty words.

“But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely.

Since this is the kind of life we have chosen, the life of the Spirit, let us make sure that we do not just hold it as an idea in our heads or a sentiment in our hearts, but work out its implications in every detail of our lives.” – Galatians 5:22-25, MSG

Awareness of, and responding to the love of God is at the heart of our Christian lives. We are who we are, first and foremost, because of God revealed in Christ. Yet if our ‘loving union with God’ doesn’t result in a living faith, shown by our good works to others, then, as 1 John 4:7-21 says so eloquently, our love for God simply isn’t real. This kind of faith is a counterfeit Christianity and nothing more than a corpse.

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This article was first published on 11 June 2019