Unshakeable

We are a people shaken.  Do you realize that?  We are a people trembling at the feet of our world, responding as best we can to what happens here, holding half-heartedly onto hope as our only chance of something better maybe one day.

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of shaking.  I’m ready to stand firm.  I want to see us, as a people, as God’s people, standing firm.

Hebrews 12:12 says, “So take a new grip with your tired hands.  Stand firm on your shaky legs.”

It’s the time of resolutions, of good intentions, of promises for change.  It’s the time of making a new plan, blazing a new path, and pursuing anew the promise laid out in our lives.  Let’s take hold of that with our tired hands and become a people who stand, shaky legs and all.

So that we don’t have to be a people shaken.

Standing firm doesn’t mean standing defiant.  We’ve all had enough of that.  We’ve tried by sheer willpower to stand against the things that would come in our lives, the troubles and trials.  The turbulence and turmoil.  It doesn’t take long before the wind beats us down and will just isn’t enough to keep us standing there any more.  All the defiance in the world will not help us weather the storm.  No, it is not about standing defiant.

It’s about standing defined. 

It’s about planting our feet on the solid ground of Christ as our foundation.  It’s about knowing who we are because we know who God is and refusing to move from that.  It’s about stopping trying to find the faith to answer the world and starting to make this world answer to our faith.

What?  You thought you were created for this world?  Wrong.  This world was created for you.  It’s time to start living like a people who refuse to be shaken and start making this world do some trembling of its own, at the feet of the God who created it and His people who aren’t going to take it any more.  Who are going to take a stand, put their feet down, stand on the Rock, and refuse to be shaken.

There are a lot of messed-up, crazy things going on around here.  Gunshots pierce our simple pleasures.  Unemployment and uncertainty threaten our securities.  Death takes love before its time.  Cancer won’t let go.  And it seems like every new thing takes a reworking of our faith to make sense of God in a broken world.

It can’t be like that, friends.  We cannot bend our God to our brokenness; we have to bend our brokenness to our God.  We have to rework our broken world to be senseless in light of our God.

Coach Pagano (Indianapolis Colts, for you non-football fans) is now famous for saying, “Hey, I got circumstances.  We all got circumstances.”

Well, I’m tired of circumstances.   It’s about time that we, as God’s people, move beyond our circumstances.  It’s time we get a grip.

Get a grip with our weary hands.  Because it’s ok to be weary here.  Stand firm on our shaky legs.  Because it’s ok to be shaky.  It’s just not ok to be shaken.

We were created to be unshakeable.

Measure of Grace

One of the challenges of change is that while some things may change, not everything changes.  You have to figure out how you will handle the things in your life that are unchanging.

It's hard because so many of our daily dealings - our interactions, our destinations, our duties, our doings - are haunted by the memory of what used to be.  Before we changed.  And this world doesn't always recognize or honor a change that we've made.

I used the example of smoking yesterday.  Smokers who choose to quit lose friends.  The people they used to stand around the ash tray with no longer know how to relate to them if there's not smoke between them.  Can you figure out how, as a changed person, as a non-smoker, to maintain relationship with an old friend, if you truly care about them?

Those who choose to make amends with family or friends will still face doubt and questions.  Nobody believes you changed just because you say that you have.  Can you discover a way to continue pursuing reconciliation if the ones you seek to reconcile with still look at you that way?

Can you take the same drive to work if you remember the way that place on the corner used to tempt you beyond your strength?  Can you laugh with a friend or a loved one who doesn't believe in or disagrees with the change you're making?  Can you be around people or places or communities that do not value or honor your new way of living?

The truth is that you can change anything you want to in your life, but you will not in the same instant change your world.  You have to know how you will respond to an unchanging world so that the resolution you're seeking - and hopefully finding - in your own life will not be threatened by everything that is as it has always been.  You have to know how to do the routine, mundane, common things you still have to do - go to the grocery, attend church, drive your commute, sit at your desk, talk to the neighbors, watch television, check your email, whatever it is - without sacrificing the newness in you.  Without giving up what you're painfully opening yourself up to achieve.  Without letting go of your promise.

May I recommend grace?

Grace is the ability to say that what the rest of the world chooses to do does not affect what you have given yourself to.  It is the ability to look at another person, even when you're incredulously wondering why they still treat you like you used to be, and realize that it has so very little to do with you at all; they are being who they are.  Grace lets them be who they are and lets that be ok, too.  Because it is by grace that you are who you are, even who you are choosing to be, even changed as you are choosing to be.  So grace just kind of gives that out and lets other people, and places, be what they are, too.

If it's that important, then by grace, you will find a way to honor both yourself and the other - be it a person, a place, a memory, what have you - without either giving up or giving in.  There are so very few cases where this grace just wouldn't work.

That's kind of what I was fighting with my yes and many nos.  It's kind of the battle of change.  It's that I found myself - and you find yourself - in a situation where there would have been no question if I gave up my promise to engage as the circumstance would have expected me to engage.  But I was not willing to give up my promise for the moment, not willing to set aside change for a chance.  So what I was wrestling with was how to bring a new self, a resolved and reconciled self (ok...still pursuing, but on the path), a promised self into an unexpected but familiar moment that was waiting on me as I had always been.  I didn't want to do it that way any more.  In honor of the promise, I couldn't.

You know, I kind of got a little excited, even as terrified as I was at the opportunity.  It's exciting to know in your heart what difference is, what change is, and to feel it tangibly in your skin and to think about what it would look like to bring that new into an old place that really, when you're looking at it, hasn't changed a lot.  You can't expect it to change.  But you do sort of change it by bringing change into it.  That's exciting!

Just take a full measure of grace.

Do you have grace for the unchanging?  What would it mean to your promise if you did?

Yes and No

One thing you have to remember when you're embarking on a journey of change is that every seemingly little "yes" you choose is a big, fat, resounding "no" to a hundred angry things you're fighting against.

It sounds cheesy, I know.  It sounds trite, maybe even a little dumb.  But when you're going up against the big things in your life, when you're going after resolution and not just change, when you're not standing against anything but instead laying your heart wide open for the chance to be resolved, it's absolutely true.  And you can't forget it.

See, I had this conversation with an elder just a couple of weeks ago.  It was a Sunday I had seized before walking out my door, determined to take my moment and wage a war.  Make a new choice against something in my life that had far too long been a burden on me.  When I arrived at church, this guy approached me, which isn't all that uncommon.  We chatted for a second or two, much shorter than usual, and he got right down to business.

I'm kind of stretched this morning, he said, and I need to know if you can help me out.  I felt a little clutch in my chest and asked him what he needed.  Honestly?  Nothing all that difficult.  Nothing that would have been out of character for me.  Nothing that would have been a stretch.

On a normal day.

But that Sunday was no normal day.  I had made it my moment.  And as he asked, I immediately felt this ambivalence in me.  How to say no.  How to say yes.  It's not that I couldn't; it's that I didn't know if I could do it in a new way.  I could have done it the way I always had, had I not woken up that morning with a new promise for myself.  Now, here was the question.  Could I do it in the promise - which was a promise I was counting on God's promise for?

I looked at him and said, "Brother, you don't know what you're asking...."  Any other morning, I told him.  Any other day.  "But right now, saying yes to you means saying no to a whole lot of other things that I'm not sure right now if I'm stronger than."

Because as he asked that simple question, that simple favor, I was excited.  I was excited for the opportunity to say yes and really go after this thing.  Really go after this fight.  Really take a stand and take a chance and embrace a change.  Throw my trust behind the promises of God and go after it.  It's just that as soon as I started to form a yes in my heart, I heard - almost audibly - a million other questions, a million other voices, that would have, by default, demanded a no for the sake of one simple yes.

It's real, friends.

If you're holding onto the promise of wholeness, of what real resolution looks like in your life, then one little yes is a great big no to everything that wants to hold onto you.

One yes to skipping a smoke break is a no to addiction.  It is a no to a routine.  It is a no to a social experience.  It is a no to old friends, who may or may not support you.  It is a no to expectations.  It is a no to being controlled.  It is a no to cowing to lesser things. 

Because your yes is in the promise and so little else is.  You don't just do things any more; you do them wholly, fully, with a new heart.

Whatever you're seeking to resolve in your life, whatever resolution you're after, wouldn't be so important if it didn't have such a powerful hold on you.  It doesn't just let go.  It doesn't just walk away because you choose to.  A lot of times, we don't even realize how deeply these troubles are rooted in us until we say a little yes to something else.  Until we risk a new promise.  Until we make a little change.  Then we're suddenly overwhelmed with how painfully the roots spread throughout our being.

That's why it's important to lay your heart open and go all-out after resolution, rather than simple change.  It doesn't make it easier - there are still a lot of defeated, desperate demons who would rather not let you go - but it makes it matter.

Matthew 5:37 says, "Let your yes be yes and your no be no."  Don't muddle it up.  In resolution, it's always a little muddled.  Your yes is yes, but it's also no.  A whole lotta no for one seemingly simple yes.

The key, then, is to know your nos are coming and say yes anyway.  Then live in your yes.  Let your yes be your Yes!

Yes, you can.

All-Out War

Yesterday, I said that the promise of the new year is not so much about simple change as it is resolution.  And you can't simply power your way - by your own resolve - to the resolution or reconciliation of brokenness in your life.

You know that's true.  How many battles have you ever won by pure might that you didn't find yourself fighting again?

You lost weight.  You gained it back.  You have to lose it again.

You got that promotion.  There's something more.  You want another one.

You started talking to your family again.  Nobody said anything about anything.  The air is still awkward.

You paid off your credit card.  There was an incredible sale.  You owe someone again.

There's no mystery why we make the same resolutions every new year.  It's because we're not resolving anything.  We're fighting battles that seem like the fight but these aren't the front lines.  The front lines are much more dangerous.

It's not about your weight.  It's about your image.  It's about your esteem and how you feel about yourself.  It's about how you feel in your own skin, and that goes beyond the mirror.  It goes beyond the tag in the back of the pants.  It hits at the heart of your identity.

It's not about your status.  It's about your merit.  Your worth.  It's about whether or not you think you have anything to offer this world, whether you're doing anything that matters here.  It goes beyond the title and the corner office.  It smacks at the core of your purpose.

It's not about family.  It's about relationships.  It's about loneliness and forgiveness.  It's about place.  It's about knowing where you connect in the world and finding that niche where you simply fit.  It's about having a network, a community, and being a part of something and knowing that that is there for you.

It's not about credit cards.  It's about insecurity.  It's about wondering if you can ever truly have anything.  It's about questioning whether you deserve anything.  It's about an empty place inside of you  that doesn't seem to be answered.  

These things sting against your hollowness; they echo in your heart.  If you ever want a real and honest change in your life, you have to stop standing up against the facade of the problem and start going after the heart of the matter.

It's something you can't muscle through.  You can't make it better just by standing against it long enough.  You can't outlast an emptiness.  That's not how it works.  No force of will, no weight of determination, will answer the longing questions your heart is begging to ask.  

You have to lay your heart wide-open.  You have to put it all out there.  It's a battle, but these..these..are the front lines.  These battle lines are drawn in your heart.

You want to lose weight?  Fine.  Perfect.  But ask the deeper question about yourself so that you love, instead of bully, yourself into a new body.

You want that promotion?  Go after it.  But swap out the question of impact for that of purpose and figure out what God is doing through you for His glory...lest you keep asking questions about yours.

You want to reconnect with family?  Great.  But don't expect you can just waltz back into a broken place.  You have to open that space first, clear the debris.  A simple hello, a measure of forgiveness, and a quiet grace go a long way in that.

You want to get out of debt.  Awesome.  But ask yourself what you were trying to buy and find a way to get it that doesn't cost you.  Grace is free.  What is worth paying for?

The resolutions we make are battle lines.  We want to take a stand against something.  But we're going to stand all day and all night, muscle our way through, and then somehow find ourselves in the same battles again and again and again.  Stop thinking about the battle and go after the war.

The way to do that is to lay your heart wide open.  Put your hurt out in the open.  Crack open your torn flesh just a little more to let the fresh air sting a little.  Go after change.  Go after something better. 

Just remember this is all-out war.  If you want to win, it takes more than will.  You have to put your heart all out there.

Resolution

Have you made a resolution for 2013?  Have you...already broken it?

This week, I'm writing about change.  How to make it and how to make it stick.  It starts with redefining resolution, which ironically, is something we've already done.  It's time to take the word back.

Today, we talk about resolutions.  A resolution.  A thing...that we do.  Or at least aim to do.  When we talk about it in this way, the verbs we have to bring to bear are those of tremendous willpower and discipline.  Words of our strength.  What we bring into the new year with our resolutions is our resolute attitude of resolve.

We are resolute.  Determined.  Unmoving.  Hungry, even.  We're going after it.  We've made our choice, decided what we're going to do, decided what matters, and we are unchanging on that principle.  That's what resolute it.  It is standing firm.  It is refusing to change your mind.  It is having decided, having committed, and not turning back.

To our resolute attitude, we bring resolve.  A slight distinction, but an important one nonetheless.  Our resolve is our drawing not on our intentions, but on our strength.  It is putting our nose to the grindstone, putting our money where our mouth is.  It is our determination.  It is refusing to be moved.  It is refusing to give in.  It is refusing to be turned back.  Nothing is going to stop us, firm in our resolve, from achieving our resolution.

Is it any wonder we so often fail?

We storm into these things unhumbled.  We tear into a new year riding the backs of our own will and strength...and we don't get very far.  We don't have enough to carry us through.  Not in and of ourselves.  Not in this attitude.

Remember what resolution is.  Not a resolution, but simply resolution.  It isn't a wholesale change of all that is.  It isn't even the small change of some thing that is.  It isn't "change" at all.  Resolution is the reconciliation of a broken area.  It is the healing of a torn path.  It is repentance and remission and...well...resolution.

We've kind of forgotten that as we promise ourselves anew every year.  We've forgotten what it's supposed to be.  We've forgotten that this tradition, this opportunity we embrace every year to seize one seemingly perfect moment for change, isn't mean to bully ourselves into being better.  It isn't meant to rally our troops and mount our horses and drag ourselves kicking and screaming and falling and failing to higher ground.

When we started the resolution, it was intended to face some broken area in our lives.  Something we weren't happy with.  Not something we were failing at, but something that was failing us.  Now we're failing ourselves.

Is that what the new year is about for you?  Failing yourself again?

It's going to happen if the only promise you made yourself this week is to be unmoving and unchanging, refusing to turn back and refusing to be turned back, in the days to come.  It's going to happen if your resolution depends upon your resolute resolve to make it happen for you.  We're just not that resolved as a people.

And let's say you make it.  Let's say you're one of the few who manages to keep a resolution.  Let's say you make a change.

Have you changed one seemingly important thing only to discover that nothing's really different?

Do you find any resolution in that?

Tomorrow, I'm going to talk about the way to make it.  The way to come up not failing yourself this year.  But it starts today with remembering resolution.  Remembering what it means to seek resolution. Not a resolution, not a thing; pure resolution.  Reconciliation and the healing of the broken.  Seeking firmness in a place that has failed you.

Forget about what you want to do better this year.  Forget about what you want to do different.  Forget about your high dreams and lofty goals.  Forget about simple change.

What is it you want resolved this year?  Where has your broken life failed you?  Where are you hungry for resolution?