Here’s this week’s contribution to the One-Word-At-A-Time Blog Carnival. I encourage you to click the link and check out some of the other carnival attractions. As we work our way through the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5), this week’s word is:

FAITHFULNESS

For many of us the great danger is not that we will renounce our faith. It is that we will become so distracted and rushed and preoccupied that we will settle for a mediocre version of it. John Ortberg 

“What’s it about?”

That’s one of the questions you hear a lot when you publish a book. Experts advise creating a compelling, one-line response that fosters an irresistible desire to read the story.

Relentless Grace is the story of God’s perfect faithfulness in the face of my incessant lack of faith.

I’ll wait if you suddenly experience an overwhelming need to learn more about the book …

When I hear the word faith I tend to think of belief. But I never stopped believing in God or wanting to follow Jesus. He certainly doesn’t need to believe in me. So faith and faithfulness must involve something more than belief.

… my incessant lack of faith.

I always believed. The problem was (and still is) that what I believe doesn’t impact my behavior. I believe, but I don’t trust.

When things get tough, I too frequently default to self-reliance. If it’s going to get fixed, I’d better draw the plans and get out my toolbox. I’m going to do it my way. I’m supposed to have all the answers.

I once described this repeated pattern to a friend/pastor who “sympathetically” replied, “So, how’s that working for you?” When you get to know them, pastors can be sarcastic.

But he was right—my lack of trust doesn’t work all that well. I stumble along on my own. I congratulate myself when I accidentally cross the correct path, certain that I’ve finally got it figured out. Then I wander off course once more, crash into another obstacle, and wonder why God doesn’t help.

God’s perfect faithfulness …

When I started arranging the episodes of Relentless Grace to create some sort of coherent story, I thought I was tracing my journey through recovery from a devastating injury. I had this image of somehow giving the reader a sense of hope by revealing my own weakness. I wanted to say, “If I can do this, you can as well.”

A single-sentence synopsis of the story I envisioned: Rich recovers from tragedy despite incredible stubbornness, resistance, denial, and stupidity.

Doesn’t that get you scrambling for the Amazon listing?

But the account I planned wasn’t what emerged. Turns out—amazingly enough—that the story really wasn’t about me at all.

As I read my own words, I watched in amazement as the unmistakable pattern of God’s faithfulness unfolded on the computer screen.

God refused to break His promises. He pursued me despite my best efforts to drive Him away. His faithfulness was relentless.

The Message describes faithfulness as “involved in loyal commitments.” That’s how God’s worked in my life.

I make a commitment and break it; He always does exactly what He’s promised. I can’t trust; He’s right there, just as He said He’d be. I grope along in self-imposed darkness; He patiently shines His light and points to the path.

My lack of faith, always overwhelmed by the grace of His perfect faithfulness.

We often think of great faith as something that happens spontaneously so that we can be used for a miracle or healing. However, the greatest faith of all, and the most effective, is to live day by day trusting Him. It is trusting Him so much that we look at every problem as an opportunity to see His work in our life. Rick Joyner 

If you’re visiting for the blog carnival, I invite you to check out this video. It has a lot to do with faithfulness and trust, but it’s also just fun.

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Intentional Gratitude

Today marks another new adventure for Bouncing Back. We’re participating in the One-Word-At-A-Time Blog Carnival. The idea is for a number of blogs to address the same word through writing, poetry, photography, or any other medium. I encourage you to click the link and check out some of the other carnival contributions. This week’s word is:

PATIENCE

Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish. John Quincy Adams 

Do you ever get kicked in the pants by your own silliness?

I rolled up to the keyboard on Super Bowl Sunday. It was a few hours until kickoff—plenty of time to work on an article about “patience.”

This should be easy. A couple of pertinent quotes, a witty line or two about my own lack of patience, and some observations about occasions when patience has paid off—pretty straightforward stuff.

I leaned back to ponder a clever opening line and heard a sickening crack. The tube that supports the left side of my wheelchair back snapped in half.

DISASTER

My day was ruined.

I couldn’t sit safely or comfortably in my broken chair. Movement was limited to slowly “limping” around the house, leaning carefully to one side to avoid falling. No repair shops open on Sunday, so I was effectively immobilized for the rest of the day.

A normal guy might see opportunity within this challenge.  I’d spend the afternoon of the Super Bowl confined to the La-Z-Boy, TV remote in hand, unable to retrieve my own snacks. My wife would happily serve me while I sat with feet up, napping and watching football.

Most guys would define such circumstances as God smiling upon them.

But I work hard to maintain the illusion of independence. I hate asking for help, and this stupid broken chunk or metal made me feel even more helpless than usual.

Why did this have to happen on a Sunday? I grumbled about a Monday morning wasted on repairs and a search for some special part that’s probably not in stock. An appointment had to be re-scheduled. Plans were destroyed, an entire week thrown into disarray.

And when would I find time to write that article—the one about “patience”?

IRONY

You see the irony, right? One minute I prepared to pontificate about patience, then suddenly I wallowed in frustration and anger over a relatively minor setback.

We’re a culture of convenience. We want what we want, and our desires become expectations and then entitlements. We want it all, and we want it now. The slightest deviation from our plans and preferences becomes a tragedy, proof of life’s inherent conspiracy against us. Great patience is required simply to wait for a momentary traffic delay.

A BIGGER VIEW

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other. [Galatians 5: 22-26]

Scripture refers to patience in a different light. Galatians 5:22 lists patience as a fruit of the Spirit. In the KJV, this word is longsuffering and means “bearing pains or trials calmly or without complaint.” Scriptural patience connotes sticking with a difficult task when you’d rather quit, maintaining an attitude of serenity and hope.

Patience isn’t simply passively tolerating adversity—that’s just laziness. Patience allows me to continue on the correct path, to remain true to my core values, when things aren’t going exactly as I wish. For me, patience requires two closely-related attitudes.

Patience requires faith, a constant awareness that I believe in something greater than current circumstance. It’s not something I generate for myself—patience is a gift that comes when I walk in step with the Spirit.

Patience requires hope, which I define as a sense of expectation rooted in faith. Hope isn’t a wish; it’s the certainty that comes from trusting God’s perfect faithfulness. I attain that attitude of hope only by remembering that I’m trying to live God’s way, not mine.

Ecclesiastes 3 assures us: There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven. [Ecclesiastes 3:1] The rest of the passage lists some of the joys and sorrows—birth and death, mourning and dancing—that have their appointed time and place.

This beautiful passage is an appeal for patience and perseverance in the face of adversity.

So I guess that means there’s a time for my wheelchair to function properly and, like anything mechanical, a time for it to break.

And, for me, a time to become frustrated, and a time to ask forgiveness and seek the hope rooted in faith that allows me to endure the frustration and begin again.

Do you ever lose patience when things don’t happen as you planned? What’s your secret for regaining perspective and facing adversity in hope?

The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride. [Ecclesiastes 7:8]

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Grace And Truth

I felt lost, and I desperately wanted God to show up. Instead, people appeared and gradually helped me toward the light. Only later did I realize that was how God shows up.

How can you help someone who needs you?

I’ve been working on a presentation for folks who are working in difficult areas of ministries. Since I’m a wheelchair user, I’m supposed to offer a seated perspective of things people have done that have been helpful and some that haven’t.

Here’s my list so far. Hopefully you’ll help me with something I’ve missed.

Show up. I seem to always need help at inconvenient times, and I’m grateful for friends who show up even when they’d rather be somewhere else. There’s a difference between Signing Up And Showing Up.

It’s easy to say, “Call me if there’s anything I can do.” It’s hard to ask for help. The real heroes are the folks who show up.

Don’t label. Labels isolate. When you label someone, you hide their individuality behind a category. The person in front of you isn’t a category—she’s a uniquely gifted, precious child of God. Here are some additional thoughts: God’s Version Of Special

I’ve been asked whether I prefer to be called “disabled,” “physically challenged,” or “mobility impaired.” Personally I prefer “Rich.”

Stay away from clichés and inspirational platitudes. “The only disability in life is a bad attitude.” Really? When you’ve just discovered you’re permanently paralyzed, that feels like a slap in the face.

Clichés can be like labels—they make us feel better without really having to do anything.

Change what you can change. World peace may be a bit too much to tackle, but some issues aren’t that complicated. A family living in their car doesn’t need a lecture on the benefits of facing adversity—they need shelter. A hungry child doesn’t need a gardening lesson—he needs a meal.

When snow keeps me from leaving my driveway, I understand that the weather’s beyond my control. I’m grateful for folks who show up with a thermos of hot chocolate and a snow shovel.

Accept what you can’t change. Life isn’t fair. Some circumstances stink, and that just the way it is. Complaining, lamenting, and worrying only make it worse.

Be creative. I’m quick to decide a particular task or situation is hopeless or impossible. I’m astounded by the creativity people demonstrate in helping me discover how to do things that seemed beyond my capabilities.

Be realistically optimistic. I’ve explained The 8000/2000 Principle as my way of avoiding pessimism. It’s amazing what can be accomplished when we focus on possibilities rather than obstacles.

Have a healthy sense of humor. When we’re struggling, everything becomes an earth-shattering crisis. It helps to keep some perspective and chuckle at life’s absurdities.

It’s never okay to laugh at someone’s misfortune. But we all find ourselves in silly circumstances, and it’s good to avoid taking things too seriously.

Choose hope. Most of all, I’m grateful for friends who helped me believe, and believed for me when I was so immersed in darkness that light seemed impossible.

I’m not talking about empty wishes—I hope someone gives me a bag full of money, but I’m not counting on it. I’m talking about hope that’s an expectation rooted in faith that Jesus always walks with me.

Love. Agape is the self-sacrificial concern for others that makes it all work. Someone once said she felt frustrated because she didn’t know how to help, and it felt like all she could do was love me.

That’s plenty.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. [1 Corinthians 13:13]

What would you add?

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Agape

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“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: ” ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” [Matthew 22:36-40]

A couple of weeks ago, Becky and I visited a gorgeous historic hotel in the Colorado mountains.

Designers restored and modernized this majestic treasure, including remarkable accessibility, while maintaining its unique charm. In one spot a small patio sits at the bottom of a steep slope with stunning views of surrounding landscapes. At the top of the slope, neatly hidden from sight, is a modern parking lot. The challenge: how to allow visitors to change levels without destroying the beauty of this secluded oasis.

A simple set of steps solves the problem for most folks, but they’d be an intrusion on the natural environment and wouldn’t allow easy access for all. Instead, architects created a curving, gently-pitched path that winds down the hill. Benches, trees, and strategically-placed colorful plants guide visitors to the bottom along a series of small pools connected by bubbling waterfalls. The solution is simple and elegant and enhances the space.

It’s the perfect answer to a difficult problem. Someone worked hard to create this unobtrusive, peaceful complexity that almost disappears into the background.

Simple—but not simplistic. Complex—but not complicated.

In the scripture above, Jesus is asked for the first priority in His teaching, and I don’t think the first word He spoke was an accident. “Love …” The answer is so simple. Like that gentle path on a steep hillside, He distills centuries of scholarship into a single word. “Love …”

And we reply, “Yeah, but …”

You can almost hear their response. “Love? You want us to solve everything with love? You have no idea how complicated our lives can be. It’s just not that easy!”

And He smiles gently and says, Really? You think I don’t understand?

When we encounter adversity, pain, grief, and unbearable despair, life seems much too complicated for such a simplistic response. We need a pragmatic answer, something that works in the real world. When the past covers you with a blanket of shame and guilt, the present spins out of control, and the future looms in darkness devoid of direction, Jesus doesn’t seem to get how impossible it all seems.

And He smiles gently and points to the cross. He gets it.

When God first greeted Adam and Eve in the garden, He pointed to the wonderful complexity of all He’d created. His command was simple. Live in loving relationship with each other and with Me. Enjoy it all, but don’t mess with this one tree.

Their disobedience cluttered the world with the complications of sin and polluted God’s simple design. He made it complex—we made it complicated.

Jesus gets it, and He still stands and points to the cross.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” [Matthew 11:28-30]

Easy? Light? Rest? What about all of that theology and religion, the books and the study? And what about all of the junk that the world dumps on us, not to mention our own mistakes and failures? What’s so light and easy about any of that?

And He smiles gently. The religion, theology, and sin aren’t His stuff. That’s all ours, the product of our own silly attempts to do it our way. In fact, I love the way this passage is expressed in The Message:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Jesus lived simply, but His message certainly isn’t simplistic. He doesn’t promise an easy life; in fact, His life was hard precisely because He chose the simple truth of love.

But my way’s hard too, and seems only to surround me only with more and more levels of complicated, tangled messes that become ever more snarled as I struggle to free myself. Jesus didn’t design this jumbled confusion, but He does understand it. He lived it, and He knows the only effective escape strategy.

The simple question isn’t whether He understands. He does. The only question is whether I believe enough to trust His elegantly uncomplicated guidance.

And I echo the man from Mark 9: I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. [1 Corinthians 13:13]

Faith, hope, and love. Simple—but not simplistic. Complex—but not complicated.

What’s an aspect of your life that seems overwhelmingly complicated? Does any of this make sense in that circumstance?

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Who Do You Trust?

Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1)

Yesterday I wrote about Substance Or Style.

I was struck by how frequently Christians get caught up in style and forget substance. At times we all become immersed in form and doctrine and liturgy, and we lose sight of Jesus’ simple message of love. But especially for people who struggle for freedom from a tragic past, the awareness that God values essence over appearance might be overwhelming.

HOPELESS

I’ve heard it dozens of times. “If God really knows me, then He knows all of the junk inside, all of my past mistakes, all of the horrible events that I can’t erase. And if He can see all of that, it’s hopeless.”

Completely transparent intimacy intimidates everyone to some extent, but that sense of total vulnerability can overwhelm someone who faces despair and regret. When I’m ashamed of the past and depressed about the present, how can I possibly look to God with hope?

Jesus proclaims, “You are the light of the world.” (Matthew 5:14a) Then, in verse 16, He continues, “…let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.”

What good deeds? What light? He must be talking to someone else. When the past contains only sorrow and the present is shrouded in darkness, how can I possibly let my light shine?

A COMPASS

I’m absolutely convinced that God cares more about where we’re going than where we are or where we’ve been. Because of Jesus’ sacrifice, He’s concerned with direction rather than location. To me, God’s more like a compass than a map. The map reveals how I arrived at my current position, but the compass points north from any situation. Jesus is the direction to freedom in every circumstance.

Songwriter Don Francisco phrased this idea beautifully:

I don’t care where you’ve been sleeping; I don’t care who’s made your bed.
 I already gave my life to set you free.
There’s no sin you can imagine that is stronger than my love,
and it’s all yours if you come home again to me.

Does God care what we do, or that we do our best? Of course. “…let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.”

But He cares much more about motivation. Unless the LORD builds the house, its builders labor in vain. Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain. (Psalm 127: 1)

As I said yesterday, the end doesn’t justify the means; instead, the means change the end.

God values character more than accomplishments, who we’re becoming more than what we’re doing. As Rick Warren said, “We’re human beings, not human doings.”

You can live a life of substance in any situation. Let go of the map.

Follow the compass.

Within you is a limitless, unborn potential of creativity and substance, and the present experience can be your great opportunity to give birth to it. Disadvantage can become advantage, failure can become opportunity, and disappointment can become “His” appointment.

Do you have trouble following the compass rather than the map?

Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net. 

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Faith is not belief without proof, but trust without reservations. ~ Elton Trueblood

Yesterday I heard one of society’s common phrases: I’ll believe it when I see it.

It’s important to revisit our core values and beliefs frequently, and that statement brought me back to two of my guiding principles.

• Faith is the central element that guides my choices.
• Everyone has faith in something.

As I considered the notion that “faith … is trust without reservations” I began to perceive just how much I actually limit my faith.

I clearly do not trust God without reservations. I want to have that sort of trust and live out that level of unlimited faith, but I don’t. I suspect that we can all point to actions that betray the practical limits of our faith, our inability to trust without reservation.

I’m trying to learn to be a bit more gentle with myself about my own internal contradictions. I’m on a journey that hopefully moves me toward more congruence between ideals and actions, but I’m pretty sure I’ll never bring them into perfect alignment.

Today, I want to be a bit more aware of my ideals. I want to identify one occasion in which I can align my response a little better with my desire to trust.

What do you think?

Can you point to one action that betrays a lack of trust?

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Why do you believe in God?

The question stopped me in my tracks. I’m naturally a seeker and a questioner so I’m accustomed to reconciling the internal consistency of my faith, but such interactions occur with other believers. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered this foundational question.

Our interchange was respectful, devoid of the dismissive name-calling or ideological rhetoric that so frequently characterizes such discussions. We weren’t arguing, and neither attempted to “convert” the other. Two men with diametrically opposing perspectives probed for understanding and common ground from which to explore divergent conclusions about the universe and our role in it.

The effort proved surprisingly frustrating for me. I have close relationships with a number of non-believers, but our conversations apparently reflect an unspoken agreement concerning acceptable subject matter. Our friendships include a mutual understanding and respect for differing points of view.

I’ve also encountered those intent on ridiculing a faith they clearly don’t understand and don’t want to investigate. I’m comfortable with simply refusing to engage that sort of unproductive, disrespectful attitude.

But this was different; the question was honest and reflected a sincere desire for an understandable explanation. Why do you believe in God?

I couldn’t dismiss it as a silly question, because it isn’t silly at all. I couldn’t respond with an inspirational platitude that apparently dodged the question. And I couldn’t offer objective evidence to support my faith—that’s why it’s called “faith.”

I fear that I succumbed to my habit of answering quickly, as though delay implied doubt. I felt that I should have a clear response to such a basic question, and I probably tried to fill the void with too many words. I hope my babbling didn’t communicate any lack of respect for the question.

We’re called to spread the gospel and tell others the good news. We shouldn’t argue with people who refuse to listen, but we ought to respond in love to sincere attempts to understand. God’s not afraid of hard questions.

Upon further reflection, I think I have an answer, though I’m not certain my response will satisfy or even make sense to my new friend. I’m curious about your ideas.

Why do you believe in God?

Please leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net. 

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