He Is Passionate for You

Every morning, I sit at my desk in a small, windowed corner of my home and talk to Jesus about you. Every day, the questions are the same: “What do you want to say today, Jesus? What do they need to hear?”

In the early days of writing these week-daily posts for you, there was a real sense of slowness, of care, and of gentleness and sometimes stillness in God’s heart toward you in this place. The posts, therefore, took on a similarly reflective and gentle pace.

But more recently, Jesus is revealing to me his heart of real passion and intentionality toward you. 

He wants you to know him. 

And the truth is, he is coming for you. In my prayer times with Jesus, I see him walking faster toward the places where you are. His face is set toward you. He wants to be with you. 

What is it like for you to hear of Christ’s passion for you and his intent to reach you? What is it like to imagine being reached by him?

Where Does Your Belief in God Come From?

Yesterday I invited you to consider the question, “What do you believe about God?” This had to do with considering the beliefs you hold about God’s character, way of being, and approximation of us.

Today I want to invite you into a bit of your life history with a more basic question: “Where does your belief in God come from?”

What stories, people, and experiences influenced your belief (or lack of belief) in God?

What Do You Believe About God?

We’ve talked quite a bit about the process of formation this week — about how formation happens in two different ways, that what we’re trying to secure on the first level of formation is ultimately meant to be given to us by God, and that such relief from the heavy burden of our ego is found when we’re able to place our cares in the hands of God.

But doing so doesn’t happen automatically. How do we know God is worthy of that trust? 

So much of this has to do with what we believe about God and what we believe about ourselves. For instance, if we don’t believe in God, that second level of formation won’t exist for us. In that case, the first level — how we interact with the world and what we come to believe about ourselves and other people in it — is all we’ll have. 

But if we do believe in God, that shifts things around a bit. What do we believe about God? What does God have to do with us? What kind of entity is God? 

Our beliefs about God inform our beliefs about ourselves. These are the existential questions. 

When I write reflections for you to consider in this space, I come from an orientation of belief in God. Specifically, I am a follower of Jesus. This means that the person of Jesus — his life and teachings — do much to inform my understanding of who God is and who I am. 

I believe that the more we get to know Jesus, the more we come to know God and ourselves. (This is one reason I’m creating the Gospel immersion course, to be offered here in the fall: so that we can better get to know the person of Jesus, and therefore better get to know God and ourselves. Can’t wait to share this with all of you!)

But what about you? What do you believe about God? How does that belief inform your understanding of yourself? 

Trusting God with Our Ego

Yesterday and today, I woke with a feeling of heaviness that seemed to show up out of nowhere. As I have carried the feeling around with me and tried to understand it, the only word that has resounded again and again is the word sad. 

For some reason I didn’t fully understand, I felt sad. 

This morning, as I came before Jesus in prayer with these feelings, I hardly knew what to say and barely had the energy to stay with him in prayer. I just kept coming back to that same word: sad. 

So I told him I was feeling sad.

And even though our prayer times lately have included a lot of walking and talking together, this morning I just wanted to stop and have him look at these feelings of sadness I felt. I didn’t understand them, but perhaps he would help me see what was there and why it was there.

I stood before him and looked into his eyes and just told him, “I’m feeling sad.” I told him I didn’tunderstand where it was coming from, but there it was nonetheless. And slowly, slowly, I heard him speaking to me. 

My grace is sufficient for you. My yoke is easy. 

Jesus helped me see that my sadness stemmed from getting twisted up inside the first level of formation these last few days. Without realizing it, my ego has gotten mired in the things I have been given to do. When the stakes seem high or the way unclear, when the plans have gone awry and I have needed to keep moving forward, I have feared failure. I have feared my intentions won’t matter and my efforts won’t be enough. 

And then the world seems like a huge and scary place. 

But Jesus looked at me this morning and said, “My grace is sufficient for you. Cast your cares upon me and let me care for you. My yoke is easy and my burden is light. This is my work through you. I will see it through to completion in the way I intend it to be done.”

There is something immensely relieving about not having to hold all the pieces of our worlds together. It really does create a lightness of being that’s a bit inexplicable, a sense of participating in something larger than us for which we are given an easy role to play. As it turns out, our worth and performance is not on the line as we’d imagined they were. 

This is what comes from trusting our ego into God’s hands instead of holding on to it ourselves. 

Can you relate to this struggle with the ego? Does it ever feel like a huge and unbearable burden to bear and maintain? What is it like for you to consider trusting God with your ego instead? 

How Do the Two Levels of Formation Interact?

Yesterday we explored the concept that formation happens on two levels — one level concerned with self-protection and one level concerned with discovering and recovering the truth of ourselves in God’s eyes. 

In the comments section, Katy asked a great question: 

How do you think those two types of formation interact with and inform each other? 

I think there are probably many layers to the answer. I suspect in our times of reflection together in this space, we will continue to revisit these two levels of formation to consider concrete ways that either level is or has been at work in our lives and to discover ways in which the two interact. 

But today, as I considered this question, I did land on one way that I believe these two levels speak to one another and teach us something about who we are and the quest each of us are taking toward wholeness and ultimate security in God. That way is this: 

The first level of formation that is concerned with protecting and promoting the self — when examined — teaches us much about the identity and security we ultimately will find in God. 

The thing about the first level of formation is that it is wholly devoted to acts of self-preservation. All that we believe and choose and seek on that level has to do with our ongoing longing and hope for security, acceptance, and love. On that level, our greatest fears are being alone and lacking significance. Everything we choose to believe about the world and how we then interact with it is geared toward self-preservation and a hope that we truly matter. 

The recovery work on the second level of formation — the level where we continually discover who we are to God and begin to abide in relationship with God — eventually teaches us that everything we sought so valiantly to attain and keep on that first level of formation already exists in our relationship with God. 

With God, we eventually discover the reality of full acceptance and love that never ends and can never be taken from us or lost. With God, we discover the reality of always being wanted and sought out. We’re never left alone, and are our value is immense and esteemed and unchanging. Our existence carries intention and meaning to God.

These are, paradoxically, hard truths to grasp.

Although in God we ultimately find all that we sought with all our might on the first level of formation, such reality is not readily apparent. It takes time to discover. We must get to know God and get to know ourselves. Eventually, those two entities — God and ourselves — must begin to interact and form relationship in order for us to eventually receive and settle into these gifts of security, acceptance, and love God has to give us.

And again, discovering and settling into the truth of ourselves in God is a process that lasts our lifetime. 

What is your response to this idea? Where are you in your process of understanding yourself on either level of formation? 

Trust in the Messiah

I’ve recently been reading through a number of Paul’s letters to the churches that he wrote throughout his life and have found them to be an interesting complement to the Gospels. The Gospels allow us to learn who Jesus is by following him along in the narratives of his life. Paul’s letters expound on those narratives by telling us what it all means. 

So in Paul’s letters, we’re helped along in our understanding of what those of us in the Christian faith believe. 

This morning, as I spent time in Paul’s letter to the Galatians, I was brought to a moment of noticing what has been happening here on this site in the last week and a half and how it relates to what we believe in the Christian faith.

In this space for the last week and a half, we’ve been talking pretty consistently about the notion of rest. We spent several days with a meditation that began with the image of a large and sturdy rock. We were invited to sit down and rest a while on that rock, then to notice the flowers at our feet, and then to notice the presence of Christ sitting with us in that scene. 

We also talked about Jesus being the salt in our lives — of his saltiness being the flavor we taste and the density that buoys us as we experience the ocean. We considered what it would be like to have encountered Jesus on earth during the days he lived here, and we held inside ourselves the idea that he comes to where we are — no matter where we are — and is present to us there. We also considered his role as the Good Shepherd and his intent to lead us beside still waters and feed us on lush green grasses. 

All of this, to me, seemed like an ongoing invitation to rest and to allow Jesus to be the one who is with us and does the “work” of being what we need and providing for us.

So as I read through a section of Paul’s letter to the Galatians this morning, I noticed a convergence between these meditations we’ve considered over the last week and a half and the foremost premise of the Christian faith.

The bedrock of the Christian faith is our trust in Jesus as the Messiah. Paul says: 

Convinced that no human being can please God by self-improvement, we believed in Jesus as the Messiah so that we might be set right before God by trusting in the Messiah, not by trying to be good. 

— Galatians 2:16

There is something foundational about our belief and faith in Jesus. Who he is matters. And our ongoing relationship with him is the essence of our formation process.

Today, I invite you to consider the question: who is Jesus to you? Is he — or could at some point be — the Messiah in whom you place your trust?

He Will Meet You Where You Are

In the late summer of 1998, my life and faith and self-perception went through a major upheaval. It was like I had been walking along with every expectation that I knew myself and God very well, but then, in one unexpected revelatory moment, saw everything that I thought had been right-side-up turn suddenly upside-down. 

Working through the aftermath of that revelation felt a bit like picking up all kinds of tiny pieces of my life and looking at each one intently, then slowly but surely and steadily putting the pieces back together in a more true, real way.

The following years were messy. Everything I thought made sense did not make sense anymore. I learned things about myself I’d never known before. 

I learned things about God that were new too. 

Many years later, reflecting on that difficult, long, yet redemptive season of my life, I came to realize what it actually means to be loved by God.

It means being met where we are. 

Paul talks about this in his letter to the Philippians. He talks about Jesus, saying: 

Jesus had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human.

— Philippians 2:5-7

I remember coming across these verses years after that upheaval happened and having an image in my mind of what had happened during that long and difficult season. Jesus left heaven and came to meet me there in my confusion and distress. I didn’t know who I was anymore, and he was with me through my struggle to understand. 

He didn’t expect me to get it together and figure it out before I could be with him. Instead, he came to where I was in all my messiness and stayed with me there. I didn’t need to work my way to heaven to gain his presence and attention. Instead, he came to me.

Can you allow God to meet you where you are today? What would it be like to simply have the presence of another in the truth of your life? Can you allow that other presence to be God? 

God Adores You

This morning I caught a glimpse of how much God adores you. 

You may know that Kirk and I have two kitties — their names are Solomon and Diva — who bring a lot of delight and laughter into our household. They also teach me a lot about God on a regular basis. For instance, I wrote once that Diva is my teacher on contemplative prayer. 

Sometimes in the morning, when I sit at my desk, Diva will follow me there and beg for attention. 

I can hardly resist petting her, and sometimes she makes it impossible for me to do anything else. She’ll circle around at my feet, make little squawking noises, look up at me with her plaintive blue eyes without blinking, stand on her hind legs and paw my arm, or jump directly onto my lap without any warning. 

She knows exactly what she wants, and she’s not afraid to ask for it.

Sometimes her persistence and fearlessness teach me how we’re welcome to approach God, but this morning, on the flip side, I caught a glimpse of God’s great love for us.

Like I said, I can hardly resist petting Diva — not only because she makes it nearly impossible to avoid, but also because I delight in her so much. I find her beautiful. I love stroking her soft fur. Her blue eyes always arrest me. Her vulnerability only increases her preciousness to me. 

But there’s something about Diva, being a cat, that will never fully satisfy my own desire for love while loving her. She loves me, but in a trusting, dependent kind of way. She can’t reciprocate — fully — the love I feel for her, and she never will.

I think that’s part of the joy God had in creating you and me. 

Just as parents pour out love for their children in abundance and selflessness over years, I can imagine there comes a point in time when their joy becomes even more full when their children start to love them from a place of maturity, as adults. The parent begins to receive love not simply for having been parents but also for who they are. What grace.

God must have felt pride and incredible affection for all he had created in the world before humans came into the mix. But once humans entered in, the potential for requited love did too. We can talk and reason and relate and grow in maturity and our capacity for love. 

I think the potential for receiving that kind of reciprocal love from us really excites God. 

Given the love and joy that overflow out of my heart toward Diva each day, I know that God dearly adores you. But even more than that, I know he’s eager to enjoy the mutuality of love that is uniquely possible with you as a human being.

In light of that, what kind of response can you offer God today? What does it look like for you to enjoy your uniquely human ability to talk and be in relationship with God right now?

What Is Your Concept of God?

Yesterday I posted a simple prayer exercise that invites you to come, simple and unadorned, before God for a few quiet moments. As part of the prayer exercise, you are invited to turn your attention to God in the quiet and just sit there, being with God.

Today, I want to acknowledge that our concept of God affects the way we experience — or even consider approaching — an exercise like this. 

Let me share with you some examples.

Early in my spiritual journey, I had a concept of God as a white-haired old man who sat on a throne way up in the heavens and commanded all things wrong and right. He had a scepter in his hand and a scowl on his face. He was holy and righteous and had very high standards for humanity. 

He was not a very compassionate God at all.

But I submitted to the reality of this God and became a young woman who strove to fulfill this God’s expectations. I cared about right and wrong. I cared about holiness. I tried to live an upright life. I felt exceedingly sad when I fell short.

My prayer journals during these many years of my life were filled with lamentations of wrong-doing and pleas with God to help me be better. They were also filled with a certain assumption that my own standard of holiness somehow pleased God and put him “on my side.”

I don’t recall ever sitting in silence before this God at all.

A bit later in my spiritual journey, I decided to spend a few months reading straight through the Gospels of the New Testament. I did this with the intent of getting to know Jesus and why he might matter to my life. 

Through the course of immersing myself in the Gospels, I fell in love with Jesus. He was everything that white-haired Zeus in the sky was not.

He gave me a different concept of God entirely. 

This Jesus was the perfect embodiment of love and compassion and kindness and mercy. He was infinitely personal. He cared about my heart. He would look me in the eyes and really listen. He spoke words of truth, but with a gentleness that both disarmed and invited. 

Ultimately, through Jesus, I discovered a God who wanted to know me. 

This, too, affected the way I approached God. Slowly, I began to share with God my heart. I began to listen to what God might want to say back. It grew into a real experience of relationship.

Over time, as I’ve continue to walk the path of my spiritual journey, I’ve learned that my concept of God continues to evolve as I grow in my knowledge of who God really is.

I believe this is a life-long process. 

It’s also one toward which God carries infinite patience with us. Part of the mystery of God coming to earth in the form of a human is a demonstration of that patience. Jesus came to meet us where we are, rather than expecting us to meet him up where he is.

So, consider where you are. 

What concept of God do you have right now? How does that concept affect the way you relate to God in prayer?