Cowardice, Counterpunching, and the Cross (Friday Devotional)

For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.

- 2 Timothy 1:7

Sometimes it seems like I can’t escape them. I go to a baseball stadium and there they are. I go to the mall and there they are. I go to the airport and there they are.

You probably think they’re innocuous, helpful even. They’re no different from a bicycle or a car, you might say, just another way to get from point A to point B. You may look at them and see the triumph of technology over inconvenience, proof of progress.

But I know the truth. I know that escalators are terrifying.

Yes, everyone has an unreasonable fear, and those terrifying moving staircases are mine. I think my fear stems from a trip to The Ballpark in Arlington (as it was known then), which has some of the most towering escalators I have ever seen, particularly if you’re going all the way up to the nosebleed seats. As my family and I were leaving the game, I put my foot on the moving step just like I was supposed to—and I tripped. Stumbling downward, I flailed wildly for something to grab onto, and by the time I regained my balance I was four or five steps lower than I’d started, my eyes wide and my heart racing. I was suspended one hundred feet in the air and because of those moving steps I had almost fallen to my doom.

Looking back as an adult on that moment, I’ve realized a few things. One, I wouldn’t have actually fallen one hundred feet—probably twenty at the most before I’d have hit the platform where the next escalator began. Two, my depth perception is quite a bit better as an adult than a child, so I’m not likely to miss that first step again unless I’m being really careless. Three, escalators really are convenient when your knees don’t feel like taking regular stairs. Yet even knowing these three things, when I approach an escalator I can’t help but pause an extra second before taking that first step. Rational or not, escalators scare me.

I wish I could say that escalators are the most frightening things we face in our world, but of course that isn’t the case. We are bombarded every day with stories—of crime, sickness, terrorism, and a host of other forces—which are enough to leave you curled up in the fetal position. The world says you have two choices when confronted by fear—to retreat in weakness, or to face your fear with your own strength. So for example, when an enemy strikes you, your choices are to run or to hit back. These, conventional wisdom says, are the only valid options.

But the way of the cross is anything but conventional. Speaking to our fears, Scripture reminds us that God does not give His people a spirit of cowardice, that we are not called to simply avoid or escape conflicts when they threaten us. But neither does He give us a spirit of retribution. Jesus’s teachings, his interactions with opponents, and ultimately his death consistently show that the righteous response to pain is not to return fire.

The spirit God does give is of power and love and self-discipline, a spirit that enables you to overcome fear with neither cowardice nor counterpunching, but with the cross. It is by relying upon God’s wisdom and strength instead of your own, by placing your faith in Him even when the end result is not your immediate gratification, that your fears are truly overcome. So when your fears threaten to overwhelm you, when you find yourself reaching for the easy solutions of running away or striking back, may you instead turn to the way of Jesus, overcoming the power of fear with the greater power of love.

Do Your Part (Friday Devotional)

“Fight the good fight of the faith; take hold of the eternal life, to which you were called and to which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses.”

- 1 Timothy 6:12

“You approach two doors. One is hot to the touch and bears an unusual design in the center, a symbol so strange it just might be…alien. The other door appears perfectly ordinary but for one amazing fact…it is not resting on hinges, but rather is somehow mysteriously floating above the floor! WHICH DOOR WILL YOU CHOOSE? To open the first door, turn to page 75. To open the second door, turn to page 98.”

This sort of scenario will be familiar to anyone who has ever picked up one of the “Choose Your Own Adventure” books, a children’s series that began in the 1970s and continues to this day. These books upend the traditional reading experience by placing the direction of the plot in the hands of the reader, ending each chapter with a choice like the one above. A veritable fiction buffet, any given book might have a dozen different endings, with wildly divergent paths to get to those endings.

The result is that reading a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book makes for a totally different experience than reading a “normal” book. Accustomed to a passive involvement with the story, where you are simply carried along wherever the author takes you, these books flip the script—in order to keep the story going, you must do your part.

The life of faith, 1 Timothy 6:12 indicates, should embody that sort of involvement—rather than being passively carried along by God, we are called to participation in His work. Paul refers to faith as a “fight”, of eternal life as something we “take hold of”—that sort of active language assumes that with faith comes struggle, that there is more to living for Christ than business as usual. Written by an apostle who was repeatedly beaten and imprisoned for his faith, the words of 1 Timothy 6:12 serve as a reminder that faithfulness is more challenging and more participatory than we sometimes like to think.

We derive great comfort from knowing that in Christ we do not have to go through life alone, that God is with us in every struggle and every work. But as you thank Him for His faithfulness, don’t lose sight of your part of the relationship—God is faithful to you, so may you also be faithful to God, using your spiritual gifts for His kingdom. Don’t just watch the good fight of faith, don’t just sit on your hands waiting for new life in Christ—do your part.

Kiosks and Crosses (Friday Devotional)

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you are sharing Christ’s sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed…Therefore, let those suffering in accordance with God’s will entrust themselves to a faithful Creator, while continuing to do good.”

- 1 Peter 4:12-13, 19

When I am walking through a mall, I stay as far to the right of the walkway as possible. I don’t do it so I can window shop, or because I’m trying to give a wide berth to the other shoppers. I’m just trying to stay as far away from the kiosks as possible.

Whether they’re selling cell phone cases, decorative frames, or designer perfume, the folks manning the kiosks that sit in the middle of the mall have one thing in common: they don’t wait for you to come to them. Instead, if you get inside their invisible perimeter, they address you directly and immediately dive into their sales pitch, forcing you to decide, ‘do I rudely interrupt them and walk away or stand here awkwardly and pretend to listen to their whole spiel?’ It’s an uncomfortable enough situation that my admittedly flawed solution is to just stay as far away from them as possible. I’d rather not have to deal with them, so I just avoid them.

Most people have that exact attitude when it comes to any sort of discomfort, from minor anxiety to serious suffering—whenever possible, avoid it at all costs. If you can avoid future conflicts by threatening or even attacking your enemy, you should do that instead of praying for him. If you can avoid discomfort and insecurity by saving your money, then you should do that instead of giving to those in need. If you can avoid embarrassment by staying quiet instead of sharing the Gospel, you should stay silent instead of speaking up.

But Scripture calls believers to a different approach to suffering. Far from avoiding it, Christians are called to embrace suffering as the inevitable consequence of conforming to Christ instead of the world. While we are not meant to masochistically seek out pain, neither are we to flee from it when obedience to Christ comes at personal cost. The cross of Jesus Christ was an act of intentional surrender to suffering in the name of love, and those who put their faith in that cross are called also to live by its example.

While we are quick to claim the hope of Christ’s resurrection as our own, we are slower to claim the sufferings of his crucifixion. Like the twelve disciples, we imagine ourselves sharing in Jesus’s glory, but have no expectation of that glory coming at a cost. We want to follow Jesus, but when it threatens to become uncomfortable we pull back.

What you must remember is that the way of Jesus is the way of the cross, that true discipleship means obedience to God even when it costs you something. Turning the other cheek means getting slapped twice; forgiving seventy-seven times means living through seventy-seven offenses; giving your time and money and energy to others means leaving yourself only the scraps—but these consequences are not reasons to abandon obedience, they are proof that you are crucified with Christ. So as you seek to follow him, may you do so even when it is difficult, even when it costs you something. For the call of the cross is not to avoid suffering for your sake, but to bear its burden for the sake of others.

Not Sold Separately (Friday Devotional)

“God abides in those who confess that Jesus is the Son of God, and they abide in God. So we have known and believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.”

- 1 John 4:15-16

When I go running every morning, the last thing I do before stepping outside my front door is put on my socks and my tennis shoes. I need both—the socks and the shoes—to have a decent run. If I ran with socks and no shoes, I’d return home with wet, ripped up socks and probably with aching feet. If I ran with shoes on but without socks, I’d come back with fresh blisters on my feet. My shoes and my socks aren’t meant to be used separately, but as a package deal—and I won’t get far unless I have both.

God and love are a lot like tennis shoes and socks in that respect—they are meant to be paired with one another, one understood in relation to the other. Nevertheless, both the world and the church fall into the trap of trying to separate the two. On the one hand, the world tries to know love without knowing God, replacing the self-sacrificial, holy, overflowing love of God with a shallow, fleeting, selfish alternative. And on the other hand, the church too often tries to know God without knowing love, proclaiming moral imperatives but refusing to embody the radical grace of the cross, that love which heals the broken and forgives the unforgivable.

1 John 4:15 reminds us that God is love, and that in order to abide in God, you must abide in love. God and love are not meant to be understood apart from one another, but rather in unity. Growing in your relationship with God means better embodying the love of Christ, and one cannot happen without the other.

So as you seek to know God better, to grow in your relationship with Him, be sure you are also seeking to love God and love your neighbor, for it is only through the lens of love that you will get a full picture of who God is. And in the same way, as you seek to love those around you, may the love you extend go beyond the mere affection that the world models, instead exemplifying the deep love that is only truly possible when you know the grace of God. When you step out your front door into the world, do so equipped with both God and with love—you won’t make it far without both.

They Just Go Together (Frday Devotional)

“We know that we have passed from death to life because we love one another. Whoever does not love abides in death.”

- 1 John 3:14

A few years ago, Lindsey and I made a pact with one another. We had spent the better part of the morning driving to Arkansas for a family reunion and, having spent the better part of the afternoon there, we were now making the long trek back to Waco. Needless to say, we were tired, hungry, and ready to be home. So when we saw the “Welcome to Texas” sign, it felt like cause for a celebration—we were almost there, already back in familiar territory.

Basking in that minor victory, we wanted to do some uniquely Texan, and another sign in the distance served as a beacon for what that uniquely Texan thing should be—we pulled over and had dinner at Whataburger. And it was there, over patty melts and fries, that we made our pact: any time we crossed state lines, we would celebrate our return back to Texas with a meal at Whataburger. What could be more Texan?

In the days since, those post-road trip dinners have become less a treat than a natural consequence, as much a part of the return home as seeing that “Welcome to Texas” sign. We barely have to think about it anymore—coming back to our home state and stopping for dinner at Whataburger just go together.

That is exactly the kind of unity that faith in Christ and love for one another are supposed to share—they’re meant to “just go together,” love a natural consequence of faith. John 3:14 says that the way you know you have passed from death to life, from faith in the world to faith in Christ, is by the love you have for others. Love is not so much an active choice, something you can embrace or abandon at your convenience, as it is the natural consequence of placing Jesus at the center of your life.

We are prone to separating love of God and love of others, compartmentalizing in such a way that we glorify the perfect and almighty God while disparaging fallible, fallen human beings. God is easy to love, but loving people can sometimes be more challenging, so we pretend that we can love one and not the other.

But Jesus made it clear that there can be no separation between the two when he told us what the greatest commandment is: “you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself” (Luke 10:27). To love God is to also love the creations who bear His image, even when they seem unlovable. So as you seek to live faithfully, having passed from death into life, may you mark your passage into a life of faith and hope with love—they just go together.