“And so, brothers and sisters, I could not
speak to you as spiritual people, but rather as people of the flesh, as infants
in Christ. I fed
you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for solid food. Even now
you are still not ready, for
you are still of the flesh. For as long as there is jealousy and quarreling
among you, are you not of the flesh, and behaving according to human
inclinations?”
- 1 Corinthians 3:1-3
Growing
up, I never cared much for amusement parks. Some kids eagerly looked forward to
birthday parties at Six Flags, but I dreaded them, always wishing my friend had
chosen to celebrate his big day at the pool or the arcade—anywhere else, really.
For me, a day at Six Flags was a day wasted in long lines under the hot sun.
It’s
easy to pinpoint why I didn’t like amusement parks: I refused to ride the
roller coasters. Staring up at those massive metal behemoths, watching the cars
race along their tracks, imagining myself sailing out of one and plunging to my
death if I didn’t tighten my seatbelt securely enough, I decided early on that
I wanted no part of roller coasters, and no amount of peer pressure could
convince me otherwise. If I was going to spend the day at Six Flags then I’d
stand in line with my friends, I’d play the games on the midway, and I’d eat
the overpriced food, but I drew the line at riding the roller coasters. And
that that self-imposed limit held me back from enjoying everything amusement
parks had to offer.
In
the life of faith, sometimes there are similar limits you place upon your
relationship with God, old habits and sins you are not willing to turn over to
Christ. In the case of the Christians in Corinth, to whom Paul wrote the above
verses, they remained trapped in a cycle of “jealousy and quarreling,”
unwilling to put aside petty grudges in the name of Christian peace and unity.
The result was that Paul could not talk to them as spiritual people—instead of
offering them “solid food,” a vivid picture of life in Christ, he could only
give them “milk,” something simpler and lesser. Because the Corinthians were
unwilling to give themselves fully to Christ, unwilling to let go of their old
prejudices and disagreements, they were unable to fully experience life in
Christ.
When
you place limits upon your sanctification, when you tell God he can’t touch a certain
part of your life, you make the same mistake the Corinthians made, the same
mistake I made as a child at Six Flags—you rob yourself of the joy available to
you. Discipleship is not about improving the areas of your life where you’re
ready to accept help, it’s about turning your whole self over to him and
watching him transform you from a person of flesh into a child of God. To do
any less is to deprive yourself of the fullness of joy in Christ.
So
may you not hold anything back from God, may you refuse to place limits on your
spiritual maturity. Where the flesh holds grudges, may Christ lead you to
forgive. Where the flesh demands strict justice, may Christ lead you to mercy. Where
the flesh clings to animosity, may Christ lead you to love. In short, may you
remove the limitations that keep out the full, transformative gospel of Jesus
Christ—and as you tear those walls down, may you be transformed by the light
that shines through.
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