Faith to Continue
I’ve wrestled a lot with how I should go about communicating what this stage of our journey looks like and what it’s about.
At times I have no idea myself.
Other times I think there’s nothing to report.
Sometimes I decide I shouldn’t write anything because I have little to say that’s encouraging or uplifting; I have often failed to understand our situation or its purpose.
Still other times I consider donning the mask, being dishonest, and just “posting photos” of what I think people expect to see (it doesn't take much to overcome this temptation).
I’ve decided that I need to tell it like I see it, and the reason why is because—and this has always been one of my prime motivators as a writer—people probably need an honest, hopeful word more than anything these days.
As a person whose every fiber of being resonates with the desire to plan and do, it becomes excruciating for me whenever I am instead required to engage their exact opposites: trust and wait.
But even if I have very little else I think I need to be able to survive in this season, what I do have is faith to continue. As I hope to demonstrate in this post, that's much more valuable.
Disillusionment
Soon after we arrived in Tennessee, I realized I had a lot of growing to do. I saw a lot of darkness in me that I thought had been dealt with and put away for good years ago. I now realize that these failings didn’t necessarily consist of a heretofore unknown unwillingness or inability to progress but simply that, when God shines the light on our humanity, it feels extremely dark precisely because He is so light. The tension felt in the manifest distance between light and dark is an easy place to believe the lie that we’ve somehow lost our way, that we've done something wrong. I shouldn't assume that, when God isn't saying much, He isn't saying much because I did something wrong and He's pissed at me. Maybe He just doesn't have much to say. Maybe He's saying it very quietly, and I have to shut up and listen carefully.
I have learned that revelation is dangerous. It can bring disillusionment that has the potential to drown me in hopelessness. I know I felt it when I saw, upon our arrival here, deeper depths of my own depravity than I had yet beheld.
I think now that Bunyan got it wrong: walking with Jesus isn’t about progress from our perspective, and no amount of effort can carry us from the City of Destruction to paradise. I think it would have been better if he had written a book titled Pilgrim’s Surrender and filled in those theological blanks. We are little more than passengers in the arms of grace, especially when things get way too big for us, which they often are. Christian cannot hope to journey one step on the way to Jesus by force of will, moral fortitude, effort, ruleskeeping, or wrath abatement. Christian’s only hope is the grace that comes through the gift of faith. All his work owes its very life to that origin and source; there is no such thing as a self-made man.
That faith is what gets tested most in the place where darkness is shown by the light for what it really is. In that place, the only hope that can survive is what comes from outside everything I can touch or influence. Hope has to be bigger than me, it must precede me and outlast me. It must remain unstained by my hands, incorruptible in the same way that David was forbidden to build God a house for His Name, and Solomon was appointed to that task. The first man and his imprimatur must pass away; some works can only be accomplished by the second man. This is one reason why the first will be last, and the last will be first.
City of Broken Dreams
Life in Tennessee has been tough but survivable so far, with pockets of deep joy accompanied by deep questions and testing/proving. We’re basically homeless, but we’ve been basically homeless since we repudiated the American dream by selling our house on faith way back in 2014, so it’s not like we’re enduring anything we don't know. But I will say that, if I had known what we were walking into this time, I probably would have really struggled to obey. On some days I think I probably wouldn't have; and maybe I would have justified my disobedience with protestations about all my "responsibilities."
But I did obey what God said, and now very little makes sense but to continue through the Dark Impossible in faith that God will sort it out sooner or later because He can fix anything—even things that look hopeless to the first man. Those things look like opportunity to the second man anyway.
I've come to understand that Nashville is known not just as Music City, but—and this is for those who have come here and tasted its unique bitterness in person—it’s also the City of Broken Dreams. Now, when we came, we entertained no illusions about “making it” in the industry or anything as tedious as that. We did come across the country from Idaho, however, with a set of expectations that God was going to meet us with what He had prepared in advance for us to walk into. In fact, that italicized phrase was a word from the Lord that I kept praying into and asking for as we transitioned from Idaho to Tennessee. Once we got here, I realized that God, as usual, didn't intend to permit all the well-meaning folderol I had preconceived as necessity in the season we were following Him into. He made it clear to me that growth was what He intended to major on, and further that it's a painful process He could never remove me from because the process produces the transformation He’s aiming at. So we’ve had to do some callous building, more than a little improvising, and lots of praying.
Our dream has never been about us. It's always been about trusting God for release into the fulness of what He has called us to as people who see a deep need and possess a deep desire to fill it. We just want to go and do the work God has lined out for us: to make disciples. But even that had to be crushed, and I’m thankful that, since I no longer entertain illusions about making myself great, walking through that particular fire again hasn't done much but further purify what's left. I am surprised that even good dreams must be crushed, but isn't it true that seeds must go into the ground and die before they bear fruit? And this principle remains true whether that fruit is good or bad.
I shouldn’t be surprised at the pain of the process. Jesus’ body was perfect, and He wasn’t just broken, He was brutalized to the point that He was unrecognizable, then murdered. And that's just what we were able to see. I’ve had a lot of moments lately in which I realize how little I know about being a Christian, how little I know about what it is to walk with Jesus, and how hideous my heart really is in its darkest places. Up to now, I have come to Him motivated by just about everything but love. I never imagined that could be remotely true until we followed Him to Nashville. It's the kind of realization only Jesus can make you ready for.
For Love
It’s easy to misunderstand the relationship we’re supposed to have with our King when we are as desperate as we are. If think you're not, trust me: you are; you just don't see it yet. When we know we have nothing in our hand, it’s very difficult indeed to come before the throne of grace—the God who speaks and something simply comes into being—without our hand out. I am very much in need, but I’m beginning to understand by experience how important and priceless it is to lay all that down and, like a child, come to Jesus for who He is and not what He can do for me and my family and our call, however that's defined now that everything I thought I knew has become rubbish. Everything has changed; nothing is the same.
I know now that if I come to Him for who He is, the calling will take care of itself. It can never matter more than the One who issued it. When it becomes clear to me, it almost certainly won't be recognizable by anything but faith. Faith is a gift that's a bridge for the first man, with all of his liabilities, to connect to the second man and everything He's all about. And that’s probably the hardest part: letting go of everything my experiences have taught me is supposed to be essential in favor of what the Father says is essential.
Employing Resistance, not Resisting It
Perhaps the solution to the riddle is a little like this: imagine how likely you'd feel ready to trust a strength trainer that was obviously unfit and undisciplined. You'd probably scoff at the idea that they had anything to teach you that you'd even remotely want to to learn. Search on YouTube for HIT workouts, and I bet most of what you'll find there are people whose physiques are a testament to the fact that they live what they teach. Their appearance is an inspiration for those who do as they do and follow their instructions. The learner can aspire to one day be at least a little bit like the teacher.
I mention this because, as I've navigated my forties, change has been inescapable. There are things I either can't or won't do (I can't/won't attempt a two-day, forty mile hike unless my life depends on it—been there/done that when I was young and invincible). There are limitations to my food decisions that I must either observe or pay a price (I can't eat like I'm a teenager anymore). I've also noticed that simply going for a run three or four times a week just isn't cutting it like it used to. I've had to add resistance training to my workout routine. Turns out I love it.
Thanks to my friend Paul (find him on TikTok), I've discovered that I love kettlebells, especially the way @billmaeda uses them. Now, about two months into my discovery of his kettlebell routines, I'm beginning to see results. But the results have come only because I've engaged the reality that I need to use it or lose it. I haven't stopped running; I've just added resistance training to my weekly activities because it's what I need to do to keep from declining too soon. Because of the law of entropy, we humans have to step up again and again, adding energy to a world that insatiably devours it, and we must trust that God will add to us what we need as we engage and spend our daily portion in faith.
Unlike a simple HIT (High Intensity Training) routine or AMRAP (As Many Reps As Possible) drill with kettlebells, this isn't really about a workout. Like Paul said to Timothy, physical training is indeed "of some value," but this is for real, this is for eternity. The results, being invisible, are hard to enjoy unless we have the mind of Christ.
My point is this: it's a really bad idea to try to teach something to others which you haven't lived yourself. Maybe, if we're to make disciples who genuinely love and identify with Jesus above and beyond all other would-be lovers, we must have gone there with Him deep into Gethsemane first. We must have submitted to this agony before we can come back and lead others there for intimacy with the Savior too.
Walking Through Pain on Purpose
But why would any sane person choose agony over comfort? Second Corinthians 1 is a good place to begin trying to explain the unexplainable, I suppose, because there, Paul lays it out for us. In essence, when we walk with Jesus in total dependence and submission, there is affliction. This affliction comes with comfort, however, and the comfort is this: simply that when we're with Jesus, even if there's pain, fellowship with Him outweighs it.
If we make sacrifices because we love Jesus more than we love our own lives, our own interests, even our own families, there is comfort to be found because we have chosen, not in mere symbolism or theory but with our actions, to be identified with Him. That is the fellowship of His suffering. It is agonizing, and sometimes the joy is hidden deep. Like pushing hard during a workout, we do what we do for the joy of a result that comes later, by faith. While we're in distress it can be difficult to catch our breath, it definitely hurts, and we feel the approach of imminent failure as we progress. That knife edge of effort and imminent failure juxtaposed with unconditional trust is where faith proves itself to be alive. And the world diminishes.
I believe God called us into a season we could never understand until we had lived it, at least for a little while. He hasn't been saying much because, like Job's friends discovered, there isn't much anyone can say in places of suffering. It's not a place words are equal to. It's best to keep quiet in these times and spend our strength on endurance, seeking the peace that passes all understanding, and giving our best to the work at hand. It's often difficult to understand how it all connects here. Mostly, it seems like it's about being with Jesus and getting to know Him as few do, and few would choose to do, at least before being forced into the great and inescapable final reckoning. Choosing Him now has great worth. I know that much, and I know I wouldn't seek to change much. Except my own heart. Every day I live, I prove my need for grace and God's undeniable desire to provide it to me. And as for me, that is more than enough.