Moving on

This was a nice little foray into getting weight off my chest. But life has changed and so has my writing.

I'm now writing here. Thanks for reading!

Finally Free: Part 1

God Loves Me If? (an answer to Lies I Used to Believe)

I've got to be careful as I write about finding freedom from the lies I believed. It would be easy to create a view that is not accurate. So, even though I’ve written about this topic for several weeks now, I’m going to take a couple more posts to explain “freedom.”

Freedom was not a sudden revelation, but a gradual increase in understanding of God and his word. For me, there was a gradual increase in knowledge that was then followed by a personal liberation from guilt.

I’ll tell you about the guilt later because the guilt was based on an improper knowledge. If I understood God and the Bible correctly, much of my guilt would have been removed or avoided. So, before the weight of guilt could be removed, I had to be retaught some basic truths.

For those of you who have said “we shouldn’t divide over theology,” I must point out that the term “theo” is Latin for “God” and the term “ology” is a Latin suffix that means “the study of.” Therefore when we look at theology, we are essentially committing to the study of God… until we get a headache, fall asleep, or lose interest.

It is in the study of God and His nature that I truly began to find freedom—and it is because of this that I would oppose those who suggest it is better to just “serve God and not analyze God’s word too much.” If the Bible is the inspired word of God (and I believe it is), then to study the Bible is to learn more about God and his nature. Why would you want to serve someone you don’t understand? (I certainly did for several years, and I didn’t enjoy it.)

The study of theology can be huge, so I won’t even begin to go over everything I learned. I will say that Joshua Harris’s book Dug Down Deep was a big help for my understanding and for wetting my desire to know more. I also found relief in the writings of C.J. Mahaney and C.S. Lewis.

My perceptions of God changed about the time I moved to North Carolina. My little church named Antioch Community Church helped with this quite a bit.

Exposure to families that love you anyway (perfect or not) works wonders for the burned-out soul. Exposure to solid Bible teaching helps even more.

I’ve tried for a week to write down a simple summery of what my opinions changed on. I have struggled because it takes so much room. I will save much of it for other posts—maybe even a book.

What it really comes down to, though, is God. I had him figured wrong. He wasn’t a divine meter maid making sure I paid my dues—he IS an adopted father telling me I don’t have to earn his favor.

Here’s a highly simplistic overview of how I now see God:

• ·         God is holy (perfect)
• ·         God is love
• ·         God desires to have a relationship with each person on the planet
• ·         Our sin (imperfection) is incompatible with God’s holiness (perfection)
• ·         Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection occurred so that we might have a way to gain a relationship with God
• ·         By placing our faith in Jesus, we are forgiven of our sins and handed a “free pass” to heaven
• ·         This acceptance of Christ’s free gift of salvation is a total surrender of our lives to God—but, we still have to battle the sinful temptations of the world, our flesh, and the Devil
• ·         Without God’s help, we would be unable to do ANYTHING that was pure and good—no matter how good our intentions might be, without Christ’s aid we are still imperfect humans
• ·         Therefore God does not look at our actions as the final say in our worthiness; he looks to Jesus who “takes up our case” and through whom we are counted as perfect, despite our flaws

The end of this is that, while I am an imperfect human, I am loved by God despite my imperfections. There is nothing I can do to change my standing with God. The day I surrendered my life to Jesus is the day God called me his own. There is no possible way to revoke that claim—and I must rest in the knowledge that I am owned by God, no matter what.

This revelation that God loves me anyway was a major step to freedom from guilt and the pressure to perform and please others.

[Please note: I am not saying that as a Christian, I am free to sin. God doesn’t like sin, even if it’s one of his children that sins. I AM saying that he does not love us less when we sin, because his punishment for my sin has been transferred to Jesus, who has effectively taken my place.]

There is more to the freedom I’ve found, but I’ll tell you about that in another post.

Next: Community Service

The Man I Called Grampaw

The man I called “Grampaw” died this morning.

I grew up calling him Grampaw even though he wasn’t any blood relation to me—he was just married to my grandmother. Whenever I called him Herb (his real name) my grandmother would get irate, so I soon learned that grandpa was Grampaw, even though he often reminded me that I was not his grandchild.

This is a short post because there was not a lot of love between Grampaw and me, even though that was not really my choice.

I grew up wanting a relationship with my grandfather, but never had one. For the last decade I have been keenly aware that he didn’t even like me and found me annoying.

When his Alzheimer’s was diagnosed a few years ago, I felt the detached sadness one feels at the news that an acquaintance has fallen into misfortune. 

Ironically, the nicest Grampaw ever was to me was last year, after his illness had robbed him of the reasons why he disliked me. For one brief visit he was smiles and conversation. Then I left… and now I will never see him again.

More than sadness I feel hurt that he would never want to be close to the almost-grandchild that wanted to call him Grampaw. But I still feel sadness, too.

Growing up, I saw that Grampaw’s faith was not in Jesus, but in reason and logic. While God wanted to call Grampaw his adopted son, Grampaw appeared to want none of that relationship, either.

Since it was Grampaw’s wish for his body is to be donated to science, there won’t be a funeral. In a way that’s fitting because he wouldn’t have liked anyone to make a fuss over him. But as his body is donated to science and no funeral occurs, I mourn the loss of someone I didn’t really know and who—to my knowledge—did not really know Jesus.

So instead of a funeral, I pray for the man I called Grampaw. I hope he found a relationship with the One who loved him most.

Lies I Used to Believe: Part 4

The Fall

When I began work on my college degree, I was 19-years-old, starry-eyed, and idealistic to the core. I felt that life was easy to understand, and that the people who claimed life was complicated were just not thinking things through clearly. I was convinced that I knew everything I needed in order to live the perfect Christian life.

My habits were all neatly arranged to promote the optimum Christian life: early rising, extended periods of Bible-reading and prayer, no secular entertainment, sober-mindedness (read, guilt for humor), and frowning at “worldliness.”

The Christian speakers I was routinely exposed to reinforced many of these ideas. Further, the Christian atmosphere of my tiny Christian school was that of introspection and self-examination at all times.

Essentially I was coached in making sure everything was perfect in my life. Always. And for a period of time I was happy with my ability to live “in a manor pleasing to the Lord.”

Then, on February 12, 2005, my car caught on fire and burnt up. Like, literally burnt up. The only things left were metal parts. What was worse was that three friends and I were INSIDE the car when it ignited. We jumped out and had no permanent injuries… but I was dumbfounded that God would take my car after I had lived so perfectly before Him.

This event destroyed my sense of security at my perfect life. I knew God was punishing me for not being good enough, so I redoubled my efforts to be the best Christian possible. Over the next year I fought to live the holy existence in every way.

But it seemed that no matter what I did, bad things continued to happen to me. Failed tests, ruined friendships, disappointment…

I wasn’t able to keep up with my academics and my spiritual disciplines, either. I tried hard, really I did, but I was becoming more and more frustrated by my inability to get everything right.

Furthermore I was still very involved with a Christian organization that taught me that I had to do a number of things “just right” in order for God to bless me.

One day a respected teacher stood up and told us that there was a biblical command for all Christians to make vows to God. These vows were commitments to do or not do certain things. The more vows you made, the more God would use you. (I’m not making this up.)

But on top of my guilt for not being good enough for God, I was also listening to the ideas that God wanted MORE works from me in order for me to be worth something to Him.

This “favor with God” was based solely on externals. The examples of people who “made vows and succeeded” always ended happily.

My life was anything but happy and I took this as proof I was doing something wrong.

I tried publically confessing sins; I tried cutting off contact with every aspect of the “world outside;” I tried people-pleasing; I tried everything I could think of to get it right. Yet nothing seemed to work. I was incapable of living righteously enough to be acceptable in God’s eyes.

There isn’t an immediate conclusion to the problem here. I spent years struggling with these doubts and issues.

However, because I was also striving to be a people-pleaser in every way, I couldn’t let anyone know my struggles or doubts. Only a couple friends knew I was hurting and depressed… and they were fighting through the same issues because they lived in the same atmosphere I did.

By the time I was done with school, I was barely trying to “do good.” I had fallen from my tightrope of rules and standards and was hurting.

I graduated from the school in 2006 but stayed back for a depressing year to work on staff.  In 2007 I moved back home to Kansas—more confused than ever. I toyed with the idea of walking away from my faith altogether. I thought about it a lot.

The lie I had sunk to was that God’s perfection demanded my perfection—and that until I was perfect, I was never going to be good enough to be used by God.

The truth is that every human is incapable of perfection, and that God does not expect or require perfection from us. He’s offered us a free gift of Salvation through the only perfection possible: Jesus Christ.

Oddly, I understood this truth applied to NON-Christians. It’s what we Born-Agains refer to as part of the “Plan of Salvation.” But for some reason I thought that perfection through Jesus only got you saved… I thought God required ME to be responsible for my perfection afterwards…

Next: Finally Free

Lies I Used to Believe: Part 3

The Tightrope Performer

I was always a good kid—the type that adults love to pat on the back and whisper horrible things to like “I wish my kids were as well behaved as you,” or “could you teach my kids to be as good as you are?”

I’m not gonna lie. I loved the attention… even if it was kind of awkward to be compared to other kids in front of their faces. (Truth be told, if the adults who were patting me on the back knew the wickedness in my head, they’d have found another kid to daydream about cloning into their family.)

Partly because of this affirmation from adults, and partly because I’m an obsessive, type-A, somewhat neurotic first-born, I became a people pleaser. My bread and butter were compliments from people, and the worst thing anyone could do was tell me they were disappointed in me.

I’ll come back to this in a minute.

In my last post I talked about constructing a “tightrope for Jesus.” Essentially, trying to add habits and actions in my life that would make me more pleasing to God.

This was an easy thought to fall into because the president of the orphanage I worked for was constantly delivering messages about “how to win God’s favor in seven steps” or “the secret to unlocking God’s power.” There was always something to be done that would make you an even better Christian, according to this man.

As I set out to be “the best Christian ever,” I added many of this man’s “tips for success” to my life. I respected him, and took what he said as the gospel-truth. (I must point out here that the blame ultimately rests on me for not checking what he said against scripture. This man was definitely reinforcing a lie in my life—the lie that I was somehow in near-total control of God’s ability to love me—but it was my responsibility to check this lie against the authority of Scripture. I wish that I had.)

The list of ways to be a devoted Christian never ended. There was always something I could do better. Always. This became more and more frustrating to me. How could I know if I was good enough to have God’s favor? Every time I added new disciplines, this man I respected so much would reveal there were new areas for me to work on. I never knew if I was good enough, so I was always adding more religious habits, just in case.

Behavior was the name of the game, and I was behaving. But was I behaving enough?

For me, the answer to this came from the approval of others.

People started to compliment me on my fervor and devotion to God. They loved that I got up at 4 A.M. to read my Bible and pray. They admired my discipline in memorizing scripture. They wanted their kids to be like me… again.

I was back to people pleasing, but this time it let me know I was doing well. If these God-fearing adults thought I was good enough, then I must be doing okay. It became a way to medicate my doubts about my adequacy.

As my approval came from these individuals, it became more and more important to live out my disciplined life in front of them in order to receive their praise. I was addicted to the drug of their respect.

Accordingly, the tightrope of “extras” I had amassed to show God how much I loved Him quickly became a tightrope I set in plain sight of everyone. My rules and regulations became part of a performance I played out so that others could see me and applaud.

The lie I believed was that the opinions of others mattered. I truly thought that what other people thought of me affected how worthy I was to receive the favor of God in my life. Now I was not only adding religious extra credit to my life, but I was putting myself on display on that precariously high tightrope of actions and standards. I became a preachy, performing people-pleaser.

The truth is something that I didn’t even begin to learn until college. That truth was that the opinions of others have no bearing on my good standing with God. None whatsoever. Just like my actions have no bearing on if God accepts me or not.

But those are lessons I didn’t learn until I fell off my tightrope.

Next: The Fall

Lies I Used to Believe: Part 2

A Tightrope for Jesus

I experienced a personal revival at the age of 17. While at a conference, God got my attention in a powerful way and showed me that I needed to come to a place of being fully surrendered to His will for my life. This was a pivotal moment for me, and (for the first time since I became a teenager) I sincerely desired to follow God with my whole heart.

Soon afterwards, I graduated high school and moved to Indianapolis to work at a home for international orphans. This was a move of faith for me. Though I had been “saved” for many years, I was still very new in my walk with the Lord. I had been raised in a “Bible culture,” but very little of that knowledge had been practically applied to my life.

Now living in a deeply religious Christian community, I had a chance to learn those disciplines which come with the Christian territory. The practical application of scripture to my life was riveting. I loved reading though the Bible passage for the day and looked to see how I could walk out what I was reading in a practical way.

As soon as I arrived in Indianapolis, I went through a course on child training. One of the things we were taught to avoid telling the orphans was “you can do better,” because this isn’t something you should tell someone who may be trying their hardest. The fact is they may not KNOW how to do better. Instead of this discouraging phrase, it is much better to show them a practical way they can do better, but then also encourage them to keep trying.

Unfortunately for me, almost as quickly as the new growth set in my life, so did a wicked little lie. That poisonous thought was “Amos, you can do better. If you said and did X, Y, and Z, God would love you more.” So, over the course of the next year, I sought ways to make myself an even better Christian.

Whereas only weeks earlier I had been thrilled to even remember to read my Bible, I decided that I should read for at least 30 minutes every day. On the days I didn’t, I was not as worthy to be loved by God as on the days I did.

Matthew’s gospel mentioned fasting (or the giving up of food for a time in order to pray and seek God). I decided to fast, even though problems with low blood sugar have always made me sick when I fast. But one day wasn’t good enough! I should fast for a week! (Fortunately I was talked out of this one by a wise mentor.)

One day someone mentioned some amazing missionary that got up at four in the morning to pray and read his Bible. I started getting up at four.

Every week it seemed like I found new ways I could be better. Was I memorizing scripture? “No… I guess I should start that.” Did I spend time in the evening praying (even though I was already spending an hour praying in the morning)? “No, I guess I could use my time more wisely…”

More and more areas of my life started to jump into the dog pile of disciplines I was amassing. The people I worked with were all devoted Christians and were all very supportive of me. I doubt they knew the pressure I was putting on myself, but they themselves seemed to be adding to their own lists of improvements. I felt like I fit in with them.

Surprisingly, I kept up many of these things for several months. I felt so close to God. Surely He was impressed with how much I was doing to serve Him… and after all, I was working at an orphanage, wasn’t I? “That’s pretty much the purest definition of loving Jesus right there,” I thought.

Slowly, though, I slipped out of the habit of early rising. Four o’clock became five. Five o’clock became six. Finally I was getting up at seven, just to make it to breakfast on time. I was a horrible Christian. I still read my Bible, but not as much as I should have. My fifteen chapters a day were slipping to ten.

I was wracked with guilt for my lack of discipline. “Oh look how far I’m sinking!” I often thought. “I’ve done so much better before—God is probably very disappointed that I’m not as sincere in my devotion to Him as I used to be.”

I compensated by increasing my devotion in other areas. I stopped listening to the radio. Secular music was bad. Every time I listened to country music I would spend time repenting. “Only hymns from now on!” I stopped watching movies that weren’t explicitly Christian. I felt that that time could be spent memorizing scripture or doing something productive like witnessing to the poor.

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Remember that missionary I mentioned earlier? The one that got up at four to pray? Well, he had an amazing life that God greatly used. I felt that his success was because he got up at four. That’s why I started getting up at an insane hour. Obviously four o’clock had been magical for this missionary.

The truth of the matter is, though… his success had nothing to do with what time he got up. He could have slept in until ten for all it mattered. The reason why he got up at four is what matters. I sincerely doubt he said to himself, “if I get up at four I’ll have a greater ministry.” No, I suspect that he was a busy man. I suspect that he had a lot on his plate, but loved the Lord. How could he spend time with the Lord? By getting up early to pray and read.

That was the compelling force I missed.

I was perfectly able to spend time with the Lord without getting up at four in the morning. My schedule wasn’t in a state that demanded that level of inhuman torture. I surely wasn’t getting up this early because I enjoyed it or was especially productive—I was rising this early as form or superstition. “If I do this, then I’ll have more of God’s power in my life!”

 In fact, many of my little additions were not at all based on love of God, but on love of self. “What can *I* do so that *I* can make myself a better Christian?” “How can *I* be effective?” These were thoughts that controlled my extra measures of devotion.

For some reason, I had it in my head that God would not be satisfied with simple obedience to Him. No, I had to make it bigger; I had to make it better. And in and of themselves, the changes I was making were okay things to do. There is certainly nothing wrong with getting up early, avoiding movies, or reading lots of chapters in the Bible.

But my motives were wrong. They were centered on my works making me more acceptable to God. At the time, I would have been the first to tell you that our works are not enough to get us into heaven. Yet, there I was, working my hardest to gain God’s favor…

In essence, I was trying to impress God. I was stringing a tightrope to put on a show for Jesus. Now I know that the Creator of the universe isn’t impressed with our little shows, but at the time I believed the lie that said my devotion (and even asceticism) was somehow a way to make God love me more. I believed that *I* could do better…

The truth is that when God bought me with the blood of Jesus, His love for me was irrevocably set in place. He controls it. There is nothing I can do to deepen that love or diminish it, either. Nothing.

That is the truth I missed, and that is why I constructed a tightrope for Jesus.

Next: Tightrope Performer 

Lies I used to believe: part 1

I almost changed my name three years ago.

I’m not joking.

In 2008, I seriously considered moving somewhere far away, changing my name, and trying to start my life over as someone that no one had ever heard of before. I only considered this in earnest for a week, but even as I thought about it I knew that running away from my problems was not the answer. Still, the idea of wiping my slate clean and starting over was pretty attractive.

It’s only natural that you’d ask “why,” and it’s a valid question—one that takes some explaining. What I’m about to write will surprise some people, and I doubt I can explain this in one or even two posts.

In the first post I made on this blog, I mentioned a list of differences between my old blog (from my college days) and this blog. They can be boiled down to this: my relationship with God is different now, and as a result, I relate to people differently.

What I hope to do in the following week or two is explain why I am no longer who I was. But I need to be clear about my purpose and reasoning here, lest people assume something that is not true.

It’s not my goal to attack anyone or anything except falsehood.

The past few years of my life have changed me and, I hope, made me a better man. I’m thankful for the work of God in my life, and I feel like this is something I need to share.

You see, three years ago, I was living under a horrible misconception of WHO God is. I saw Him as a Devine Meter Maid—constantly checking to see if I had paid my dues for being a “good Christian.” This payment was in the form of behaving myself, having rigid personal standards, and basically being as close to perfect as is humanly possible.

Obviously, this was not a feasible goal.

As a result, the framework of Christianity that I had built around myself began to crumble. I came to the place where I realized I could never maintain the perfection necessary to have God be pleased with me all the time.

So I quit.

Or at least I tried to. I toyed with the idea of moving away and starting over. Maybe if no one knew me I could start over and live a whole new life worthy of God’s favor. Maybe anonymity would help me be perfect.

No, that idea was stupid and I knew it (though every now and then it still seemed like a good one). Instead of following that foolish idea, I sought help... and for the last several years I have had some great men come along side me without judgment to help me struggle through the areas I thought I already had figured out.

I owe a lot of this to my church. While it is in no way perfect, it has been a great place for me to grow in my faith and learn solid Bible doctrine.

More than that though, it has been in the last year that God has freed me from a lot of the guilt and false teachings that were downing me in a sea of unattainable religious perfection.

It is for this reason I feel that I must write about these topics. Not because they are divisive amongst my friends; not because I am bitter or hold some grudge; definitely not because I want to stir up controversy (indeed, avoiding controversy is why I have been quiet for so long).

No, I must write this because I am told in Psalms, “Let the redeemed of the Lord say so.” I must write this because I am redeemed.