I turn the volume way up every time Lauren Daigle’s song “You Say” plays. The lyrics perfectly describe the battle that most of us fight to believe that what God says about us is true. Here is a sample of her powerful lyrics.
I keep fighting voices in my mind that say I’m not enough Every single lie that tells me I will never measure up Am I more than just the sum of every high and every low? Remind me once again just who I am, because I need to know…
I am drawn to wounded and dysfunctional people like a moth to light. When I hear their stories, I see a familiar pattern. They tend to believe that all the old junk in their lives is still true about them in God’s eyes. Too many followers of Jesus cannot believe they are a new and holy creation.
Recently I saw a T-shirt with this message: “Even if the voices in my head aren’t real they do have some good ideas”.
I got an initial chuckle out of that one. But then I thought, Wait! The voices in my head rarely have good ideas.
I suspect that is true for some of you as well. Sadly, the voices in our heads are real, formidable foes, voices that were programmed from childhood. Negative comments from parents, teachers, coaches, siblings, friends, fellow Christians, and assorted others have laid down deeply grooved tracks in my self-image soundtrack mix. Favorite cuts like these are always cued and ready to be played.
“You will never change.” “What were you thinking?” “I can’t believe you did that again.” “What is wrong with you?” “I am so disappointed in you.”
And the number one accusation on my personal Top 10 countdown . . .
“How could you be so stupid?”
When you mess up, the voices begin. And then your own voice joins the chorus. “It is true. I am not worthy. I am not enough. I am stupid. I don’t deserve to be loved.”
When you face disappointment, rejection, failure, loss, and trials, self-incriminating remarks flood your mind.
Why wasn’t I a better (pick one) spouse/friend/brother/sister/relative?” “If I had done (insert action), this would not have happened.” “Why didn’t I (insert missed opportunity) when I had the chance?” “Why did I (pick one or more) work too much/travel too much/whatever too much when I should have been there?”
If I may lean on my sports background here, Satan calls the all-out blitz when people of faith go through seasons of trial and doubt. He delights in accusing and trying to rock the very foundation of your faith. Satan is, always has been, and always will be a liar. You have learned to never trust a liar at work or in other relationships. How much more should we pray to recognize and reject the lies that Satan attacks us with during adversity?
There is another voice. It is much softer and requires more effort to hear. It is not a voice of shame. It is a voice of hope, love, acceptance, forgiveness, and grace. You have to slow way down and be quiet to hear this voice. That is the loving voice of God and His word.
Lauren Daigle’s lyrics describe this voice poetically.
You say I am loved when I can’t feel a thing You say I am strong when I think I am weak You say I am held when I am falling short When I don’t belong, oh You say that I am Yours And I believe, oh I believe What You say of me I believe
All of us hear those voices from the enemy. The voices from bad experiences in our past may require counseling to help erase them. But for the everyday challenges of the journey, I have learned that the voice we tend to hear first in the spiritual battle is the loud one. Step back, be still, and listen for the quiet voice of the Holy Spirit.
Our God is a God of forgiveness. We need to fix our eyes on Jesus. Don’t lose heart. Don’t allow the enemy to keep you from leaning on God for comfort because of your shame. That is not from the Lord.
In John we read this amazing promise.
But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God.(John 1:12, NLT)
Don’t believe the lies. You are a child of God. Beloved. As Lauren Daigle sings this truth I pray that we will believe it today.
The only thing that matters now is everything You think of me In You I find my worth, in You I find my identity,
(To celebrate the 10 Anniversary of Stay:Lessons My Dogs Taught Me about Life, Loss, and Grace I am posting a chapter outlining the best lesson learned from Hannah today and Maggie tomorrow. Forgive me for a longer read but I hope it resonates with you. Hannah goes first.)
Today I was thinking about Hannah’s cancer diagnosis and wondering how long our journey would last. As she often does, Hannah sensed my sadness, came over, and put her head in my lap.
I remembered as she nuzzled me that she had taught me a very valuable lesson years ago before her own trial had come along. One reason Hannah is such a special friend is that she entered our lives during a difficult season when her human mom —my wife, Joni—was diagnosed with breast cancer. Hannah provided a comforting presence during a scary time. I found an anonymous quote that sums up one big reason why: “One reason a dog can be such a comfort when you’re feeling blue is that she doesn’t try to find out why.”
Hannah knew how to deal with people going through an emotionally and physically draining valley. Her solution was simple but powerful.
Be present.
It was just the unsolicited encouragement that Joni and I so needed at the time. When this cancer journey began, we learned a lot of hard lessons. One of the hardest to swallow was people’s reactions, how those close to us dealt with tragedy and illness. We had expectations of who would be there for us during the storm, but those expectations were rarely correct. Some people that we were sure would be steadfast became invisible. Others that we would have wagered the mortgage on to be constant encouragers became awkward and distant. When your expectations are met with barely any response from friends and family, it can devastate your spirit and lead to despair.
Although reasons were never given, I could guess why people struggled with our situation, based on the unique baggage they brought to their own story. Perhaps cancer made them fear their own mortality. Some acted as if cancer is contagious. Perhaps they worried they might say the wrong thing. Others might have felt pressure to make sense of a senseless situation or the need to figure out the spiritual reason for the trial, and when they had no answer to give us, they retreated. I understand all that now, but at the time it hurt.
That’s what Hannah sensed. Her intuitive evaluation of my emotions was uncanny. Hannah would come to me and nudge me as if to say, “I’m here.” As she shifted her big brown eyes toward mine, her gaze communicated, “I don’t know how to help, but I wish I could.”
There was incredible comfort in her presence.
She was right. That was all I needed—presence. When Joni was sick with cancer, all we needed from friends and fellow followers of Jesus was caring presence.
The theology of why bad things happen could wait. The go-to verse that “all things work together for good” (Romans 8:28, kjv) could be explored when time gave perspective. You don’t need to explain or spiritualize trials. You need to be present and willing to walk with your friend or loved one in grace and love. Simple, yet incredibly powerful.
Remember me mentioning Job and his suffering in the introduction? At first, Job’s friends were fantastic empathizers. When they simply sat with Job and grieved with him, I am sure he took comfort in these men who cared enough to be present. But then they decided to speak their piece. They resorted to the familiar default mode of needing to “figure out” what Job did to trigger his suffering. They tried to explain what they could not understand.
God was faithful to provide caring people to walk with Joni and me. We thanked Him for those He prompted to love us, instead of wondering why others were not there. That was a spiritual turning point for us.
During Joni’s cancer, Hannah obviously had no idea why we were sad. She had no more understanding of Joni’s disease than she would later have of her own prognosis. But she could sense our sorrow and she was present in the moment.
Joni’s breast cancer treatment included surgery and a year of chemotherapy followed by weeks of radiation. We joked about our weekly dates at the “Slow-Drip Spa” but there was not much humor to be found in the aftermath of those sessions. Joni fought nausea and her plummeting white blood cell counts were dangerously low, compromising her recovery. One day after we returned home from Joni’s chemotherapy session, she went straight to the bedroom, exhausted, to try to sleep off the nausea. I sat on the couch in our living room staring at nothing as I tried to process all that Joni was going through.
Hannah sensed my sadness but wasn’t sure what to do. She walked by, looked at me, picked up a tennis ball, and brought it to me. I could see a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. I imagined a thought bubble appearing over her head with the message, “Would this help make you less sad?”
I tossed the ball to her but she did not play with the normal zeal that she had during our games of catch.
This day Hannah caught the ball, calmly brought it back, and gently dropped it in my lap. It was as if she was doing this for me and not her. She was giving me a few moments of respite from my fears. I don’t recall another time that she played in that way.
A recent study done by Goldsmiths College in London suggests that dogs may respond more to our emotions than any other species, including our own. According to the study conducted by Dr. Deborah Custance and Jennifer Mayer, dogs will even approach strangers to comfort them, regardless of expectation of reward or care. That certainly makes them different from many humans.
The researchers did the following experiment.
Eighteen pet dogs, spanning a range of ages and breeds, were exposed to four separate 20-second experimental conditions in which either the dog’s owner or an unfamiliar person pretended to cry, hummed in an odd manner, or carried out a casual conversation. The dogs demonstrated behaviours consistent with an expression of empathic concern. Significantly more dogs looked at, approached and touched the humans as they were crying as opposed to humming, and no dogs responded during talking.
Humming was included because it is an unusual sound that might arouse the curiosity of the dogs. But interestingly enough, the dogs consistently reacted to the person who was crying instead of the ones humming or talking, regardless of whether the person crying was a dog’s owner or a complete stranger.
Jennifer Mayer summed up the surprising result which was amazing to me.
“If the dogs’ approaches during the crying condition were motivated by self-oriented comfort-seeking, they would be more likely to approach their usual source of comfort, their owner, rather than the stranger. No such preference was found. The dogs approached whoever was crying regardless of their identity. Thus they were responding to the person’s emotion, not their own needs, which is suggestive of empathic-like comfort-offering behavior.”
The researchers suggested that centuries of breeding had created this type of response in our canine companions. Perhaps. But I align more with Martin Luther’s thoughts on this issue: “The dog is the most faithful of animals and would be much esteemed were it not so common. Our Lord God has made his greatest gifts the commonest.”
I think God has given us a model of walking, breathing grace in these amazing creatures.
The empathetic instinct to pain that my friend Hannah possesses can be a template for how I can be present with God. There are times when my baggage or fear cause me to be awkward and distant from God. I am not sure what to say or even if God wants to deal with my weak faith again. I am tempted to talk bravely as if nothing is wrong. But my heart is crying out in pain. God comforts me in the brave talking, but He rushes toward the crying of my soul. I think that is what the apostle Paul is describing in Romans, assuring us that the Holy Spirit intercedes on our behalf when we are too anguished to even find words:
The Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will. (Romans 8:26-27)
The Holy Spirit senses our heart and literally interprets our anguish to the Father. God desires that we simply be present with Him. We don’t need to pray eloquent psalms of petition. We simply put our head in the lap of Abba Father and say, “I’m here.” And isn’t it interesting that it is in this very intimate context of submission and tender dependence on the Holy Spirit that the oft-quoted phrase about how “all things work together for good” occurs?
The Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will. And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. (Romans 8:26-28)
We isolate the verse about “everything working for good” from its context and throw it out as “comfort” for those who are suffering. Paul says that God is with us in our suffering, not just for one specific event, but for all of the trials we will face in our lives. All of them will be ultimately redeemed for those who love God.
The purpose of our trials is not necessarily to have things work out neatly, according to our desires. Romans 8:29 says, “God knew his people in advance, and he chose them to become like his Son.” God chose believers to become like His Son. All of these trials together will cause us to become more like Jesus. That may or may not mean a particular event will work out well. How often have we wounded a hurting soul with our shallow spiritualizing when he or she just needed a friend?
Learning to be present for a friend or a loved one is a precious skill. Henri Nouwen captures this heart of friendship well.
“When we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not-knowing, not-curing, not-healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is the friend who cares.”
It starts with being present, a lesson well taught by my friend Hannah. She gave me a clear example of being present when your friend is hurting. Just be present. Not all-knowing. Not awkwardly fumbling for words. Simply present.
Tonight I got into bed late, and Hannah got up with some difficulty from her comfy bed and walked to my side. Maybe she needed my presence. Maybe she sensed my need for a therapeutic ear scratch. I suspect the truth is that both of us had needs that were met by that simple action of presence and affection. That is how it works when we drop our fears and selfishness to make ourselves lovingly present in a loved one’s pain. It is therapeutic for everyone involved.
During Joni’s difficult cancer trial we learned that the peace that surpasses all understanding is real. We lived it and we got through a very trying year by leaning on each other, great doctors, good friends, God’s grace, and lots of Hannah nuzzles.
Last week we had to say goodbye to our sweet rescued dog Maggie. I spent the last few days looking back at what I wrote about Maggie in 2014 when my book Stay was submitted for publication. She was just a couple of years old when I finished the manuscript so I decided to write an epilogue about her amazing development over the last 10 years. If you have a copy of Stay: Lessons My Dogs Taught Me about Life, Loss, and Grace you can print this out and put it at the end of the volume. I don’t think Tyndale Momentum Publishing will reissue the book to include this chapter but feel free to ask them!
Our girl was found running loose near Van Alstyne, Texas in the fall of 2012. She was a few months old when rescued but was in very bad shape with an open gash on her leg. She was undernourished and tested positive for hookworms. A rescue organization brought her in, healed her up, and found a foster home. Her assigned foster home name was Savannah. We decided to adopt her but we had to change her name because the name Savannah was just too close to our recently deceased dog Hannah. Maggie could have been her third name in a very short lifespan and that had to be confusing for her.
Everything was a mystery. Was she wanted and ran away? Was she unwanted and abandoned to fend for herself? Was she treated poorly? Had she been socialized with other animals and people? The details of her story—who, what, where, when, why—surely influenced her behavior.
Maggie’s biggest issue was trust. I certainly get that. She was lost, captured, hospitalized, kenneled, fostered, and then adopted. Each day, I tried to read Maggie’s expressions and body language. Did she think we were just one more way station on her sad journey? She seemed appreciative of everything we gave her, yet she was still wary. Her personality was friendly at times, but then she’d become withdrawn and want to hide. She would accept affection but she rarely initiated it. The message she was sending was “It’s okay. I can make it on my own.”
I related to that spiritually, I was generally grateful for God’s gift of grace. I openly proclaimed the “title” of believer but sometimes I failed to really trust God in tough times. I would accept that I was forgiven but I often tried on my own to control my wrong behaviors and my trust was too often situational.
Something beautiful happened as our time with Maggie grew. She began to trust that this place where she landed was for real and that we were always there for her. Maggie began to relax. Her already sweet spirit grew as she showed incredible patience with our grand kids when they climbed on her, pulled her tail, and shared her bed. She greeted Joni and I upon each return home with body shaking enthusiasm and intense sniffs. Over the years Maggie developed anxiety during storms and fireworks. Instead of going into hiding she began to come to us for comfort. Another lesson learned from her. In times of stress the best thing to do is go to a reliable source of comfort. For Maggie the source was the ones who gave her a home with love. For me the source was easy. The one who gave me love, forgiveness, grace, and hope.
And now, just as you accepted Christ Jesus as your Lord, you must continue to follow him. Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness. (Colossians 2:6-7, NLT)
Last week we were shocked that Maggie was unexpectedly unable to move. We took her into the emergency clinic to see what was going on. Maggie remained gentle even when the doctor had to cause some pain to test her movement. The vet tenderly petted her and said this.
”I wish all of our patients were this sweet.”
My heart melted as I looked into her eyes. She responded to our touch. Even in her pain this sweet girl still lived in the moment with a heart for her people. Looking back over Maggie’s life I can relate to so much of her journey. I was also a mess running roughshod into unknown trouble. I was also rescued by the Lord in my darkest moment. Jesus patiently loved me as I slowly learned to trust Him just as Maggie learned to trust her rescuers. And now I hope to follow her example to love others and live in the moment until the very end of my journey. Maggie was special. Her story is finished but I am certain that in my heart it will never be forgotten. Thank you sweet girl for bringing so much joy into our lives.
It was a sports director’s dream moment. The Rangers had a few “walk-off” wins last season, scoring the winning run in the last at bat at home. When a game is over, both teams walk off the field but with very different body languages.
In this particular game against the Los Angeles Angels, we were all tied up in the bottom of the ninth with two outs on the board. Rangers’ catcher Geovany Soto was at the plate. I was with my crew in a portable television studio built into a truck trailer. The TV truck features dozens of monitors filled with camera shots, graphics, and replay sources. I orchestrate the broadcast from my seat in front of a huge bank of camera monitors, communicating by headset to camera operators what to do next. I select a shot from the monitors in front of me, and the technical director pushes a button that puts it “on the air,” instantaneously sending it into your home. When the action is fast and furious, it all seems chaotic, but each person has his or her assignment and it all comes together in a frenzied symphony of teamwork.
I scan the monitors, focusing on Soto’s intense concentration. The Angels’ closer is trying to send a tie game into extra innings. The Ranger players are hanging on the dugout rail, hoping that Soto will come through. The count goes full. Two outs. And then it happens. The ball is driven deep to left field. The Ranger players start to jump up and down as the ball heads toward the stands, then leaves the park. Pandemonium ensues inside the park, and my production crew explodes in excitement too. But we have a job to do to bring the images home to our fans.
Ranger players Elvis Andrus and Adrian Beltre and others leap the rail and sprint toward home plate to greet the hero of the moment. Soto rounds third, flips his helmet in the air with joy, and sprints toward a throng of teammates encircling home plate. They are smiling and waiting anxiously for Soto to get “home” so they can celebrate. As he nears home plate, Soto makes a gigantic leap and disappears into the dogpile of teammates. What a picture. That is the drama of sports. Even the apostle Paul used sports as an analogy for spiritual things.
“ I do everything to spread the Good News and share in its blessings. Don’t you realize that in a race everyone runs, but only one person gets the prize? So run to win! All athletes are disciplined in their training. They do it to win a prize that will fade away, but we do it for an eternal prize.” 1 Corinthians 9:23-25
I reflected on that passage and the thrilling finish of that Rangers-Angels game. As electrifying as it was, that victory is nothing compared to holding the eternal prize that will not fade away when I finish this earthly race. I began to imagine my heavenly homecoming and how it might resemble that “walk-off” moment. I saw myself rounding third and heading toward all of the loved ones who had gone ahead, the joy of their faces compelling me to run faster. I jumped into a dogpile of dear friends and family who had shared my journey. When I finally emerged from the ecstatic group, I saw Jesus. He hugged me warmly. I was safe at home.
To celebrate the 9th anniversary of the publication of Stay here is a chapter on a lesson learned from Maggie.
Maggie is a Labrador puppy mixed with some other mystery DNA. She is a bouncing, wiggling, sixty-pound bundle of unrestrained energy. Whenever she sees a new person, she cannot stop herself from jumping. Oddly enough, some people do not enjoy sixty-pound creatures hurdling pell-mell into their personal space. Weird. So we either need to fix this bad behavior or become hermits.
Today we enrolled Maggie in puppy training classes. One of the first things the instructor, Tony, said was both apparent and profound.
“First of all, you have to teach her to sit and stay. When she is sitting, she can’t jump and misbehave.”
Thank you, Captain Obvious.Wait a minute. Is this another lesson for me in my discipleship-by-dog journey? Maggie needed to learn to sit to avoid committing doggie offenses. I need to sit too, in a spiritual sense. The truth is, when I abide(the biblical version of “sitting”) in Christ, I am empowered to resist sin.
But how can I abide? What does that even mean?
The first time I heard the word abide used was in a lesson taken from the Gospel of John in the King James Version, the Bible I read growing up.
Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.
John 15:4-5, kjv
I knoweth not about thee, but verily I was confused. When I looked up the definition of abide later, it helped clarify what it meant. Abide: 1) to accept something or someone unpleasant; 2) living somewhere; 3) to remain or continue. That was it—to remain or continue—or in Maggie’s terms, “to stay.” Other Bible translations have captured that nuance of abiding or “staying” in Jesus.
Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me. Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing.
John 15:4-5
Jesus’ message to His followers is to simply remain constantly aware of who we are and where our strength and dependence must be found. It’s tempting and easy to make it all about us instead of Jesus; Satan will always seek to engage us in bad and/or good things if either one takes our eyes off Jesus. If I am wholly absorbed in spiritual things apart from Christ, things I do more to impress others and hope those wonderful deeds will ensure my salvation, I am engaging in good, but not life-changing endeavors.
We are branches that need to be connected to the Vine. We are not to be independent vines but dependent branches of the life-giving Vine.
I think that we misunderstand the phrase “apart from me you can do nothing.” Of course I can do something and often even significant things apart from Jesus. I can have success, make money, and maybe achieve fame. But there is one significant thing that we absolutely cannot do apart from Christ: produce fruit that pleases God. The branch cannot produce fruit when it is disconnected from the vine.
Jesus is the true Vine, and if I am joined to Him I will produce fruit. He doesn’t say I might produce fruit. He doesn’t say I could produce fruit if the circumstances are right. Or that I will occasionally bear fruit. Jesus says that if I remain in Him I will produce much fruit. If I don’t remain in Him, I become barren and worthless to Him and His Kingdom.
How do we produce the fruit that Jesus is describing? By not allowing our relationship with Christ to be broken, for us—the branches—not to be severed from the Vine. Our connection to Jesus is not a one-time or yearly or monthly or weekly or daily synchronization. It is not like the intermittent syncs I perform with phone to update information. It is a continuous awareness of our connection to Christ. That connection allows the fruit of the Spirit to grow abundantly in us and become a part of who we are. The apostle Paul describes exactly what kind of fruit that is.
The Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
Galatians 5:22-23
By remaining in an unbroken connection with Christ, we begin to take on His character and produce that kind of fruit. But it can only happen if we “stay” constantly in that relationship.
It didn’t take long for Maggie’s dog trainer to pinpoint another clue to her behavior. “Maggie is not being belligerent. She has learned to fend for herself. Maggie views you as a caretaker and not a leader. She needs to see you as the leader that she can follow.”
It made perfect sense. Maggie accepted our gifts of food and a comfortable bed but, in her mind, she was still in charge. Joni and I wrongly assumed that Maggie was being manipulative when all she was really communicating was, “Somebody needs to be in charge, and since you’re not stepping up as a leader, I guess it’s my job.” Over the weeks, when we consistently took on the role of leader and loved her, she willingly submitted.
That lesson has hit a little too close to home for me. I have accepted with varying degrees of gratitude God’s gifts of forgiveness, grace, and salvation. But too often I’m guilty of wanting to fend for myself and be the leader. “Thank You, Lord, for everything, but I prefer to be in charge.”
The gospel says I need to get over me and get with Him. I need to constantly remind myself of the radical and reckless joyride that the gospel of grace makes possible. Author Dane Ortlund says it well.
It’s time to enjoy grace anew—not the decaffeinated grace that pats us on the hand, ignores our deepest rebellions and doesn’t change us, but the high-octane grace that takes our conscience by the scruff of the neck and breathes new life into us with a pardon so scandalous that we cannot help but be changed. It’s time to blow aside the hazy cloud of condemnation that hangs over us throughout the day with the strong wind of gospel grace. You “are not under law but under grace” (Rom. 6:14). Jesus is real; grace is defiant; life is short; risk is good. For many of us the time has come to abandon once and for all our play-it-safe, toe-dabbling Christianity and dive in. It’s time, as [Robert Farrar] Capon put it, to get drunk on grace—200-proof, defiant grace.
In chapter 8, I talked about the importance of shaking off the sin that slows us down and trips us up. Even though it sounds like a daunting and even impossible task, the author of Hebrews sums up how to do that in one powerful sentence: “We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith” (12:2).
That is it. There is no other way to consistently live that life apart from keeping our eyes on Jesus. It was a principle that the apostle Peter illustrated clearly for us in this familiar story.
The boat was far out to sea when the wind came up against them and they were battered by the waves. At about four o’clock in the morning, Jesus came toward them walking on the water. They were scared out of their wits. “A ghost!” they said, crying out in terror.
But Jesus was quick to comfort them. “Courage, it’s me. Don’t be afraid.”
I love how the impetuous faith of Peter (and me) is captured in the next verses.
Peter, suddenly bold, said, “Master, if it’s really you, call me to come to you on the water.”
He said, “Come ahead.”
Jumping out of the boat, Peter walked on the water to Jesus.
It was going great for the “suddenly bold” Peter when he kept his eyes on Jesus and walked in faith. And then . . .
But when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink. He cried, “Master, save me!”
Jesus didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his hand. Then he said, “Faint-heart, what got into you?”
Matthew 14:24-31, The Message
The same is true for me. When I keep my eyes on Jesus, I have the strength to be bold and the ability to produce fruit that is pleasing to God. When Maggie cannot settle down, I tell her to sit so she can focus on calming down and doing the right thing. When she stays and regroups, things go well for her. When my thought life and actions cannot settle down, I need the Holy Spirit to firmly but lovingly tell me to sit . . . stay . . . abide.
Only then do I realize that I have turned my eyes away from Jesus. When I stay, I can focus on His peace, love, forgiveness, and grace, and have the ability to resist sin.
If I am anxious, fearful, have doubts, or am sad, I need to sit, stay, and abide, looking at the One who initiates and perfects my faith.
The apostle Paul spent a little over two years teaching and discipling the new believers in Ephesus before he continued on his missionary journey. It didn’t take long for the once-zealous converts to revert to their old habits of immorality, lying, stealing, and gossiping. In other words, things were a mess in the Ephesian church. Paul, who had witnessed the believers’ initial spiritual fervor, got wind of what had happened and wrote a letter to the church’s leaders to address this sad turn of events.
His letter is nothing like the one I would have zipped off to Ephesus if I had been in Paul’s sandals. My letter would have started, “What is wrong with you people? Don’t you know how embarrassing this is, especially since I sacrificed so much for you?” But Paul doesn’t do that; in fact, he never mentioned how badly they had botched things until halfway through the letter. Rather, he begins by reminding these errant followers who they are, praying these heartfelt words for them.
Ever since I first heard of your strong faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for God’s people everywhere, I have not stopped thanking God for you. I pray for you constantly, asking God, the glorious Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, to give you spiritual wisdom and insight so that you might grow in your knowledge of God. I pray that your hearts will be flooded with light so that you can understand the confident hope he has given to those he called—his holy people who are his rich and glorious inheritance.
I also pray that you will understand the incredible greatness of God’s power for us who believe him. This is the same mighty power that raised Christ from the dead and seated him in the place of honor at God’s right hand in the heavenly realms.
Ephesians 1:15-20
You get through storms and trials by remembering who you are. Paul wonderfully reminded the Ephesians that they had been adopted, redeemed, and sealed. And then he prayed for them again.
When I think of all this, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.
Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. Glory to him in the church and in Christ Jesus through all generations forever and ever! Amen.
Ephesians 3:14-21
I would imagine the church leaders opened Paul’s letter with fear, trembling, and shame. They expected to be excoriated but they were lavished with grace instead. They had failed, but Paul reminded them of the Person who had not failed. Only after first affirming His love did Paul begin to address their sin.
What a difference between that approach and what too many of us experience. We tend to address the sin first. Stop that! Quit! Do better! And by the way, Jesus loves you. Or worse, He will love you when you do better. Paul took the grace exit instead. Remember who you are! You are saints! Beloved! Adopted! Redeemed! Those same truths are ours to claim as we
Sit.
Stay.
Abide.
Eyes on Jesus.
When we quit fighting to get better and do those four simple things, something amazing happens. We get better.
Following Jesus is far from effortless; it requires work. But I would suggest that our real assignment is to focus on Him and recognize how much that impacts our lives. To get our eyes off ourselves truly is hard work, a sacrifice.
My old self has been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. So I live in this earthly body by trusting in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.
Galatians 2:20, emphasis added
When I forget those truths and I am tempted to sin, I will simply remember what I tell Maggie when she is out of line. When she is jumping up and playfully lunging at us, I have to speak truth into her life. She is a big girl who needs to learn what her boundaries are. She needs to settle down or a playful moment will turn into a time-out. So I calmly but firmly speak to her.
Sit.
Stay.
Maggie is learning that she is rewarded when she sits and stays. She will get to play, have treats, or receive the affection that she was hoping to receive.
She is teaching this old dog that I need continual refresher courses too.
It was 10 years ago that I was in the process of writing Stay: Lessons My Dog Taught Me about Life, Loss, and Grace. I had learned so many wonderful lessons from our sweet canine friend Hannah. After her passing we rescued a puppy that we named Maggie. She was a challenge compared to her predecessor. But Maggie has grown into a sweet and treasured companion. This is an excerpt from one of my favorite chapters in the book about a lesson I learned from Miss Maggie.
Maggie is a Labrador puppy mixed with some other mystery DNA. She is a bouncing, wiggling, sixty-pound bundle of unrestrained energy. Whenever she sees a new person, she cannot stop herself from jumping. Oddly enough, some people do not enjoy sixty-pound creatures hurdling pell-mell into their personal space. Weird. So we either need to fix this bad behavior or become hermits.
Today we enrolled Maggie in puppy training classes. One of the first things the instructor, Tony, said was both apparent and profound.
“First of all, you have to teach her to sit and stay. When she is sitting, she can’t jump and misbehave.”
Thank you, Captain Obvious.Wait a minute. Is this another lesson for me in my discipleship-by-dog journey? Maggie needed to learn to sit to avoid committing doggie offenses. I need to sit too, in a spiritual sense. The truth is, when I abide (the biblical version of “sitting”) in Christ, I am empowered to resist sin.
But how can I abide? What does that even mean?
The first time I heard the word abide used was in a lesson taken from the Gospel of John in the King James Version, the Bible I read growing up.
Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing. (John 15:4-5, KJV)
I knoweth not about thee, but verily I was confused. When I looked up the definition of abide later, it helped clarify what it meant. Abide: 1) to accept something or someone unpleasant; 2) living somewhere; 3) to remain or continue. That was it—to remain or continue—or in Maggie’s terms, “to stay.” Other Bible translations have captured that nuance of abiding or “staying” in Jesus.
Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me. Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing. (John 15:4-5, NLT)
Jesus’ message to His followers is to simply remain constantly aware of who we are and where our strength and dependence must be found. It’s tempting and easy to make it all about us instead of Jesus; Satan will always seek to engage us in bad and/or good things if either one takes our eyes off Jesus. If I am wholly absorbed in spiritual things apart from Christ, things I do more to impress others and hope those wonderful deeds will ensure my salvation, I am engaging in good, but not life-changing endeavors.
We are branches that need to be connected to the Vine. We are not to be independent vines but dependent branches of the life-giving Vine.
I think that we misunderstand the phrase “apart from me you can do nothing.” Of course I can do something and often even significant things apart from Jesus. I can have success, make money, and maybe achieve fame. But there is one significant thing that we absolutely cannot do apart from Christ: produce fruit that pleases God. The branch cannot produce fruit when it is disconnected from the vine.
Jesus is the true Vine, and if I am joined to Him I will produce fruit. He doesn’t say I might produce fruit. He doesn’t say I could produce fruit if the circumstances are right. Or that I will occasionally bear fruit. Jesus says that if I remain in Him I will produce much fruit. If I don’t remain in Him, I become barren and worthless to Him and His Kingdom.
How do we produce the fruit that Jesus is describing? By not allowing our relationship with Christ to be broken, for us—the branches—not to be severed from the Vine. Our connection to Jesus is not a one-time or yearly or monthly or weekly or daily synchronization. It is not like the intermittent syncs I perform between my computer and phone to update information. It is a continuous awareness of our connection to Christ. That connection allows the fruit of the Spirit to grow abundantly in us and become a part of who we are. The apostle Paul describes exactly what kind of fruit that is.
The Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (Galatians 5:22-23, NLT)
By remaining in an unbroken connection with Christ, we begin to take on His character and produce that kind of fruit. But it can only happen if we “stay” constantly in that relationship.
A few years ago my nephew’s daughter asked my advice about navigating the emotional ups and downs of the high school years. Here is what I told her.
1. I wish I had known that my high school years did not define me for life
My teen years were a mixed bag of memorable highs and incredible lows. Now I realize that I am grateful for what I once considered some of the difficult moments of my life. In many of those spiritual valleys you could not have begun to convince me that God was molding me or that those experiences could ever be of value.
Had I been the coolest guy or the best athlete I most likely would not have developed a sensitive spirit to others. With the benefit of hindsight I can promise you that I am grateful for every refining difficulty and problem. High school did not define who I would become and it does not define you either.
2. I wish I had known that every person is created in God’s image…and He loves them just as much as He loves me
Sparky Anderson, a former Cincinnati Reds manager, once said that “you can never go wrong being classy.” And you can never go wrong being kind to everyone. Sometimes you will be tempted to ridicule or tease those who are less attractive, intelligent, gifted, or cool. Don’t do it. High school is the start of a very long journey. Some people seem to be leading the life race coming out of high school but there is a long way to go. The real winners know that life is a marathon and that God has a plan for that long race. Be kind to everyone. Jesus loves them. And so should you.
3. I wish I had known in high school that I needed to take responsibility for my own actions
Learn now to say these three sentences.
I was wrong. I am sorry. Forgive me.
And keep your “but” out of those statements. Don’t say “I was wrong ‘but’ I didn’t think it would hurt you” or “I am sorry ‘but’ I was having a bad day.” Those are not real apologies. Take responsibility. Live with integrity. That will make you unique in this culture!
4. I wish I had really believed that God had a plan for my life
Every person has a God-designed destiny whether they believe it or not. Henri Nouwen wrote about living with that frame of mind.
We seldom realize fully that we are sent to fulfill God-given tasks. . . . We act as if we were simply dropped down in creation and have to decide how to entertain ourselves until we die. But we were sent into the world by God, just as Jesus was. Once we start living our lives with that conviction, we will soon know what we were sent to do.
Living out of who you are is liberating. The apostle Paul had some thoughts about such a life when he wrote to the church at Ephesus.
Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it. For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago. (Ephesians 2:9-10, NLT)
Think about that! You were rescued from the death of sin by grace. It was a gift that could not be earned. And you are a new creation, indeed a masterpiece for whom good things were planned from the beginning of time. How can followers of Jesus possibly have self-image issues? Only when we believe the lies.
5. I wish I had known that the most important decision I will ever make is who or what I worship
Everyone one worships something or someone. It can be money or power or fame or popularity or another person. We have a deep yearning to find our purpose and significance. If you don’t find that identity and significance in Christ you will tend to fill it with wrong things. Often those things are not inherently bad. But they can become bad things when they become the focus instead of Jesus. We used to sing a camp song with these lyrics..
Seek ye first the kingdom of God And His righteousness And all these things shall be added unto you
There is nothing wrong with these “things” when you seek the kingdom of God first.
6) I wish I had known that God’s grace is the key to freedom
In high school I believed that my performance was the key to my acceptance. I transferred that belief to my relationship with God. That was a spiritual stumbling block until I learned the remarkable truth of God’s grace. I finally learned that it was Jesus’ performance for me that makes me accepted by God and not my good behavior for Him.
Grace allows me to quit trying to be righteous and actually begin to be righteous as I focus on the One who gave me the gift of grace. Grace allows me to deal with sin instead of trying to manage and rationalize it. Grace is real and powerful. It is not weak or cheap. If you think grace is cheap, go to the foot of the Cross, look up, and see what grace price was paid for every person on earth. Grace should never be my cover for sin. Instead grace is my only hope to deal with it. Grace makes me tremble when I think of an almighty and powerful God who loved someone unlovable like me. Why would He give such a gift to an unworthy child? And how could I be comfortable taking advantage of that amazing grace? I cannot. I pray that I will not. Grace is compelling. I want it to be compelling in my life as well. Real grace works. Love grace with abandon.
God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. (Ephesians 2:8, NLT)
I know that most of us have to learn the lessons of life the hard way. I am still learning after all of these years how to follow Jesus more consistently. He is so incredibly patient and loving as I stumble along. Add that to the list of things I wish I had known and believed.
An excerpt from this blog came from Stay: Lessons My Dogs Taught Me about Life, Loss, and Grace. Click here for more info.
