Abundant Life

I got into some long email conversations with two friend recently. They were both struggling with doing what they know they ought to do as Christians. Both are doubting whether they are really Christians because of the level of what I would call “spiritual performance”.

I can totally identify with their struggles. I start each day with a deep sense of inadequacy in this aspect. Having been a Christian now for over 33 years, I am still struggling with certain things that have bothered from Day One. Sometimes, I feel so discouraged that I really look forward to the end of the earthly life. I’m not suicidal by any stretch of imagination, but living this life in accordance with what I know I ought to seems impossible.

There isn’t really much that I could tell my friends. I try to show them that struggling is good and healthy, because the dead does not struggle. You throw a dead body into water, and it doesn’t try to swim or struggle for air. Therefore, struggling to be godly is a sign of spiritual life.

Perhaps that’s how Christians ought to live, struggling. Those who have received Jesus Christ into their lives find themselves hearing his voice through sources such as the Bible, prayer, meditation, nature, circumstances, and other godly people. Christ’s voice is often hard to understand or follow, because it is contrary to what our nature wants and what the physical world tells us.

We and the world want to accumulate earthly wealth; Jesus tells us to sell everything and follow him. We and the world want to satisfy our desires; Jesus tells us to deny ourselves and take up the cross. We and the world want to grab power and control; Jesus tells that the meek shall inherit the earth. We and the world work hard to make money so that we can live; Jesus tells us to seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and leave up to him to add to us food and clothing.

Sigh … how can I possible follow his teachings without struggling? I know I will have to struggle until the end of this earthly life as I try to follow him.

But this is indeed the key: struggles. Dead people don’t struggle. When we don’t hear the voice of Christ, it is our right to gain and consume and save more; it is our right to control what is rightfully ours and to “do it my way”; it is our right and rightful duties to make a living for ourselves and those who depend on us, even when it costs others their rights.

Jesus calls us to love our neighbours as we love ourselves. Love means to do what is best for others, even when it is at a cost to ourselves. It is indeed our rights and rightful duties to care for ourselves and those dependent on us, but not at a cost to others.

As we struggle with these teachings, we acknowledge that we fall short. This is healthy. We all fall short, but those who are spiritually dead don’t even struggle. They just follow their natural instincts and struggle only to follow what the instincts make them do. They don’t think they have fallen short in anything at all.

Those who are alive struggle to follow a different path. Therefore, to my friends, I congratulate them for showing signs of life.

However, there are different ways to struggle spiritually. We can try to perform better, or we can try to depend more. I go for the latter. When I struggle, I appeal to Jesus Christ to help me, to change me from the inside out, so that I respond to my struggles in accordance with his nature. If I just try to “do” better without this appeal, I find myself facing a losing battle.

In my last entry, I was contemplating how followers of religions habitually embellish the original teaching and add baggage that pollutes the founders’ wisdom. I think it is the followers of Buddhism that added the layers of spiritual enlightenment and types and levels of buddhas. Sainthood awards are definitely non-biblical add-ons by some branches of Christianity. Hindus invented multiple levels of heaven, hell, and reincarnation. We just love to turn everything into performance-based teaching. The pride within us irresistibly compels us to achieve something on our own strength. The idea of yielding to a supreme benevolent Being is foreign to the flesh.

That’s why each of us must be born again. Each of us must make a U-turn towards submission to God, and learn to follow his way of love. According to a recent sermon, John 13.34-35 is the only command that Jesus gives. Jesus teaches many things, but loving one another is the only commandment.

How do we avoid polluting the simple teaching of loving another through our attempts to perform on our own strength? Oswald Chambers, the author of My Utmost for His Highest, the most popular devotional among Christians, teaches overcoming adversity by giving over totally to God “because victory is absurdly impossible to everyone, except God.” I think the same answer applies to loving one another. It is indeed a commandment from Christ, but it’s a commandment that brings despair. How can I overcome the flesh’s insatiable desire for self-gratification without spiritual rebirth and empowerment? It’s a narrow gate for sure, especially for those without Christ. Perhaps a few can pull it off without consciously relying on God, but even for them we don’t know whether Christ was born in them through some special blessings from God.

According to Chambers, we have no hope of living a spiritual life befitting Jesus’ teaching without totally giving into him. I think that’s what Jesus meant in John 14.6 (“No one comes to the Father except through me”). However, we cannot rule out the possibility that this applies to almost all of us consciously and subconsciously. According to C.S. Lewis’ theology, it is entirely possible that many follow Christ’s ways and enter the kingdom of God subconsciously.

What I’m saying is this: the teaching applies to all of us. For those who follow Christ subconsciously, God simply leads them in ways different from the Christian. Christians don’t need to seek or teach any other way except through Christ. However, for those who have no chance of hearing about Christ, at least from our perspective, we don’t have to force our theology on them. God is loving, merciful, and fair, and he deals with these billions in ways that are beyond our understanding. We who have heard consciously need only to follow Christ’s teaching in our own lives to love and make disciples, and not force our theology on other people.

We are to be messengers, witnesses and teachers, not enforcers.

I wished I could adopt the Buddhist teaching of “being nothing”, i.e. desiring nothing, owning nothing, hoping for nothing, except for being compassionate to others who are in need. It really means crucifying the self so that it becomes nothing, which is similar to a Christian concept (Galatians 2.20). Now, the reason behind the Buddhist thinking is different, but the realization that the flesh desires nothing but evil is similar. There is a mind independent of this demanding self that is capable to turning away from these fleshly desires, and a Buddhist achieves it by realizing that we come from nothing and return to nothing, like a drop of water returning to the vast ocean, totally losing itself. This teaching is different from the biblical teaching of being a child of God bearing his image, with an eternal identity that starts before creation.

Whatever the theology, the recognition of the self-centred and evil flesh is sound. There is no such thing as a godly self, only the flesh, which is continually self-seeking. I was troubled this morning by the doctrine that only Christians receive eternal life. Just now, I prayed and looked up John 14.6, asking God to reveal to me what Jesus means when he says: “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

The key phrase is “except through me”. What does it mean to come to the Father through Jesus Christ? The typical evangelical interprets that to mean saying “the sinner’s prayer” that leads a sinner to receive Christ as Lord and Saviour through a conscious decision. I have now pretty much rejected such a transactional view. It’s like saying that a marriage depends on those few minutes spent in saying the wedding vow that almost no one lives up to.

The more meaningful way is to interpret that as living life through the ways of Jesus in fellowship with him and not on a performance basis. Jesus alone reconciles us to God by taking all the consequences of all our sins on the cross on our behalf, reconciling us first to God, whom we offend the most, and also to other people, so that we can be set free from the penalties that we cause when we sin. God’s gift of forgiveness and salvation are diametrically opposed to our blame and condemnation. Christ alone reconciles us to the Father. This I have little doubt about.

The next question is whether saying a sinner’s prayer in this life is what Jesus means by “through me”. I think not. There is much teaching in the Bible about living according to the Spirit and not the flesh. Jesus teaches the consequences of gnashing their teeth in agony for those who don’t practise what Jesus teaches (Matt. 13.42-50, 24.45-51, 25.29-46). Also, he clearly teaches that irrespective of their beliefs and heritage, those who don’t follow him (his ways?) will be gnashing their teeth at the end.

Further, as I read the context of John 14.6, back to chapter 13 and further to 14.15, it becomes clear that “through me” means through his command of love (13.34-35). Jesus Christ teaches us that God’s way, that is, Christ’s way, is the way of love. The way of godly love, agapē, is how we come to the Father.

Many fundamental evangelicals are quick to condemn any other ways of love that are not expressed under the label of Christianity. When a Buddhist expresses compassion because he has learned not to satisfy his flesh, which means nothing more than a mere drop of water, it does not mean that he ends up in hell for his non-biblical theology. A person who realizes the futility and evil of succumbing to the flesh’s desires and the superiority of love and compassion, irrespective of his theology, practices the way of Christ.

According to our China tour guide and what I remember, Buddhism started when its founder tried to understand life’s sufferings. He figured out that the flesh was selfish and evil and caused endless pains and sorrows. Further, pains and sorrows also came from natural causes such as sicknesses and famine. Therefore, he figured out that the universe was so vast and impersonal that the individual cognitive mind is nothing in comparison. When he put the two together, he realized, rightly or wrongly, that the only way to overcome the self-centred and evil flesh is to understand the futility of its desires in the context of the vast and seemingly impersonal cosmos.

The next part is interesting—why does he not just teach withdrawal and even suicide in view of such a meaningless life? Buddhism is known for its monasteries for withdrawal and it’s also known for acts of compassion to the needy. A true Buddhist sees a purpose for living, and it is to conquer the futile desires of the flesh and to love one another. If that is not the teaching of John 14.34-35, I don’t know what is! Is it possible for a Buddhist to practice Jesus’ way, truth, and life without the label of Christianity, and thereby find the way to the Father? Just like Christianity, there is much pollution of the basic teaching, such as achieving different levels of spiritual status through good deeds. This is not that much different in awarding different levels of sainthood to its practitioners by the some Christian churches according to their services to humankind and the church.

Since last Sunday’s church attendance, I had wanted to reflect on Andy’s sermon. Since it’s not on the webcast yet, I can’t entitle it, but its theme is an all-access pass to the presence of God Almighty. His analogy is an all-access pass to an event—a sports event or a concert. Who would not want an all-access pass to a favourite entertainer’s performance? For me, it would be an Amy Grant concert. I would love to visit with her and talk about some of her songs in person, and especially her lyrics in Out in the Open:

Come on out come on out

Into the light

There is no jury

There is no judge

Ready and waiting

Are the steady arms of love.

These words came years ago at the time when I was struggling with the concept of the commonly assumed Judge-first God. I would love to hear why and how she sang those words.

Andy’s message, based on Colossians 2, is that faith in Christ alone has given us an all-access pass into the presence of God. We need to add nothing, not even our own holiness and purity. Christ on the cross has absorbed all the hurts and harms that we impose on ourselves, others, and God, and his resurrection has opened up total access to the presence of God for us. If we need to perform one righteous act, or if we need to achieve purity even if for just a moment, in order to enter God’s presence, then we are saying that Christ’s death and resurrection are insufficient to reconcile us to a loving relationship with God.

On the other hand, if we believe that Christ has gained on our behalf this all-access pass to God’s presence, then we know that we can come before him just as we are, baggage and all, with the full knowledge that God “has our back”. God is fully supportive of us and will do whatever it takes to for us to be reconciled to him. Therefore, when we are struggling the most, at the depth of our valleys, that is exactly when we need to remember this precious all-access pass, and count on it to come into God’s presence for help.

The thought that I need to clean up my act, or achieve some form or degree of righteousness, before I can gain access to God’s presence and his support, is a lie. After what Jesus Christ has done for us through his death and resurrection, absolutely nothing separates us from the presence, love, and help of God Almighty.

Hey—that’s God News, isn’t it?

As I read the newspaper over breakfast, I found that Sandra Bullock, who just won the Oscar as best actress for The Blind Side, might be separated from her husband Jesse James because of his alleged affair with a model. Sigh … a beloved actress at the peak of her career is robbed of her abundant life of loving relationships because of possible sexual unfaithfulness. If the allegations are true, and if someone asks Sandra whether she is enjoying abundant life, I think the answer would be an obvious “No.” On the other hand, ask someone who is knowingly in the midst of loving relationships, irrespective of fame or fortune, I suspect the answer would be “Yes” more often than not.

I like Sandra Bullock, some of her sappy chick flicks notwithstanding. Overall, I enjoy her cheerful demeanor and the occasional self-deprecating scenes. I enjoyed The Blind Side and it’s one of the few movies that I watched several times. I was moved by her mention with Barbara Walters in the pre-Oscar ceremony interview how Jesse James was the only man who “had her back”—and now this alleged betrayal that he didn’t deny. Years of abundant life went up in smoke in an alleged act of marriage betrayal.

I don’t know for sure, but Sandra’s love for Jesse seems genuine. So it’s sad if the betrayal is real. I think all of us, consciously and subconsciously, deeply yearn for loving relationships with our spheres of influence. Whether we acknowledge it consciously or not, we know that abundance in life comes from loving relationships. The sad reality is the counterfeits that we allow into our lives.

I think the most common counterfeit is money. Watching the lottery advertisements, it’s easy to believe that money does buy abundant life. But if I were to search my memories, and try to remember the fondest moments, and they are all with people that I relate to during meaningful interactions physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Then if I were to seek out the least favourite memories, I would remember contentions and tensions with others, mostly about money, my rights versus others’ rights, and recognition. I suspect the same goes for most people.

Abundant life starts with peace with God. When I’m at peace with God, I bask in his parenthood as my loving Father. We have an early Spring this year all over Canada, and birds are back in full swing. As I am typing this, I am listening to a cardinal across the street singing its heart out, and I thank God for creating a little bird with such a colourful birdsong. If someone else is also listening, but without a loving relationship with the Creator God, would there be any thankfulness? Doesn’t thankfulness flow out of the recognition of an abundant life?

In a marriage, if both sides acknowledge that they are enjoying a mutual loving relationship, then it’s the best insurance against betrayal. I think it is difficult for a thankful heart to perform an act of betrayal. Thankfulness and betrayal just don’t seem to go together. I’m rambling.

I wish Sandra Bullock and Jesse James the best, and I hope they can recover from this alleged betrayal, so that they can regain their abundant life together, and with their children.

Kath and I watched Up in the Air last night. It started slow and kind of boring, but we were soon drawn into the story and enjoyed it to the end. George Clooney’s character, Ryan, counseled someone he was firing to pursue his dream in culinary arts. His counsel reminded me to pursue my own dream to communicate to as many as possible the good news of the Parent-first God in the Bible instead of the traditional view of the Judge-first God.

My book project on this topic has been on hold now for at least three years, although every time I bring up this topic, I become passionate. Kath was discussing with me the book about passion and purpose (based on, of all things, knitting). I guess the idea is to align our purpose with our passion in order to realize our dream. However, most of us make pursuit of a vocation, making a living, sexual gratification, buying things, recognition, healing an emotional wound, leisure, and a million other things our purpose or passion, without much thought of aligning the two.

You see, I can pursue something purposeless with a passion. Many are passionate about something. If all they do is to pursue these passions for self-gratification, then I believe it becomes purposeless. I believe that’s the point in Up in the Air. For a while, Ryan’s passion is to accumulate 10 million flying miles. When he accomplishes it, he finds it purposeless. Fortunately, he finds the purpose of his up-in-the-air passion toward the end of the movie; I won’t spoil it for anyone who might read this.

Many share their lives with others through their passions. A father can share hours of fellowship with a son or daughter while pursuing a passion in fishing or fixing cars, if they do it together. Kath shares her life and friendship with many, including Irene, through her passion in knitting. Me, I enjoy seeking biblical knowledge of God, a.k.a., Christian theology.  If I don’t share my passion with anyone, then it becomes a purposeless passion.

That’s what prompts me to want to resume writing my book, even if it takes another ten years. This “fire in the belly” to persuade people to get to know God first as our loving Father is my passion. God loves us deeply, more deeply than our wildest imagination. But so many, churched and unchurched, feel his judgment much more than being immersed his love! This deeply ingrained conviction of the Judge-first God keeps countless people from entering into the abundant life of God that Jesus gave of himself for.

Lighting my little candle in my little sphere of influence about the Parent-first God is my passion. Can I make it my purpose also?

Gene, Tracey, Sophie, Nikko, Jason, and Irene are here. The Lyras family arrived from New Hampshire Wednesday noon, Jason, Thursday evening, and Irene, yesterday afternoon. As the eight of us were walking to Saigon Boy for Vietnamese pho supper last night, I told Kath: “This is abundant life.”

Life is all about loving (agape) relationships. Counterfeits abound. Somehow, the flesh seeks security and life through numerous counterfeits in materialism, romance, vocational accomplishments, recognition, financial security, etc., etc. The sad part is how we tend to sacrifice loving relationships in favour of counterfeits. For me, long term financial security and vocational recognition grip me, and their attainment becomes my preoccupation. Fortunately, I have learned in the last twenty years, with thanks to a couple of financially disastrous business start-ups, that pursuits of counterfeits should not come at a cost of loving relationships, and especially not with family.

I have not lived up to this conviction perfectly, granted, but I do know to turn around (repent) when I’m convicted of truth. Unfortunately, some behavioural patterns take repeated cycles of hurting and learning to change, and often not 100%. Fortunately, the time-to-repentance cycles tend to shorten and the depths to which I plunge before resurfacing tend to lessen, and that’s good news. I have given in to the notion that perfection will have to wait for heaven, not because I want to wait, but it is a grudging acceptance based on experience.

I can identify with what Paul talks about in terms of his thorn in the flesh (2 Corinthians 12.7). It tormented him, and he pleaded with the Lord to take it away. Many commentators think that it’s some form of physical ailment. They may be right. But for me, I relate Paul’s thorn to my character flaws, mostly driven by insecurities about the counterfeit sources of abundant life. The thorn in the flesh kept Paul humble and dependent on the Lord, and my misguided pursuits keep me humble and dependent on the Lord. I wished I could remain humble and dependent on God while having a good time, but lessons come mostly during painful struggles. Hebrews 12.10-12 come to mind: “God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”

It’s great to have this weekend of loving relationships to remind me of the truly important things of life.

Started to read Nouwen’s The Way of the Heart, a short book about the Egyptian desert fathers and mothers of the 4^th to 5^th century. He captured three essences of their spiritual “successes”: solitude, silence, and prayer. Henry notes that solitude differs from privacy in that it’s a place of nakedness, vulnerability, sinfulness, and total surrender before God.

During the drive into work, I was thinking that solitude was more of a state of mind than a physical state. I can be in solitude, remaining naked, vulnerable, surrendered, and open to the Spirit in the midst of a busy day at work. Dealing with relationships, politics, implementation strategies, budgets, complaints, compliments, and so on, I often maintain in the back of my mind a state of insufficiency and dependency, pleading for Christ in me to interact with whomever and whatever are before me, through my surrendered flesh. It doesn’t always “work” because the flesh often comes out in insecurity and defensiveness and takes over. When I realize that, I fall back into the state of insufficiency and dependency, pleading with the Spirit again. Trouble comes when I fail to recognize the flesh taking over, and get into a habitual pattern of destructive behaviours. When this happens, I would need another period of prolonged solitude where the Spirit of Christ can convict me.

Chambers’ lesson in My Utmost seems to confirm my thought: “When someone thinks that to develop a holy life he must always be alone with God, he is no longer of any use to others. This is like putting himself on a pedestal and isolating himself from the rest of society. Paul was a holy person, but wherever he went Jesus Christ was always allowed to help Himself to his life.” However, I need to remind myself that Paul spent three years in the desert before he started his ministry in earnest.

Therefore, both Nouwen and Chambers are correct. There is preparedness and there is also ministry. The desert hermits become known to us because believers sought them out and learned from them. I remember reading about them in my seminary studies, and I felt that they tended to be battling intensely with inner demons to the extent of self-absorption. Solitude must result in ministry. It’s no use to God and men if I exorcise my inner demons as an end, and achieve some form of personal purity, but remain isolated from humanity, among which God does his work.

So, it’s a matter of combination of and balance between solitude before God and ministry among people. We need both.

This is probably one of the most common questions among evangelicals. The answers for entrance to heaven range from just an exclusive few who have accepted Jesus Christ as their personal Saviour to all humankind, with some in-between theories.

My family and close friends know that I have been struggling with a number of doctrines held dear by evangelicals, and my studies have prompted the desire to share my findings through a book. Most genuine authors will tell us that writing a book that people would read is a lot more difficult than it appears. I agree. Therefore, I don’t think this book will ever be finished or published.

Kath encourages me to share my thoughts on my blog anyway. Having been involved here and there in the Internet business since the late 1990′s, I know that just because I put it on the Web, it doesn’t mean anyone will read it. However, it’s still no worse than letting my thought sit on my hard drive. So, I struggled with the blog template for hours last weekend, and learned how to create a page called “Questions About the Bible I was Afraid to Ask”. Through this page, I will post my thoughts from the book, condensed as best I can down to the minimum–knowing that Web surfers have no patience for pages of reading–and deal with the issues one at a time.

Each time I add something, I will also post the title and a short intro on the home page of the blog, here.

Today’s question is “Who Goes to Hell or Heaven?” I hope someone will read it. If you do, I welcome your comments.

“My girlfriend is in jail, caught by the police while she was carrying a pot of marijuana that a friend gave her. We have to save some money, you know. And the boyfriend of the 50-year old girl I’m sharing an apartment with is in for attempted murder; he’ll be in for a long time,” Guy told me as he wolfed down a McDonald’s meal yesterday.

Guy panhandles often at a busy intersection that feeds into the cross-town expressway. I don’t give cash because I was warned about feeding possible addictions. So I offer meals. When “business” is good, Guy would rather continue to collect cash. When it’s slow, we go to McDonald’s just a block down the street, where I buy him a meal. It’s slow yesterday, only $3 in as many hours. He usually takes the meal out, but the odd times, when he decides to eat in, I would sit and chat with him.

Guy is brutally honest, and I find out a little about his life every time we chat. He told me that a couple of days before Christmas, he collected $800 in several hours, a great day. He is fifty, has three children (all boys, I think) from two wives. His 17-year old son lives just across the river in Gatineau and is visiting with him right now. Another, 13, I think, lives a little farther north, and a third lives out west, Calgary, if I remember correctly, with the mother, who is an accomplished athlete. Guy was addicted to morphine twice but has been clean for years now.

Yesterday morning, he tried to get work from a job hall as a handyman, but got there at 6.30 am, too late to land a job. He told me 60-70 guys would wait in line as early as 5.45 am to try to get work. He was talking to someone who was worse off than he, and Guy gave him $10. He works from time to time with friends in the construction trade, pouring foundations, doing drywall, etc. He has had a neck injury that acts up often, and it prevents him from heavy work when it happens.

Part way through the meal, one of his “colleagues” dropped by the table. He was fed by another lady earlier, and he made $30. After chatting for a few minutes, he’s off. Guy told me that there were about five of them, sharing various parts of the busy intersection. His friend was only 25 and was hooked on morphine. “He’s too young to be stuck like this,” Guy said.

The police had been busy giving tickets for panhandling lately. Guy had accumulated a small stack of them. Each one would cost $58, but he never pays. When he has accumulated enough, the police would throw him in jail for a couple of weeks. “Free room and board”, Guy said.

This is a framework that I can’t relate to. He and I live in two different worlds, me being a middle-class white collar worker all my life and never missed a meal involuntarily and the nearest I got involved with the law were traffic tickets. The only intersection of life we share is when I buy him a meal.

Why do I befriend Guy? Am I truly sharing the goodness that God has given me, or am I trying to alleviate some guilt that I feel about being better off than he, or am I trying to show God that I want to learn to love as He loves?

I don’t have clear answers, because motivation is a complex thing. I only know this: I have no expectation from Guy, not even gratitude, although he expresses it. Perhaps these are the teetering first steps of my attempt to give of myself to someone who would never pay me back, and to touch someone’s life in a small way with no judgment. I hope so.