The Cost of Not Being a Sold Out Christian: Can You Afford It?

In his book The Great Omission, Dallas Willard presents the cost of not being completely sold-out to Jesus.  I love this passage:

“The cost of nondiscipleship is far greater—even when this life alone is considered—than the price paid to walk with Jesus, constantly learning from him.  Nondiscipleship costs abiding peace, a life penetrated throughout by love, faith that sees everything in the light of God’s overriding governance for good, hopefulness that stands firm in the most discouraging of circumstances, power to do what is right and withstand the forces of evil.  In short, nondiscipleship costs you exactly that abundance of life Jesus said he came to bring (John 10:10).”

Willard covers so much, but can you think of anything else?  What else does not following Jesus with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, cost us?

Falling Into Love, Growing Into Divorce

While “love” is something many people think they fall into, studies show that divorce is something we usually grow into.  

William Doherty, professor of family social science at the University of Minnesota, provides an insightful distinction between what he calls “hard reasons” and “soft reasons” that split couples up and lead to divorce.  In Doherty’s view, “hard reasons” include “chronic affairs, chemical dependency, and gambling” in which “The person is not willing to change.  They have a drinking problem and won’t get it fixed.  They’re gambling the family money away and won’t get help.”  “Soft reasons” include “general unhappiness and dissatisfaction, such as growing apart and not communicating.”  (USA Today, Sept. 29, 2011, pt. 1-2D.)

Doherty found that most marriages aren’t destroyed by “hard reasons” but rather by “soft” ones.  In Doherty’s study, the number one reason couples gave for getting a divorce was “growing apart,” followed by “unable to talk together,” “how spouse handles money, “spouse’s personal problems,” and “not getting enough attention.”  I’m not sure how Doherty defines “spouse’s personal problems,” but at first glance, none of the top five reasons given are biblical excuses for ending a marriage.  It’s not until number six that “infidelity” is mentioned.

What this study highlights is that even when marital satisfaction reaches a crisis point, the problem isn’t the marriage, but our lack of skills. Quite frankly, on a relational and spiritual level, most of us are seriously under qualified to enter marriage.  We soon find that we’re in “over our heads” and feel like we’re drowning.  Marriage all but demands that we grow, and a lot of us either resent the implication that we need to grow or are too lazy to work towards personal growth.

When “soft issues” are the problem, divorce is a very ineffective shortcut.   Instead of finding a new spouse, we need to learn new ways to express empathy.  Instead of getting a divorce, we need to get rid of laziness.  Instead of searching for a new partner, we need to search for ways we can stay connected.  If you don’t address the lack of relational skills that caused the first marriage to fail, the second one will, too—because, again, the problem isn’t who you chose to marry; the problem is who you’re becoming (and what you’re not becoming)in the marriage.    

The USA Today article also quotes Susan Heitler, a clinical psychologist who notes that marriage is a “very high-skilled activity.  If your marriage is failing, make the assumption your skill set is insufficient.”

You see, our assumption is all too often that our spouse is insufficient; therefore, the only logical solution is to get a new spouse.  If we assume that our skill set is insufficient, that there are things we need to learn about not becoming lazy in our relationship, practicing empathy, growing in humility, generosity and gratefulness, then we’ll see marital dissatisfaction as a call to grow deeper in holiness rather than a call to dissolve our family.

I’ve said it before: most couples don’t fall out of love so much as they fall out of repentance.  Persistent character weaknesses—laziness, arrogance, pride, selfishness, bitterness, a sense of entitlement, and so on—kill far more marriages than active affairs, chemical dependency or abandonment.  The answer isn’t pursuing “happiness;” it’s pursuing holiness.  By God’s grace, we can grow in each of these areas. 

Dr. Heitler suggests that if both parties “will each take personal responsibility and focus on their own skills upgrade, the whole picture turns around.  Even one person can turn the marriage around.”

Doesn’t this make sense?  What if we assumed marital dissatisfaction is usually an issue of character, not mismatching, and thus began working on ourselves instead of getting rid of our spouse and trying to find a new one?  What if, indeed, we found marriage as a call to holiness more than happiness, and then discovered that in the pursuit of holiness we actually achieved a level of happiness we never thought possible?

Hmmm.  Somebody ought to write a book about this…

Facing Uncommon Temptations

Have you ever found yourself in a moment of intense temptation? Your heart pounds, your conscience is screaming, but you end up watching yourself, almost like a movie, collapsing into sin?

There are common temptations, little flickers of excitement, smaller acts of compromise, that often don’t require much more than a quick dismissal or a refocusing of our hearts to resist. But there are other temptations, the kind we’re talking about here, that require a more serious defense.

One of Satan’ favorite tricks in such moments is to try to cleverly turn our truest help and ally into an enemy. His deception works like this—he wants us to view God in such moments as either our judge or a passive spectator who is looking on to see how we respond. If we fall into either trap, viewing God and treating God as either, we become helpless and are all but certain to fall. God desires to be our savior and helper.

Scripture (Psalm 70:1; Jesus in Matthew 26:41; 1 Cor. 10:13) and the ancients call us to a much different response: earnestly, consciously, even desperately admitting our helplessness in the face of temptation, and imploring God’s aid.

Alphonsus Liguori (18th century) counsels, “We must play the part of beggars…[praying] ‘My Jesus, mercy; do not let me be separated from you. O Lord, come to my aid. My God, help me!’”

Satan wants us to view God as an observer, not a participant, in our battle against these uncommon temptations. One of our strongest weapons is prayer, through which we tap into God’s active power. “We absolutely require God’s help to overcome temptations. And sometimes, in the face of more violent assaults, the sufficient grace that God gives everyone would be enough for us to resist them; but on account of our inclination to evil, it is not, and we need a special grace. Those who pray receive it; but those who don’t pray, don’t receive it, and are lost.”

There are certain temptations that a strong character can withstand; our previous devotions have rooted us in Christ, and the ammunition Satan uses against us in these common times are more like BBs than bullets. They may sting, but they don’t penetrate our hearts. However, in the face of more violent spiritual assaults, Satan brings out the armor-piercing ammo. In these moments, we are helpless unless we immediately remember God’s role as our friend; He is not a spectator, but an active defender. Such temptations are won, ironically enough, on the back of humility. We recognize we will fall on our own, and so cast ourselves on a foreign power, one God is only too willing to provide.

Instead of viewing God as watching to see if we fall, Jesus and the ancients counsel that we admit our weakness and implore God’s active assistance. When facing temptations that are bigger than us, past spiritual experience, carefully cultivated character, and even previous moments of study and worship are not strong enough to carry us through them. We need an immediate, active force, a deliverer and conquering hero. It is not our strength that is being tested, but our humility. We fight with weakness, admitting our need and learning to depend on God. The clearest sign of such humility is honest and earnest prayer.

If you view God as either your spectator or judge in these intense moments, the battle is lost. He is your helper, your friend, and savior. Go to him. Admit your need for him. Recognize that prayer is the primary way to tap into his provision. Such “uncommon temptations” are allowed to show us our ongoing spiritual poverty and ever-growing need for God’s mercy.

History is His

Sometimes, a commentator can just nail it. Such is the case with D. English when he writes about Mark 1:8:

"The gospel is meant to make us truly ‘broad-minded’, viewing the whole of life against the canvas of God’s eternal plans for us and for his world. Worship week by week reminds us of that perspective, as ought our daily devotions and experiences of Christian fellowship. In that wider sweep of God’s purposes we learn to play our limited—yet vital—part. History is his. The universe is his. The mission to the world is his. We are most fulfilled not when we seek fulfilment but when we seek to find our proper place in his never-ending purposes for this world. We are both less and more important than we think. In that on-going process, we belong to one another."

Calvin on Teachers Who, in Their Attempt to be Novel, Do More Harm than Good

“If we intend to reform affairs which are in a state of disorder, we must always exercise such prudence and moderation, as will convince the people, that we do not oppose the eternal Word of God, or introduce any novelty that is contrary to Scripture. We must take care, that no suspicion of such contrariety shall injure the faith of the godly, and that rash men shall not be emboldened by a pretense of novelty. In short, we must endeavor to oppose a profane contempt of the Word of God, and to prevent religion from being despised by the ignorant.” (Calvin’s Commentaries, Harmony of the Gospels, addressing Matthew 5:17)

1. Calvin warns teachers to be prudent in their attempts at reforming doctrine, reminding them that without careful attention, in the zeal of their enthusiasm they might end up going against Scripture. In other words, in a nobel attempt to address wrong emphases we must be careful not to create additional error.

2. Teachers must be so clear about what they are teaching that they do not raise any suspicion of established truth that might “injure the faith of the godly.” It is wrong, and cruel, to create doubts about Scripture’s truth in the hearts of earnest believers.

3. “Novel” teachers must also be careful not to embolden “rash men” who will eagerly embrace novelty and cause further harm. Certain people will rush to new sounding doctrine and they will typically exercise even less caution than the original teacher.

4. Teachers should further be careful not to teach anything that creates contempt for God’s Word, or that would lead the unbelieving to question the clarity and truth of God’s Word. If what we say seems to make the Bible seem less clear and less authoritative, we are doing tremendous harm.

What are you willing to do to sustain the privilege of prayer?

Next month, I’ll line up with about 20,000 other people to run the Boston Marathon. It’ll be my third time there, and since you have to qualify each year, slower runners like me have to work hard to maintain the privilege of running there—watching my weight, keeping fit, and completing another marathon under the time limit for my age. It’s hard work, but to me, spending that weekend in Boston is more than worth the effort. It’s a privilege I cherish and am willing to sacrifice for.

On numerous Sundays, I get an even higher privilege: I’m invited into the pulpit of Second Baptist Church in Houston, a community with over 20,000 weekly attendees. Certain things are expected of me to maintain that privilege: my sermons better be prepared. The people here know their Bibles, and if I just throw something together, I’ll lose them. I’m also expected by the executive staff to maintain a certain integrity in my lifestyle.

But by far the greatest privilege of my life is to approach God in prayer. We often talk of prayer as an “obligation,” a “duty,” a spiritual “discipline,” but in reality it is a breathtaking opportunity. That we could speak to the God of the universe—that we dare even enter his presence; that we might ask him to consider our pleas, and that we might receive marching orders from him—well, the fact that he even knows who we are, much less has something for us to do, is unimaginable apart from his mercy and grace.

The doorway to prayer, of course, was opened through the reconciling work of Christ to which we added nothing. But sustaining the privilege of prayer, though always grounded in grace, does require a certain maintenance on our part. This is not adding to the finished work of Christ, but rather accepting Scripture’s teaching that there are certain things that disrupt our awareness of God’s presence and voice in prayer, and we’d be wise to pay heed to them if we want to sustain the privilege of prayer.

The “Work” of a Christian

The notion that grace precludes effort is a cancer in the church, a false understanding of the crucial distinction between justification and sanctification. The spiritual life and ministry both take enormous, persistent, and diligent human effort.

Consider Paul’s attitude: “One thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. All of us who are mature should stake such a view of things.” (Phil. 3:13-15)

Notice the phrase, “all of us who are mature should…” Paul isn’t showcasing his piety here, or nominating himself for a Christian of the Year award; he’s laying down a standard to which every believer should aspire. According to his inspired words, a mature Christian will “strain toward what is ahead...”

Commentator Jac Muller writes, “The verb used here is very descriptive, and calls to mind the attitude of a runner on the course, who with body bent forward, hand stretched to the fore, and eye fixed on the goal, strains forward with the utmost exertion in pursuit of his purpose.”

The great (Reformed, by the way) Puritan Jonathan Edwards was as blunt as a man could be about this: “We are nothing if we are not in earnest about our faith, and if our wills and inclinations are not intensely exercised. The religious life contains things too great for us to be lukewarm.”

He takes it one step further when he adds, “If there is a fight to be fought, or a race to be won, then it must be done with utmost earnestness. Without this there is no way of traveling the narrow road that leads to life. Sloth is therefore as damning as open rebellion.”

I mention this because many will say “sustaining the privilege of prayer” sounds like works righteousness. Maybe it might even lead to legalism. This misunderstanding will keep us immature and unfruitful.

Can we value work as Paul, the champion of salvation by grace through faith, did? I love his comments in 2 Timothy 2:6, when he tells his young protégé to “reflect” on the fact that it’s the “hardworking farmer” who gets the first share of the crops. (2 Tim. 2:6) This is such a brilliant metaphor that it’s particularly sad I’ve never heard a pastor preach on it. Much of a farmer’s work—unlike, say, that of an athlete, solider, or politician—is done behind the scenes, without any glory, applause or excitement. Ancient farming, particularly in the days before mechanized harvesting, was grueling work based largely on perseverance and consistent effort. That’s the metaphor Paul uses to describe the hard, often anonymous work of a Christian as he or she pursues God and is used by God.

The renowned John Stott warns, “This notion that Christian service is hard work is so unpopular in some happy-go-lucky Christian circles today that I feel the need to underline it…It may be healthy for us to see what strong exertion [Paul] believed to be necessary in Christian service.”

Indeed, as Stott points out, Paul gloried in the fact that “I worked harder than any of them,” explicitly referencing his hard work in 2 Corinthians 6:5, 1 Corinthians 15:10, and Philippians 2:16. Paul always ties his labor to God’s energy and provision, but never in a way that God’s provision puts Paul to sleep and certainly not as an invitation to a life of neglect.

Ministry and an intimate prayer life are a lot like farming. Much of the work that produces fruit passes unseen. No one on earth is applauding or even recognizing our efforts. But the life it creates can be used by God to bless and serve many. The “planting” is grueling; the harvest can be great.

Just a few verses later in 2 Timothy, Paul tells Timothy, “Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed...” (2 Tim. 2:15)

In the next post, we’ll talk about how we work at sustaining a prayer life; since work is such a suspicious element of today’s Christian spirituality, I believed I needed to first support my contention that a productive prayer life doesn’t just happen by “letting go and letting God.”

Again this might sound like a provocative statement, but I believe the biblical record is clear: sustaining a rich spiritual life of devotion and service requires persistent, diligent and even enormous effort.

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