Posted in Faith Nuggets, Thoughts from Life

Choosing Our Light

Today I am struggling with a lot of angsty thoughts that I can’t really communicate well…or kindly, to be honest. But, this old post fits and feels relevant. So, instead of a brand new angsty post, I’ll share these old thoughts and then add a few new ones at the end.

This morning, we awoke to a bright, cloudless sky. Our home has many windows that let in the bright sunshine on clear days, so on days like this we frequently don’t even have to turn on interior lights. The sunshine streaming in through the windows might not be as bright and strong as our electric lights, but it’s sufficient.

This afternoon, clouds are moving in ahead of anticipated weekend storms. As the clouds build, we alternate between bright sunshine and darkening shade. In some rooms, we’re turning on lights to counteract the game of peekaboo the sun seems to be playing.

When a storm system actually arrives, though, I expect a very different story. The front will solidly entrench itself, and heavy storm clouds will block the sun. In our home, we’ll have to use the lights that do not receive much use during a sunny stretch.

For so long, Christians in the United States have lived much as we do in our home. We’ve been content with the light of the cloudless or partly cloudy skies of morality, rarely seeing the need to turn on our lights of Christ-likeness. Why? Because we mistakenly equate Christianity and morality or being good Americans, thinking that light is enough.

Clouds of trouble do cover the sun briefly, and we turn on our lights for a while, taking a stand for godliness. But, because the storm has not yet arrived in all of its ferocity, we inevitably turn off our lights of godliness when the sun of morality emerges from the clouds again.

Recently, a political decision was made that has once again blocked the light of morality. While many Christians are in full-fledged panic mode over this decision, the reality is that this is just another bout of cloudiness – maybe even a thunder-shower – ahead of the real storm front.

But, what if we as Christians responded to this shower differently? What if we chose to turn on our lights of godliness once and for all? What if we decided to stop relying on the intermittent light of so-called morality and made a move to operate instead in the consistent and full light of godliness?

It’s a frightening thought for American Christians, to be honest. Such an action would mark us even more profoundly than morality ever did, perhaps even expediting our progress toward persecution.

But, it would also establish us firmly in a light that can never be dimmed.

The light of morality, grounded in a false belief that man is inherently good, was destined to be extinguished. Scripture reminds us that all goodness is bound up in Christ – man is sinful, not good. Without Christ, even the most moral of Americans will eventually bow to the lie of equality.

Do I like the decision that was made? No. Has it robbed reason to rejoice? Again, no. On the contrary, it has actually given me reason to rejoice. Why? Because now a few more Christians will choose to move from the fading light of morality into the never-failing light of godliness. They will grow closer to Christ through it. They will become stronger witnesses for Him because of it. And more of the lost and dying in this world will come to saving faith as a result of it.

And that, my friends, is why I rejoice, even in the face of those inevitable storm clouds.

This morning as I reread this old post, I’m struggling with the fact that the lost and dying in our country currently feel utterly hated by Christians. And it’s all because so many American Christians are claiming a political light instead of the Light of Christ.

I do not remember what political decision was handed down at the time I initially wrote this post. I could easily look it up based on the original publication date, but the fact of the decision would distract from the truth here: many who claim the Name of Christ are once again basking in a false light, and in the process so many who desperately need the love of Christ instead want nothing to do with Him. Because of us. Oh, how that breaks my heart! Utterly and completely!

Friends, I’m not saying we can’t have political preferences. But when will we realize that those preferences have to take a back seat to our allegiance to Christ? When will we start living in the true Light and share that Light and His love with those in desperate need of it? When will we realize that circumstances will never give us true light? That our preferences are a false light? Only Jesus is Light. ONLY JESUS. Let’s let Him and His love be our only light!

Posted in Thoughts from Life

Silence

I’ve shared a lot lately about my struggle with writing. Too many words. Not enough words. Thoughts not coming together or not fitting the time. But, those aren’t the only issues. This political season and the nature of our division (not a historical first, by the way, either politically or religiously) also highlight another reality for me: sometimes I feel like there’s no way to truly reflect what’s going on in my head, so I stay silent.

The first time this struggle hit me very tangibly this was years ago when we were in a rough ministry season. I had a lot of thoughts. (My children would emphasize this power of this by capitalizing Thoughts and adding some type of trademark or copyright character to it. I love that!) And I wanted to process and even publish those thoughts. But, I knew that doing so could cause major issues. The things I said could, and most likely would, be misunderstood by people who could easily use them against my husband, if not my whole family.

So, what did I do? I stayed silent.

Unfortunately, the silence didn’t limit itself to those particular thoughts. I began to feel like I couldn’t say meaningful enough things for holidays or special occasions. So, where I once wrote sweet birthday greetings or extensive blog posts celebrating my husband and children…I pulled back on my words. Eventually, even there, I became silent.

Most recently, I’ve been silent regarding politics. Honestly, this is not new. I hate politics. Always have. I do not like the arguments and the debates. I’ve never been the quick-witted type of person who can enjoy them, much less readily participate in them. If I have the time to come up with my perspective, I can word it well. But, when it’s challenged, I need time to process and evaluate before I respond.

The sharp-tongued political scene does not lend itself to the “release my thoughts and then step back and let people do with them as they will” approach. It is, by nature, a back-and-forth, debate-and-argue area. An arena where I don’t fit.

So I stay silent.

The problem is that my silence still speaks. It lends itself to people assuming I agree or disagree with them simply because of my race, gender, religious affiliation, or “station” in life. But the truth is so much more complex. People I love dearly have aligned themselves with Democrats, Republicans, and various third parties. Other precious ones can’t really get behind any of the above. I have mentioned before that I am, by nature, an empath. A mediator of sorts. I hate arguments and debates partially because I am better at seeing multiple sides of a situation than I am at arguing one side or the other. I like mediating and helping people come together. See each other. Learn to love one another despite differences.

But that often leaves me seeming wishy-washy and as if I have no convictions of my own.

The truth is that I have strong convictions. Convictions that don’t fit neatly into any box. Convictions that would probably make the debaters on all sides somewhat angry with me because I didn’t agree enough with any of them. I’m not wishy-washy. I’m just weird. And it’s hard to express my weirdness without causing problems.

So I stay silent.

I honestly don’t know how to fix this. There are times I wish I had said things during the weeks leading up to the election. Times I wish I’d stood up to the hate seething from all sides. Times I wish I’d been able to make comments that helped entrenched minds stop and think about what they were saying. Not because I felt like I was right and they were wrong. But because I wanted to help them process how their words were impacting others.

I wish most of all that I’d spoken up more against the venom spewed by those who claim the Name of Christ. Those who have pushed people away from Him because of their approach to the political season. (And yes, I personally know people who are now much more closed to the Gospel because of the behavior of Christians during the election season.)

But I felt like my words would just cause more arguing. So, I stayed silent.

You can ask my family — I misspeak a lot. I say the wrong thing. I cause pain with my words. I respond in misunderstanding. I make comments, realize that what I’ve said reveals my ignorance, and wish I could take it back. I delete comments on social media or in private chats, even though I know deleting them won’t change them. I often even refrain from trying to explain myself because I know it will come out wrong.

It feels better to stay silent.

Except that there is a message I hold that must go out. It will not be popular. It will be misunderstood. And I may not express or explain it well. I will probably use the same words that others have used — words that trigger pain for people who have been abused by those claiming the Name of Christ — because I don’t know what other words to use. And, as a result, I will feel as if I, too, am misusing His Name.

That fear holds me back and makes me want to stay silent even in this. But I cannot. It is not better to stay silent when I know the words of life. I know the Giver of life. I know the One who can cause all of His children, even those who disagree politically, to live in unity. And when I hold this knowledge back silently because I’m afraid of saying it wrong, again, I’m living in sin.

Ouch.

I cannot stay silent.

My prayer is that I will learn to speak. I will learn to carry the words of the Spirit on my tongue and in my fingertips. That I won’t worry about what arguments or debates I spark by those words but will instead let the Spirit work His miracle through me, letting others see the love of Christ in me no matter how the words challenge and penetrate. Because I don’t want to give my opinion and my words. I want to give His.

I want to no longer be trapped in silence. Oh, Lord, let me become Your voice instead!