Boy, temptation sure is rough. But the victory has been won. Pray God that I might never forget that fact. There's a quote somewhere by John Piper that runs along the lines of, "We should be glad our hope in salvation lies not in our deeds or faith, but in God's unwavering pursuit to magnify His glory." By no means is it verbatim, but the point is made clear.
My heart/head (because the two are so oft indistinguishable, for me) is now telling me: Persevere, not to resist sin and not so that I can feel good about myself; but persevere so that God might be glorified through it. And goodness gracious is it difficult.
Another wise man once said:
"No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good. A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is. After all, you find out the strength of the German army by fighting against it, not by giving in. You find out the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down. A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness - they have lived a sheltered life by always giving in. We never find out the strength of the evil impulse inside us until we try to fight it: and Christ, because He was the only man who never yielded to temptation, is also the only man who knows to the full what temptation means - the only complete realist." - C.S. Lewis
For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.
Hebrews 4:15
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Regret Not
This past week has been really tough. It's the first section of time in recent memory where I am honestly not doing spiritually well - and I guess that in itself is something to praise God for; that at least as far as I can tell, I generally feel at least content in my relationship with Him. But this is the first time in a long time that I can legitimately say I'm not doing well spiritually. I'm sure future-Peter might not remember exactly what I'm going through now, simply because I'm not entirely sure myself. It feels like it came out of nowhere - after a great CFC Revival weekend, a Sunday special praise and another coming up this weekend, I'm almost surprised I'm feeling this way. But nevertheless it is the case.
So being entirely unsure why I'm feeling this way - and thereby also a little confused as to how exactly I actually am feeling, I'm also entirely sure how to write about it. But I guess I'll just go down the list. The one sensation that keeps coming back to me, like a song that's stuck in your head that you can't get out, is regret.
Regret: what an ugly word. What an ugly emotion. Yet what a human condition it truly is. There are things I've done that I'm far less than proud of, and there are people I've mistreated in ways I would die for to be able to go back and remedy. I still have those struggles - I think. I can't exactly compare the present to the past. But the past is still there: and so I regret. But the past is still there: so regret is untouchable. So since I don't know - since humanity doesn't know - how to attack it, to remove it from its lofty, sneering seat, I am content to let it run its course in my mind and spirit. Regret plays a scorched earth wargame that I am too scared to win: because I'm sure now, on some level, I don't want to win.
But regret is not repentance. Regret is selfish in the highest sense. Not that sorrow or want for recompense is selfish, but in the sense that - at least for me - regret makes me play God. Regret says, "You could have done better. You could have done different." And so, I selfishly think that 'next time', I will do better. I will do different. And I will do good. Regret makes me see my past in a way as to plan to control my future with an iron fist - in only a way that I want to. If I can fix everything, nothing can ever go wrong. And if I can make it so nothing ever goes wrong, then I'll be God. And then I'll never have to die. And yet, I don't have even the slightest control over even the slightest parts of my life or myself. Regret never ends.
Repentance is in the same way selfless in the highest sense. Not that in view of my sin I suddenly give myself to the poor and needy, but in the sense that repentance requires nothing but humility. Repentance says, "You did not do better. You did not do different. But turn to God, and He will." I've been told on multiple occassions that repentance means literally 'to turn'. Yet how can I do that, knowing now that I have in the past (and will likely continue to) turn to the wrong things, and altogether fail to 'turn' at all? It seems clear to me that that's a bad question. It's not up to me whether or not I want to or I should repent, but it's wholly in view of God's infinite glory that repentance is absolutely necessary, that it's in fact the only option. If repentance only comes halfway, it turns into regret. But repentance in its completeness is knowing that I will never be able to do it on my own. Repentance in its completeness is knowing that without God, I will lose that scorched-earth game. Repentance is knowing that God never ends.
And if that's not a 'new song' of praise, I don't know what is.
"Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." Isaiah 1:18
So being entirely unsure why I'm feeling this way - and thereby also a little confused as to how exactly I actually am feeling, I'm also entirely sure how to write about it. But I guess I'll just go down the list. The one sensation that keeps coming back to me, like a song that's stuck in your head that you can't get out, is regret.
Regret: what an ugly word. What an ugly emotion. Yet what a human condition it truly is. There are things I've done that I'm far less than proud of, and there are people I've mistreated in ways I would die for to be able to go back and remedy. I still have those struggles - I think. I can't exactly compare the present to the past. But the past is still there: and so I regret. But the past is still there: so regret is untouchable. So since I don't know - since humanity doesn't know - how to attack it, to remove it from its lofty, sneering seat, I am content to let it run its course in my mind and spirit. Regret plays a scorched earth wargame that I am too scared to win: because I'm sure now, on some level, I don't want to win.
But regret is not repentance. Regret is selfish in the highest sense. Not that sorrow or want for recompense is selfish, but in the sense that - at least for me - regret makes me play God. Regret says, "You could have done better. You could have done different." And so, I selfishly think that 'next time', I will do better. I will do different. And I will do good. Regret makes me see my past in a way as to plan to control my future with an iron fist - in only a way that I want to. If I can fix everything, nothing can ever go wrong. And if I can make it so nothing ever goes wrong, then I'll be God. And then I'll never have to die. And yet, I don't have even the slightest control over even the slightest parts of my life or myself. Regret never ends.
Repentance is in the same way selfless in the highest sense. Not that in view of my sin I suddenly give myself to the poor and needy, but in the sense that repentance requires nothing but humility. Repentance says, "You did not do better. You did not do different. But turn to God, and He will." I've been told on multiple occassions that repentance means literally 'to turn'. Yet how can I do that, knowing now that I have in the past (and will likely continue to) turn to the wrong things, and altogether fail to 'turn' at all? It seems clear to me that that's a bad question. It's not up to me whether or not I want to or I should repent, but it's wholly in view of God's infinite glory that repentance is absolutely necessary, that it's in fact the only option. If repentance only comes halfway, it turns into regret. But repentance in its completeness is knowing that I will never be able to do it on my own. Repentance in its completeness is knowing that without God, I will lose that scorched-earth game. Repentance is knowing that God never ends.
And if that's not a 'new song' of praise, I don't know what is.
"Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." Isaiah 1:18
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
For whom?
So I definitely haven't followed through on my commitment to write for this. But hey, at least I'll start trying again. I took a cue from Sherry's blog and you know, I realize that while it might be hard to motivate myself actually to update this, it is a really good opportunity just to be able to reflect and let loose. Plus, I can always look back on what I've written and see how things have changed since then. So I guess I'll really try to start updating this more, not necessarily because I want to right now, but because it's for a future purpose and so that when I look back it can serve as a testimony of some of the times God has carried me through. For me, then? Not really. If that really is the case then this blog is as much for God's audience as it is mine. Good thing both of us always listen. Time to start write write writing away.....
Thursday, December 25, 2008
A ghost of Christmas past?
It's more or less been a week, and I'm posting not necessarily because I want to write (I don't - not now at least) but because that's one of the most logical things to do.
After a week, it's surprising how quickly I've fallen into old habits and, in a sense, even more surprising that I not only saw it coming but brush it off. Is surprised the right word? Terrified seems more apropos. And that's definitely the truth - it seems in a certain sense that I've forgotten how to deal with this kind of repentance, the kind that takes no deep prayer or contemplation to find; the kind that stares you right in the face and slaps you senseless until you've all but forgotten where you are. I'm in pain - and old dogs never die.
Yet in all this complacency and sloth lack of visible effort, I still remember that there's nothing I can do to work towards or buy my redemption. Repentance does nothing unless God's there to help me - and I realise (to an extent, I do wish I could "realise" it on a more inward level) that it is indeed not my willpower but His that has the final word. It seems in my eager self-affirmation I've forgotten how weak I really am, especially against myself.
But the main thing that's become evident is that I need a change of heart - for God, for myself. for all sorts of things - and what better season than the Advent? I do want to change more - God knows I do. And I do want to stay strong - God knows I do. But I realise now that I would rather stay strong on His terms than my own. I only pray that I could want it more.
I'm still weak and sinful as hell, but by God's grace, He'll keep helping me up. Heaven knows I need that. Yet all in the end it goes back to Him - He kept his promise, no matter how far we ran away and no matter how much we loved ourselves and our own sinful world instead.
God with us, indeed.
Merry Christmas.
After a week, it's surprising how quickly I've fallen into old habits and, in a sense, even more surprising that I not only saw it coming but brush it off. Is surprised the right word? Terrified seems more apropos. And that's definitely the truth - it seems in a certain sense that I've forgotten how to deal with this kind of repentance, the kind that takes no deep prayer or contemplation to find; the kind that stares you right in the face and slaps you senseless until you've all but forgotten where you are. I'm in pain - and old dogs never die.
Yet in all this complacency and sloth lack of visible effort, I still remember that there's nothing I can do to work towards or buy my redemption. Repentance does nothing unless God's there to help me - and I realise (to an extent, I do wish I could "realise" it on a more inward level) that it is indeed not my willpower but His that has the final word. It seems in my eager self-affirmation I've forgotten how weak I really am, especially against myself.
But the main thing that's become evident is that I need a change of heart - for God, for myself. for all sorts of things - and what better season than the Advent? I do want to change more - God knows I do. And I do want to stay strong - God knows I do. But I realise now that I would rather stay strong on His terms than my own. I only pray that I could want it more.
I'm still weak and sinful as hell, but by God's grace, He'll keep helping me up. Heaven knows I need that. Yet all in the end it goes back to Him - He kept his promise, no matter how far we ran away and no matter how much we loved ourselves and our own sinful world instead.
God with us, indeed.
Merry Christmas.
Friday, December 19, 2008
A red light ahead
Well, it's been fully 3 weeks since I last posted. Sure shows how committed I am even to something I promised to do for myself. I've wanted to do more posts, but somehow I just can't remember. Easy enough, I guess.
But in another sense I think it's a good thing that there was an interim period between posts. A lot of things happened after Thanksgiving break, and the sudden appearance of all that insincere secular holiday jibber-jabber kept Peter from enjoying himself (and the Advent). Though I guess once more I only have myself to blame.
I don't even know where to begin. I'm not sure I really want to begin. Though I'm sure that in beginning (and finishing) this post I might just uncover another deep understanding of the human psyche and the profundity of human perseverance. Then I'll make a movie about it and cast Will Smith as the lead role. Man do I hate Will Smith.
I guess I'll just list everything. Chrisanna and I started a something (our something, if that means anything) and then it ended. She broke things off; for a while I couldn't stop thinking about it - or her. I still can't. I think God's teaching me a lesson. Finals were terrible. I realised at that fine hour when I couldn't decide whether to write the Aristotle or the feminism maybe not falling asleep (~Ap in predicate logic, in case I ever need it) in class could be a good option every once in a while. Small group sharing was a very reinvigorating experience - because for the first time in a while I got to hear myself speak, and I got to hear God speak through me. CFC Lock-in was very strange. I'm amazed I stayed up - and even more amazed at the fact that for whatever reason, I have no functioning comprehension of the Holy Trinity at 5 in the morning (yet when I sleep and wake up again I understand it as before).
It's strange to see that all written out like that. 3 weeks of my life more or less summed up in a paragraph, a few parentheticals and the irrelevant inclusion of some symbolic logic. Good thing at least I know what I'm talking about. Who knows how lost I'd be if that weren't the case - when I come back to read this, whenever, I'm sure I'll remember.
At sharing small group, I shared how winter break was both a "break" and a "brake" for me - or at least what I was expecting. I think in a certain sense that has to be true not just for one month out of one school year at one university but at least every day. I wake up every day not entirely sure whether I want to do anything specific and, if I do, wondering (with mild fear) whether or not I will complete my task. It's certainly a strange life to live when your biggest enemy is yourself. A month is a long time, in any case - whether on break or not. But in another 4 weeks, the only record of it having happened will be this highly unreliable machine in my head and (if I'm lucky) 4 or so more posts here. Yet braking (and breaking) is a process - every day we'll get slower, breathe a little easier, and remember just a little more in time to stop and reconnect to another years' obligations.
Maybe if I ease the brake just right, I'll barely even notice I stopped.
But in another sense I think it's a good thing that there was an interim period between posts. A lot of things happened after Thanksgiving break, and the sudden appearance of all that insincere secular holiday jibber-jabber kept Peter from enjoying himself (and the Advent). Though I guess once more I only have myself to blame.
I don't even know where to begin. I'm not sure I really want to begin. Though I'm sure that in beginning (and finishing) this post I might just uncover another deep understanding of the human psyche and the profundity of human perseverance. Then I'll make a movie about it and cast Will Smith as the lead role. Man do I hate Will Smith.
I guess I'll just list everything. Chrisanna and I started a something (our something, if that means anything) and then it ended. She broke things off; for a while I couldn't stop thinking about it - or her. I still can't. I think God's teaching me a lesson. Finals were terrible. I realised at that fine hour when I couldn't decide whether to write the Aristotle or the feminism maybe not falling asleep (~Ap in predicate logic, in case I ever need it) in class could be a good option every once in a while. Small group sharing was a very reinvigorating experience - because for the first time in a while I got to hear myself speak, and I got to hear God speak through me. CFC Lock-in was very strange. I'm amazed I stayed up - and even more amazed at the fact that for whatever reason, I have no functioning comprehension of the Holy Trinity at 5 in the morning (yet when I sleep and wake up again I understand it as before).
It's strange to see that all written out like that. 3 weeks of my life more or less summed up in a paragraph, a few parentheticals and the irrelevant inclusion of some symbolic logic. Good thing at least I know what I'm talking about. Who knows how lost I'd be if that weren't the case - when I come back to read this, whenever, I'm sure I'll remember.
At sharing small group, I shared how winter break was both a "break" and a "brake" for me - or at least what I was expecting. I think in a certain sense that has to be true not just for one month out of one school year at one university but at least every day. I wake up every day not entirely sure whether I want to do anything specific and, if I do, wondering (with mild fear) whether or not I will complete my task. It's certainly a strange life to live when your biggest enemy is yourself. A month is a long time, in any case - whether on break or not. But in another 4 weeks, the only record of it having happened will be this highly unreliable machine in my head and (if I'm lucky) 4 or so more posts here. Yet braking (and breaking) is a process - every day we'll get slower, breathe a little easier, and remember just a little more in time to stop and reconnect to another years' obligations.
Maybe if I ease the brake just right, I'll barely even notice I stopped.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Thanksgiving (Part II)
Well, it's that time of year again. This time it seems so typical for everyone to be "thankful" (I wonder why) and "united", whatever that might mean. I can't say I feel that way - or at least not the same way.
The holiday season has become corporate. Even the real, true, heartfelt "meaning" of Christmas and Thanksgiving has become something gridlocked into picture-perfect family dinners, frame-by-frame cathartic realisations of the "joy of giving", captured by none other than the American cinematic imagination. It seems that people quit being so damn greedy and self-interested for this meager month and a half, then resume their lives as quietly as if nothing had ever happened - only to replay that same amnesiac recreation every year on end. If people really cared so much, you'd think they would at least pretend as much the rest of the year round. Though I guess in a sense that is really that fabled holiday cheer. Good thing we can all, for a little while, shut up and at least pretend not to be so damn insincere.
Though in true Thanksgiving spirit, I really do admit that I haven't been very thankful. I'm not even used to being thankful - which, I guess, is why we have a week off and a special meal designated for such a purpose. But I realise, in a kind of lightly ironic way, that we don't need to be thankful for everything all the time. We've only got so much in the end. I mean, in a sense, all I really have is myself - if only I weren't so unreliable. And I'm undeniably certain that I don't deserve most or any of what I have, or what, by God's mercies, I've come to have. I guess my thanksgiving is less about giving thanks (in the traditional sense) and really just looking at my life and being glad that I can never be thankful enough.
Next year I'm sure there will be another post remarkably similar to this one, and the year after that, and who knows for how long after. The repetition is only half the deal, though - and God fills it up with so much more. When I said I was thankful for struggle, it was true - but only in the sense that God brings me through struggle and in how well He's sustained me so far. When I said I was thankful for struggle, it was true - but infinitely more, just as God is so much infinitely higher and infinitely stronger than us. And I'll be damned if I'm not thankful for that.
So again, I suppose, it all goes back to God. That's something to be thankful for in itself.
Thank God for Life; thank God for the Truth. Thank God there's a Way.
Amen.
The holiday season has become corporate. Even the real, true, heartfelt "meaning" of Christmas and Thanksgiving has become something gridlocked into picture-perfect family dinners, frame-by-frame cathartic realisations of the "joy of giving", captured by none other than the American cinematic imagination. It seems that people quit being so damn greedy and self-interested for this meager month and a half, then resume their lives as quietly as if nothing had ever happened - only to replay that same amnesiac recreation every year on end. If people really cared so much, you'd think they would at least pretend as much the rest of the year round. Though I guess in a sense that is really that fabled holiday cheer. Good thing we can all, for a little while, shut up and at least pretend not to be so damn insincere.
Though in true Thanksgiving spirit, I really do admit that I haven't been very thankful. I'm not even used to being thankful - which, I guess, is why we have a week off and a special meal designated for such a purpose. But I realise, in a kind of lightly ironic way, that we don't need to be thankful for everything all the time. We've only got so much in the end. I mean, in a sense, all I really have is myself - if only I weren't so unreliable. And I'm undeniably certain that I don't deserve most or any of what I have, or what, by God's mercies, I've come to have. I guess my thanksgiving is less about giving thanks (in the traditional sense) and really just looking at my life and being glad that I can never be thankful enough.
Next year I'm sure there will be another post remarkably similar to this one, and the year after that, and who knows for how long after. The repetition is only half the deal, though - and God fills it up with so much more. When I said I was thankful for struggle, it was true - but only in the sense that God brings me through struggle and in how well He's sustained me so far. When I said I was thankful for struggle, it was true - but infinitely more, just as God is so much infinitely higher and infinitely stronger than us. And I'll be damned if I'm not thankful for that.
So again, I suppose, it all goes back to God. That's something to be thankful for in itself.
Thank God for Life; thank God for the Truth. Thank God there's a Way.
Amen.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Thanksgiving (Part I)
So lately I've been chasing a lot of expectations - and that's just it. These things are to me more than just hopes or "good ideas", they're things that I genuinely expect to come true. And because of that I'm often surprised, taken off guard, and sometimes even shaken when they fail to materialise in the way I expected them.
I guess it can't be blamed - there's a certain way in which I'm sure I'm wrong even to expect certain things - reason, stability, balance - without doing a bit of work on my own. Then again, I do frequently try to justify myself before "myself", the "me of the moment" that asks those unanswered questions and second-guesses I assumed I had already answered and decided.
Charlie Dates, the guest speaker at Revival, was speaking on Psalm 23 - "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil." It seems in reflection now that such a thing might be harder to do if the evil you're trying not to be afraid of is in yourself. Though I suppose that King David might have had this in mind. As might have Mr. Dates. One thing that I continue to remember, though, is that in his message, Charlie Dates said that we walk through the valley of the shadow of death - we don't sit around in it, we don't set up camp and build a family there, we walk through it. I hope I can remember that fact.
I'm sure when future Peter looks back and reads this he'll have a great deal of confusion as to why I'm being so incredibly vague (and, after having read this sentence, will probably remember just a little bit). But the truth is, I'm thankful for struggle. I hate it, but I'm thankful for it. I know when Peter looks back at this it will be at a time of challenge and change, and I just hope that I remember why I wrote this. I hope that when I reread these long lost thoughts, I find that I will have been faithful not only to God but to myself.
I hope that when I find nothing left to be thankful for, I still thank God for thanksgiving.
----------------
Now playing: As I Lay Dying - Confined
via FoxyTunes
I guess it can't be blamed - there's a certain way in which I'm sure I'm wrong even to expect certain things - reason, stability, balance - without doing a bit of work on my own. Then again, I do frequently try to justify myself before "myself", the "me of the moment" that asks those unanswered questions and second-guesses I assumed I had already answered and decided.
Charlie Dates, the guest speaker at Revival, was speaking on Psalm 23 - "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil." It seems in reflection now that such a thing might be harder to do if the evil you're trying not to be afraid of is in yourself. Though I suppose that King David might have had this in mind. As might have Mr. Dates. One thing that I continue to remember, though, is that in his message, Charlie Dates said that we walk through the valley of the shadow of death - we don't sit around in it, we don't set up camp and build a family there, we walk through it. I hope I can remember that fact.
I'm sure when future Peter looks back and reads this he'll have a great deal of confusion as to why I'm being so incredibly vague (and, after having read this sentence, will probably remember just a little bit). But the truth is, I'm thankful for struggle. I hate it, but I'm thankful for it. I know when Peter looks back at this it will be at a time of challenge and change, and I just hope that I remember why I wrote this. I hope that when I reread these long lost thoughts, I find that I will have been faithful not only to God but to myself.
I hope that when I find nothing left to be thankful for, I still thank God for thanksgiving.
----------------
Now playing: As I Lay Dying - Confined
via FoxyTunes
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