Crossroads

Recently a comedy TV show depicted a scene where a guy walked into his boss' office. He didn't speak. Instead, he pointed one foot in front of the other and dragged his toes across the ground in front of him. His boss asked him what he was doing. He responded, "I like to draw my lines before I cross them." I thought it was quite clever. Now I think it was quite insightful.

It is sometimes hard to see how our actions, even small apparently benign actions, have bigger implications for our lives. I wrote a blog entry on a similar topic (see faithisavirtue.org). Yet, we should know that each action does imply some consequence. There are very few absolutely neutral actions in life. Some of life's bigger decisions make it easier to spot when we've "crossed the line." But even when the line isn't so clear, I've had to learn to ask myself, "if I had to draw a line here, where would it go?" Sometimes I've already crossed it, e.g. when I didn't reign in that thought I had weeks ago that dominoed into the choice I'm facing today. Sometimes I find that I am right on the edge, and I've still got time to turn back.

Now we know that when God is in the picture, there is always an opportunity to choose differently, to turn things around. But the key here is that WE have to do the choosing. We have to decide whether we will step over the line, or not. God is happy to show us where the line is, just in case we are confused. And when he knows that we won't see it for ourselves, he is kind enough to send someone our way whose vision is clearer and will point out the line to us. Even still, we wind up at a crossroads: to cross or not to cross, our choice.

The crossroads we face in life can lead to good places. In the law, there are so-called "threshold" issues. That is, before a court will look at B, the party making its case must first show A to a sufficient degree. I think that there are spiritual thresholds as well. We face pivot points in life. God gives us the direction, and only when we follow do we find that we've opened the door to something wonderful, something God had waiting for us just on the other side. Of course if we choose not to open the door, God will not rub our face in it. But he will be grieved by our loss, a loss he didn't intend us to have: a loss of joy, peace, or other blessing that would have only enriched our lives.

I believe I opened such a door recently. It was a tough, painful journey (most of which I could have avoided had I been paying better attention). But now that I'm here, I can't wait to see what is on the other side!

Deep Water Faith in the Shallow End

Those aren't my words. I lifted them from a contemporary Christian song. But they make the point I want to discuss here.

I used to be fearless for God (relatively speaking, of course). When I first became a Christian, I was so in love with God that I took my Bible to class to sneak in a few few moments of reading during lectures. I was like a sponge: I wanted to soak up every bit of anything that had something to do with God. I read; I talked; I evangelized; I prayed. I asked God to make something useful out of me. I believed that God only asked for willing hearts and bodies, and that he would do the rest. I moved to St. Louis to volunteer for a Christian outreach organization. I had no friends or family in the area; I had no job lined up; and I rented a room in an apartment sight-unseen (those who know me understand how huge this would be for me). I charged ahead and didn't look back. I was on a mission for God, all else be damned.

It's not so easy for me now. I question and second-guess everything. I worry almost constantly. I fear more. I trust less. What happened? No doubt my life has come a long way since the emotional nirvana of the early days of my walk with God. Indeed, I have more to do, more to think about, more to be praying for. But I also know more about God. I know more about life. Shouldn't I have an easier time getting through the tougher spots?

I think it comes down to this: when I was a new believer, God held my hand. He protected me and loved me so that I would know the difference between my life without him and my new life. But he knew that he could not shield me forever, not completely shield me, that is. What use would I be if he didn't let me learn anything new after I got to know him? Sure, I'd be in love with God. But I'd be a fool in love. So I'll take the tougher times knowing that it's God's way of ushering me out of my foolishness and into his peace, wisdom, and love.

Moreover, God isn't making me feel scared, worried, or otherwise discontent. I have those responses because somewhere between "discovering" Christ and growing in him, I put myself back in charge. And every time I rely on myself, I'm disappointed. This isn't a pity party. It's a reality check. If I could work it all out, I wouldn't have needed God in the first place. How many times do I have to remind myself of this? Perhaps daily. Then daily it will be.