God doesn't love you just the way you are. He just loves you. And no, he doesn't want to leave you that way. God just loving you the way you are (as a raw human) is like saying you're totally valuable, super great and totally righteous. If that were the case, well, He'd owe you His affection and we would have a works-based gospel, but the reality is just the opposite. He doesn't love you for what you are–a disgraceful lawbreaker, hell-bent on having your own way and both consciously and unconsciously at odds with holiness–but loves you in spite of that sinful condition. That's grace–that God digs you not because of, but in spite of who you are.
When we accept the "God loves me just the way I am" mentality, we fail to understand that He in fact does want us to change. He wants us to be better, He wants us to love more, He wants us to make the world a better place, to stop doing evil and to learn to do good (word up, Isaiah). Resisting personal change and improvement because of a false sense of God's love for us results in laziness and self-righteousness.
You ask with sarcasm in your voice like any good evangelical would, "So God isn't happy with me unless I'm a good person?" Yes. That's totally, absolutely true. And He loved you enough to give you every opportunity and every resource needed to be that good person He desires, even though you don't deserve it. It's through faith in Jesus, who paid your gigantic spiritual credit card debt with His blood and through the Holy Spirit who is like your heavenly administrative assistant, that YOU, by living a life of increasing surrender and obedience, can put a smile on God's face. That's grace. He makes the way, so we can walk in it. Those who say "stop trying to please God with your life because He'll think you're trying to earn it" are wrong. They've misunderstood. If that's how you're operating, don't change your behavior (doing good things), change your attitude (from "God owes me" to "I owe God").
"What if I can't change?" you might ask. "What if it's too hard? What if I fail? What if I give myself a complex by trying to be something I'm not?" Remember, we're not earning God's love. Yes, that would suck if God would only love us if we were good and perfect. We would be doomed and without hope, heads drooped in continual despair. But he loves us, period. Yesterday, today and tomorrow. In sin and clawing out of it. He loves, loves, loves, always and forever (to quote a ballad about technology). Love does not equal happiness or approval. Love is what breaks a heart when a relationship is severed or a life is squandered. It's the fact that love remains in spite of wrong or evil or discipline that makes it hurt so good (to quote an 80's rock song). Dysfunction and mental illness come from thinking you can earn God's love from your actions, as if it will evaporate when you mess up. Health and life come from knowing that you have always been loved and always will be and that continually working to improve is the most beautiful expression of thankfulness you can offer your Father in Heaven.
So don't settle for who you are. Let the reality of being loved by God unsettle you into becoming who He wants you to be.
Now read these verses: Leviticus 11:44, 1 Peter 1:15, Psalm 18, Hebrews 9:13, John 14:24, Romans 5:6 and 8:29.
Image courtesy of the Humboldt Arts Council in the
Morris Graves Museum of Art.
In the world of "wild or domesticated water birds of the family Anatidae" (thank you, American Heritage), the goose is the girl and the gander is the guy. From here we can easily surmise the meaning of the phrase, "What's good for the goose is good for the gander": if something falls into the category of ought or should for the woman, it's just as likely to be beneficial, highly suggested or mandatory for the male of the species. After some very in depth research, I discovered the phrase became popular in the propaganda materials of the fowl feminist movement of the mid-sixties, which brought about an equalizing of the roles of husbands and lady geese in the raising of goslings (true story). From there, the phrase has been borrowed and generalized by the American vernacular to bring attention to the case of the double-standard in any relationship, where one person is instructing another in what ought or should be done, without fairly including him or herself. It's in this more general sense that I've come to see a "Gander Problem" in the global church regarding the care of orphans.
To fully explain myself, let me talk about a commonly noted problem in the development sector at large for a few moments. In recent history, those who saw the paternalistic tendency of development partnerships (giving money to poor or undeveloped nations) offered stern warnings almost as soon as funding started to hit bombed-up Europe following the World Wars. Those with the economic, intellectual, and moral superiority to win wars supplied the resources and direction to the losers in a fatherly gesture of reconciliation and rebuilding. This was seen by some as egotistical, authoritarian, or "paternalistic" (if there were know-it-all fathers, then the recipients by default were children). And there was some legitimacy to these critics' observations, seen by the fact that many aid recipients were not heard or respected in terms of their needs and desires. The donors called the shots. This unfortunate reality, especially the relationship between the United States and Europe in the 1940's, was birthed from the same value womb that delivered institutions like the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank, still the main drivers of global aid and economic restructuring today. Some would say the paternalistic model is still alive and well: those who know (the West) help those who don't (everybody else). This attitude has trickled down to even small players in the Western non-profit world, both globally and domestically, and into the general population.
This perspective is not totally off base, though. We the West are good at some things: we have technology, an entrepreneurial spirit and education. Our economic history and global influence lend some credibility to our super power status. Personally, I don't want to live anywhere else. I love America and we have some of the best-hearted, most generous people on the planet, but I'm also willing to admit that we're sometimes arrogant when we help others, thinking we know exactly what they need to do to "fix" themselves, while we seem fine to ignore or diminish our faults. I've had this very struggle myself working in Uganda. I've caught myself walking through fields or villages and thinking, sometimes out loud, "Man, if they'd only [BLANK], they would be so much better off," or "It's so simple, I can't believe they're not already [BLANK]..." and other lordly nonsense, which I'm sincerely trying to say less of. But am I really that great? Is my church perfect? Is my town a model of Christian citizenry in action? Is American culture without need of improvement?
If paternalism is the bad habit of development, hypocrisy is the debilitating addiction, and some of us are really strung out. It's a rush when I visit my friends in southern Uganda and teach and preach about God's "orphan justice mandate", working with all my energy to inspire and envision them to take seriously God's call to care for the least of these. It's a high to coordinate training and capacity-building that helps them flesh out this ethical obligation taking shape in their hearts. Seeing the churches in Ddwaniro, Kamengo and Kabakayla demonstrate both faith and deeds sends feelings of joy rushing through my veins like little else I've experienced. These are the benefits of this work and due to the real needs in the two-thirds world, we ought to continue to pursue such efforts with the extras of our wealth and feel good about doing it. However, my joy buzz has been killed by a nagging sense of hypocrisy, a "do what we say, not what we do" understanding of the reality back home. Many times, when I've slept in a pastor's house, where sometimes up to twelve orphans live with five or six biological children, I've asked, "Would anybody in the U.S. do this? Would I put myself out to this extent for the sake of providing needy children some semblance of a family?" In my experience, the answer is generally no to both questions. What's good for the Ugandan goose is a little extreme, and come on, mostly unrealistic for the U.S. gander, right?
Let's be fair to us ganders. The contexts are very different and developed nations have extensive welfare systems that generally meet the basic needs of the children in a way that is rarely available to even better off children in much of Africa and other two-thirds world nations. Clean water isn't so much of an issue, education is available even if not taken advantage of, and it's against the law for hospitals to not provide care in an emergency. Hunger may be more of an issue, but we have soup kitchens and meal plans. It's pretty rare to find street children in our cities these days. All of this is good. It's good that we have these systems in place (from a rescue perspective, at least). So aren't we better at caring for our vulnerable kids than anybody? Additionally, we have laws that make it difficult if not impossible to care for twelve orphans just because "God told me to." So what's the problem? As an United States citizen, aren't I way ahead of the game? Doesn't the fact that I pay taxes mean I already take care of the orphan? And sometimes I give a little to people who are willing to show the rest of the world how to be like us. Isn't that enough?
I would love to ask the more than 4,600 wards of the State of Michigan who have their proverbial fingers crisscrossed in knots that someone, some family, some where, might, just might think they're worth keeping around for more than a couple months. I just watched a video where a boy named Albert had to "sell" himself to prospective adoptive parents by saying things like "I like rollerblading" and "My favorite food is Chinese food" and "I just want a family to love me and adopt me and my sister and my brother so we can get out of the system". I wonder what his response would be. My personal answer is that if there are kids without homes, then no, it's not enough. The fact that the majority of the "Christians" in Michigan (nation?) aren't willing to take care of even one orphan reveals in us a frightening spiritual deficiency (there are 10,000 churches and 5,000 kids in MI). God help us if we exchange our obligation of personal obedience for a state run welfare system.
So here's the crux of our Gander Problem and what OJM, in support of Bethany Christian Services, is doing about it: as U.S. church representatives, we cannot in good conscious continue to challenge the international church to step-up and care for the orphans in their midst if we are unwilling to do the same. Orphan Justice Mission is based in Michigan, which has around 5,000 current waiting children in immediate need of families, which is the ultimate and primary need of any vulnerable child (not food and water). So, through an initiative called Project Open Arms, we are partnering with Bethany and various other agencies to inspire and inform people about the pressing need for adoptive and foster-care parents right here in our own state. We will promote Project Open Arms through our various media channels and through our speaking engagements as we have opportunity. And we are currently working on a volunteer-run awareness campaign, which we would love your help with.
The idea is to inform and challenge. Most Michigan residents are unaware that the cost to adopt one of these children in most cases is less than $200 out of pocket, since the State subsidizes the application process. There are also tax-write offs and other assistance options available, so the financial barrier is minimal (and yes, I'm aware of the ongoing parental provision in that statement). What is left to overcome is the "inconvenience" factor, to which my first thought goes something like, "the cross wasn't very convenient for Jesus, either, was it?", but then I tell myself not to be so sarcastic and self-righteous (I am currently a recovering gander). Yes, taking a child, especially an older one, is something that ought to be well thought out. It could go badly. It could cause heartache, and I have personal friends who could testify to that reality. It could also be the best thing you've ever done in your life. It could allow Jesus to grab you by the shoulders and look you straight in the eyes someday and say with a straight face, "well done" and "thank you". It could mean American-Dream-colored scales falling from your eyes so you can see clearly what makes life worth living: love. For me, it's going to mean loss of that sense of religious hypocrisy and an embracing of the example of my Ugandan friends. That's going to feel good. Goose and gander, in harmony again.
This has been a long introduction to our partnership with Bethany and Project Open Arms. Thanks for getting to the end, but I'll warn you: this is only the beginning. We're praying for you, for us and the whole State of Michigan and especially our orphans.
Stay tuned for more posts and updates in the future as we share ways that you can help. For now, please visit our Project Open Arms page, which links to several other Michigan adoption resource sites. And please pray about what God is asking you to do to make sure every one of our Michigan orphans has a home.
My wife recently had a bout of mom-guilt due to what she thought was an overreaction to our eldest daughter's behavior, which had been quite trying one day recently. Adelaide is a sweet, compassionate little girl, but on this particular day, beginning shortly after her emergence from bed, her attitude went sour. She was repeatedly disobedient, especially in the way she was speaking to those around her. She had an episode with a neighbor girl where she said some hurtful things, a few cases of "talking back", and then, just as the day was ending, an outburst directed at her three year old sister, Evie. As the two were playing, Evie moved a book that Adelaide had directed one of her dolls to "read" and this unauthorized interruption of pretend education caused her to harshly blurt out, "Evie! You are such a pest!" My wife, hearing this from the neighboring bedroom, had enough. She burst into the room, voice raised and finger wagging. Nothing cruel or diminutive was said to Adelaide, but Nikki made it abundantly clear that in the Douglass house, we love one another, we don't belittle with our words and comments like hers would not be tolerated. Adelaide got the message, as evidenced by tears, and obediently apologized to her sister.
Looking back on the situation, Nikki felt bad because she worried that her reaction was too strong. An older sister calling a younger sister a pest isn't that uncommon, and there are far worse interactions between siblings. But behind Nikki's anger was the awareness that words are powerful and can damage, resulting in empathy for a child whose feelings were hurt and disappointment in another for doing the hurting. In addition to frustration, there was a little meanness in the tone of Adelaide's statement, and Nikki rightly wanted to root even that small kernel of cruelty out for fear that it might take up more permanent residence in her heart. My counsel to my wife was that she had done nothing wrong and that strong reactions to sin are for our kids' benefit. This is in fact, the example we have from our heavenly Father, exemplified here in Jeremiah 5:23, 25-29 (HCSB, emphasis mine):
But these people have stubborn and rebellious hearts.
They have turned aside and have gone away...
Your sins have withheld My bounty from you,
for wicked men live among My people.
They watch like fowlers lying in wait.
They set a trap;
they catch men.
Like a cage full of birds,
so their houses are full of deceit.
Therefore they have grown powerful and rich.
They have become fat and sleek.
They have also excelled in evil matters. They have not taken up cases,
such as the case of orphans, so they might prosper,
and they have not defended the rights of the needy.
Should I not punish them for these things?
God was tired of watching his own children treat each other cruelly, living selfishly and in disobedience and His tone is angry and exasperated. He is at His wit's end seeing those who are rich neglecting those who are poor, such as when an older sibling refuses to treat a younger, more vulnerable sibling with the care and respect of family. Through the prophet, He unleashes the chastisement of an indignant heavenly Father, warning that His wrath is not far behind if correction is not heeded.
Reading this passage, I can't help but reflect on my role as a "sibling" in the family of God. I know that I'm rich. I have a home, two cars and a motorcycle, a few investments, numerous modern conveniences and more techno toys than my time allows me to fully maximize. I have more food than is healthy for me on a daily basis and I'm highly educated with no fear of medical treatment, police protection or property rights being unaccessible. God calls that "fat and sleek" and though I honestly wouldn't count myself as a wicked man, "full of deceit and excelling in evil matters", I do wonder whether or not I've truly taken up the case of orphans, my little brothers and sisters in Christ, that they might prosper. My role as Executive Director of Orphan Justice Mission is no free pass; I must continually grow in my personal commitment to orphans in the family of God, not just in preventing myself from doing evil to them, but in learning to do good, so they might prosper (Isaiah 1:17-18).
Orphans in Africa can seem very far away from us here in America (and thus ignorable), but in today's world they aren't. It takes some effort, sure, but we are fully capable of assisting those in with dire need like never before, wherever they are found. If we don't, I worry that what God passed on through Jeremiah to Israel might be applied to us, that like my wife with our girls, His heart would be broken (and angered) to see His children behaving so poorly. I invite you, with me, to heed our Father's instruction, apologize for our negligence and start loving our little orphaned brothers and sisters as we ought. Supporting Orphan Justice Mission is a great place to start.
This question (what's my prayer life like) doesn't surprise me. I think it's a part of a cadre of curiosities that crop up around anybody who takes the pulpit. Whenever I listen to a speaker or preacher who has the hubris to tell other people how to live their lives or seek God, I'm always thinking, "Is this dude legit? Does he practice what he's preaching?" I'm not saying that all preachers are arrogant, but we do need a certain confidence in ourselves that we have something to say and the righteousness to be qualified to teach others. In 1 Corinthians 9:27, Paul states, "Instead, I discipline my body and bring it under strict control, so that after preaching to others, I myself will not be disqualified." And we know that one of the big problems in the church today (well, okay, since always) is the hypocrisy of the priesthood. It's always been a challenge for men who are called to lead others by example in pursuit of God to stay on course, especially in a discipline like prayer, which is less open to public view. It's not hard for a preacher who is telling others to hit their knees and to find he hasn't been on his in awhile.
Every preacher has to wrestle with the difficulty of presenting God's instruction to others knowing full well that he falls short himself. I had to deal with it very early on. I don't deal well with hypocrisy, especially in my own life, which was one of the reasons I left the youth ministry several years ago. I had not yet matured to the point where I felt I could consistently tell my kids to read their Bible everyday, PRAY, serve, etc., because I didn't feel I was doing them well. And speaking about living for God is a lot different than actually doing the living, so my position as a youth pastor was little comfort. Now, a part of my scenario was my own idealistic (might we say legalistic?) view of a disciplined Christian life (up at 4:30am to pray for an hour, feed the chickens with the other monks at 5:30, read the LXX from 6 to 8, go to work, worship over lunch, make beeswax candles in the afternoon and chant yourself to sleep). I was told and shown over the years that Christians pray everyday and read their Bible constantly. Those were the biggies, but what was hard for me, and always left me feeling guilty, was that I wasn't that disciplined. I couldn't pray all day every day. I got bored. I eventually realized that my struggle with those things was that my primary motivation for doing them was a sense of obligation. It wasn't that I really wanted to know God, it was just what Christians, especially youth pastors, did. It was not until I started to let go of some of my legalistic inward motivations and let my Bible study and prayer disciplines be shaped by my actual life circumstances that they became truly meaningful excercises in my life.
A word of caution here. There's much to be said for discipline, which we all know isn't usually very fun. We may not feel like praying or reading our Bible every moment or even when we know it's what we ought to be doing, but maybe we should anyway. I'm not suggesting that we should be wholly driven by feelings. As my buddy Dietrich B. has said, it's often the faith that follows obedience, not the other way around. But you may need to step away from rigid empty habits for a time in order to rediscover the romantic, organic dependence on the Spirit of God that lets you have true moments of intimacy with Him through reading your Bible or praying.
So, all that to say that my prayer life, in one word, is "improving". Prayer for me, apart from a sometimes guilt-induced exercise, has just been hard even when I approach it with a sincere heart. I grew up hearing that prayer is "just like talking with a friend". Yeah, maybe a mute friend who you only get to talk with on the phone. God seemed strangely quiet to me most of the time and our "conversations" felt like one way affairs. If you're one of those people who "hear" from God, I'm skeptical/jealous. I've asked God many, many times since I was very young to speak to me. Not fuzzy feeling, wake-up-from-a-good-night's-rest-and-have-a-hunch kind of speak; not the conglomeration-of-all-my-godly-friends'-opinions kind of speak, but "Hi, Kyle, I'm Yahweh. Now, about that career path you were considering..." kind of speak. So far, He hasn't taken me out to coffee. This expectation, however, produced a lot of frustration and even doubt in my heart. Is God really there? Is He being rude? Say something, Lord!
I've gotten past this expectation of prayer for various reasons, and it has greatly improved my prayer life. First, I've been helped by the fact that, when I look at the people God speaks to, I realize I don't hold a candle to them. Sure, they were all sinners like me, no one is righteous, not one, blah blah. But most of the folks that get to hear the voice of God were sold out mommas and papas who demonstrated crazy faithfulness and holiness. Not that they didn't mess up, but they purusued God hard. I confess I haven't put forth that kind of effort. Have I stayed up all night long, meditating on God's law and crying out to be saved from my enemies like David? Nope. Have I been exiled to Babylon and decided to eat brocoli the rest of my life and disobey a directive of the King to pray to him only at the risk of my life like Daniel? Nope. Have I wondered around Asia minor getting pummeled in every way imaginable just to share the Good News with pagans like Paul? Nope. So step one was realizing that I'm no spiritual giant and that if the fault is anyone's, it's mine. Yet, these scriptural examples of godly men of prayer inspire me and teach me and maybe someday I'll get there (God didn't speak to many young guys, btw). Secondly, human effort aside (and I would say that accounts for maybe 10% of the problem), God's will is mysterious and He shows mercy and favor to whom He will. He has not yet found it necessary to speak to me directly and He may never. I'm okay with that. My job then, is to try and overcome my spiritual laziness and pursue God through prayer in ever increasing measure. I don't expect God to speak to me anymore, I simply talk to Him and know He's listening and I'm okay with that. The other angle on this is that God sometimes speaks to those on whom He's about to put the smack down, so we ought to be careful what we wish for.
I haven't heard God speak much, but I've seen Him answer numerous prayers in my life. My wife, my kids, my job decisions are all things I've prayed over and He's blessed me. Some things I haven't gotten, but that's okay. I see in the overall framework of my life that God is guarding me, leading me, shaping me. I rejoice when my request lines up with what He knows is best for me and grants it. Many of the prayers He's answered have been weak ones, too. Ones I've just sort of thrown up, too weak to really put any umph behind them, which has reminded me that it's not by my effort but by His amazing power that His will is accomplished.
So, nuts and bolts: In reference to my description of "improving" above, I'm finding myself praying more and more and with more faith as I take more opportunities to voice my thoughts to God. I don't have specific prayer time in my day; I pray sporadically as things come to mind, in all sorts of places and at various times. Driving, mowing the lawn, reading the Bible, waiting for a download to complete or reading a friend's email are all times when I might feel the need to pray. My most thorough prayers are with friends, though. Whether at church or in a Bible study or sitting in the living room talking about life, I love those times of prayer most, when we together move some sound waves in God's direction. I pray with my kids at meals, bedtime and at other random times, too. I want them to know how to pray more than a bedtime Jesus poem. Nikki and I pray, but not as consistently as we'd like (that's definitely something to work on).
Another thing I've found really helpful is to pray scripture. If you're struggling to know how or what to pray, open your Bible to the Psalms (though many other passages work well, too) and read a couple verses and decide in your heart that the Psalmist's prayer or praise is yours, too. I've found that to be a great way to prime the pump.
That's my prayer life. I make no pretense that I'm a prayer warrior. I've often felt it was the weakest part of my spiritual walk. If I preach it hard, I'm likely telling myself to get with it as much as anybody else, trying not to get disqualified. But I can tell you from personal experience, without an ounce of hypocrisy, that if you give God an inch in your life through prayer, He'll take a mile. Imagine how far we would go if we truly learned to pray without ceasing.
Taking a Walk...meh. Sounded kind of cheesy to me. So I changed it. Stuff Kyle Says. Also dumb, but more descriptive and less euphemistic. Maybe I'll get really popular and people will refer to my blog as SKS, like "Hey, did you see that sweet article on SKS?" That's awesome. And highly unlikely.
Below is my reply to an article (Then All H–ck Broke Loose) that the founder of my organization Orphan Justice Mission Tim Stoner wrote recently. It's a great piece and adds to the discussion regarding Rob Bell's new book Love Wins.
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Tim, well done. I always appreciate your sense of historical context and it's a reminder (which Rob mentions also in his piece on Good Morning America's website) that we are just another link in the long chain of sinners and saints who have for ages been wrestling with God over these big questions. Is there an older one than "Can a good God allow suffering?" (isn't Job the oldest book in the Bible?).
I respect Rob. I spent time at Mars when I was in G.R. and I learned a lot from him. My main take away was the repetitive teaching that Christianity is not about tickets to heaven, but about God's transformative work in our lives now, that He's Lord now, not just someday but here, in this moment. This was a powerful motivation in my effort to get involved with Orphan Justice Mission (as we discussed at that first meeting in the M-6 Panera) and still informs my Christian worldview. I've also known he's been theologically controversial in the past, and I have given him grace, knowing that all of us, like it or not, get something wrong, possibly even our strongest convictions. Yet what I witnessed during my time at Mars was a sincere love of Christ, an appreciation for the scriptures and call for faith-based action (and some of the best worship I've ever been a part of).
That being said, this one has me worried. I think it's extremely difficult to argue that Hell is not Hell (even if you rely on the faulty assumption that God some how changed between the Old and New Testaments). God is not clear on everything, much to the surprise of my more fundamental friends. I have always appreciated Rob's emphasis on the discussion, or the "white space" surrounding the black characters on the pages of scripture, as he calls it. This is not saying there isn't truth or that somethings can't be known for sure, but the very fact that God has decided to entrust his record to stories, poetry and letters says that he's okay with us having questions, with having to dig and debate and wrestle to find truth. Hell is certainly one of those topics in which we are given only small snippets of and we ought to be careful not to claim we know all there is to know about it. What the scriptures do make clear, however, outside of hyperbole or metaphor, is that it exists, it will suck and is for those who have rejected Jesus Christ. Hard, yes, but that's the Bible, so I appreciate your point that God defines God, not man, and He has decided to show us all of his qualities, Love and all the other traits that help us understand what holy love is. I will read Rob's book and hold onto my hope that he's not going where everyone says he's going. I remain indebted to much of his teaching, but if he has become a universalist, well, that's lame and shows a blatant disregard for core teachings of scripture.
Just a few left over thoughts:
I think your position that Rob can't conceive of a God who causes, engages in, is present during suffering is faulty. I have not read his book Drops Like Stars, but I think that's the whole idea, that God actually uses suffering in our lives to create beauty. Mars Hill has also used Lent in a very orthodox sense as a time of reflection on human suffering and the Passion narrative.
Also, for those railing Rob and triumphantly, boldly, cockily celebrating the existence of Hell out of a sense of pious scriptural orthodoxy, I would say be careful (not talking about you here :) ). One of my greatest frustrations with Rob's opposition is their arrogance. For example, I once heard John MacAurther on the radio essentially insulting Rob, not just his theology or his teachings, but him personally. And the now famous tweet from John Piper "Farewell, Rob Bell." Rob's teaching may be dangerous, but the posture and behavior of some of our best evangelical theologians fits easily into the definition of hypocrite. The write well about the Spirit of Christ in our lives, but don't present it well in public. The one thing the universalists may have going for them is that they have a more complete understanding of the terribleness of Hell, and more love for those who would be/are doomed to such a fate than those of us who so boldly talk of the judgment of God because we believe we are protected from it. They simply can't hold the tension between love and holiness and so remove it rather than allowing God to remain above a perceived paradox. Evangelicals may have it right by acknowledging God's judgement, but I would love to see those who fight so vehemently for Hell's existence work just as hard keeping people out of it. And that takes way more than just clean cut doctrine.
So...welcome back, myself. Haven't posted since 2009. Shame, shame. Got a good reason to get the gears turning again, however. I just spoke at Miracle Camp's 2010 Encounter Retreat for college folk. It was a good time studying Colossians (4 sessions, 4 chapters, right, ya'll?). During the third session, where we got into some of Paul's more practical day-to-day living suggestions, I opened things up for a question and answer free-for-all. We only got about half way through, but I promised to answer the rest somehow. Thus, my return to the Blogosphere. I won't do them all at once but will answer one to three questions per blog; not two, nor four shall I compose but two, yet sometimes three and at times one shall be my...I'm sorry–couldn't help the descent into a Monty Python reference.
So, to kick it off, an obviously hot topic:
Question 1: How the heck did you get married at 19? And how did you know? Question 2: You were 19 when you got married, at such a young age how did you know she was the woman for you, a sign from God?
Thanks, person, for the almost-swear for emphasis! Yes, there were times I thought it was crazy, too.
So, how I got married at 19: Step 1 - found a woman, Step 2 - made her like me, Step 4 - refused to be reasonable and asked her to marry me, Step 5 - smiled and nodded as she planned the wedding. Easy as that. Maybe, however that leaves a few important things out, like asking her dad for permission (which I did).
Cuteness aside, I got married at 19 because I felt I found a woman that I could commit to for the rest of my life. No, I didn't get a message from God about Nikki and standing in Zales looking at rings and deciding if I was really going to go through with it was a totally freaky decision, but a decision made on good evidence. We shared the same values, we loved being in each other's company, we were both athletes, enjoyed each other's families, lived in the same area, etc. Nikki actually had a list of 40 some qualities in a husband and I met them all except two: good singer and handles money well. I'm happy to say I'm growing in both, but the idea is that a lot of things lined up. I still had to make a leap, though. It's like sky-diving. You check and double-check your 'chute, but at some point you just have to jump.
When I talked about the idea of marrying Nikki with people I respected, they all thought it was a little soon but didn't think it was necessarily a bad idea. We didn't have much money, but we both "worked" (Nikki had school paid for through a scholarship at Western) and I was a part-time youth director. We also had very supportive family, which made it a lot easier early on and took some of the pressure off of us financially. And personality-wise, we were both mature enough to take the marriage step. Not that we were totally prepared for all that marriage entailed, but the foundation was there. I can't say that's true for everybody (and that's not a slam - it's just reality). So for us, it worked.
That's not to say that part of it wasn't youthful zeal and impatience. I'm not good at waiting, and in this case that's mildly Biblical. It's not Biblical to be stupid, but Paul says in 1 Corinthians 7:9 that even though it's better to remain unmarried (for unhindered service to God), if they don't have self-control (which I didn't have much of at 19), let the couple be married so they don't burn with passion. Thank you, Jesus.
A few thoughts for those thinking about young marriage:
Marriage doesn't make a relationship better - it puts it through the fire to see if it can last.
Marriage makes life easier in some respects (you don't have to drive home every night at 1 A.M.)
You will both have a lot of growing up to do (you will change as people and will have to deal with the "you're not the same person I married" scenario, which everyone deals with but more so when you marry young).
Money will make life hard (not having it or having it).
Not being established in careers will mean big compromises. Be ready to potentially give up some big dreams to stay together.
Overall, I'll say that marrying Nikki was absolutely the right choice. Marriage is one of God's greatest tools for shaping someone's life and character, and if you're going to jump in, just be ready for the chiseling process. The result, if you're up to it, is a thing of matchless beauty.
