Today we are doing a couple of Baptisms. Usually we invite all of Element to come, watch and celebrate with those getting baptized. However, the crowd can be intimidating, so we are offering a smaller baptism for those who would rather prefer the more intimate setting. They are inviting family, friends and their Gospel Communities. 

You can still celebrate by reading their stories here, and when you see them in the weeks to come, congratulate them on getting baptized! It is truly an exciting step in their journey following Jesus.

Download Baptism Stories

Recently, we had a sermon on how worship can encompass anything we do (excellent point!), but I’ve been specifically pondering corporate worship through music (i.e. the dedicated time of singing songs at church), and the impact on my life as many of my presuppositions and beliefs have been shattered.

As a caveat, I can’t sing on key and I can’t clap on beat. In fact, if I’m ever going to clap on beat I need a person at the front of the room to do the dramatic motions so I can follow. Oftentimes I don’t clap because I get too distracted simply trying to keep time. We even sit in a specific spot in the sanctuary so I can hear the music, not myself singing (and sorry if you ever sit next to me on a Sunday morning). Yet, I love music. I love to worship through music at church. And I’m married to a musician (go figure!)

I’ve always said I’m a bit uncomfortable with elaborate emotional responses during musical worship. Yet, throughout the course of my life every time I walk into church after a difficult circumstance in my life, worshipping through music induces tears. Without fail, words of a song will start and I can’t sing without tears flowing (I can offer countless examples of this) and it makes me wonder: what is it that spurs my emotional response? 

It happened again last week. We received news that felt devastating, and I knew Sunday morning would be a difficult moment for me. In fact, I wanted to sit in the back so I could hide. My husband (gently) said if we’re part of a church I should be authentic and not hide just because I’m scared of how I’ll look, or because I don’t smile the entire time. I made it all the way toward the end of the music set, and then I heard my husband say, “this is a good song.” We sang: 

You stay the same through the ages
Your love never changes
There may be pain in the night
But joy comes in the morning 

The wind is strong and the water's deep
I'm not alone here in these open seas
Cause your love never fails
The chasm is far too wide
I never thought I'd reach the other side
But your love never fails

Honestly, in that moment, the pain felt intense and the joy distant. The chasm felt wide. The words of the song mirrored my emotions and struggles. Yet, I believe, with all of my heart, that God’s love never fails and joy comes in the (figurative) morning, even if I don’t see it in the moment of my mourning. So I sang the song because it’s a cry from my heart, a truth to cling to, even when the water feels deep. I sing, even when it doesn’t all feel good. I sing because sometimes grasping onto truth is the reminder of where to steer my heart. That day, I held onto to my husband, and my dear friend (who is also in my G.C. and knows my current circumstances), handed me a tissue and held my hand.

As I’ve thought about that moment this past week, I’ve realized what happens in a time of corporate worship through music. A community of people gathers together—singing in one unified voice—to the Creator of the world, the Hope for sinners, the Giver of eternal life. I saw another friend stand and sing that particular song. My guess would be that person sang out of thankfulness and joy that morning. When I hear the voices of an entire congregation sing, it reminds me I’m not alone. It reminds me there are other people who believe; others who are in this journey together. I’m reminded that not everyone sings from a place of pain; some sing from a place of gratitude (as I have done so many times in the past). It gives me perspective—not all of life is filled with pain or grief; joy comes in the morning. Sometimes worship songs give me words when I do not have them. They are a way to express the innermost places of the depths of my soul—a cry to the God who loves me.

I’ve come to realize this is not merely an emotional experience for me—my actions or beliefs are not changed as a result of a worship “experience” or “reaction.” However, God has given me emotions as a tool to process some of the circumstances in my life through the lens of truth. He has given us music and a body of believers to walk together, to sing together as a way of magnifying Him. A time of corporate worship allows us to respond to what He is doing in our lives. When we sing as a group of people, we proclaim these truths and orient our hearts toward Him together.

Have you ever heard someone say they have a mentor? How about that they are “being discipled” or “discipling someone?” These are common phrases I’ve heard over the years. They’re frequent in many churches and frankly, kind of confusing. So what’s the difference between mentorship and discipleship?

I would guess most people assume “mentorship” is generally outside of a Christian context; whereas discipleship is the concept of helping a person grow in Christlikeness. Generally, a mentor is “further along” or more advanced than the mentee (at least we would hope). It could be a specific area (i.e. someone who mentors another person in career decisions (like how a Sous Chef is supposed to train the other people in the kitchen), or it could be general, such as someone to reach out to on an “as-needed” basis.

A cursory search and study on discipleship opens Pandora’s Box. Nobody has found the perfect form of discipleship (sarcasm inserted here)! Opinions vary on the best way to achieve and encourage discipleship. There are many words we use to describe it: Accountability partner. D-group. Bible study. Discipleship. Mentor. These are merely some of the terms I’ve encountered in my growth as a Christian, with the end goal being to grow in our faith. One article suggests codependency may result in a one-on-one discipleship relationship. The article also speaks to the author’s beliefs that her primary discipleship role is her kids; however, their family invites people to dinner often, and mutual discipleship occurs during dinner. Others suggest discipleship should be the main focus of our missional communities.

These opinions beg the question: what is discipleship? According to Merriam-Webster, the definition of disciple is: one who accepts and assists in spreading the doctrines of another: such as

• A: Christianity: one of the twelve in the inner circle of Christ's followers according to the Gospel accounts
• B: a convinced adherentof a school or individual (ie: a disciple of Freud).

To start a quest on what this means for us, we have to look at what the Bible says. Here’s what’s fascinating: the term “discipleship” is not even in the Bible. What??? We have all of these opinions about how to achieve this and it’s not even mentioned in the Bible? Well, the term disciple is mentioned as Jesus says to “go into the world to make disciples, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28:19). If we are to do what Jesus says, to make disciples, we are sharing the gospel, and baptizing people. Simple. Yet the application is where this gets complicated. How do we achieve this?

The concept of discipleship (as we have come to label and understand it in American Christian culture —a growing in our faith and Christlikeness) is in the Bible; it’s how we live out the idea of making disciples. In Titus 2 we see older women are to… “teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children…” In Hebrews, we see that we should ^“consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near” (Hebrews 10:24-25). Jesus himself had 12 disciples who followed him and “did life together” (to use a current phrase)—they travelled, ate and drank together, and pursued His ministry together. There are some key factors here:

1. The biblical concept of discipleship is relational, not a formula.
2. It is healthiest if it’s same-gender.
3. The idea of an older woman connotes the idea of someone who is “further along” (which also helps alleviate too much dependency on another person instead of focusing on Christ).
4. Meeting together for mutual encouragement and a push toward growth in Christ is a factor.

How does this translate into our lives?

Discipleship occurs as a result of intentional time spent with other Christians, but this doesn’t happen by osmosis. In other words, merely spending time with other Christians is not discipleship; that would be fellowship (which has its own valuable place). Discipleship requires intentional engagement on both parties to invest in the relationship with the mutual goal of growth. I would assume most Christians consider discipleship a process by which two or more people meet together and discuss the Bible, what God has done, and how to apply it to their lives. In an ideal world, prayer and accountability are included in that mix. It’s not a process by which a person grows alone. Most often, effective discipleship would occur in a consistent meeting together so true relationships develop.

There is a time and place for meeting with those who are ahead of us in both life and their walk with Christ, which may require even more intentionality with differing schedules. Mentorship, in a Christian context, is a component of discipleship, and one we should not quickly ignore. We glean much by learning from those who have “been there before” and can impart their wisdom.

I would suggest the difference between mentoring and discipleship may often be a matter of semantics, especially if we are Christians. As Christians, we take a Christian worldview on our lives; that means all of our decisions should be viewed through a lens of what God is doing in our lives and how we can glorify Him. Interestingly, as my husband and I were discussing this, our opinion is that a person we would turn to for “discipleship” would also be a good mentor in all areas of life, because a person is generally not a strong example if they do not have wisdom in the practical areas of life. My husband says he turns toward someone with credibility, both in their walk with Christ and their life decisions. That does not mean worldly success; it means a person who is able to filter all of life’s decisions through a gospel-centered lens. It’s a person who helps process decisions such as taking a job or making a financial commitment with the same goal of glorifying Christ first. For example, I have a friend who is an older, more mature Christian. I have met with her a handful of times over the years, generally when I am struggling in a particular area or could use advice, prayer, wisdom, and encouragement. We have never met consistently, but I always know I may contact her and she’ll be able to help me navigate through an issue. I would consider her a mentor who assists me as I grow in my faith, which is part of my discipleship.

Discipleship in a mutual form would be able to challenge one another, “Iron sharpening iron (Proverbs 27:17),” and is vital to our growth as Christians. We can all learn from those with different strengths and spiritual gifts, which is the ideal of the body of Christ as we meet together frequently. 

We need each other as part of our spiritual growth, which is why God gave us the Church. Our focus should be on Christ, because as we focus on Him we are transformed, and that transformation overflows to the body of Christ and those in our missional communities. The goal is that we would disciple each other, mentor those younger than us, and learn from those with more experience and maturity in their faith all to the glory of God.

It happens often. A smidgeon of fear enters my mind, then I start entertaining anything that can go wrong. I “catastrophize” a fear to all the possible outcomes (generally bad ones or irrational ones…what if x, y, or z happens? Ironically, I don’t tend to dwell on possible positive outcomes). I engage my fearful thoughts and give them too much credit, which ultimately breeds anxiety and robs me of peace. I call it the what-if cycle. 

This has been a crazy week. My husband and I are both faced with situations that could have a lot of possible outcomes for our family, and I want to have the right outlook. I don’t want fear to rule my days, but I’m also scared to hope after walking similar roads in the past that resulted in pain. I know the past pain and struggles have produced growth, and even an increased dependence on God, but it’s still scary to face the unknown. I think many of us have times in life like this—whether it’s engaging in relationships after a loss of a loved one, starting a new job after loss of a previous job, or something else. How do we handle moving forward when the fear can feel paralyzing? 

My Bible Reading plan has been in Numbers (it’s a book in the Old Testament, trust me, it’s there). I literally prayed this morning for application to my life because it’s been a hard book for me to go through. This morning I read in Numbers 9, how the Israelites moved when the cloud representing the presence of God moved. “Whether it was two days, or a month, or a longer time, that the cloud continued over the tabernacle, abiding there, the people of Israel remained in camp and did not set out…” And I realized, God has me where I am for now. Whether I’m in this situation for a day or two days or a month or longer…that’s where God has me now. It can be so easy to get ahead of myself, to be scared about the outcome, or what will come in the future. The “what ifs” can wreak havoc with my mind and heart, but if I take it a day at a time, I am reminded that God will sustain me. He will provide. I can trust in Him. I am not trusting in the outcome I want; I’m trusting that He is good, He loves me, and all things work together for my good, even if I don’t see it or understand.

A recent tool I’ve learned is to question what I’m believing about God when these thoughts or fears want to take over, then apply truth. Am I believing He’s good, or am I believing He’s up in heaven wringing his hands or haphazardly letting things happen on my behalf? Am I believing that I’m in control, or that He’s in control? Am I believing I need to earn grace, or that it’s freely given? If I’ve learned anything in the past handful of years, it’s how little control I actually have.  I have had to learn to “preach to myself,” not listen to myself, and I can only do this by walking in the Holy Spirit. Walking in the Holy Spirit can sound mystical or confusing, but it’s really just a dependence on Him and a reliance on Scripture. Sometimes that reliance is daily, sometimes it’s moment-by-moment, but it is always a prayerful dependence on God and His promises, on Truth that doesn’t change regardless of my circumstances. 

I need to remind myself that “my times are in your hand” (Psalm 31:15), and the man who fears the Lord “is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord. His heart is steady; he will not be afraid…(Psalm 112:7-8).”

May we all take the what-ifs and the uncertainties we face in life and lay them at the feet of the cross, where the One who is certain and in control and full of grace and truth holds us and carries our burdens. May we rely on the Holy Spirit to guide and sustain us as we apply the truth of Scripture to our lives. I don’t know the outcome of the circumstances my husband and I are facing; however, I know where to turn, and for today, I am sustained. Tomorrow is a new day as “His mercies are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness (Lamentations 3:22-23).” Let us trust in His faithfulness.

When I graduated from college (many years ago) I wanted to change the world. I wanted to be a public speaker and work for a company whose mission I was passionate about so I could do something that matters; I wanted my job and career to have meaning. You can imagine how discouraging it was to find myself (as most of us do) in a job that didn’t directly make a difference in the world (corporate sales). Somewhere in the process of feeling let down I had a realization—relationships with people at work and integrity in my job could make an impact for Christ. They made meaning of the meaningless.

I oftentimes have the same struggle now. As a mom of young kids the days can be long and monotonous (I’m not out changing the world or solving massive problems), but when I look at the days as an opportunity to help mold the hearts of my kids, there is eternal value. What’s the commonality between my “corporate work” life and my “mom” work life? It’s the idea that relationships are a vessel in which we can share what matters; a way to add value to our lives and grow in our faith. 

The question then becomes: what matters? If relationships are a way to share what’s important, then what is important?

I personally cannot answer that question without looking at Jesus and His role in my life. I believe after an encounter with Jesus (a life-changing, direction-giving, identity-naming encounter), our lives are changed…so I would like to focus this short blog post on Jesus. First, my disclaimer: I’m just a regular, church-going person. The focus of this blog isn’t a bunch of technicalities (because I probably don’t know them); however, it is about Jesus and how He changes our lives, specifically about how He’s changed my life. 

Why does Jesus matter so much in regard to how we relate to people? I don’t think I can answer that question without looking at the Bible as a whole—Old and New Testament. Jesus is the turning point in history. Before him, Old Testament laws and regulations prohibited true freedom. I’ve been reading through Exodus lately, and many of the regulations are, quite frankly, overwhelming and exhausting. I cannot imagine living in a time where every detail of a sacrifice must be perfect, or even that animal sacrifices had to be made to cover my sins. Yet, “without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sins” (Hebrews 9:22). The Bible is full of people looking for redemption, for hope (think of the Israelites escaping slavery in Egypt, the desire and provision of earthly judges and kings, the exile and return in Nehemiah). They needed a savior. I need a Savior. Before Jesus, God still provided, but looking back (like a Monday Morning Quarterback), that era just seems overwhelming.

Then comes Jesus.

He fulfills the Old Testament prophesies. He is the Perfect King. He fulfills the law. He is the ultimate Judge. He’s the ultimate Pardoner and Giver of Mercy. He gives true freedom. Hebrews 10 says “But when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God…” I love this imagery. It’s like the ultimate mic drop. He sacrifices Himself, rises from the grave, reveals Himself as risen to His disciples, sends the Holy Spirit, then sits down next to the Father. Boom. We, as Christians, have an eternal hope (in His steadfast love, in His grace, in forgivingness of sins). Because of Jesus’ sacrifice, I don’t have to live in a ritualistic way. This is literally life changing!

I’m a total rule follower (not always in a good way; rules for me can be a way to control and have security). I can easily fall into patterns of trying so hard (on my own) to earn forgiveness, to be “good enough” for grace. This is the largest oxymoron ever. I can never be “good enough” for grace, which is the whole point of grace! How can I not look at His grace and respond with joy? With hope? With a peace and an exhale that lets me rest and stop striving so hard?

Hebrews 10 continues with the idea that, “since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus,” we should “draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean” and “hold fast the confession of our hope” and “consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together…encouraging each other (Hebrews 10: 19-25).” It goes like this: I can enter the presence of Jesus because of what He has done for me, which leads me to be assured of my faith and hope… and then I get to encourage others. This is where relationships come into play. Because of what Jesus has done for me, it changes my life, and should change how I view relating to other people. Every relationship is an opportunity to encourage someone—in the joys and struggles—because what Jesus did changes me. The love Christ has for me should spill over into my relationships with other people. 

As we reflect on the perfect life and work of Jesus, I pray it spurs us onto encouraging each other. I pray that the good news of Jesus changes all of us (I know I need daily reminders) so we can share His hope and joy with others. It’s in the sharing of life’s joys and struggles that we are able to apply and remember the Gospel. It’s within the fabric of relationships that we are able to have context for what Jesus does in and through us. It’s in the gathering together that we share how God is growing and changing us through the circumstances in our lives, and in those circumstances give and receive encouragement. Relationships matter because they are a vessel in which we can share Jesus—the biggest, most important discovery in life—with others.

Dinner with friends.
My sons’ birthday parties.
Weddings.
Saturday afternoon Tri-tip BBQs (with butter-soaked French bread, minus the beans).
A good bottle of wine with my husband.
Laughing so hard I cry.
Late-night talks when company comes to visit.
A long run with my running partners.
Trips to visit friends.
Coffee with girlfriends while kids play.

“These are a few of my favorite things.”

I recently wrote a blog about depth, “going deep,” and relationships. I made a case that depth in a relationship derives from vulnerability and sharing on both parties. That blog focused primarily on the struggles we face. With this blog I was challenged to take a different angle—the joys and celebrations of life, and how those contribute to intimacy.

I smile as I think through my favorite things because most of them involve those close to me (family and friends). Often, these are the times in life we look forward to, plan around, and mark on the calendar; the times we hold with such anticipation. Granted, sometimes they are spontaneous and unexpected, like many gifts given by God, but they are all moments that make the mundane special. These are the memories that spark joy in the fabric of my life (not the things I need to declutter in my house!)

In the book of Nehemiah the Israelites are beginning to come back from exile when they reopen the words of the Scriptures. The people start a communal time of mourning and weeping because of the ways they have forgotten their past, dishonored God, and remember how faithful God actually has been. As they cry out Nehemiah tells them to stop grieving, instead saying Nehemiah 8:10, “Go your way. Eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions to anyone who has nothing ready, for this day is holy to our Lord. And do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” Where times of hardship and vulnerability draw us closer together in deep friendships, so can (and does) joy and celebration. Nehemiah pulls them from their communal mourning over remembrance of their sin, and sends them off to experience communal celebration as a remembrance that this is now a new beginning; it is all done together. We don’t usually plan for seasons of hardship, but we can and do plan for communal times of joy.

To me, intimacy is a “both-and;” most of the time there’s not true intimacy based solely on sharing struggles, but it’s also unrealistic to think true intimacy is generated only on the good times (because hard times inevitably come). I like to think relationships (at least healthy ones) are like waves as they hit the beach. They ebb and flow based on the shared joys and struggles. In the ebb and flow the celebrations and struggles are both magnified and managed as we walk them together. If a friend prays for a baby or job or spouse, I cannot begin to explain how excited I am when that request is granted. In contrast, when I’ve seen pain and shared the hard spots of someone else’s life; it makes the good times so much more special.

Celebration is such a good practice because it magnifies God and reflects on Him as the giver of good gifts; it oftentimes marks the end of a time of waiting (just like the Israelites in Nehemiah). There are many times God’s good gifts are unexpected and unplanned, which is a humbling experience, but one to appreciate and celebrate all the more with those around us. 

I once heard someone say we should develop a history with God, so we remember how He has carried us before, and that He will do it again. I think that concept applies in celebration. We should celebrate what God gives us with each other—everything we have is an opportunity to point toward Him. That doesn’t mean life will be perfect, but when we are able to look at God’s gifts through this lens, we realize there is “a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance (Ecclesiastes 3: 4-5).” As we walk through life in our communities, I hope we remember to ride the waves together, weeping together and laughing together, mourning and dancing together. I hope we celebrate the joys and enjoy the gifts God has given.

What does it mean to have deep relationships—or to have depth in a conversation? Recently I was challenged with this question because I’ve thrown that phrase around—that I like deep conversations or relationships, but putting a definition to this idea is very difficult. Shame on me for saying I like something I can’t even define! In fact, this question of depth has taken me weeks of processing, praying, and seeking God’s guidance. Truthfully, there’s some conviction here, because I’ve defined this my way (a way that works for me), and not necessarily in a way that represents many people.

Being “deep” is a hard topic for me to write about, but in an opposite way than you’d probably assume. I, Kelly, am most comfortable swimming in the “deep end” of the pool. Just this year I had an epiphany: I can do small talk well and deep talk well, but sometimes I’m not great in the middle area…just…talking. I get uncomfortable. For a lot of my life I’ve assumed most people want/desire this “depth.” But do they? Or is it just my comfort zone—a security blanket I wrap around as a way of defining myself?

I asked a bunch of people what it means to them to have depth and what it takes for that to occur. I could regurgitate my opinions, but my thoughts may not be indicative of the general masses. I asked local people, some far away, people I know well, people I don’t know well, men and women (thanks to my friends’ husbands who were my guinea pigs!), and Christians and non-Christians. Obviously this is not a formal survey (George Barna is not going to show up at my house and pay me for my work), but I wanted to see if there were any commonalities in responses despite the different personalities and backgrounds.

Most people defined depth as a shared vulnerability—risking judgement from the other person when sharing thoughts, desires, fears, etc. It’s the idea of sharing beyond the surface to what matters, even if it’s hard. Each person’s “issues” may be different; but the idea is to share more than polite niceties or exchanges about the weather. In other words, depth in a relationship does not mean people need to agree or share on the same topics; however, it means that there’s a two-way street in sharing life struggles and joys, as they relate to each person. There’s a safety and mutual respect for the other person’s opinion. Many people expressed a desire for a relationship with the other person (or the knowledge a conversation would have a follow-up). The men especially required trust, common interests, and/or respect (of the other person) to share.

I talked with a mentor friend about this topic and she reminded me that we are complex humans with a variety of backgrounds, personalities, struggles, and layers. We may not have depth with all people at all times, and that’s okay. (I’m reminded as I write that even Jesus had a smaller group of disciples in His “inner circle”). It takes time to develop depth. In other words, I would be naive to think there’s a formula to develop deep relationships or a magic number of people we should have in our inner circle. This is where I’m convicted. After a recent move to Santa Maria and the need to start all over, I’ve probably sought these relationships or conversations out of a desperation, loneliness, or insecurity (my desire to find community as I define it). However, I heard a definition for trust recently that resonated with me: time plus believable behavior. I like that, because it frames how we get to a place of trust (and therefore relationship).

This topic begs the question: should Christians have deep relationships? Is that a biblical concept? If we look at the early church (in Acts), we see a community of people who modeled teaching, fellowship, breaking of bread, prayer, and sharing with those who had need. I have to believe struggles were shared in those days—both physical and spiritual. The group of believers banded together to support one another. That takes sharing and vulnerability—not a mask of “having it all together.” 2 Corinthians 1:3 says God comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others with the comfort we’ve received in Christ. Again, inherent in this idea is that we are sharing our struggles to lift others and build one another up, encouraging them in Christ. And yet, Colossians talks about bearing with one another, forgiving each other, and putting on love, which binds us in perfect harmony (Col. 3:12-14). This suggests even Christian relationships will have hurts and disappointments as we take the risk of growing together, and that we must forgive and love despite any pain.

Life is full of bumps and turns. It’s not easy. Yet, when we are able to have people who love and support us through these ups and downs, it lightens the load. I recently asked a friend (at Element) to pray for me regarding an area I’m having a hard time trusting and finding peace. This friend has walked this road I’m on, and understands the struggle. She responded with a tear in her eye, a text message the next day, and encouragement to rely on my husband as we seek peace and direction on this topic. I’m so thankful she shared her struggle with me, and can encourage me.

As I write this, I write with conviction. May we all invest in our communities and share our struggles and joys. May we all listen without judgement, and share without fear. May we all pray for one another, comforting each other in Christ (i.e. applying the Gospel) as we journey together. It’s a process of learning and growing, humility and forgiveness, but I believe it’s one that will transform us as individuals and a community at large.

If Only…

It’s a frequent idea that seeps its way into my mind, my heart. An “if only” that promises a better outcome or more success, yet it’s cloaked in a nobility of wanting to improve or be a “better version of myself.”

Comparison. 

As a wife, mother, woman, the struggle is real to compare myself with others. I do it all the time in a variety of contexts. I compare how I look (am I skinny enough?); I compare how my house is decorated (is it nice enough?); I compare how my kids are dressed (are they trendy enough?); I compare my personality to someone else’s (do I talk too much?); I compare what I do (do I have enough personal goals so I’m not lost in the abyss of just being a mother?); I compare my kids’ performance (are they well-enough behaved?); I compare my spiritual walk with others (do I read my Bible enough?).

I am constantly seeking that elusive standard of “enough,” fearful that someone, somewhere will say I’m not enough (there are a lot of issues embedded in this—perfectionism, contentment, resting in grace...the list could go on. But for this blog I am narrowing this specific issue to comparison.   

How can I begin to think biblically on this issue that seems to invade my life? I know comparison can steal the joy God intends for me to ground myself in, but I also see the need to compare myself to Jesus as He is the true standard of holiness. Seeking after varying levels of worldly success gets exhausting, and it starts to feel like I’m a hamster on a wheel—running in circles with no momentum forward. 

I would first like to point out that I don’t have all the answers, but I think there’s something to be said about rooting our identity in Christ. I was talking to a couple of girlfriends this weekend about this, and one commented that “rooting our identity in Christ” (while being true) still rings a bit like a trite comment or cliché answer. She’s right. We throw that phrase around without really applying it. So how do we find our identity in Christ and not let all the other comparisons distract us?

I keep thinking I have to go back to what the Bible says: I’m a new creation. The old has gone, the new has come (2 Corinthians 5:17). He’s created good works in advance for me to do (Ephesians 2:10). He will continue the good work He’s started in me (Philippians 1:6). When I think about those truths, I must ask myself, “Why am I striving for anything other than trying to love Jesus more?” Why can’t I be confident that God created me with my personality, gifts, passions, etc.? Why do I think I will feel better about myself if I (fill-in-the-blank-with-whatever-standard-I’m-trying-to-meet)?

I think I forget. I forget who God is and what he’s done. I believe the lie that something else will make me feel better about myself. I need to remember, we all need to remember, that God’s grace is sufficient for us in ways that give us purpose that can propel all of our lives forward. He’s given the Holy Spirit to lead, help, and guide us as we walk through life, which directs us all to a place where we need to actively remember. The only way I know how to “remember” is to have a community of people who will remind me. Have conversations that steer me deeper into Christ’s truth and can tell me when I’m looking for some cheap satisfaction. My husband can spot when I’m too obsessed with some direction, and tell me I’m chasing something in the wrong way. I have a handful of friends who can do the same.

I don’t think the comparison game gets any easier as we get older. In fact, it may be more difficult because there’s so much to compare. But soaking our hearts in truth and having a group of people who can support us in that quest may be part of the answer to rooting our identity in Christ.

Sunday, Aaron was talking about how most people come to the realization that life is beyond them in one of two ways. They either have everything they ever wanted and they are still empty, or their life crashes and people lose everything and realize it is all meaningless. During this point, he referenced a message that Trevor Carpenter gave a few years ago. Trevor died a couple years ago from cancer, and after after a bout of chemo he said, “I don’t want to waste my cancer.” He wanted it to teach him and others something. For many people it takes almost losing everything to realize what God has already given you.

Watch Trevor's message about Jesus here:

And listen to Aaron's message this past Sunday about how Life is Vapor (Meaningless).

We wish you a very Merry Christmas 2018!
-Element