Offering gentle encouragement for women while addressing emotional and spiritual abuse within authoritarian families. "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." (Ps. 147:3)
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“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?”
—Jesus (Matthew 6:28-30, NIV)
Why do we worry about clothes? Ever since Adam and Eve’s sin made them ashamed of their nakedness, there’s something about the subject of clothing that makes people a little tetchy. Just ask, “Is it OK to wear this?” and everybody will chime in with an opinion until you’re too dizzy to care.
Jesus, of course, was talking to people who were worried about whether they’d be able to get any clothes at all, helping them remember God’s faithfulness to provide. Lots of other things make people worried about clothes, though. Am I overdressed? Am I underdressed? Is this tie too geeky? Will that skirt be too chilly? Is this too revealing? Will that cause a brother to stumble, or will he stumble on his own? Why exactly is it so horrible to wear white after Labor Day? And of course the all-time classic: Does this make me look fat?
Living under a system of rules is a great recipe for worry. Especially religious rules: if you have to do the right thing to glorify God, what if you do the wrong thing? Yet most Bible teachings about clothing are crammed with moralistic, rules-based readings of Scripture, especially once they get to “modesty.” I think we’ve missed the point.
One of the fundamental teachings of the Biblical Patriarchy and Quiverfull movements is the doctrine of “biblical courtship,” or “betrothal.” (My brother suggested the word “casuistries” instead of “teachings,” which is perfect except that I didn’t know it before, either.) This teaching has it that since a father is the head of the family, his children are completely under his authority—even for deciding whom they marry as adults.
Under this system, adult daughters or sons who presume to consider marrying somebody their patriocentric parents don’t approve of may be labeled rebellious against God and His plan for the family. It’s a classic case of bounded choice. Even though the doctrine purports to be motivated by turning fathers’ hearts toward their children, emotional trauma often ensues all around.
This isn’t about minors—I’ve heard this from men and women in their twenties or even older, still bound by parental authoritarianism. It’s a small step from “stay-at-home daughters” to “kept-at-home daughters.”
Let’s ask one simple question: Is that really what the Bible teaches?
Suppose you asked someone what the Gospel is: how does a person receive salvation in Christ?
How would you respond if the answer was...
“The Gospel is the good news that we have to keep all of God’s Laws and rules, because there’s no salvation apart from trying hard to do good things. By really making an effort to live up to the Bible’s teachings and principles, we can become good enough for Jesus to save us. Salvation is the reward you get for living a godly life, being devout, and having good values and morals. You won’t be saved if you don’t do enough good things. If you’re good enough and totally committed to the Lord, you’ll be saved and make it to heaven, maybe.”
I have felt dirty and unworthy of a clean slate with God ever since my experience, ever since that meeting with Mrs. H---, this feeling has plagued me for years.... The struggle that has lingered from my TM days is guilt.
Have you written on "birthdays?" My parents taught us the bible teaches that birthday celebrations are wrong and selfish. I remember King Herod being an example. I also was the example for my younger sisters as on my 6th birthday I acted selfish and ungrateful and I ruined having birthday celebrations for my 3 younger sisters. I don't honestly remember how I acted, but it must have been terrible to ruin "birthdays" for my 3 younger sisters.
I can understand why some religious folks get uneasy about certain popular movies or books or styles of clothing or genres of music. But birthdays? Sometimes you can push a line of thought too far and pull the whole thing down with it.
Apparently, the argument goes something like this. The Bible doesn’t have much to say about birthdays—certainly not whether we should celebrate them—and what it does say doesn’t show them in the most flattering light. Pharaoh had someone executed on his birthday. Job cursed the day that he was born. Herod threw a wild birthday party that included him ogling his stepdaughter’s exotic dance and wound up with John the Baptist getting beheaded. So, the Bible never says outright that we should celebrate birthdays, and the few times they’re mentioned at all, it connects them with sinful things. That proves birthdays are evil, right?
I'd like to begin 2011 with an important reminder from Eric Pazdziora. This article meant a lot to me, personally, and I hope that you will carry the truth in this message with you this year. God bless you all. ~ Hillary McFarland
Broken
By Eric M. Pazdziora
broken arm is painful. A broken glass is dangerous. A broken mirror is unlucky. A broken heart is depressing. A broken toy is sad. A broken promise is wrong.
So it’s strange that some well-meaning devotional writers tell us that spiritual brokenness is something we should aspire to, an attitude that we should constantly maintain. The doctrine has it that God uses suffering to break us spiritually, forcing us to depend on Him and making us willing to serve Him.
The Bible says the opposite. Spiritual brokenness is destructive and unbearable:
The spirit of a man will sustain him in sickness,
But who can bear a broken spirit?
(Proverbs 18:14, ESV)
A merry heart does good, like medicine,
But a broken spirit dries the bones.
(Proverbs 17:22, ESV)
Life has a way of hurting us, injuring us, breaking us. Sin, grief, injury, pain, suffering, bereavement, all of them act on our spirits like a hammer on glass. Some people may be in denial about it; some may be suffering from it every moment; some may be slowly recovering. Whatever the case, nobody needs to break us. We don’t need to break ourselves. We’re already broken.
That’s not a good thing. That’s an awful, painful, horrible thing. But it leads us to the only verse in Scripture that seems to put brokenness in a positive light:
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
A broken and a contrite heart, O God, You will not despise.
(Psalm 51:17, NASB)
That might be where some of those misguided teachings were extrapolated from. In reality, the verse is much simpler, deeper, and better than that. David wrote this psalm while he was in anguish over the guilt of his sin with Bathsheba and Uriah. Sin breaks our spirits; remorse breaks our hearts.
I didn't write either of these things. A small, mostly selfish part of me wishes I had. The rest of me is too happy to care, because you get to see them on any terms.
The first is called "Going Back." Jon Acuff writes the hilarious and devastatingly honest blog "Stuff Christians Like," which intersperses good-natured skewering of church culture with blindsiding insights into God's grace. This one hit me right between the eyes. It's (partly) about a couple who adopted an orphan girl from Africa. Her adoptive father said…
...“We kept hoping that she would be disobedient and break the rules.”
Why? I won't spoil it, but it's almost certainly not what you think. It's about grace and redemption and adoption and what it means to go home. I honestly never thought about it this way before. I'm sure I'll be thinking about it this way again. Here's the link.
. . .
After you've read it, I think you will require some music. Maybe something that takes the word "Gloria" and makes it sail to heaven. This is a song by my friend Jon Guerra and his band Milano. Their fresh, energetic style is eclectic and hard to pin down--I describe it as "Keith Green getting together with a Gypsy band to cover Muse songs"--but this song especially is bigger than the music. It soars. As a bonus, it has a video that's plenty evocative in its own right. Enjoy. Worship.
(Here's an article with some more information on Milano's unique approach, and some more songs, for those interested: Artists Build The Church. They're well worth checking out.)
New year, new life, new creation. Gloria.
Eric M. Pazdziora lives in Chicago with his wife Carrie, where he writes his own articles and music sometimes too. You can find them at ericpazdziora.com.
I think I finally figured out what Christmas trees are really about.
A while ago I found a blog article on the subject of our friend Mr. Tannenbaum. Apparently (the author observed) some folks believe that Christmas trees are pagan symbols that the church has adopted in sinful syncretism. They appeal to Scriptures such as Jeremiah 10 to support the idea: the passage describes trees being chopped down, decorated with precious metals, and worshiped by pagans (“A-ha!” chorus the neo-Scrooges).
Knowing a bit about interpreting Scripture in context, I smelled an opportunity to cry “Humbug!” True, Jeremiah describes pagans chopping down trees for idolatrous worship. But it also mentions the trees being “shaped by chisels” into images of false gods like these. Those don’t look much like Christmas trees to me. Anyone for some eisegesis?
The underlying logic is even more significant. Follow it through: Idolaters once used decorative trees to worship false gods. Therefore, anyone else who uses a tree for decoration ever again must only be pagan.
Guilt, shame, and condemnation. Unspoken rules you have to live up to. Authoritarian leaders you can’t ever question. An exclusive “us-vs.-them” mentality. Subtle or not-so-subtle pressure to fit in. Barely veiled manipulation and peer pressure tactics. Fear of doing the wrong thing. Public rebuking if you do. Warnings against what will happen if you ever leave.
Does this sound like religion to you? It shouldn’t—and in healthy churches it doesn’t—but if it does, you’re not alone. There’s even a name for it: it’s called “Spiritual Abuse.” It’s well documented throughout religious groups of every persuasion, regardless of creed or doctrine. Yes, even in groups that have “sound biblical doctrine.”
The term “spiritual abuse” isn’t the main issue; the thing the phrase identifies was around thousands of years before “spiritual abuse” was coined. (See Sheep Story from Ezekiel 34.) I find the word “abuse” helpful because it combines the idea of misuse (as in “drug abuse”) with the idea of cruelty (as in “verbal abuse”). Using spirituality to beat people down is an abuse in both senses. If you aren’t happy with the term, call it something else—“cruelty in the name of religion,” maybe—and move along. The thing is real enough whatever you call it.
The main issue is this. Even without the spiritual component, being treated in such a heavy-handed way can cause long-term emotional and mental problems. But having it done to you in the name of church—religion—ministry—God—Jesus—makes it even worse. You don’t just come away feeling hurt, condemned, and worthless; you come away with the idea that God wants you to feel like that.
I've been saving this for a rainy day, and I think it's gotten sufficiently damp. This got its start a few years ago as a comment on someone else's blog post and quickly gained a life of its own.
The blog post in question was written by a person who had recently become a Christian and felt guilt and remorse over their past sins. "At the time," they wrote, "I thought nothing of it, but now I feel dirty and ashamed. I feel I have let God down and that my relationship with Him will never be at its best because of my indiscretion."
ast week, my wife Carrie got a cold. It was the kind of cold where medicine doesn’t really do much; until it gets better, you just have to wait, take some time off, and rest. The problem is that Carrie prefers to be active, so she’s not used to having nothing to do but lie back and take it easy. “You know,” she complained to me, “it’s hard to rest!”
True. Sometimes it is. We like to keep ourselves busy. When we’re faced with the prospect of having nothing to do—or worse, having to do nothing—we tend to say, “But who’s going to take care of this and that and the other? Shouldn’t I be doing something? I don’t want to feel useless!”
Rest is hard when we want to work.
Maybe that’s why some people have a hard time with the idea of grace. Someone once asked Jesus, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 18:18). The thinking is astounding. You don’t get an inheritance because you do anything; you have an inheritance because you were born, or maybe adopted, into a family. It would be nonsensical for you to try to work for something you can’t get by working, or for something you already have.
t would be hard to imagine a more remarkable journey to grace than the one John Newton took. A hard-living, reckless, profligate young sailor in the 18th-century British slave trade, Newton openly blasphemed God and actively influenced others to abandon their faith. His life led steadily downward until he wound up enslaved and abused by the slaves themselves in Africa. Certainly, he would never have made anyone’s list of “Most likely to become a minister and a hymn writer.” Maybe that’s one reason he began his best-known hymn with the words, “Amazing Grace!”
Newton’s autobiography is a treasure well worth reading in full; no summary (especially the kind you get in books like 534 Stories of Great Hymns) can really do justice to all its subtle and amazing twists and turns. Today, though, instead of recapping his life story or studying his hymns, I want to bask in a lesser-known selection from his writing.
As a writer, Newton was full of humility, home-spun insight, the vigor of old-fashioned English prose, and a sublime consciousness of his dependence on God's grace. I can't read him without coming away more inspired. To Newton, the idea that his redemption was none of his own doing was not a mere theological dogma but a matter of practical experience. God's amazing grace, as Newton recognized, is not just for saving us--"'Tis grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home."
So here's a letter John Newton wrote to Lord Dartmouth about living by grace.
--Eric Pazdziora
February 23, 1775
My Lord,
I assent to our Lord's declaration, "Without me you can do nothing," not only upon the authority of the speaker, but from the same irresistible and experimental evidence, as if he had told me that I cannot make the sun to shine, or change the course of the seasons. Though my pen and my tongue sometimes move freely, yet the total incapacity and stagnation of thought I labor under at other times convinces me that, in myself, I have not sufficiency to think a good thought; and I believe the case would be the same, if that little measure of knowledge and abilities, which I am too prone to look upon as my own, were a thousand times greater than it is.
For every new service, I stand in need of a new supply, and can bring forth nothing of my supposed store into actual exercise, but by his immediate assistance. His gracious influence is that to those who are best furnished with gifts, which the water is to the mill, or the wind to the ship, without which the whole apparatus is motionless and useless.
I apprehend that we lose much of the comfort which might arise from a sense of our continual dependence upon him, and, of course, fall short of acknowledging as we ought what we receive from him, by mistaking the manner of his operation. Perhaps we take it too much for granted, that communications from himself must bear some kind of sensible impression that they are his, and therefore are ready to give our own industry or ingenuity credit for those performances in which we can perceive no such impression. Yet it is very possible that we may be under his influence when we are least aware of it; and though what we say, or write, or do, may seem no way extraordinary, yet that we should be led to such a particular turn of thought at one time rather than at another, has, in my own concerns, often appeared to me remarkable, from the circumstances which have attended, or the consequences which have followed.
How often, in the choice of a text, or in the course of a sermon, or in a letter to a friend, have I been led to speak a word in season! and what I have expressed at large, and in general, has been so exactly suited to some case which I was utterly unacquainted with, that I could hardly have hit it so well, had I been previously informed of it. Some instances of this kind have been so striking as hardly to admit a doubt of divine agency. And indeed, if believers in Jesus, however unworthy in themselves, are the temples of the Holy Ghost; if the Lord lives, dwells, and walks in them; if he is their life and their light; if he has promised to guide them with his eye, and to work in them to will and to do of his own good pleasure, --methinks what I have mentioned, and more, may be reasonably expected.
funny thing happens when you spend time with someone. When I was in college, I studied music with a composer named Edwin Childs. I had several classes and weekly lessons with him, absorbing as much knowledge as I possibly could. Music theory, harmony, counterpoint, hymnology, you name it.
One day when I was home for summer break, my dad looked at me quizzically and asked why I wasn’t unbending two fingers on my left hand. I didn’t realize I’d been doing anything of the sort. Then it hit me. A few years before I met him, Dr. Childs had had a severe injury that left him partly paralyzed on the left side. I thought I was only learning music, but without any effort or even realization, I’d unconsciously picked up my teacher’s physical mannerism.
When you spend time with someone, you tend to become like them.
A lot of people miss this truth when it comes to the Christian life.They see in the Scriptures that living for Jesus entails that we avoid things like sin and worldliness—which it does—so they fixate on avoiding things like sin and worldliness.
That’s a problem.
Don’t get me wrong; I certainly don’t like worldliness or sin. I just wonder if they’re worth so much attention. Consider this often-quoted verse:
Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. (Philippians 4:8, NASB).
When you look at this for what it says, you see that it’s stated in purely positive terms—“Think about good things,” full stop. Yet so often, people preach, “Don’t look at W and X and Y and Z because they’re worldly and sinful, and Philippians 4:8 says not to—” It doesn’t say not to do anything. Rather, it encourages us to think about things that are like Jesus. That’s all.
It’s not that we should go out and fill our minds with sin or lies or obscenity or whatever. But we have a choice what to dwell on—Jesus, or something else. Avoiding sin and worldliness counts as something else. If you focus on Jesus, you’ll become like Jesus; if you focus on worldliness—even in order to avoid it—you’ll become worldly.
Take the doctrine of separatism, for example. Some people teach that, if worldliness is so bad, we should divide ourselves completely from it and take ourselves out of the world altogether! No more ungodly influences, no corrupt entertainment, no secular music, no sinful friends… what could possibly go wrong?
Well, for one thing, you could find out that the Bible calls you worldly:
[The apostles]said to you, “In the last time there will be scoffers, following their own ungodly passions.” It is these who cause divisions, worldly people, devoid of the Spirit. (Jude 18-19, ESV)
He who separates himself seeks his own desire, He quarrels against all sound wisdom. (Proverbs 18:1)
The King James translation of Jude is even more pointed: “These be they who separate themselves” (v. 19). According to the Scripture, separating yourself from worldly people is a worldly thing to do.
The problem is that separatists may have filtered themselves from a few nagging gnat-like sins, but not from camels like elitism, selfishness, and pride. Are you really so much better than all those sinful people, or are you a sinner yourself? Is your own spiritual state more important than other people’s, or do they need to be shown God’s grace and love just as much as you do?
But doesn’t Paul write in the New Testament to “come out from among them and be separate” and “be not unequally yoked” and “touch not the unclean thing”? Indeed he does. But that has to be considered with the rest of what he has to say:
I wrote you in my letter not to associate with immoral people; I did not at all mean with the immoral people of this world, or with the covetous and swindlers, or with idolaters, for then you would have to go out of the world. (1 Corinthians 5:9-10, NASB)
To Paul, it’s self-evident that believers should associate with people in “the world,” even immoral ones, greedy ones, crooks, and idolaters. Otherwise, he concludes in what’s evidently meant as a punch line, the result would be absurd—you’d have to go out of the world! Clearly, you can separate yourself from sin without having to separate yourself from sinners.
When we look to Jesus, all this suddenly becomes clearer and simpler. Jesus, who Himself was known derisively as “a friend of sinners,” prayed this for His followers:
My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. (John 17:15)
Lord, deliver us from sin, not from sinners. Deliver us from evil, not from evildoers.
Other attempts to avoid sin and worldliness fall just as flat. Some people make rules and laws and guidelines about sin to get as far from it as possible and to appear as godly as possible. Some people in the New Testament tried that, too. They called themselves the P’rushim, the Separated Ones—Pharisees, in English. Jesus wasn’t impressed. He called them hypocrites.
What did Jesus have against rules-based religion? He recognized that paying attention to rules about what we should do or shouldn’t do in this world takes our attention away from things we might do spiritually—loving God, loving our neighbors, stuff like that.
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others. You blind guides, straining out a gnat and swallowing a camel!” (Matthew 23:23-24)
The Pharisees’ rules were fastidious about small things—even tithing mint and spices—but they missed what God was all about. Their preoccupation with avoiding little sins turned them into bigger sinners.
The sad irony is that all this fixation on avoiding worldly things, for all its appearances of piety, is not a good way to keep from being fixated on worldly things. A legalist can be just as obsessed with worldly pursuits (by trying to avoid them) as a libertine is. Not only does legalism not make you godly, it doesn’t even keep you from being worldly.
Paul writes to the Colossians in prose that crackles like fire:
So if, through your faith in Christ, you are dead to the principles of this world’s life, why, as if you were still part and parcel of this world-wide system, do you take the slightest notice of these purely human prohibitions—“Don’t touch this,” “Don’t taste that,” and “Don’t handle the other”? “This”, “that” and “the other” will all pass away after use! I know that these regulations look wise with their self-inspired efforts at piety, their policy of self-humbling, and their studied neglect of the body. But in actual practice they are of no moral value, but simply pamper the flesh.
If then you are raised up with Christ, reach out for the highest gifts of Heaven, where Christ reigns in power. Be concerned with the heavenly things, not with the passing things of earth. For, as far as this world is concerned, you are already dead, and your true life is a hidden one in God, through Christ. One day, Christ, who is your life, will show himself openly, and you will all share in that magnificent revelation.
(Colossians 2:20-3:4, Phillips)
The message of Christianity is not “Worldliness is bad.” It’s “Jesus is Lord.”
It’s not “Try not to sin.” It’s “Think about Jesus.”
When you look to Jesus, you see that your urges to sin are suppressed on their own. When you look to Jesus, you see peace, love, joy, freedom, better than anything in the world. When you look to Jesus, you see you don’t need any worldly pseudo-religious substitutes for closeness to Him. When you look to Jesus, you see that in Him you are already dead to the world. When you look to Jesus, you see that in Him you are already alive.
When you spend time with someone, you tend to become like them.
Spend time fretting about all the problems of sin and worldliness, and you may become just as sinful and worldly as those things. Spend time focusing on Jesus and all His goodness, grace, and love, and you’ll start to become like Him. Maybe without even knowing it.
Eric M. Pazdziora is a composer, editor, writer, and songwriter. He lives in Chicago with his wife Carrie. Information about his new CD of original hymns about grace, "New Creation," is available from his website at ericpazdziora.com.
The best thing ever written on spiritual abuse is a poem about sheep. I haven’t got many sheep in my neighborhood—the picture here is one we took in Ireland—but every word in this poem is so true it aches.
Someone once asked me, when you hear stories of spiritual abuse—horrible cruel things done by well-intentioned religious people—where do you think the Lord’s heart is in all of it? My answer, of course, was “Don’t ask me; ask the Lord.” Fortunately, the Lord already told us: He wrote a poem about sheep.
It starts with a bit about shepherds who mistreat sheep. Bear in mind that this was written a few thousand years before anybody ever heard the term “spiritual abuse.” Some shepherds take a while to learn, even though the Lord keeps on saying “This is what the LORD says!” Then it goes to a bit about sheep who mistreat other sheep. That happens too; you don’t need authority to be an abuser.
In between and after and throughout and all around, it tells us exactly where the Lord’s heart is. Toward the end it even becomes outright Messianic. And it speaks for itself so clearly that it doesn’t need me to speak for it anymore. Here’s what the Lord says about spiritual abuse, and about sheep.
he word of the LORD came to me:
“Son of man,
prophesy against the shepherds of Israel;
prophesy and say to them:
‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says:
Woe to the shepherds of Israel who only take care of themselves!
Should not shepherds take care of the flock?
You eat the curds,
clothe yourselves with the wool
and slaughter the choice animals,
but you do not take care of the flock.
You have not strengthened the weak
or healed the sick
or bound up the injured.
You have not brought back the strays
or searched for the lost.
You have ruled them harshly and brutally.
So they were scattered
because there was no shepherd,
and when they were scattered
they became food for all the wild animals.
My sheep wandered
over all the mountains
and on every high hill.
They were scattered over the whole earth,
and no one searched or looked for them.
“‘Therefore, you shepherds, hear the word of the LORD:
As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD,
because my flock lacks a shepherd
and so has been plundered
and has become food for all the wild animals,
and because my shepherds did not search for my flock
but cared for themselves rather than for my flock,
therefore, O shepherds, hear the word of the LORD:
This is what the Sovereign LORD says:
I am against the shepherds
and will hold them accountable for my flock.
I will remove them from tending the flock
so that the shepherds can no longer feed themselves.
I will rescue my flock from their mouths,
and it will no longer be food for them.
“‘For this is what the Sovereign LORD says:
I myself will search for my sheep and look after them.
As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock
when he is with them,
so will I look after my sheep.
I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered
on a day of clouds and darkness.
I will bring them out from the nations
and gather them from the countries,
and I will bring them into their own land.
I will pasture them
on the mountains of Israel,
in the ravines
and in all the settlements in the land.
I will tend them in a good pasture,
and the mountain heights of Israel will be their grazing land.
There they will lie down in good grazing land,
and there they will feed in a rich pasture
on the mountains of Israel.
I myself will tend my sheep and have them lie down,
declares the Sovereign LORD.
I will search for the lost
and bring back the strays.
I will bind up the injured
and strengthen the weak,
but the sleek and the strong
I will destroy.
I will shepherd the flock with justice.
“‘As for you, my flock,
this is what the Sovereign LORD says:
I will judge between one sheep and another,
and between rams and goats.
Is it not enough for you to feed on the good pasture?
Must you also trample
the rest of your pasture with your feet?
Is it not enough for you to drink clear water?
Must you also muddy the rest with your feet?
Must my flock feed on what you have trampled
and drink what you have muddied with your feet?
‘Therefore this is what the Sovereign LORD says to them:
See, I myself will judge
between the fat sheep and the lean sheep.
Because you shove with flank and shoulder,
butting all the weak sheep with your horns
until you have driven them away,
I will save my flock,
and they will no longer be plundered.
I will judge between one sheep and another.
I will place over them one shepherd, my servant David,
and he will tend them;
he will tend them and be their shepherd.
I the LORD will be their God,
and my servant David will be prince among them.
I the LORD have spoken.
“‘I will make a covenant of peace with them
and rid the land of wild beasts
so that they may live in the desert
and sleep in the forests in safety.
I will bless them and the places surrounding my hill.
will send down showers in season;
there will be showers of blessing.
The trees of the field will yield their fruit
and the ground will yield its crops;
the people will be secure in their land.
They will know that I am the LORD,
when I break the bars of their yoke
and rescue them
from the hands of those who enslaved them.
They will no longer be plundered by the nations,
nor will wild animals devour them.
They will live in safety,
and no one will make them afraid.
I will provide for them a land renowned for its crops,
and they will no longer be victims of famine in the land
or bear the scorn of the nations.
Then they will know that I,
the LORD their God,
am with them
and that they, the house of Israel, are my people,
declares the Sovereign LORD.
You my sheep, the sheep of my pasture, are people,
and I am your God, declares the Sovereign LORD.’”
—Ezekiel 34
Eric M. Pazdziora lives in Chicago, which is sorely lacking in sheep. He works as a freelance composer, editor, writer, and husband (the latter to Carrie). Information about his new CD of hymns about grace, "New Creation," is available from his website at ericpazdziora.com.
broken arm is painful. A broken glass is dangerous. A broken mirror is unlucky. A broken heart is depressing. A broken toy is sad. A broken promise is wrong.
So it’s strange that some well-meaning devotional writers tell us that spiritual brokenness is something we should aspire to, an attitude that we should constantly maintain. The doctrine has it that God uses suffering to break us spiritually, forcing us to depend on Him and making us willing to serve Him.
The Bible says the opposite. Spiritual brokenness is destructive and unbearable:
The spirit of a man will sustain him in sickness, But who can bear a broken spirit? (Proverbs 18:14, ESV)
A merry heart does good, like medicine, But a broken spirit dries the bones. (Proverbs 17:22, ESV)
Life has a way of hurting us, injuring us, breaking us. Sin, grief, injury, pain, suffering, bereavement, all of them act on our spirits like a hammer on glass. Some people may be in denial about it; some may be suffering from it every moment; some may be slowly recovering. Whatever the case, nobody needs to break us. We don’t need to break ourselves. We’re already broken.
That’s not a good thing. That’s an awful, painful, horrible thing. But it leads us to the only verse in Scripture that seems to put brokenness in a positive light:
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; A broken and a contrite heart, O God, You will not despise. (Psalm 51:17, NASB)
That might be where some of those misguided teachings were extrapolated from. In reality, the verse is much simpler, deeper, and better than that. David wrote this psalm while he was in anguish over the guilt of his sin with Bathsheba and Uriah. Sin breaks our spirits; remorse breaks our hearts.
When we’re broken like this, in our shame or despair or pain, we start to think that God doesn’t want us, that we’re not good enough for Him, that we have to wait until we’re whole again before we go to God. Who wants a broken heart lying around cluttering up their house? Broken things belong in the trash, not in the throne room.
Not so, says penitent David. God doesn’t despise us if we’re broken. God wants us to bring our brokenness to Him. God wants us to come to Him fractures and all. God will take any heart you have to give Him, even a broken one. Especially a broken one.
The LORD is near to the brokenhearted And saves those who are crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, But the LORD delivers him out of them all. (Psalm 34:18–19, NASB)
Brokenness is an affliction (not an aspiration), but the Lord is in the business of saving people from afflictions. The Lord doesn’t just want you to bring your broken heart to Him; the Lord sees your broken heart as a reason to come near to you.
The Lord does not break us in order to heal us any more than a doctor breaks your leg in order to put a cast on it. Why should He break you when He wants you to be whole? Isaiah said as much a few thousand years before:
A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice… (Isaiah 42:3, NIV)
God doesn’t break you. But if you’re already broken or hurting, God heals you. If you have a broken arm, you go to the doctor. If you have a broken sprit, yougo to the Great Physician.
I will seek the lost, bring back the scattered, bind up the broken, and strengthen the sick… (Ezekiel 34:16a, NASB)
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. (Psalm 147:3)
God heals you by taking your brokenness onto Himself. In the person of Jesus Christ, God Himself was bruised, rejected, beaten, bloodied, broken.
Surely He has borne our griefs And carried our sorrows; Yet we esteemed Him stricken, Smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes we are healed. (Isaiah 53:4–5, NKJV)
…this is My body which is broken for you. (1 Corinthians 11:24, NKJV)
This is one of many reasons we worship our Lord by making a sacrament out of broken bread. That was our brokenness on that Cross. You don’t need to be broken anymore—by His wounds we are healed. And when we are broken, we can look past the brokenness of the Cross to the empty tomb. What is broken will be made whole. What is dead will be brought to life.
Brokenness isn’t something we need to achieve. Brokenness is something we already have. Brokenness is something Jesus heals.
Jesus’ Heart
What can bring hope to a broken heart? Only a heart that’s been broken too; And Jesus Christ had a broken heart When He spilled His blood for me and you.
What can bring warmth to a frozen heart? Only a heart with the fire of love, And Jesus Christ has a heart of fire With the tenderness of God above.
What can bring peace to a troubled heart? Only a heart that has conquered pain, And Jesus Christ is the Prince of Peace, For He gave His life and He rose again.
What can bring help to a sinful heart? Only a heart that is free from sin, And Jesus Christ has a perfect heart— Will you give your heart to be cleansed by Him?
Eric M. Pazdziora is celebrating his mumblemumbleth birthday today, and he got a new CD of his original settings of hymns about grace. There are copies for everyone else, too. His wife Carrie sings on it, so it's really good. If you want one, some details are on this post at ericpazdziora.com.
I was thinking and praying about my topic for this week, and one story just wouldn’t get out of my head—Mary and Martha. We all know it, it’s really simple, but sometimes it does us a world of good to go back to the basics.
So I started my usual round of studying, reading, praying, trying to find the shape of the idea, maybe a profound insight, a unique twist, something unexpected, something new. The weekend went by, and I still had only a handful of scattered notes and observations. Nothing was coming together.
Writers don’t like that, or at least I don’t. I get a bit frazzled and start to fidget, especially when I know there are a lot of people waiting for me to meet a deadline. My other articles so far have all been enjoyable to write, but this one was just not working. Yet I couldn’t get away from the topic. I was starting to get worried and upset, wondering if I would have to work harder than usual to make a good post that would really serve you.
And then all of a sudden it hit me. I was getting distracted and worried by all the work and service I had to do…
…while trying to write an article on Mary and Martha.
Yeah, sometimes it takes me a while.
Now, as Chesterton said, I’m the fool of this story, thank you very much, and I’ll have no one coming to topple me from the jester’s throne. But really, my own thick-headedness makes the point (better than any illustration I could have thought up) of just how easy it is at any moment for any one of us to get a case of Martha’s Disease.
“But I am afraid that, as the serpent deceived Eve by his craftiness, your minds will be led astray from the simplicity and purity of devotion to Christ” (2 Corinthians 11:3, NASB).
Martha just wanted to serve—to serve Jesus, in fact. Serving is a good thing; serving Jesus is an even better thing. But that was the problem. It’s not the best thing. Strictly speaking, it’s not even a necessary thing. Only one thing is needed.
Mary found it. She found it at Jesus’ feet, just sitting, listening, and being. And even though someone close to her berated her for it with the best of intentions, nothing could take it away. Not then, not ever.
It would be a mistake to say “We need to be more like Mary.” The whole point of what Mary was like is letting go of sentences that begin “We need to.”
“One thing I ask of the LORD, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple.” (Psalm 27:4)
So, nothing fancy today. You don’t need me to tell you what you already know; you can just stop and remember it again. Let’s go back to the story we all know and spend some time listening to what Jesus has to say. Read it slowly and reflect and bask in it. Spend some time at Jesus’ feet. That’s all.
As Jesus and His disciples were going along, Jesus came to a village where there was a woman named Martha. She welcomed Him as a guest.
She had a sister named Mary, who came and sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what He said.
But Martha was distracted, pulled this way and that with all her serving.
She came up to Jesus and said, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister is leaving me to do all the serving alone? So tell her to help me!”
“Martha, Martha,” Jesus answered. “You’re worrying and bothering about so many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is best, and it will not be taken away.”
Eric M. Pazdziora wishes he could practice what he preaches as much as he practices the piano. He writes music and words in Chicago with his wife Carrie, who guessed where this article was going before he got there. A forthcoming CD of his settings of hymns on grace, New Creation, can be found along with more writing at ericpazdziora.com.
oet and playwright W. S. Gilbert (you might know him from his operettas composed with Arthur Sullivan) wrote some comic poems about the far-away land of Topsyturvydom:
Where vice is virtue—virtue, vice: Where nice is nasty—nasty, nice: Where right is wrong and wrong is right— Where white is black and black is white.
Everything in Topsyturvydom is precisely the opposite of what you expect in our world. Soldiers are cowards, criminals are judges, and babies are born knowing differential calculus and become more ignorant as they grow. It’s silly, of course, but that’s the fun of it. As Ken Medema sang, “The world looks different to you when you’re flying upside down.”
So I’ve noticed a recurring phrase in certain schools of doctrine: “Godly authority.” Husbands should have godly authority over wives. Fathers should have godly authority over children. Pastors should have godly authority over their congregations. Don’t rebel against godly authority.
It sounds good and devout, probably because “godly” is a good faith word and “authority” is something we take for granted. Somebody has to have authority, and certainly “godly authority” seems preferable to the other kind. In fact, it’s exactly what we would expect to hear.
That makes me suspicious. Most of these doctrinaires would agree with me that “godly” should only mean “following what Jesus taught.” But Jesus never taught exactly what we expect to hear. Jesus taught about flying upside down.
Jesus managed to subvert almost everyone’s expectations. They expected a Messiah who would enforce the Law of God; they got one who religious people called a wine-bibber and a friend of prostitutes. They expected a Messiah who would be a conquering hero; they got one who died on a cross with thieves. It’s not for nothing that His critics accused His followers of “turning the world upside down.” Sometimes I’m left wondering whether Jesus was a secret citizen of Topsyturvydom.
When we look at what Jesus taught about authority, what we find seems equally wrong-way-up. Look closely at some of what Jesus said and you’ll start to think you’re standing on your head:
But Jesus called [the disciples] to Himself and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and those who are great exercise authority over them. Yet it shall not be so among you; but whoever desires to become great among you, let him be your servant. And whoever desires to be first among you, let him be your slave—just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:25–28, NKJV. Cf. Luke 22:24–27, Mark 10:42–45.)
When Jesus taught about authority, He said one thing clearly: It’s not about exercising authority. The great one is a servant. The greatest one is a slave.
Jesus didn’t let up with the topsy-turviness, either. He said you shouldn’t even take a title of authority:
“But you are not to be called ‘Rabbi,’ for you have only one Master and you are all brothers. And do not call anyone on earth ‘father,’ for you have one Father, and he is in heaven. Nor are you to be called ‘teacher,’ for you have one Teacher, the Christ.The greatest among you will be your servant. For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” (Matthew 23:8–12, NIV).
The formula for greatness, according to Jesus, is to thrust greatness away from you. It’s not to be looked up to but to be humble. The greatest is the least, the most exalted is the humblest, and the highest is the lowest. If you want to become great, try to be humble; if you want to be humbled, try to be great.
Is this just more nonsense and silliness, something W. S. Gilbert might have dreamed up? Contrast this to the entire doctrinal systems that fixate on authority, and who has it over whom, and whether it’s shaped like a chain or an umbrella, and you do get the distinct impression that somebody is standing on their head. Somebody’s got something very, very wrong.
Here’s another clue in another flight to Topsyturvydom. Jesus based these paradoxical statements directly on Himself and His own work: “just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve.” The apostle Paul (possibly quoting an early Christian hymn) elaborates on this in a lyrical passage:
Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.
For this reason also, God highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus EVERY KNEE WILL BOW, of those who are in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and that every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.(Philippians 2:5–11, NASB)
Jesus was God, and Jesus became a servant. Jesus humbled Himself, so the Father exalted Him. It’s upside-down, but it’s true.
It gets even loopier. When God exalted Jesus to the highest place, He made another statement about authority. It casually succeeds in blowing all our discussions about “godly authority” to smithereens:
Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” (Matthew 28:18, NIV).
All authority belongs to Jesus.
“All authority in heaven and on earth,” just so we’re clear it’s all-inclusive. Not “all spiritual authority” or “all authority in the church” or “all authority over My disciples.” Those would be radical enough—but “all” means “all.”
This isn’t anti-authoritarianism. There’s plenty of authority for us to obey—but only Jesus has it. It does not belong to anybody else. It is not given to anybody else. It is not shared with anybody else. If anyone says they have any authority in any context and their name is not Jesus Christ, they are wrong. (And if somebody says his name is Jesus Christ, don’t believe him, unless maybe he starts walking on water.)
After this statement, any discussion about who has “godly authority” is pretty much pointless. Nobody does, except Jesus.
Far from being a passing observation, this fact is tied directly to our salvation:
“For you granted him authority over all people that he might give eternal life to all those you have given him.” (John 17:2, NIV)
Since Jesus has all authority over us, Jesus has authority to save us. Since Jesus has all authority over our lives, Jesus has authority to give us eternal life.
So what then? Don’t get the wrong idea. If your association with “authority” gives you a picture of Jesus sitting at the top of the heap and bossing everyone around, then it’s back to Topsyturvydom we go. Jesus followed His own teaching about authority: authority, He said, is something that should make you act like a servant and wash people’s feet.
So when He had washed their feet, and taken His garments and reclined at the table again, He said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? You call Me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am. If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I gave you an example that you also should do as I did to you.Truly, truly, I say to you, a slave is not greater than his master, nor is one who is sent greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.” (John 13:12–17, NASB)
This ties everything so far together. Jesus is in authority over us, and (logically enough) we can’t set ourselves up as superior to our authority. Since Jesus humbled himself and acted like a servant, if we follow Him, we should humble ourselves and serve as well. No one sits higher than the King, and the King is washing people’s feet.
So there we are. If godliness means following Jesus, then “godly authority” is an oxymoron. Godliness is not about authority; godliness is about humility. It’s not about leading; it’s about following (namely, following Jesus). It’s not even about “servant leadership”; it’s about servantship.
But—I hear some people still perplexed with the shock of being turned heels over head—but how on earth does that fit with the way we do things in real life? Doesn’t someone have to have authority in, say, the government? In a marriage? In a church? In a workplace? In a family? Doesn’t the Bible tell us directly to submit to those authorities?
All right then, one last flight to Topsyturvydom. The Bible does tell us to submit, which is appropriate enough considering everything we just saw that Jesus said. But what’s glaringly missing are any corresponding verses that say leaders have authority.
This puts an interesting spin on verses and topics that sometimes become needlessly controversial. Consider husbands and wives (I’m thinking of course of Ephesians 5:21–33). Yes, the Bible says fairly clearly, “Wives, submit to your husbands.” But it follows this statement not with the corollary we’d expect—“Husbands, exercise godly authority over your wives”—but with “Husbands, love your wives like Jesus did for the church,” that is, by sacrificing everything so she can benefit. This makes sense when we consider that Jesus’ kind of love involves washing feet like a servant. What do servants do? They submit.
For that matter, and it is simply amazing how rarely this point gets made, the statements about husbands and wives in context both come immediately after this verse:
Submitting yourselves one to another in the fear of God. (Ephesians 5:21).
Godly submission, yes. Godly authority, not so much.
Well, OK, there is one verse that talks about husbands having authority, but I doubt it will ever become especially popular in the Patriarchy movement. It puts it this way:
For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. Likewise the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does. (1 Corinthians 7:4, ESV).
Again, the idea is not patriarchal authority but mutual submission. (You know what, can we just go ahead and say that this verse all by itself proves once and for all that Patriarchy is an unbiblical teaching? I mean, seriously, “the husband does not have authority.” And that’s not just in the physical relationship; it’s the same Greek word for “authority” that Jesus says in Luke 22:25 we shouldn’t have at all.)
It’s the same with other positions that are considered authoritative. The Bible says that we should serve the government, but also that the government should serve us by providing peace and justice (see Romans 13:4). There’s a reason we call them “public servants.”
Again, the Bible says that we should submit to our pastors, elders, spiritual leaders (however you like to translate presbuteros), but also that they should not lord it over anybody, just serve as good examples (see 1 Peter 5:2–3). Paul explains his position as an apostle precisely this way: “Not that we lord it over your faith, but are workers with you for your joy; for in your faith you are standing firm” (2 Corinthians 1:24, NASB).
It might be tempting to misconstrue this and go running around telling our bosses that they’re not the bosses of us. It’s true, technically, they’re not, but to do that you’d have to ignore all the verses before about humility and servantship. I think we’ve gone so topsy-turvy that we’re making figure eights, so it’s probably time to catch our breaths and see the big picture from the air.
The big picture is simple, clear, and beautiful. It’s love.
We’re free. Anybody who tries to forcefully control us or require us to obey is trying to usurp a position that only belongs to Jesus. Conversely, if I want to lord it over anybody, I’m trying to set myself up as the Lord. Men and women alike, husbands and wives alike, pastors and congregation alike, we’re all brothers and sisters, free and equal.
But since we don’t have to submit and serve out of obligation, that means we’re free to submit and serve just because we want to. Just because we love. Since we’re not obliged to make payments, we can give gifts. We can freely sacrifice for others with no other motive but love. We can serve others not because they have authority over us, but because Jesus has authority over us, and Jesus serves from love.
If you want to see what “godly authority” looks like, don’t look to any person but One. Jesus is washing His followers’ feet. Jesus is giving and serving and loving. Jesus is flying upside down, making loops in the air over Topsyturvydom.
Eric M. Pazdziorastill can't fly without an airplane, but music brings him close sometimes. He works as a freelance composer, author, and worship leader, and lives in Chicago with his wife Carrie, several stories above the ground. If you want to hear some of Eric's music or read some more articles, visit his website at ericpazdziora.com.
here’s this sermon I’ve heard a few dozen times. You’ve probably heard it too. It goes like this. Some Christians are really passionate and sold out for the Lord. They do great things. They live righteously. They don’t do anything that could be considered worldly. They only listen to Christian music. They have biblical family values. They’re on fire.
And others? Well, they’re “lukewarm Christians.” Sure, they say they believe, but they’re not that committed. They show up in church to warm the pews, but they still do worldly things. You should see the way they dress and those movies and music they listen to! If only they knew all the right things to do so they could be on fire like us. Jesus says, “So because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of My mouth” (Rev. 3:16). That, strong children, is why you have to be on fire for the Lord. Let us pray.
Obviously, I can’t object to an exhortation to be more committed to the Lord, and I dislike “easy-believe-ism” as much as the next disillusioned evangelical does. But if you know about Spiritual Abuse, you recognize a few other all-too-familiar themes lurking in the subtext.
There’s a strong temptation to elitism there—you want to be better than all those “lukewarm” folks, don’t you? Legalism’s waiting to pounce, too; it blends in perfectly as long as you define “On fire” as “Doing our things” and “Worldly” as “Not.” All that’s left is for us to spin “I will spit you out of my mouth” as “You might be eternally lost if you don’t do our thing” and we’re practically in cult territory.
But it’s biblical, right? It even has a Bible verse in it, and you can find dozens of people interpreting that verse in exactly that way, pretty much that same sermon, even. Tweak the applications a bit and it’s good for weeks.
Well, there’s one tiny problem: That’s not what that Bible verse means. Actually, it means pretty much the opposite.
Yes, Jesus says He doesn’t like it if you’re “lukewarm.” Yes, Jesus says “I will spit you out of my mouth,” and yes, it’s true (as you’ve probably heard) that that refers to puking. But what makes Jesus want to vomit? Is it really people who claim to follow Him and still (horrors!) watch PG-13 movies with wizards in them? Is it people who claim to follow Him but are just pew-warmers?
Or is it something different? Not just a different token “worldly” action, but a completely different way of thinking about your relationship to the Lord?
The answer, like the answers to most things, is found in context. The context here is the opening chapters of the book of Revelation, that is, the part that you don’t need an advanced degree in theology or screenwriting to interpret. John records letters from Jesus to seven churches in Asia Minor, at once pointing out their sins and shortcomings and encouraging them to stand firm in what faith they have. It’s dynamite stuff; I wish I had time to expound all of it.
The letter with the “lukewarm” verse is the seventh and last, addressed to the church in Laodicea. It begins like this:
14 “To the angel of the church in Laodicea write: The Amen, the faithful and true Witness, the Beginning of the creation of God, says this: 15 ‘I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot; I wish that you were cold or hot.
Already this is a bit confusing, given the standard interpretation. If the “hot” people are those who are “on fire” for the Lord, then the “cold” people must be… atheists? Flagrant sinners? Crooked politicians? Richard Dawkins and his merry band of infidels? Could be, but then why does Jesus say “I wish you were cold or hot” like they’re both equally good? Surely He doesn’t consider it the same to be on fire for Him and stone-cold against Him?
16 ‘So because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of My mouth.
That bit we know. Jesus doesn’t like lukewarm beverages. He spits them out. Insipidity, something that’s the same temperature as the room, doesn’t do it for Him.
That’s obviously a metaphor for something (unless you’re a hyper-literalist and think that Jesus drinks people). Yet there’s no mention of the behaviors we’re often told are “worldly.” Is Jesus speaking in riddles, or will He explain what He means? What’s the difference between “hot” and “cold”? What makes a person “lukewarm”?
The next verse tells us. Specifically. It even starts with “Because” so we won’t miss that it’s connected. Here’s why Jesus gets nauseated by “lukewarm” believers:
17 ‘Because you say, “I am rich, and have become wealthy, and have need of nothing,” and you do not know that you are wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked…
Oh.
Well, that’s not what they told us it meant.
The “lukewarm” people Jesus is criticizing think they have it all together, but they don’t. They think they are rich when they are actually poor; they think they can see when they are really blind; they think they need nothing when they are living on the streets. They have the worst of both worlds—all the smugness of wealth and all the neediness of poverty. They need help, but they think they’re well off.
This makes the rest of Jesus’ metaphor perfectly clear. “Lukewarm,” obviously, means a mixture of hot and cold, producing something bland and tepid. The Laodicean church combined feelings of passion for the Lord (hot) with the condition of being apart from the Lord (cold). The result is horrible: people in spiritual need who can’t recognize it because they think they’re doing great.
“Lukewarm” means “self-righteous.”
A “lukewarm Christian” is not somebody who claims to follow Jesus but also does worldly things. It’s somebody who says “I don’t do worldly things, so I’m living in God’s will.”
A “lukewarm Christian” is not somebody who claims to follow Jesus but only shows up on Sundays. It’s somebody who says, “God must be pleased with my devoted church attendance.”
A “lukewarm Christian” is not somebody who doesn’t have a quiver full of children. It’s somebody who says, “I have biblical family values, so I’m more sold out to the Lord than those feminists are.”
Lukewarm Christians are satisfied in themselves. Lukewarm Christians are proud of their spiritual commitment and pleased with all that they do for the Lord. Lukewarm Christians believe that they are living the right way, with all the right values, and all the right methods, and all the right works.
Except they aren’t. The fact that lukewarmness—self-righteousness—nauseates the Lord matches what He said (terrifyingly) about people who won’t make it into heaven:
“Many will say to Me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?’ And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; DEPART FROM ME, YOU WHO PRACTICE LAWLESSNESS.’” (Matthew 7:22–23)
These people did great works for the Lord—even miracles—and thought well of themselves, but they missed their need for the Lord Himself. Jesus said, “Only one thing is needful,” and it isn’t to do great works for Him. Jesus wants us to trust Him, rest in Him, believe in Him, see our need for Him, get to know Him, let Him get to know us. That’s all one thing: it’s called Faith.
That may explain why Jesus says “I wish you were cold or hot.” If you’re “hot,” then of course you’re exactly where the Lord wants you to be—surrendering to the All-Consuming Fire. You’re seeing your need of Him and depending on Him to burn away your impurities and kindle your love.
If you’re “cold,” you’re apart from Him—and you feel it. Sometimes we have to hit the bottom before we learn to look up. As Martin Luther said, if you’re going to sin, you may as well sin boldly. None of this socially respectable stuff. Try it all, if that’s what it will take for you to see it doesn’t satisfy. When the Prodigal wound up in a pigsty, he realized how good his father really was. The sooner you get to the end of your rope, the sooner you’ll see your need to be rescued.
Being “cold” is just as good as being “hot,” from a salvific standpoint, because in both cases you’re seeing your need, insufficiency, and helplessness, and coming to depend on Jesus for His grace, forgiveness, and righteousness. The one fatal condition is to be needy while depending on your own righteousness. That’s disgusting. That will get you spit out of Jesus’ mouth. That’s lukewarm.
The point is not that we should be lazy, worldly, or half-hearted in our commitment to Jesus. The point is that there are much worse sins than laziness or worldliness. As C. S. Lewis said, “A cold, self-righteous prig who goes regularly to church may be far nearer to hell than a prostitute. But, of course, it is better to be neither.”
What’s the cure for lukewarmness? Jesus (again) tells us exactly in context. Here’s the rest of His letter:
18 ‘I advise you to buy from Me gold refined by fire so that you may become rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself, and that the shame of your nakedness will not be revealed; and eye salve to anoint your eyes so that you may see. 19 ‘Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline; therefore be zealous and repent. 20 ‘Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and will dine with him, and he with Me. 21 ‘He who overcomes, I will grant to him to sit down with Me on My throne, as I also overcame and sat down with My Father on His throne. 22 ‘He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.’”
The answer is to look to Jesus. It’s to see your need and see that only Jesus can fill it. It’s to ask Him to give you whatever it takes to fill it, and to give up anything it takes to get it. It’s to let Jesus enrich you, cover you, heal you.
There’s hope. Jesus counts even the “lukewarm” people among “those whom I love”; otherwise He wouldn’t take the trouble to correct them. It’s never too late to repent and open the door to friendship with Christ. If you let Jesus sit down with you at your table, He’ll let you sit down with Him on His throne.
If you simply do that—if you open the door to Jesus, trust in Him, get to know Him, and let Him help you overcome your self-righteousness—then you’re not lukewarm anymore. You’re one who overcomes. You’re on fire.
Don’t let any of the lukewarm Christians tell you otherwise.
Eric M. Pazdziora is a recovering legalist, but doesn't like to boast about it. These days, he mostly writes words and music. He lives in Chicago with his beautiful wife Carrie and his spoiled cat Eloise. If you want to hear some of Eric's music or read some more articles, visit his website at ericpazdziora.com.
So it’s strange that some well-meaning devotional writers tell us that spiritual brokenness is something we should aspire to, an attitude that we should constantly maintain. The doctrine has it that God uses suffering to break us spiritually, forcing us to depend on Him and making us willing to serve Him.
February 23, 1775
The best thing ever written on spiritual abuse is a poem about sheep. I haven’t got many sheep in my neighborhood—the picture here is one we took in Ireland—but every word in this poem is so true it aches. 
he word of the LORD came to me: 
