J.S. Park

Question: Hopeless, Heartless, and Hanging By A Thread

Anonymous asked:

Sir, I like how real you are. I’m hanging by a thread on to this Christian life. Jesus is great but I can’t imagine what He’d want to do with someone who just doesn’t love Him and, honestly, doesn’t want to obey Him. I tried to live for Him but it feels like slavery. I’m not as good and okay as everyone around me thinks I am. I’m lonely, fed up and I wish I could start my life over where I’m not hanging on to Him only because I’m scared of dying, facing God and fire. Is there any hope for me?

Dear beloved friend,

Want to know a huge secret?

Ready?

Every single Christian in all the history of the world, even the “best” of us, have sometimes felt completely apart from God.

Here’s where you’re at and why it’s okay and where we can go from here.

1) You don’t want to love Him and obey Him. BUT: The Bible actually says this is our default mode of brokenness, our human condition called sin.  So you’re simply being honest about who we all are.

2) You tried to live for Him and it feels like slavery. BUT: Maybe the Christian life isn’t about a begrudging obligation to a set of laws.  Maybe it’s a growing realization that God absolutely loves you regardless of your performance, and that it’s our response to say “I love you too” which makes us crazy in the best way possible to be able to follow Him — just as love makes us crazy for our loved ones.  Maybe it really is a relationship, and not simply receiving instructions in a church service.

3) You think you’re not as good and okay as everyone thinks you are. BUT: I don’t know anyone who thinks they’re as good as everyone thinks they are.  It’s an illogical proposition that’s a devil’s lie, which falls apart quickly.  A little honesty from you about who you are will fix it immediately.  And it’s unfair for anyone to hold you on a pedestal of moral perfection.  If they do, it’s their problem, not yours.

4) You’re lonely.  BUT: Loneliness is a thick fog that we all walk through occasionally, even when we socialize and have tons of friends.  It will hurt, but it comes and goes: so don’t let it anchor your reality.  You’re also not really alone. You’re not the only one who feels like the only one, and also: God.

5) You wish you could start over. BUT: You have today.  You have right now, this moment, this step.  It’s never too late, and that’s not some postcard platitude.  People with even less time than you, less abilities, and less physical aptitude have lived amazing stories.  It can start this very second.  We all wish we could hit a reset button sometimes, but the best reset is to move forward. 

6) You’re following God because you’re scared of the afterlife. BUT: Let’s be real on this one — it’s certainly okay to acknowledge the wrath of God at some point in your faith-journey.  So many people turn a blind eye to the reality of Hell that it grieves me how much we sugarcoat such a serious truth.  Your fear (and my fear) of Hell is not a wrong response. 

Yet the Christian life is a relationship with a Heavenly Father who has way more for us than fire insurance.  When we come to know Him, our fear always gives way to His perfect love (1 John 4:18).  He has for us an intimate joy that moves us so far beyond the fear that it pales in comparison to the rich realness we have with Him. 

Just think: we’re not friends with our friends because we’re scared of consequences.  We have friendships because of the joy of intimacy, the freedom of vulnerability, and the mutual exchange of life.  So it is with God.

Dear friend: There is hope for you yet. God is sovereign and He’s still in the business of rescuing people, polishing their hearts, loving them to a better place, and simply enjoying them for who they are. God not only loves you, but He likes you — just as much as a dad loves His kids and wants to play with them.  He completely understands your struggle more profoundly than you could know, for He became one of us.

I know this won’t solve everything in a day.  But so long as a sliver of faith — a mustard seed — is sown into His goodness, you can make it one more step.  You are, as I’ve said so many times, a work of progress in a process.  We are looking towards the work finished, Jesus.

There is nothing you could do to change God’s mind about you: and it’s then His unchanging heart that will change you.  Believe it.  Enter it. Bask in it.

I love you and I’m praying for you.

— J.S.

Why, my soul, are you downcast?
    Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
    for I will yet praise him,
    my Savior and my God.

— Psalm 42:5

“You must ask for God’s help. Even when you have done so, it may seem to you for a long time that no help, or less help than you need, is being given. Never mind. After each failure, ask forgiveness, pick yourself up, and try again. Very often what God first helps us towards is not the virtue itself but just this power of always trying again.”

— C.S. Lewis

Reactionary Culture: I’m Not Like Those Other Christians

As he cursed up a storm and lit his next cigar, he says to me, “I’m not like those other Christians. I actually get it.”

Suddenly I’m nervous. I didn’t get what he was getting. He must be talking about me: I’m one of those stupid Christians who is missing it and doing it wrong. How did I not get it all this time? This cigar-smoking man had the truth. Thank God! Tell me more.

The man went on about megachurches, how doctrine is not that important, how most sermons suck, how pastors don’t have a clue, how he wanted to teach churches how to be a good church.

I wanted to take notes, but then I thought he would say, “Only those stupid Christians do that.” I started playing with a napkin. He noticed, so I stopped.

He continued. I looked up for a second and this huge cloud had opened up. Right then, I thought of Jesus listening in on us — and I became pretty sad about the whole thing. Like you know, Jesus went through that cloud and became one of us and died for us, and all we could really say was, “I’m not like this other guy.”

I told the cigar-smoking man I had to go home. I felt sick. Some from the cigar, but mostly because of my heart.

Matrix, Methods, McChurch

There’s a pattern. A group of Christians is really flaming mad at Christianity, so they form their own version of Christianity by doing the opposite of these other Christians, and everyone lives happily ever after.

That’s until a group of Christians inside these Better Christians get mad again, so they reboot like the Matrix and mix some from Column A and some from Exhibit B, and it should totally work out this time.

We’re doing a really great job of standing on the anti-ground of what we stand against. Over and over.

We form these isolated camps of My Right Methodology, and then presume this must be the only way, and I got it, and you don’t, and you megachurches are evil, and my non-megachurch is really what Jesus had in mind.

I’ve seen pastors who try to blanket-bomb their ideology onto other ministries — but if every church was a carbon-copy of your ministry, without a care for context or people, then that’s a mindless Orwellian dictatorship. Sort of a McDonald church world. God has grace for you too: but no one wants that.

Jesus (Didn’t) Say, “Follow The Opposite of Everyone”

Underneath all this counter-cultural rightness, there’s a smug superiority that destroys any hope of unity. Even saying, “I’m above all these divisions” is still division. You go left, I go right, you go black, I go white — which lands us in suffocating circles of theology about theology.

We forget that Jesus celebrated uniqueness, that he welcomed a wild diversity of personalities, that he worked with every individual in their contextual corner of the universe.

Jesus did not limit his imagination. He didn’t just react to provocation. He somehow managed to originate action while embracing the existing culture without having to brand himself in diametric categories.

Most of us today are overreacting. We react solely from our deepest hurts: which is not wrong, but not sustainable. Our theology is I’m not like those other Christians — and we forgot: we are called to be like Christ.

Chronological Prison: You’re a Product of Your Times

When I first attended church, the Seeker Movement was the next big thing. Little talk of sin, secular songs in service, and lots of welcoming teams. But soon, Christians got tired of watered-down doctrine so they went all Young-Restless-Reformed, with a bunch of Calvinist bloggers demanding tight expository sermons and Gospel Centrality. Then you got a pushback against the Calvinism from the New Perspective on Paul with a Trinitarian focus of — well, you get it.

I’m wondering what’s next: but then I feel sick again.

Historically, humans tend to react sharply to whatever happened before. Especially Christians. We’re not very original. If someone writes a book saying “There’s no hell” — then guaranteed, you’ll get fifty people declaring, “The liberals are winning!”

Of course we should respond. Of course there is room for back-and-forth discussion. But I really want to see thoughtful conversation that does not condemn the other.

I’m tired of saying “them” and “us.”

I’m exhausted of xenophobic classist politically-driven doctrine.

I’m sick of using others camps as a moral standard for my rightness.

I’m not impressed when people bash megachurches or house churches or emergent churches.

I get nauseous over the Calvinist-Arminian beef.

I hate alienating people based on a few points of doctrine that won’t matter when we stand in the face-melting glory of God.

I’m so jaded with hip evangelicals who satirize the Christian culture to appear relevant.

I pray not to be like the Pharisee who compared himself to the tax collector — and that God would have grace for us both.

I know I could be doing the same thing I’m calling out others on — I am reacting to reaction — but my heart hurts to reach across the divide, to understand the other.

Yes, I love them too, with a broken heart that wants to unite all these people under the roof of Heaven to praise a glorious God who loves us all the same. I love them so much I can’t stop weeping over our divisiveness. I grieve for unity.

Theology is Jesus

Where we start is how we finish.

If you think electric guitar in a full band is too loud and you decide to only do acoustic guitar with a cajon, then cool. But I hope you talk this out with Jesus and you’re motivated by a heart that looks to him first. I hope it’s not to be rebellious against big bands and big stages and subwoofers — because no one cares about your statement of rebellion, including you.

If you despise megachurches that spend too much money on fancy coffee bars and jumbo projection screens and laser light shows, then why don’t you build a relationship with them and inspire them to invest in your social justice and homeless ministry and community service. Maybe this church is dying to do something more, and maybe you’re the guy to help them with that. You could be the bridge.

We can’t establish ourselves on a counter-theology. It will collapse. It always does. These movements fade. We can embrace them and be aware of culture: but it’s not your altar. Don’t idolize anti-idolatry. It never works.

It is not the Way of Christ to dismantle others because you think you’re doing it better. If you actually are doing it better: show us how.

And if no one listens, then please don’t be so hyper-critical to look down your nose on Christian culture. No one really cares what you think about it. People only care if you care about them — and you can only care about them if you are within the love of Christ.

Start with Jesus, finish with Jesus.

— J.S.

Question: Getting “Right” With God Again

Anonymous asked:

- I’ve become agnostic since I started my semester at school, and I haven’t been too concerned about my relationship with God since. Lately, I’ve been feeling “spiritually empty” but I don’t really know where to begin with setting things “right” with God. I know that I “strayed away from the path” and praying doesn’t seem to work out for me at the moment, but I feel like I am on the verge of losing my love for God.

Dear friend: thank you so much for your honesty and for caring to try again. This is a huge question that I can’t hope to answer in a single post, but I can hopefully point the way. Please feel free to skip around.

I’m assuming by your question that 1) you are uncertain about God in your life, but 2) you are willing to explore Him again, and 3) you want to know how.

I can guarantee that you have probably heard tons of advice already.

This includes:

Go back to church, go to a revival/retreat/conference, read the Bible, read this Christian book, watch this sermon, go in solitude with God, find a wise mentor or counselor or pastor, find a group of Christians, ask a random blogger, start a journal, study theology, study Calvinism, serve the homeless, strap a fish on your car, quit masturbating, don’t chew tobacco, stop racing cops, eat vegan.

This is probably all sound advice.

But — even if you follow every single thing, you will end up back where you started. Disillusioned, disenchanted, disenfranchised.

So I think we need to ask a question. We need to begin in a fundamental place of honesty with ourselves.

Why did this happen?

How did you end up spiritually empty?

Please allow me to take a guess. If I’m wrong, skip ahead.

You had found a decent church, it had great big loud music, you made some cool Christian friends, had a pretty good pastor, and you did all the church activities.

But soon: it became a little routine, the flashy rocking music felt like ice picks in your brain, you became annoyed at some things in the sermon, your friends turned out to be not-so-cool and even downright hypocritical, and all the church activities were just self-serving programs. It all grew repetitive and you felt a widening distance between you and this “God” — and you began to wonder if you even really knew Him at all.

This is the story of millions of Christians.

It’s like the beginning of a relationship, where you feel electrical excitement and chemicals and hormones firing off like crazy — but soon her touch is deadening, her laugh is annoying, and you’re not even sure why you like her.

The truth is: Every single person goes through a peeling back of layers to discover the real thing.

But for most people, they always expect the original excitement they had in the beginning. They hope to maintain the jumping-up-and-down, hopping-mad flashiness of youth group to “feel God again.”

This NEVER works out.

A couple married for fifty years will not feel the same butterflies when they held hands as high schoolers: but their years of perseverance have led to an ocean-deep commitment that is no longer lake-shallow. It’s the real thing. They managed to solidify their expectations of each other, both realizing that their feelings did NOT determine their relationship.

When your original feelings are gone — and trust me, those first feelings fade — it doesn’t mean that God is suddenly gone.

I’m afraid many churches make the mistake of topping themselves every week to give you a brand new rockshow experience, and it stretches your emotions to the breaking point. Exhausting. When you peel back the layers of a “show-church,” often there’s nothing inside.

Instead, they should be feeding you core doctrine, growing you as a leader, teaching you to how to do discipleship with younger people, and placing you with “unlovable” people so you can really learn how to love like God does — all with the purpose of an intimate relationship with God and not to serve their own programs.

I really don’t mean to be one more guy bad-mouthing the local church. There’s enough of that already. It’s not all their fault. It’s possible that even in a really rocked out ministry, you can peel back the glitter and actually find depth. But we just need to overcome those initial growing pains.

So let’s cover first things first. Let’s expect that we’ll all outgrow the emotional hype and eventually mature into a thoughtful faith — while at the same time having a new excitement that is grounded in who God really is.

I pray you will purposefully move towards making this happen, that you will put yourself in a safe place where you can ask questions and learn doctrine and express doubts and encounter the real Jesus.

Also please know: You don’t have to do anything to be “right” with God again. That was the point of Jesus dying and rising for you. He loves you, in this moment, right now, as you are. Approach him with faith and confidence.

You might think you need to “believe better” or “do better” before getting to know him, but faith is a journey of increasing sight: and God will reveal Himself to you so long as you are willing. For some of us, this journey is a sudden epiphany; for others like you and me, it is a slow-burning process that sheds doubt in layers and embraces Jesus by degrees.

Have patience in this struggle. I believe you’ll find that Jesus is not only intellectually satisfying, but also spiritually fulfilling — and he welcomes your empty skeptical heart with even more grace.

— J.S.

Also read:

— Getting Back The Fire For God

— Falling Away From God & Unimpressed With Jesus

Question: Who Could Ever Love Me?

Anonymous asked:

I have the fear that no one will ever love me and have horrible self esteem. So I started lying and acting like I am more interesting then I am and now I don’t even know who I am at all. What I like or what I don’t like has become a facade and I don’t know what to do to get back to the core me. Because of this I am horrified and worried that I lied myself into this idea of Jesus and Christianity. Even if I do figure myself out, I don’t know if i could forgive myself. How do I fix me and be God’s child?

Dear friend,

Thank you for your courage to say what most of us would dare never confess. 

There are many of us who are faking it, who feel alone, who secretly think this whole “faith” thing is crazy, who see no way forward — and simply act like it’s fine. This is all part of our human struggle, and it does NOT ever mean you’re unloveable. The very fact that you recognize these things makes you even more of a candidate for God’s unqualifying love.

What I’m seeing from you is the honesty to seek something better. But I think somewhere early in your journey, you believed a lie about yourself, and one lie fed into another, into another, into another, and now you’re so comfortable inside these walls that you can’t imagine anything else.  When you believe a lie, it always increases in energy and momentum and darkness until it’s exposed.

So can we start from the top?  Can we start over? Let’s leave behind those old lies.

You are loved by your Creator, regardless of what you’ve done or who you are or what happens from here, and you can’t do anything about that.  Nothing, I mean nothing, can shake how God feels about you.

Faith, then, is not based on religious activity or behavioral change, but being more and more certain of the reality that God absolutely loves you.

And the truth is, even if you had thousands of friends who liked you and cared for you and hung on your every word — you would still be alone somehow, separated by the invisible walls of communication, limited to the tiny space inside our head and our hearts.  The Only One who can intimately know ALL of you also loves you exactly as you are.  

You don’t need to “try to be God’s child.”  Imagine asking your parents, “How can I be your child?”   It is simply a turn of belief. 

Faith is growing in the certainty of God’s love by the proof of Him sending His Son to die and rise for you, knowing that He wants to spend the rest of eternity with you.

When you believe this, then —

You are free from the approval and validation of others.  I know that saying “you’re loved by God” doesn’t just flip a switch, and there will be many days when you still wished for someone to show you some affection.  But human approval is such a fickle thing.  Even in the height of good friendships, we are still limited to how much we can give and receive validation.  It’s okay to want human affection, but it’s possible to drain from others what only God can give you.  Our confidence first comes from the infinite wellspring of God.

You are free to be real with people. You don’t have to impress anyone.  You don’t have to bargain with others for your status, popularity, or good will.  You can be awkward, nervous, anxious, and vulnerable, because your life does NOT depend on other peoples’ perception of your value.  You have an infinite value purchased by the life of Christ.  And if someone wants to judge you outside of this, that’s more reason not to base your life off them anyway.

You are free from self-esteem.  I know everyone has a loop of self-talk that replays over and over.  We are either in self-condemnation or self-exaltation.  But God says you are so loved that you cannot be crushed, and also so loved that you cannot make it on your own.  Be free from the lie that “self-esteem” can make you or break you.  The power of humility is that there is no esteem except the undeserved grace of God which He has given you by the gift of His Son.

You are free from fixing yourself. Do we know anyone who has successfully fixed themselves, ever?  I’ve seen people try, desperately, and fail, miserably.  The Christian’s progress is submitting to the Spirit of God so that He would flex His fruits through you in a powerful display of His glory.  God will do this.  Philippians 1:6 says, “Be confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it unto completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”  In every moment, submit to what God would have you do.  Don’t grade yourself on a scale — and sooner or later, you will have grown in Christ without hardly noticing.  

My dear wonderful friend, I love you and I’m praying for you. As much as I love you, God loves you infinitely more. Believe it. Preach it to yourself. And even when this truth is hardly visible in the stormy seasons of life, hold on by faith. We have a God who does not measure how “much” we believe, but by how much He loves us.

“Imagine how a man’s life would be if he trusted that he was loved by God. How could he interact with the poor and not show partiality, he could love his wife easily and not expect her to redeem him, he would be slow to anger because redemption was no longer at stake, he could be wise and giving with his money because money no longer represented points, he could give up on formulaic religion, knowing that checking stuff off a spiritual to-do list was a worthless pursuit, he would have confidence and the ability to laugh at himself, and he could love people without expecting anything in return. It would be quite beautiful, really.”

— Donald Miller

— J.S.

Question: A Mega-Post on Ragged Jagged Bipolar Faith

Two anonymous questions (edited for length):

- Sometimes I think I have a ‘bipolar faith’. I am annoyed at my own inconsistency … Lately I feel that I am passionate about ministry, but lackluster when it comes to Jesus. I fear God, but I doubt that I love Him because of the distractions and idols in my heart. I can’t surrender or repent. How do you learn to love God more and develop a steadfast faith?

- Why can’t I be more serious about my relationship with God? If we can be so ‘committed’ to our human friendships … why is it so difficult to commit to God? Why do I constantly walk away from my first and one true love even though I’ve realized human love will always fail me? I’ve read Lewis/Augustine/Piper/Keller on heart idolatry so I ‘know’ what the root issue is but it’s still not drawing me back to God.

I get similar questions like this quite often, so you need to know: you are NOT alone in this. 

As I’ve said many times before: I struggle in my faith daily.  It’s become better over time (however we define “better”), but I’ve accepted that it will probably be like this most of the time, if not a lifetime.  And that’s okay.  Some of us are gifted with a robust roaring faith; others like us will wrestle all the way to glory. 

When Moses parted the Red Sea, some Israelites ran through shouting in total triumph.  But I’m sure others tiptoed through shrieking in terror.  I’m a shrieker.  They all made it: because their faith depended NOT on them, but their steadfast Savior.  I’m not absolving you of your responsibility — but God works with you right where you are.

That was really the entire point of starting my blog: to begin honest discussion about our crazy faith journey.  I also preach on this quite a lot, which are still my two most downloaded sermons here and here.

Please allow me to encourage you with a few thoughts here.  As always, please feel free to skip around.

1) A bipolar faith is part of our growing journey.

You only need to check out the Book of Psalms to know that faith is never a straight line, but a messy up-and-down journey.  I don’t say this as an excuse to be “lukewarm,” but rather to encourage you that 1) this is all part of the growing experience of a Christian, and 2) God completely understands your specific struggle.

Romans 7 is an accurate description for many, many Christians.  I know there is some debate about whether Apostle Paul was writing on a pre-Christ or post-Christ life, but Romans 7 is such a vivid piercing essay on faith that it feels like right now.  Romans 8 is the victory that we all want to experience, but as I’ve said before: some days are Romans 7 and some days are Romans 8.  We should be grateful for both.

2) A “victorious faith” shouldn’t be measured on Christianese standards.

Sometimes when you hear an awesome testimony, read certain Christian books, or see the way another person sings in worship service, it’s easy to become discouraged.  Why can’t I have a faith like that?  Am I doing it wrong?  Do I really get it?  What am I missing?

We play this same game in every area of life.  Being an Asian, I see tons of students comparing themselves with other peoples’ grades and library-time and prep-methods.  Even in the first few centuries of Christianity, the ascetic monks would compare how long they could fast or how loud they could sing.  Can you imagine?  Look at my ribs, son.  Watch me sing with my ribcage stickin’ out.

This is a losing game.  It makes no sense to set up arbitrary standards for your “level of faith,” because at the feet of Jesus we are all the same broken sinners in need of mercy. 

You must believe that God is working through you much more than you think.  Don’t be too hard on yourself.  The very fact that you messaged me and you’re concerned about your issues shows you WANT to change.  That’s already a huge step and puts you right where you need to be today.  If it doesn’t bother you, that should bother you: but it does bother you, and that’s already God grabbing your heart and squeezing it in His gloriously gracious grip.

I’ll end this point with the always-reliable Lewis:

“You must ask for God’s help. Even when you have done so, it may seem to you for a long time that no help, or less help than you need, is being given. Never mind. After each failure, ask forgiveness, pick yourself up, and try again. Very often what God first helps us towards is not the virtue itself but just this power of always trying again.”

— C.S. Lewis

3) God calls us to remember the mountaintop during the valleys.

I probably say this too much: but you really only get a few mountaintop experiences your whole life.  So much of church relies on emotionalism and “feeling God,” so when we no longer feel God, we think something is wrong with us.  The truth is: the Bible never calls us to continually duplicate our highs.  We’re called to remember the Most High in our lows.

If you tried to have a wedding every day of your marriage, it would get exhausting.  Preachers often try to do this to you in church, and this is why we keep hitting a dead end.  Churches try to whip up a sacred moment out of thin air, but instead should really be reminding us of the reality that Jesus is present in both our mountaintops and valleys. 

Peter really only “felt God” twice in his life: 1) on the mountaintop when Jesus revealed his total glory, called the Transfiguration, and 2) at Pentecost when the Holy Spirit filled him.  Peter never tried to re-create these moments.  He only called them to mind over and over, which sustained his faith for the rest of his life, even when he was crucified upside-down.  Read 2 Peter 1 and see how he brings up the mountaintop.

Moses didn’t part the Red Sea every Thursday.  Jesus didn’t transfigure every breakfast.  I have never heard this in church before: that when the college professor brings up the skeptical argument, or disillusionment sets in from church, or I go through a gut-wrenching trial, I can still declare, Jesus is real, he was there, I met him, I saw him, he was with me on that sacred mountain, he is here in this valley of the shadow of death, and I might feel beat up right now — but nothing will take Him away from me.

4) Faith takes a step at a time, every time, the whole time.

You want your faith to be whole this very moment, but the bad news is that it takes time.  There’s no way around it.  The good news is that it takes time.  Even a lifetime.  Allow that process to breathe, and give yourself some grace as you move forward.

I could probably address your issues very specifically with outlines and pep talk and doctrine, but I don’t have any magic words that will solve your heart in a day. I wish I did.  Even then, you might not be any closer to feeling whole, because faith takes time.  

Faith will also take that one more step you don’t want to make right now.  It takes one more Bible study, one more act of service, one more worship song, prayer, Bible verse, conversation.  It takes finding a pastor, mentor, friend, and talking  it out.  I’m not saying we do this stuff to “earn God.”  But your life has been launched into being and you must choose.

So long as you’re pursuing Him, however imperfectly, you’ll grow without knowing it until hindsight.  To love God is as much of a daily choice as it is how you feel.  The Bible portrays the Christian life most as a walk — a step at a time. 

I know this way will feel mechanical sometimes. By all means, rest when you must.  But looking back, you’ll come to see that you love God more than you ever thought you did, and you’ll be further along than you ever thought you’d be.  I don’t completely understand it myself: but I know He is changing me as I choose Him.

I’m rooting for you and I love you.  God does so infinitely more.

“If you can’t fly then run, if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.”

— Martin Luther King, Jr.

— J.S.

Question: So About Seeker-Sensitive Churches and “False Salvation”

Anonymous asked:

In a lot of criticism for the “Seeker-driven” churches, there’s usually mention of false assurances of salvation. What does that mean? Does it mean that despite repenting and confessing, Jesus Christ is the one and only true way to the Father, that people are still doomed to hell? … I’m so confused and honestly MORE than a little frightened.

Hey, thank you for this question.

First please know: God is not really in the business of scaring people into loving Him, so if any part of you is thinking, “I have to get this right or I’m doomed!” — then I don’t believe it’s coming from God. We can leave behind the fear, so says 1 John 4:18.

When we say the phrase seeker-sensitive, it was originally coined by Willow Creek Community Church, the huge megachurch in Chicago. About a decade ago, the leadership thought that creating a service around “seekers” — people curious about the church — would attract more mainstream crowds. The word “seeker” replaced sinner because it felt more friendly and welcoming.

There is a ton of anecdotal evidence that says the whole seeker-sensitive movement was a bad idea (Willow Creek has since stopped services for seekers). I’m not so black-and-white on it. I think it was a decent idea to reach out to people who didn’t grow up in church. Apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 9 says he became all things to all people, that he might save some. I believe adapting to seekers was born out of good intentions.

But as with any idea, the downside is that any church culture will always grow a subculture of bad ideas. All of them. Even the best ideas can be corrupted in human hands. Think of any movement in church history and this has always been true. If the Bible can be subverted for twisted agendas, then surely so can church culture.

Some pastors get scared of their youth group having sex, so BAM, you get fear-based scare tactics on dating that damages the youth. John Calvin expounds on God’s sovereignty and BAM, you get some arrogant Reformed Neo-Calvinists. I bet John Calvin would hardly recognize Calvinism today. If we’re criticizing seeker-ministries, we have to take that microscope on everything else.

Again, there is always going to be a cyst on the original intent of a decent idea, no matter how good it is, and that’s human nature: we’re bound to take things to extremes.

So certainly there are some shallow churchgoers out there who think they’re saved but could possibly have a “false assurance.”

But I feel like this is a misleading parameter too. At what point does the amount of our “assurance” make us saved? Is it an emotional thing? Intellectual? Mystical? Which doctrines does an eight year old need to know to be saved? Or a man on his deathbed? What really is assurance when Peter, Thomas, Martha, and John the Baptist all struggled with certainty?

Because the thing is — please hang with me here — I meet very few people who settle for “false assurance.” I think it’s just a straw-man caricature of the Western Christian American. I don’t meet a lot of churchgoers who think, “I’m just totally faking my attendance,” because then they would just stay home.

There are definitely exceptions, like cults and obvious hypocrites and the Prosperity Gospel. But most thoughtful people feel there’s more that God has to offer than “I-prayed-a-prayer.” The cognitive dissonance is too great to bear. No one wants to be fake, and any fake person at three a.m. watching the ceiling fan also hates himself. So people 1) dig deeper or 2) find a way to reject God. Having “false assurance” might be the process, but it can’t be the final condition.

Having said that, some people “get assurance” in all the wrong ways. They’ll do more church stuff, cuss less, quit Breaking Bad, and baptize their pets. It becomes exhausting, and they still fall back to their old sins anyway.

I’ll end by saying: Let’s please be thoughtful about the terms we use so frequently. I know that Jesus wants us to be certain on many things, but let’s clearly define “assurance” without panic or fear or reactionary subculture. I’m not willing to dismiss a seeker-sensitive church based on a few bad fruits, nor would I subscribe to it as the only right ideology. In our thoughtfulness, we can find the right estimation of what works, but even more than that, what best aligns with the unchanging truth of God.

— J.S.

Question: I Feel Bad For Being An Introvert

Two anonymous questions:

- I have two questions related to introversion: 1) When people start praying out loud, I get distracted, weirded out and don’t know what to say, so I just pray in my head. My mom says it’s something I have to correct. Is it? 2) Any tips on how to embrace my introversion and just be me? I’ve always felt misunderstood my whole life. I just want to be comfortable in my own skin without letting society’s standards pressure me.

- I’m starting college this fall and it seems the closer it gets, the more anxious I’m becoming. I’m an introverted person naturally but I want to be confident about making new friends. Even so, I end up doubting and convincing myself that everyone is just ‘better’ than me just because they are outgoing. I even get anxious that I didn’t choose the college God wants me to go to, which is dumb. I want to have faith in his plan and become secure based on the fact that God loves me, but I feel stuck.

Hello fellow introverts.  I’m glad we found each other.

You need to know first that there is nothing wrong with being introverted. 

God made you this way for a good reason — you can trust Him on that one.  As I’ve heard a fellow pastor say, God made you the way you are because He wanted to say something to the world that He couldn’t say through anyone else.

Some time ago, I wrote a post on introverts that got a response which I wasn’t prepared for.  I honestly had little idea that so many felt the same way: hamstrung by over-thinking, taking a long time to process things, staying quiet in Bible studies and small groups, and feeling sort of ashamed about it all.  I’m not really into labels — I think they can hurt us — but many, many people self-identify as introverted because they’re not sure how else to explain themselves.

Churches — and society in general — have a bias FOR extroverts and a bias against introverts.  It’s bound to happen.  You’ll be called moody, depressed, emo, hermit, indecisive, lazy, lethargic, apathetic, uncaring, and the ever dreadful shy.  But really we’re just misunderstood.  

I’ve come to accept my introversion over many years and have relaxed a lot more about myself, but many still feel like it’s “wrong.”  Dear friends: it is not.  And the irony here is: you’ll have to overcome your introversion to explain your introversion.  At some point you must open up to share what’s going on inside.

Please know that it takes a while for most people (especially extroverts) to understand us.  You’ll have to explain some of your habits.  Every introvert is different. And don’t worry if someone doesn’t understand right away: be persistent and consistent about explaining yourself.  Explain your heart completely without letting anyone interrupt you or overpower you.  This is important.  Please don’t avoid this conversation, because you will need to communicate like this your whole life.

If your friends or family reject you or ridicule you, it’s fine.  You tried and you can try again.  Other Christians need to learn that God wires people very differently for His purposes, and this will be a chance for them and for you to see that.

You’ll also need to sift through your own motives and recognize that introversion cannot be an excuse to cover your agenda.  It’s true that we take time to process things, but that can’t be an excuse for laziness or inaction.  It’s true that we remain quiet in group settings, but that can’t be an excuse to remain cynical and sour. 

As for gaining confidence: I feel like we set unfair standards on ourselves about what “confidence” really means.  We see a macho muscular dude who appears so sure of himself and then we play the comparison-game — but we don’t know what’s going on in his mind and comparison doesn’t help you anyway.  For all we know, this guy could be faking his grin or stuffing his shirt.

Have you considered just embracing your awkwardness and uncertainty?  And then just making decisions anyway?  I really don’t know anyone who is 100% for-sure on anything, and I doubt any of us have waited for some confidence-bar to fill up all the way before making decisions.  Not even the macho buff dude does that. 

Maybe you don’t know if this new person you just met will be your friend.  Take the chance anyway.  Maybe you don’t know if this girl wants to have lunch with you.  Take the chance anyway.  Maybe you’re scared to hit up that church event.  Go anyway.  You don’t have to wait for the fear to subside.  Often fear is obliterated by the very act of deciding and doing. 

The more you can act in spite of yourself — you’ll suddenly find that none of your worst fears are all that bad.  The sky doesn’t fall on you and your pants don’t spontaneously disappear (if that’s happened, I’m so sorry).  True confidence is just going for it anyway.  Emotions are a good fuel at best and unreliable at their worst.  Your emotions are real, yes, but they can’t determine your decisions. As determination wins, it gets easier every time.

Whether you fall on your face or not: God loves you, and no conditions apply.  He sent His very own Son for you to cover your sin, to defeat the devil, to secure you back to God, and to give you daily grace for all your anxiety and afflictions.  In Christ, God doesn’t see your performance or the insecurity or the clumsiness or the doubt.  He sees you wanting to come out to play, and He is graciously calling you forward to receive His joy and peace.  So come out to play.  Don’t wait another minute on that. 

Who God has called you to be is the you that you’ve been wanting to be all along.

“It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.”

— C.S. Lewis

— J.S.