Spiritual flab.
And the horrible thing is, I'm comfortable with the flab.
Now don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about gross obesity. I'm not a couch-potato Christian who sits around all day filling my heart and mind with all kinds of "junk food" and never lifting a finger to serve the Lord, yet claiming to follow him. I try to follow God faithfully. I take risks for him. I am committed to him. I'm flabby, not obese.
It comes from enjoying the fine things of life: good friends, a family that cares about me, plenty of food to eat, good health, a fulfilling job, enough money to spend on some good entertainment like Christian concerts and Christian books and Christian conferences, quality church services every Sunday, all that sort of thing. I pray for those things. I pray that God will keep my family safe and happy, and will protect my loved ones from all harm. I pray that God will continue to give me good health, and should I become sick or injured, I pray that he will return me to good health quickly so that I can get back to serving him in short order. As I take risks in my faith by jumping off the proverbial cliff, I ask him to catch me, or to teach me to fly before I hit the bottom. I thank him for the roof over my head, the food in my stomach, the money in my bank account. I am sure to tell him frequently how grateful I am for these good things that he has given me.
Those are all good things and good prayers. But even as I am praying my good prayers for my good things, I hear a voice whisper to me, "What if the harm you are asking me to keep from that loved one is the hurt that will bring him or her closer to me? What if my greater purpose will be fufilled in suffering rather than prospering? What if I will gain the most glory not by catching you or teaching you to fly, but in allowing you to fall? What then?"
Oh, God . . . no. . .
No, I can't pray like that. I can't think like that. Think that you might ask me to take a risk only to fail? Think that you might withhold a blessing because there is some greater thing to gain? God, are you asking me to be willing to suffer for the sake of my relationship with you? Are you asking me to be willing to allow my loved ones to suffer if necessary for their relationship with you? Are you asking me to be willing to give up the good things I have learned to love? Am I even willing to entertain the thought that the "abundant life" your Son died to give me might involve suffering? No, I can't pray like that . . . can I? I like the good things, even if they do make me flabby.
I'd have to change my prayers. I'd have to really believe that knowing Christ is of far greater value than any of the good things I have learned to enjoy. I'd have to accept that my flabbiness is a problem and be willing to cut back and go into training. I'd have to believe that the hurt is a good thing, a sign that soft spiritual muscles are being broken down and reformed into longer, leaner, stronger muscles. I'd have to think of the hurt as a sign that maybe I'm doing something right instead of fearing that it somehow means that I've lost God's favour. I'd have to believe that suffering isn't the worst thing in the world, not in my life nor in the lives of those I love most dearly. I might have to sit by and watch my loved ones suffer and love them in it without trying to fix them or stop the suffering, even though my own heart is breaking if I start praying those kinds of prayers.
Those aren't flabby prayers. They're hard, gritty, determined, passionate prayers. They're the kinds of prayers that I imagine would come from lean, mean ultra-marathoner-type Christians. Really fit Christians who are willing to undergo any kind of training, give up all manner of good foods, and drink weird protein drinks in order to stay in shape.
When I stand beside people like that, I feel fat. I'm not fat, just a little flabby. A little too afraid of suffering. A little too attached to the good life.
But boy, do I wish I could run like that . . .
"Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last for ever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize."
1 Corinthians 9:25-27
2 comments:
Another great post, Marianne, with much inspiration and much challenge. My heart's desire is to be able to pray those difficult prayers and to minimize or eliminate the spiritual flab in my life.
I am challenged once again.
I have this prayer by Sir Frances Drake that I have saved and will read often and it also challenges me.
"Disturb us Lord, when we are too well pleased with ourselves, when our dreams have come true because we have dreamed too little, when we arrive safely because we have sailed to close to the shore.
Disturb us Lord, when with the abundance of things we possess, we have lost our thirst for the waters of life; having fallen in love with life, we have ceased to dream of eternity; and in our efforts to build a new earth, we have allowed our vision of the new Heaven to dim.
Disturb us Lord, to dare more boldly, to venture on wider seas where storms will show your mastery; where losing sight of land, we shall find the stars. We ask you to push back the horizons of our hopes; and to push into the future in strength, courage, hope and love."
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