Category Archives: God

Standard

Posted by

Posted on

January 29, 2018

Posted under

God, Life

Comments

8 Comments

The Things that Wake Up When the Lights Go Out [thoughts on sleeplessness]

A lot of things came together to inspire this post.

I’m not usually an insomniac, but a few times a month something comes up that keeps me awake when I’m trying to sleep, something that wakes up when the lights go out. My Grandpa rarely—if ever—sleeps through the night because of all his broken parts. The little boy I nanny suffers from nightmares. Many dear ones feel the weight of life most keenly when it’s time to sleep and they’re alone with their thoughts. And there are so many others. Thus, this post.

So this goes out to all those who are as wakeful as I am and especially to those who are more so. These are the measures I take to make use of the time when I’d rather be sleeping and/or combat the things lurking in the dark. Pick and choose what proves helpful for you.

wake when the lights go out feature image.jpg

Things can go… bad in the dark, after the lights have been turned off, the covers have been snuggled under, and the silence has set in.

Sometimes the mind shakes off any semblance of sleepiness and decides to wake up all the way and ruminate over the stresses of life—the next bill to be paid, the child who left God, the mess that is the relationship with a friend, the car that is currently throwing that check engine light again (like, it must be doing it just for kicks now, right?), upcoming tests that you feel like you should be cramming for instead of trying to catch up on all your sleep debt, or whatever other stressers might be robbing you of your sleep.

Sometimes the mind takes a darker turn, one toward self-harm and inadequacy and silent tears and a sense of helplessness. Isolation folds in and a millstone drops on the chest, suffocating, crushing, draining.

Sometimes the mind twists toward something else, something more alluring. Fantasies in the dark can feel anonymous, an inviting cocoon to drop into in the wake of loneliness and unfulfilled emotional and physical desires.

Other times, the mind runs its merry way right to sleep… but then the whole body is frozen awake by a nightmare that leaves the heart racing and the mind shivering. Every sound in the hall is the footstep of humanity’s most depraved approaching the bedroom door.

And yet other times still, wakefulness isn’t due to stress so much as it’s due to bones that were once broken and still ache enough to keep you awake. A hip, a back, a migraine, something physical that won’t let rest come.

So here are four things that help me.

Pray. I am a firm believer in the sweet tenderness that God has for his people and that he is more than able to meet every one of my needs—including pouring out the purest comfort on my unsettled heart and mind. So, when rest is not restful, I pray with honesty. There’s nothing more peaceful than taking refuge in God and falling asleep aware of his presence. That begins with prayer. And don’t pray only for yourself. Sometimes it seems as though God is keeping me awake just so I can pray for the people he brings to mind.

Music. Music helps pull my mind from wherever it is to look at God and offer tranquil worship as I rest on the truth shared beautifully in the lyrics. Some of my favorite restful songs include Fall Afresh by Jeremy Riddle, Come Thou Fount performed by Kings Kaleidoscope, Surely Goodness, Surely Mercy by Shane and Shane, Far Too Wonderful by Shane and Shane, Sweet Hour of Prayer performed by Casting Crowns, and Captain by Hillsong (feel free to check out my sleep playlist on Spotify). Pick some songs that encourage and calm you and play them quietly when you’re having trouble sleeping. (You do have to be careful that you don’t train yourself to rely on music to fall asleep.)

Psalms. I’m a bit over the moon about the book of Psalms (which may be part of why I cannot recommend the entire Psalms Vol. II album by Shane and Shane enough; seriously, go look the album up and listen to Lord of Hosts – Psalm 46 first). The Psalmists knew how to commune with God, and they understood the dearness of intimacy with the Lord of Hosts. Turning on a lamp and slowly reading some Psalms draws me back to the God of peace.

Meditation. Take advantage of the opportunity to meditate on Scripture or work on whatever passage you are currently memorizing. Remember that this is the mightiest of swords we’re talking about here; there is no foe that can withstand the words of God. So use the Sword; make it part of your heart, mind, and soul. There are few better uses of your sleeplessness.

All these things help me, and I hope they help the restless of you too.

Do you struggle with insomnia? What do you usually do? What would you add to my list?

With love,

Rosalie

P.S. – did anybody notice that these four suggestions in this order make “P.M.P.M.”. Which is kind of swanky since we sleep at nighttime which is called “The P.M.”. Just sayin’.

P.P.S. – also, extra points to me for taking a picture of my meager seaglass collection and randomly throwing it up on the ol’ blog for a post on sleeplessness. #winning

Standard

Posted by

Posted on

January 15, 2018

Posted under

God, The Christian Life

Comments

10 Comments

An Instance When You Shouldn’t Think of Others Before Yourself [an autobiography]

Usually, it’s a good think to think of others before you think of yourself. In fact, it’s always good to think of other’s needs before your own. We’re to consider each other as more significant than ourselves, looking to their interest before our own. This is a huge part of how Christians are to love each other, how we’re to be Jesus to one another.

But today I want to talk about an instance when it’s wrong—sinful, even—to think about someone else before you think of yourself. After several stabs at this post, the best way to do this seems to be by sharing a bit of autobiography.

an instance when you shouldn't think of others.jpg

A not-so-hypothetical situation.

It was Sunday morning at church, and a visiting pastor was speaking from Ephesians 4 about how our leaders are gifts to our church, admonishing us to be unified, reminding us what—or rather who—unifies us as a church, and calling us to grow up into the image of Christ. I sat there in my pew, brimming with enthusiasm. I had a running list of people who I thought needed to hear that sermon, who needed to hear it and then heed it. I’m not the type to call out an amen in the service, but I wanted to that morning… until I realized I was deciding how everyone else had to change because of the truth we were told that day except for me. I wasn’t thinking about how I needed to learn and grow; I was thinking about everyone else who needed to learn and grow, calling them out in my head.

It was a strange, disorienting, somewhat sickening moment.

The problem.

In December 2016, I was reading The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis, and that was the first time I was made aware that this sort of thinking was a problem… and that I had this problem (The Screwtape Letters can do that to a person). It ebbed in and out of my mind for months as I caught myself thinking about how the truth being preached and taught to me could be applied in the lives of all these sinners around me. Goodness knows I’m painfully aware of their sin and problems and am so wise as to know how they need to go about growing up, and I sure hope they are actually listening to this sermon because they really need to get their lives in order.

But here’s the deal.

Sermons on Sunday mornings, daily quiet time with God, convicting books on the Christian life—these are rarely the time to be assessing the sin of others.

The Holy Spirit puts me in church on Sunday for me to hear the message and learn from it, not so I can steam about how so-and-so had better be awake to hear this because I think I know so much about so-and-so’s heart and life.

My quiet time with God is my quiet time with God where he and I set up a battle plan for my life and my sin issues, not where I pick out pieces of what I’m learning and wish my sister or friend or whoever knew it so that they could stop being such a difficult person for me to deal with.

The Holy Spirit is with me while I read that book on the Christian life to convict me, not so that I can convict others.

These are all situations where I should come first in my mind, but so often I don’t. There is something sickly satisfying in looking down on someone else from the safety of my mind, from the high vantage point my self-love so readily gives me. But my mind isn’t safe from God’s eyes, and my high ground is just an illusion I’ve made for myself.

The source of this mindset.

It all boils down to pride. This is thinking much of myself and hardly anything of those around me.

There is a time and place for coming alongside a brother or sister in Christ and exhorting them with the power of the Holy Spirit, but the only power of the Holy Spirit that has to do with pride is the power that the Holy Spirit uses to expose and then cut down pride. There is no upside or strength in pride, only sin and self, and in the process of sanctification, both of those must go.

A holy heart.

How can I learn to look first at myself before turning my eyes to the lives of others? Humility and love. Humility and love. Humility and love. Humility and love.

Humility is for looking at myself first. I have sin issues. So do you. So does everyone else. But the sin issues that need to occupy my mind are my own, not anyone else’s. When I feel the tug to look at the sinners around me—whether it be in church or during my devotions or reading a book on the Christian life or anywhere else—I will stop and pray.

I will pray to the holy God to whom I should have no right to lift up my voice. I’ll ask for help from the Holy Spirit whose presence I should have no access to. I will look to Jesus, who has given my what is his, and I’ll remember that grace has nothing to do with deserve.

Pride has a hard time standing before the brilliant holiness of God, and I think that might be part of humility in a nutshell. It’s not about looking at others or yourself or comparison at all. It’s looking at God, truly looking at him, and remembering why you can.

Love is for when I do see legitimate sin in someone else’s life. Love, 1 Corinthians 13 love, is not blind, but it is true. 1 Corinthians 13 love gives the correct heartset for confronting a brother or sister in sin. It is devoid of pride and the sick urge to rejoice in the faults of others and tear them down or feel superior.

Instead of thinking anything about self, love immediately moves toward the best interest of the beloved, even if it involves painful confrontation. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.

Further reading.

I wrote this because I know I’m not the only one with this sin, and so if you’d like to read the Scripture behind this post, here’s a list of some of the influential passages: Jeremiah 17:9-10, Proverbs 16:18, Matthew 7:1-5, Luke 6:31, John 8:1-8, Romans 2:1-11, 1 Corinthians 13, Philippians 2:3-10, and James 4:12.

Who has read The Screwtape Letters? Did anyone else get major speck vs. plank vibes from this post (if you did, it was probably because Matthew 7:1-5 was hugely influential)? Which is harder for you—humility or love? Speaking of humility, what do you think it is (I ask because opinions seem to vary)?

With love,

Rosalie

P.S. – this is a messy subject, and there were several things I didn’t clarify because it was getting to be a monster huge post. What clarifications/follow-up posts would you like to see?

P.P.S. – don’t forget to enter the giveaway from last week’s post by Just B. Jordan!

Standard

Posted by

Posted on

October 31, 2017

Posted under

God, The Christian Life

Comments

6 Comments

A Brief Survey of Bible Reading, Bible Study, and Personal Devotions [their similarities, differences, and such]

We’ve got a few housekeeping things to get out of the way: 1) I’m not going to give a good reason why this post is so late because there isn’t one 2) November is my blogging break month, so no Penprints posts (keep a weather eye on the Facebook page for any momentous updates) 3) I’m doing NaNoWriMo for the first time in a few years!!! 4) there’s probably something I’m forgetting.

DSC03887.jpg

Bible reading.

What it is: Reading the Bible. Here’s what you do: grab your Biblical text, settle in somewhere, and read through a chapter or book of the Bible (I know, we were all kind of unsure).

What it doesn’t do: Bible reading alone cannot nourish a soul. Scripture is the richest soul-food, but you can’t be filled up by something just by looking at it, or even putting it into your mouth. You have to chew on it, swallow it, and make it part of who you are (more on that later).

Bible reading “done well”: The best Bible reading springs from a heart realization not that you should read the Bible but that you need to read it, that if you don’t read it, you won’t survive. The best Bible reading is approached with hunger and humility. It’s Spirit-led, and both the mind and the heart are engaged, soft, and meditative/contemplative.

Why do it: The Bible is how God decided to tell us about Himself; it’s His chief form self-revelation. So, from a desire to know God flows the reading of His Word, and from reading the Bible comes a heart and mind that are saturated with Scripture.

Bible study.

What it is: Intense, extensive study of the Bible. This involves examining the context, wording, grammar, cross-references, etc.. The passage(s) in question is read and then reread and then rereread. Notes are kept, questions are asked, and answers are found. Theoretically. (Or, my favorite thing ever: I end up with more questions than I had when I started).

What it doesn’t do: Bible study alone cannot feed the soul. An exercise of the mind without the engagement of the heart will result in knowledge but not nourishment.

 

Bible study “done well”: Approach Bible study with much prayer and openness. It’s something to do with God, to enjoy and discuss with Him. Check yourself to make certain you’re delighting in the Word itself and God Himself and not in the discovery process. There’s a special thrill in realization and finding an long-sought answer, and it’s good to enjoy that bit of satisfaction… but it shouldn’t be the primary source of our satisfaction and joy.

Why do it: 1) Because we’re commanded to do it (2 Timothy 2). 2) Investigation is a byproduct of a healthy, worshipful heart. 3) We’re called to be stewards of God’s mysteries, and while they’re called “mysteries” for a reason (i.e. – we don’t even know what we don’t know about them, and we likely never will), it’s our responsibility as stewards to share our knowledge with others… and how can we share it if we don’t have it? And how can we have it if we don’t look for it?

Personal devotions.

What it is: Personal devotions (aka: quiet time, devos, or Jesus time) is where Bible reading, study, prayer, meditation, worship, and self-examination all come together to create rocket-fuel for the Christian life. This is where the heart, mind, soul, and strength strive together know God and then be like God. This is where the mind is renewed and the soul feasts.

What it doesn’t do: Doing devotions can help equip you to grow and live the Christian life, but you have to do just that: live the Christian life. Just as faith without works is dead, what you taste and see in your quiet time is dead if it isn’t translated into your everyday life.

 

Personal devotions “done well”: I don’t think there’s really a right or wrong way to do devotions, and I think that they will look a little different for each person, but there are a few universal principles.

If you don’t do it with the Holy Spirit, it’s worthless; so ask for the Holy Spirit (and really mean it). Be purposeful and intentional. Strive to be undistracted. Don’t lie to yourself or God about what you find in the text or yourself. Do it every day (that includes weekends) as much as possible.

Clarifications: Devotions are not reading a book about the Bible. Yes, you can read a book about the Bible, but you must balance it with actually reading the Bible itself. You can have a guide or commentary, but it’s important to remember what someone says about God’s Word isn’t as valuable as God’s Word itself.

Devotions are not public. This means you don’t broadcast them (i.e. – don’t do it in a public place, and don’t post about doing it on social media).

Devotions are not meant to be preparation to teach others. Pastors, small group leaders, and other teachers should have a time separate from sermon/lesson/discussion preparation outside of the their devotions. Devotions are where the Holy Spirit meets our personal needs, and teaching can spring out of that, but teaching should not be the goal. Knowing God should be the goal.

Devotions are more involved than Bible reading and Bible study alone because it incorporates more spiritual disciplines (more time spent in prayer, worship, reflection, application, etc.).

Devotions won’t always look the same for all people. Sometimes there will be more study time, sometimes much more prayer, sometimes more simple reading and relishing the Word, sometimes more worship, and it all depends on each person’s season in life and specific needs.

Why do it: If we want to know and be like God, we won’t just think about wanting to know and be like Him; we’ll ask Him to help us know and be like Him. And if we want to know and be like God, we won’t just ask for His help and sit on our hands; we’ll read His Word. If we want to know and be like God, we won’t just read His Word; we’ll meditate on it. If we want to know and be like God, we won’t just meditate on His Word; we’ll study it, knowing that in studying it, we are studying Him. And if we want to know and be like God, we won’t just study Him; we’ll ask Him to help us know and be like Him.

And so the cycle continues, the desire followed by the asking followed by the reading followed by the mediation followed by the study followed by the asking again, and the soul that goes through that cycle will follow it with action–changed thinking and behavior and way of life. And the soul that is characterized by hearing and then doing will be the soul that grows up into the image of Christ.

A few warnings.

Any spiritual discipline can easily become a rite of religion we do because we know we should.

As our eyes skim the verses during Bible reading, our brains can drop into autopilot, and the God-breathed words–the most powerful words ever to be said and printed–become nothing more than black shapes on a sheer white page. They go in before one blink and out after the next, and we have a vague sense that something about grace is being said, but we don’t really what it is, just that it’s something to grace and glory to God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ and other such Bible jazz.

When conducting intense study, the Bible can quickly become a textbook, and turning the Bible into a textbook is dangerous because it’s not a textbook. The Bible is the special self-revelation of God, a Being we don’t and never will understand. Yet, when studying the Bible, it is so easy for it to become an intellectual pursuit, engaging every cylinder of our minds while leaving our hearts and souls unaffected by the knowledge.

Pride is another danger, and when I say danger, I say it with flashing warning signs and blaring sirens because pride is a fire no one can get close to and not be burned. Pride in efforts or “results” from Bible reading, study, etc. is so appallingly natural; it’s the road our old nature wants to race down headlong given any opportunity. (And before you say you don’t have pride, you need to think again.)

Keep guard against legalism setting in as you seek to establish healthy habits, and always remember that grace super-abounds.

Don’t do one or the other; do all three.

Read your Bible outside of your devotions time. Learn to delight in it, pleasure read it. Regular, extensive Bible reading is not what “good” or “devout” Christians do. Regular extensive Bible reading is what hungry, needy, weak-and-owning-it Christians do.

Study your Bible outside your devotions time. Look into all the things that raise questions, seek and find answers. Puzzle over all the mysteries and come as close as possible to understanding all of them.

That’s all for today, kids.

So we’ve come to the end of my brief survey. What are your personal definitions of these things? Anything to add or object to? What do your devotions look like right now?

With love,

Rosalie <3

P.S. – This post was supposed to go up yesterday, but then I lost the feature image and was too annoyed to figure out a new feature image at 11:05 pm on Sunday, and so here we are on Tuesday.

P.P.S. – I think I might be moving toward a final redesign soon (and, of course, I’m using “final” in the loosest sense of the word)!

P.P.P.S. – there’s probably a typo or two in this post, but I’m kind of beyond caring at the moment (you know when you’re wandering around the house in sweatpants with two day old makeup on your face, a mug of thrice-reheated coffee in your hand, and and bed hair? Yeah, I’m right there. Figuratively.).

Standard

Posted by

Posted on

October 2, 2017

Posted under

God, Life, Living like Christ

Comments

2 Comments

4 Thoughts on Cultivating an Appetite for God

We (Christians) often talk about desiring God’s Word and God’s will and God’s glory and God’s blessings and God’s work and bunch of other things of God, and all those are good things, the best things, actually. Yet frankly, wanting the things of God is meaningless without wanting God Himself.

So let’s talk about cultivating an appetite for God Himself because so often I’m too distracted to chase, not the things He does or says, but simply (yet not at all simply) Him, God, Yahweh.

 

4-thoughts-appetite 2.JPG

Why crave God?

What’s the difference between yearning for the things of God and yearning for God Himself? Is there a difference?

They’re entangled, feeding into each other at different times, but they are not the same. God is a Person, not a thing, and the things of God are just that—things, not God. And the things of God do not satisfy the soul. They don’t fill up the cracks and crannies and canyons of the soul. They do not fill the soul to overflowing, to bursting; God does that. God satisfies and floods to the point of brimming and spilling over, and it is God, who crafted the soul, who can truly meet all its needs and longings. So that’s why we must go after an appetite for God—because in Him is the fullness of joy.

The appetite.

Perhaps it goes without saying, but I’m going to say it just to be clear: you and I cannot make ourselves hungry for God. There’s nothing we can do on our own to work ourselves into a true, salivating, soul-rumbling hunger for God. As it is with all things, we must first ask God to open us up to it, ask Him to give us what we cannot get on our own: an appetite for Himself.

This is not a “step” to breeze over because of its plainness or elementary nature; without this, the rest falls to pieces. Appetite is not based solely on craving, but instead craving and simple need are knotted together, and out of that comes the hunger. Thus, recognizing the base need and bringing it before God in spirit and in truth is where this all begins. So don’t skip this part.

Second, I think we need to return to wonder. I’ve been in church since the womb, and I get quite comfortable with God, used to Him (or, at least, I’m used to my idea of Him). God can seem stale to me, and I don’t think I’m alone in this. I’m hardly amazed by God, not because He isn’t amazing but because I’ve lost wonder.

Let’s take something that seems so simple, something I’ve sung since before I can remember, something I careen past unthinking, unfeeling every day: “Jesus loves me this I know.”

Take a moment and think. Jesus loves me. Jesus loves you. Consider who, what Jesus is—the image of the invisible God; the One by whom, for whom, and through whom the universe was created and is held together; the second person in the triune Godhead; the One so holy that it’s shouted back and forth in heaven and again and again and again, “Holy, holy, holy!”; the One who is so much beyond us, before us, that we can’t hope to express it. And this is a short, basic version.

Now, consider who you are, what you are—dust on a pale blue dot suspended in a universe wider and wilder than our minds can fathom. Now, not paying any attention to the things you and I have said and done, let’s go straight for the jugular: the things we think and feel. Varying degrees of indifference to God because He isn’t us. Varying degrees of disgust for others because they aren’t us. Not-really-varying-degrees of love for ourselves because we are us.

I’m an incredibly self-absorbed creature; so much of the time, I think of the world (and scarier yet—God) in relation to me, how I think things should be done, how it affects me, how other people make me feel, everyone else’s flaws, all my virtues. My world is me. My universe is me. (And remember, this is the short, blurry version because I can hardly bear to think about, much less write about, the seemingly endless, excruciatingly specific list of ugly things in me.)

Now, let’s put the two together. Jesus loves me. And since He’s the omniscient God, He knows all about that seemingly endless list of ugly things with more clarity than I can dream of and shudder to think of. And since He’s the Most Holy One, in my twisted, fallen, hideous state, I am an affront to Him, an offense to His awesome purity. Yet, He has decided to love me, has swept all that away, has given me His purity, His goodness, His righteousness, His holiness so that I might regain what was lost in Eden—the chance to come spotless before God and offer worship.

So that’s what I mean when I say that an appetite for God means recapturing wonder, and wonder is found in stillness and thinking. It’s been said that when you think about something for any lengthy bit of time, you can’t help but find wonder in it. So take time to wonder at and in God, to be broken and weeping at what you see in yourself and to be trembling and gasping at what you see of God. Seeing God with wonder, seeing Him as He really is, cuts open this profound need to see Him more. So we ask Him to graciously show us Himself, and then we take time to be wonderstruck.

Third, look for someone(s)—living or dead—whose appetite for God is/was worth emulating. And then emulate it.

For me, that’s the Psalmists (especially David), my brothers (Caleb and Luke), and A.W. Tozer.  See what they’ve done (or are doing) that compels them to want God so badly, and do it yourself. For me, it’s been reading Scripture, talking with my brothers, watching my brothers in their lives, reading good books, reading the Psalms aloud, and hearty, honest prayer.

Lastly, we have to eradicate the things—anything—that dulls our appetite for God, remove anything else that would slake our hunger and thirst (because we’re always hungry and thirsty for something; it just varies on what we fill up on). Locate the junk food in your life and cut it out. This can really be anything. Some will be sin, the obvious ones to get the axe. Slander. Fits of anger. Pornography. Gluttony. Lying. Slothfulness. Whatever it is, it needs to go. And then there are the less obvious ones, the ones that aren’t wrong per ce, but they also aren’t helpful (the whole lawful vs. helpful business). If it’s not increasing your appetite for God, it’s curbing your craving for Him. Whatever it/they is/are, we have to ruthlessly cut it/them out.

The paradox of it all.

God fulfills us, yet we can never get enough of Him. A voraciously hungry soul is fed beyond all contentment, yet is never satisfied. It’s absurd, enigmatic, too puzzling for me to actually understand, but I’ve found it to be true myself. A. W. Tozer puts it like this: “To have found God and still pursue Him is the soul’s paradox of love.”

The end of the matter (or rather, the end of this post).

An appetite for God doesn’t come about overnight (much to my dismay), but when it comes, it comes in intense hunger pangs because once the living God reveals Himself to a craving soul, even just a sliver of who He is, all that can be done is to lurch after Him, gasping, searching, crying out “More!”.

 “O God, You are my God; earnestly I seek You; my soul thirsts for You; my flesh faints for You, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” – Psalm 63:1-2.

What do you think? Any suggestions to add for cultivating an appetite for God? Where is your appetite?

With love,

Rosalie

P.S. – the topic of this post was decided by the lovely people over on Twitter. Thanks for voting for your favorite topic, Twitter peeps! I could not decide for the life of me.

Standard

Posted by

Posted on

September 11, 2017

Posted under

God, Life, Living like Christ

Comments

8 Comments

Mastered by Nothing [a beginner’s guide to self-control] [written by a beginner]

A couple weeks ago in my post about writing and its negative potency in my life, I talked very briefly on the idea of being mastered by everything but Jesus. Well, today, I’m digging into the idea and worthy goal of being mastered by nothing but Jesus.

So let’s roll up our sleeves and get going.

mastered-by-nothing.jpg

“All things are lawful for me,” but not all things are helpful. “All things are lawful for me,” but I will not be dominated by anything. – 1 Corinthians 6:12

At the core of this post is I Corinthians 6:12, and at the heart of 1 Corinthians 6:12 is self-control. Originally, this verse was specifically about self-control in the area of sexual sin, which is important to remember, however, I think there is much to be gleaned here regarding self-control in all areas of life.

As Christians, we have great freedom because of the liberty Christ bought for us with His blood (literally, He paid for every angle of our freedom as Christians with His blood; the more I think about it the wilder and more wondrous I realize it is. So don’t breeze over the truth of the high cost of our freedom.).

Not only are we free from bondage to sin and spiritual death in this life and the next (a thrilling and freeing truth by itself), we are also free from the need of a temple to offer sacrifice in because Jesus was the last sacrifice. We are free from the need of a priest to mediate between us and God because Jesus is our high priest. We’re free from every rule and ritual of the Law because Jesus fulfilled the Law.

We are free to do anything, but not everything will help us be like Christ. We are free to do anything, but we are not to be slaves to anything but Christ. What I mean when I say that we’re free to do anything is that we are able to do anything because the grace of God doesn’t ever end and will never be used up, so we are “allowed” to do anything. However, doing absolutely anything is an abuse of grace. Paul says in Romans 6: “What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it?”

So, let me say it again: under grace, all things are lawful because the Law is fulfilled and ended in Christ, but just because we can do it doesn’t mean we should. Under grace, all things are lawful because Christ set us free from the rule of the Law, but we are not to be controlled by anything. I think that’s the gist of 1 Corinthians 6:12.

Yet we so easily abuse our incredibly expensive, blood-bought freedom.

I misuse my liberty in a lot of different ways. I do things that are “allowed” but aren’t all that helpful, things that don’t spur me to be like Christ. I have habits and mindsets that aren’t forbidden but they’ve grown to a place where they rule me instead of living under my control. We can be mastered by host of different things, but I’ll just give a few examples.

I am mastered by my body when my alarm goes off and I hit snooze five times because I want more sleep and don’t have enough control to just get up (it’s a simple yet telling practice of the state of my self-discipline).

I am controlled by my cell phone when every little ding and blip and whistle has me tugging my phone out of my pocket and scrolling through notifications instead of devoting myself fully to the task at hand.

I am enslaved to my cravings and emotions when I breeze into the kitchen because my story just got rejected and I need some comfort food instead of dealing with rejection in a healthy, godly way.

I am dominated by my body when my hormones are on a warpath, and my anger comes lashing off my tongue.

I am mastered by my emotions when depression creeps up and drags me down into the mud, and instead of doing the work to haul through it, I wallow in it.

I am controlled by my aspirations when writing fills my thoughts, whips my emotions, and dictates my time use (see the post from a couple weeks ago).

And there are so many other things that so often end up controlling us: anxiety, money, sex, body-image, hobbies, possessions, ambitions, etc.; the list goes on and on.

And here’s the deal: sleep is necessary; sleep is good. But my body and however sleepy or tired it is should not rule me. My cell phone is good, but my cell phone should not control my attention. Food is necessary; food is good. Food is to be enjoyed and savored! But my desire for food for any reason should not master me. I have been created with hormones and emotions, and they do need to be processed. But that’s the things: I need to process my feelings, but my feelings should never process me.

I am free to sleep in and have a cell phone and eat yummy food and experience a full range of emotions, but not all those things are always helping my new nature slay my old one. I am free to sleep in and have a cell phone and eat yummy food and experience a full range of emotions, but none of them should ever control me.

So that leaves us with the problem of self-control. Self-control (or self-disciple or self-restraint) is one of those annoying things that’s far easier said (or written or read) than it is lived. So how can we make our bodies and emotions our servants instead of our masters?

Well, we can’t. This is the part that gets my pride all fluffed up, offended, and territorial because what in the world do you mean I can’t control myself?

Self-control isn’t a matter of self; it’s a matter of Spirit. Either we are controlled by whatever our personal vices are, or we are controlled by the Holy Spirit. There is no in between or part where we actually hold the reigns; we only get to decide who/what we’re going to pass the reigns to.

Self-control is one of the nine fruits of the Spirit mentioned in Galatians 5, and it’s one of eight attributes listed in 2 Peter 1. Both lists are like the process of sanctification in a nutshell. True believers will grow in these ways, but true growth is not a matter of willpower or work. Self-control is something to strive for, but we don’t get it overnight. It’s a process. And just like every other part of sanctification, it takes humility and time and intentionality and Spirit-reliance and daily, hourly, minutely gracious refillings of the Holy Spirit.

Recognizing that we can’t do it ourselves, that we’re still so weak, is the first step, and the next is faithful pursuit of knowing Christ and being like Christ. And then it’s a cycle of choosing to take those steps again and again and again.

In the everyday life, it looks like praying, “God, I can’t do this, but I want to because I want to be like You. I will run as hard and fast as I can to You, and I will trust that Your Holy Spirit will supply everything I lack to carve me into a better likeness of Your Son.” It looks like then asking in faith and expectation for opportunities to exercise self-control, to be shown where you need self-control, and prepare to be given lots of chances to practice self-control.

So, it is in being mastered by Jesus that we become mastered by nothing else.

Let’s drop a swanky bookend on this post.

As the title of states, this is only a beginner’s guide, and since it’s been written by a beginner, take it with a grain of salt and realize that this is barely even an introduction to self-control. For further reading on grace, sin, and self-control, I recommend Romans, 1 Corinthians, Proverbs, Ephesians, and this sermon from John Piper. (I’m recommending the whole books instead of specific verses because the fullness of the text is captured within its context, and the sermon from John Piper helped me write this post. Also, there’s a lot more to be found in Scripture about self-control; these are just the books I’ve been reading and ruminating over recently which spurred the writing of this post.)

Let’s chat it up. Anything to add? Do you struggle with self-control, or is there a different fruit of the Spirit/quality that you’re working on? What do you do to grow into the likeness of Christ?

With love,

Rosalie

P.S. – so, about the clickbait feature image of the Lego Loki in the tiny birdcage… well, I was racking my little brain about what I could photograph to capture the idea of self-control. I decided on the birdcage, and I was going to run with it and contrive some sort of decent explanation (like, we have to “cage our old nature” type thing; so brilliant, I know). But then I saw my little Lego Loki (curtesy of my Aunt Lis!), and then I was like: “Forget trying to make this picture relevant to the post or anything in life really. Some silliness is in order.”

And that’s how Lego Loki ended up in the tiny birdcage on Penprints.