Spirit-Mindedness and a New Year

For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.

- Romans 8.5-6

It's easy to blame a lack of peace on our circumstances.  If only I wasn't up against this issue, if only I didn't have to do that thing, if only I wasn't so (fill in the blank).  We tend to deflect responsibility onto the things that are outside of our control rather than acknowledging the things that are inside our sphere of influence, because it's easier on our pride to be an innocent victim than it is to be guilty.

A big reason we struggle with ingratitude and anxiety throughout the year, and then feel communally guilty around the holiday season about not being more consistently thankful, is that we tend to set our minds on things of the flesh.  We allow ourselves to buy into the frenetic pace of life and wonder why the chaos has crept from our color-coded, spreadsheet calendars into our hearts.

"If only I weren't so busy!"  "If only I didn't have to get all of that stuff done!"

Poignantly, after encouraging believers to "set their minds on the things of the Spirit," Paul goes on in Romans 8 to say that minds set on the flesh instead are actually openly hostile toward God, because they submit only to their own laws and desires, not to His.  Ultimately, in this idolatrous and distracted state of mind, we render ourselves incapable of pleasing Him.

The Greek word translated as "set their minds" is "phroneo," which means to possess a consistent attitude or a certain view.  Therefore, if I'm "setting my mind" on the Spirit, it's something characteristic and ongoing, not an on-again/off-again thing.  Note that we can do this either with the Spirit, or with the flesh, which means one way or the other is my consistent attitude or certain view.

Setting my mind on the flesh isn't merely a distracted thought life, it's a distraught thought life, and Paul warns that this practice is akin to spiritual death.  That's a big deal, because we as Christians have been bought and justified through the blood of Jesus Christ and deemed eternally righteous before God the Father on the account of the Son.  It's therefore a HUGE problem for us to go back to old ways of thinking, to characteristic types of feeling and operating we did while we were still spiritually dead, because that's no longer who we are.

Do you, like me, sometimes lack peace of mind?  Do you, like me, sometimes focus more on the negative circumstances and heavy demands of life on earth rather than orienting your heart on the character of God and His calling for your life?  Do you, like me, wrestle with a spirit of ingratitude?  If so, then here are three steps we both can take toward Spirit-mindedness in this new year.

1. Maintain a proper focus: I can't control my circumstances, but I can control my attitude.

I might not always like what comes my way, but I can control the ways in which I speak of my circumstances, how much and in what manner I dwell on them, and altogether be proactive to manage my time and resources well.  The struggle to maintain a spirit of gratitude is greatly augmented by a proper focus: God is good, He has blessed me abundantly through His Son, and He has a plan that I might not yet comprehend.  To set my mind on the things of the Spirit is to focus not on how difficult things are, but to choose to see God's hand in everything and trust Him with the outcome.

2. Maintain a proper thought life: I should be sober-minded, not absent-minded.

Eastern meditation practices are all about emptying the mind in order to find inner peace.  This is where Biblical principles of meditation part ways with Zen culture: our goal as Christians is not to be absent-minded and thereby open ourselves to temptation and forgetfulness, or to relinquish control of our often sinful imaginations, but to do the exact opposite.  1 Peter 5.8 warns Christians to be vigilant and sober-minded because the battle to maintain Spirit-mindedness requires us to be cognizant,  level-headed, and in control of our faculties as we face all manner of choices and temptations.  If I don't strive to control my thoughts and my feelings, I will inevitably drift into self-centered patterns of thinking, giving myself over to a complaining spirit and any anxieties that might come my way.  That's neither a recipe for knowing God's peace, nor is it even remotely what righteous living should look like.

3. Maintain proper self-discipline: Prayer and the Word must be priorities.

Lastly, it is virtually impossible for me to truly be Spirit-minded, knowing peace and gratitude, if my personal fellowship with God isn't truly a priority.  In the same way that I can't maintain a healthy relationship with my wife if we spend all of our time together in front of the TV or focusing on our hobbies, I also can't have intimacy with God if I allow my schedule and my concerns to take precedence over my regular, focused prayer life and study time in His Word.  These disciplines are just that -- practices that require time, work, and attentiveness -- but they are instrumental in maintaining Spirit-mindedness and orienting us away from our human tendency to focus only on the things of this world.

Each of these principles is but one step.  If you think of them like stepping stones crossing a river, you know that it will take more than just three to make it safely to dry land: you must repeat those steps.  Again.  And again.  A new year might represent a fresh calendar start, but all of those cares and concerns you had before the holidays began are already audaciously un-pausing themselves and leaping back into view, I'm sure.  Maintaining Spirit-mindedness across each proverbial river is to take careful steps, navigating the inevitable circumstances of life with renewed focus, thought life, and self-discipline.  Don't make the mistake of seeing yourself as a victim, no matter what's in your past: instead, proactively take responsibility to respond well to stress and challenge, no matter how unfair, by leaning into the grace and wisdom of God, both of which are readily available to us as we make each crossing.

Thanksgiving, 2016

Thanksgiving is such a warm, nostalgic holiday for me, just in terms of its laid-back atmosphere and its proximity to the end-of-the-year season.  Specific moments are somewhat vague -- I can remember lying on my belly drawing cartoons out in our sun porch (the toy room), and another year putting together a cardboard, punch-out farm set that my grandmother got me -- but my appreciation for the holiday is a messy bundle of pleasant, quantitative recollections of rest and family time.

That said, I know I'm not the only one who can use the holiday like a checkpoint -- a momentary pause to say thanks for my blessings and fill up my gratitude tank before heading back into my normal, humdrum way of living.  It's easy on Thanksgiving to be thankful, because it's easy to be happy when thing are comfortable.  But normal life (and sometimes holidays too) isn't always (ever?) comfortable.  Outlined below are three questions that I need to be asking myself regularly, none of which will rock anyone back on their mental heels in revelation.  However, learning to be content isn't just about accruing new practical ways to don a brave face when things are ugly.  For Christians, it's about learning deeper appreciation for the reality that has always been in front of us.

How an I practicing "24/7/365 gratitude," not just "Thanksgiving gratitude?"

I heard the story of an elderly preacher who, after years of faithful ministry, suddenly began preaching the same sermon to his congregation week after week.  At first, the people were polite and said nothing, but they all wondered if their minister was starting to show his age.  Finally, as weeks turned into months, they began to grow concerned for his mental health, and one of the trustees was nominated to approach the pastor and inquire whether or not he thought it might be time to retire.

"...because you do realize," the spokesperson said nervously, "that you've been preaching the exact same sermon each Sunday for six weeks now, right?"

Calmly, the pastor replied, "Tom, I'll move on to another topic as soon as this one actually sinks in."

Personally, I don't need the reminder to be thankful every time Thanksgiving rolls around.  I need it every day.

According to the Apostle Paul, joy and gratefulness should be among the chief, distinguishing qualities of Christ-followers (Phil 4.4).  To be anything but grateful in the face of what we have been given is to be both self-centered and incredibly short-sighted.  We all know how easy it is to set aside just one day of the year to take a deep breath and re-evaluate the silver lining.  We also know that it's much harder to maintain that spirit of peace and thankfulness on a daily basis -- largely because we have a penchant for always expecting things to go our way.  We read, "All things work together for good for those who love Him" in Romans 8.28 and conveniently ignore the fact that the biblical idea of "good" is tied to our spiritual growth, not to our personal comfort.  And in the midst of such skewed thinking, our spirits become jaded to the lessons God might be trying to teach us and we sink to begrudging the hours rather than redeeming them.

But maybe it's not just our attitude that needs to be examined.

Maybe it's our view of the Almighty.

Faith and trust are key elements in maintaining daily thankfulness for God's provision.  But they aren't just attitude words.  They're belief words.  Together, the joint exercise of faith and trust logically expresses the reality that I don't possess all the knowledge, and that there are things completely outside of my realm of control.  In that regard, maybe my struggle with gratitude is not because my faith in God is weak, but because my conception of God is.  Do I really esteem Him to be good?  Faithful?  Omnipotent?  Or have I stunted my understanding of Him by inflating my own abilities, esteem, and expectations?  Forgive the not-so-latent Calvinistic flavor, but either God is sovereign or He is impotent.  Any in-between is a contradiction in terms.  And frankly, a God who is not in control is not much of a God at all -- certainly not one to place my faith and trust in.  Certainly not one to whom thanks and praise are due.

No wonder our faith is so small if we have such small views of who God truly is and what He can do!

Here's what I know.  The same God Almighty who expends sufficient mercy and grace to all sinners also gives the necessary resources that His children need for life and joy and worship (Matt 4.4; Luke 11.13; Jas 1.17).  He is good and He is big and He is holy and He is trustworthy.  As Christians, we can rest in His sovereignty even when circumstances are poor, because our faith is placed in what is truly "for good" -- not in the stunted, shortsighted promises of American consumerist spirituality, but in the aim of holiness that our Savior has sovereignly purposed for all of His children, and in the hope of eternity spent with Him.

How am I giving thanks for the little things?

Prayer, in general, is crucial.  Without a prayer life, I'll find it impossible to be truly grateful for anything.  Specifically, praying before a meal might seem like just a mundane habit -- more like family tradition or a teaching tool for children than a genuine expression of gratitude.  However, maintaining this kind of practice is a small way to live in constant dependence upon God.  Having this kind of discipline is an indicator that I don't just run to Him in a panic when the sky is falling, but have intentionally disciplined myself to be prayerful.  When relationships fail and work is a mess and my life seems to be in shambles, there are still fragments of goodness and hope to be found in commonplace things that altogether point to the bedrock fact that God is still working.  However, if I haven't learned beforehand that there is nothing I've been given for which I shouldn't be deeply thankful, I'll find it difficult to find anything meaningful in the rubble.

Conversely, what I'm quick to complain about (i.e. NOT pray about) also shines a spotlight in the direction of my values.  It's so easy to sink into irritation and downright bitterness rather than wait for the grain of sand to become a pearl.  However, if I train myself to express gratitude when things are good, by pausing to be thankful for the proverbial "little things," I can preemptively form a habit that's hard to dislocate.  If I teach myself not to take even the most mundane things for granted, suddenly those are the things on the tip of my tongue when I'm hard-pressed to find reasons to be thankful in difficulty.  Giving thanks regularly for the dispensable things makes giving thanks at all that much easier when things become difficult.

This kind of thinking involves a large measure of training and self-discipline.  It's not our natural inclination to express gratitude, not when things are difficult, and especially not when we live in the middle of a generation that feels entitled to only the best.  I must work at expressing gratitude by engaging when I don't particularly sense a need to, so that in the future -- when the world is collapsing in around me -- I can more naturally turn to my default response.

Praying before meals, for meals, is a tiny way to do that.

How does my gratitude (or lack thereof) reflect my response to the gospel?

My perpetual emotional/spiritual state should be one of deep-seated peace and joy in what Jesus Christ has done for me.  My response to poor circumstances indicates just how deeply the message of redemption has sunk into my heart.  Am I quick to complain and find it impossible to see past the sickness, the loss, the circumstance?  Well, maybe I don't truly understand the gospel.

No matter how unbearable life becomes, no matter how badly we screw up our own plans, no matter how poorly other people treat us... as Christians we rest in the confidence of knowing that our salvation is both unmerited (on our part) and unshakeable.  I didn't earn it, and so I can't lose it.  I was a wretch to whom God showed unfathomable mercy, and now I can rest my hope in eternity and be deeply, truly thankful -- even when the present is a frighteningly miserable experience.

The reality of what we've been saved from and saved to is cause for incredible joy and thankfulness.  No more am I a lost and broken enemy of God, earning wages upon wages of destruction and judgment for my lifetime of sinful investments.  Now I am a favored child -- a rescued and redeemed saint, a member of the priesthood of all believers, part of God's ransomed family, covered by the blood of Jesus.  The righteousness that His perfection attributes to me is a permanent state, and nothing can take that away.

With that perspective in place, it is far easier to be grateful for the little things, the big things, the good things, and even the bad things.  We can be motivated to express our deep gratitude for salvation and demonstrate attitudes of joy and contentment even when everyone around us is opting to complain and despair.  It's no wonder countless ministers of the Word have historically encouraged Christians to preach the gospel daily -- to ourselves!  It is by reaffirming what the sacrifice and resurrection of Jesus Christ has accomplished that the problems of life, the universe, and everything shrink in stark, almost embarrassing contrast.

Nothing can touch what God has done.  Nothing compares to the blessing of my sin -- not in part, but the whole! -- being nailed to the cross so that I may bear it no more.

This Thanksgiving, let's pause as always to reflect and refresh.  But let's also strive to carry that spirit into the day after.  And the day after that.

Traveling Companions & Destinations for Blockheads

Tara and I have officially been in the process of house-hunting for a month.  In other words, we've been in the game not quite long enough to fully understand the depth of the plight which afflicts many would-be home-owners in the state of New Jersey, but certainly long enough to taste just how frustrating the process can be.  In fact, it's easy when facing inspection fees, renovation costs, and other up-front buyer expenses, to lose heart at the base of what can seem like an insurmountable mountain.

As we stand in this place -- uncertain yet determined travelers with our necks craning to see the peak, invisible behind a layer of fog -- another hiker comes up beside us.  His name is Anxiety, and the task we face is the kind for which he likes to invite himself -- even though we have not asked for his company.  His face is careworn, the kind that cries victim while surreptitiously demanding sympathy, but beneath this martyr's skin is a darker nature.  Jesus would equate Anxiety with Pride -- a perfectionistic type of legalism that doggedly insists, "I must make the perfect decision because this is all on my shoulders" -- all while He, shaking His head, reminds us yet again that worrying doesn't add any extra hours to the length of our lives.

Anxiety has taken it upon himself to bring along another partner in crime, if only to entrench us in a protective layer of justification when things inevitably go downhill.  This second traveler's name is Expectations.  His face is young, naive and angular, with scrupulous eyes full of eager demands for the road -- dreams that will be easily crushed.  Anxiety plays the pessimistic uncle to this opportunistic nephew.  Being the more experienced, Anxiety wants to introduce Expectations to the cruel, ever-present governess known Reality, but Expectations doesn't see the need for instruction.  Because of his jaded nature, Anxiety steels himself for what's around the corner, fearing the potential, while Expectations prepares for the great things he is certain are forthcoming.

Forgive me for waxing allegorical, but I think we can all insert ourselves into that place.  We've all reached (or will inevitably reach) the fork in the road where the stakes have never been higher, and all our other traveling buddies -- Reason, Faith, Good Humor, and the rest -- have disappeared, leaving behind the less desirable companions.

When we find ourselves there, looking up at the mountain, arm-in-arm with our overwhelming anxieties on one side and our unfair expectations on the other, we begin to behave a lot like Peppermint Patty in the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special.  We are inevitably disappointed when we come to the table of life and find that God has placed a plate of jellybeans, popcorn, and toast in front of us.  We are taken aback by this dish, because we came across town with Marcy expecting turkey with all the trimmings, but Charlie Brown had something else in mind.  In our eyes, this alternative is degrading.  Tears of frustration well up in Expectations' eyes, and Anxiety begins fretting about how he will fix this situation.

Instead of recognizing that God is all-wise, all-knowing, and all-benevolent, we post our fists on our hips and allow ourselves the indignant pleasure of thinking that we know best.  Being offended is so delicious when we are so very righteous.

"What kind of Thanksgiving dinner is this?" we demand, because our expectations have not been met, and - furthermore - have not been surpassed.  Why is this mountain here?  We want to know where the turkey is, because in order for life to be reasonable and fair, we have to have mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce on the side, and pumpkin pie for dessert.  We want flat roads and plateaus, not valleys and foothills.

"Don't you know anything about Thanksgiving dinners?" we demand of our Father, forgetting the fact that not only does He completely sustain all life, but that He also knows how to give good and perfect gifts to His children - the gravy on top of it all.

And yet, we remain unsatisfied.

Tara and I have barely begun our journey up the mountain, but we are choosing to reflect on God's goodness to us in the past and to place our trust anew in His perfect provision for the future.  With that perspective in mind, I find myself so immensely grateful for the fact that, even if we find the perfect home tomorrow that fits into our narrow mortgage window and meets all of the needs we think must be met, we will still not yet be home.  Like the Israelites in the wilderness, we are sojourners in a land that will never be anything but a tent, a rental.  This world is just the less-than-adequate bed & breakfast on the way to our final destination.

Through this process, Tara and I are learning anew to trust that our Good Shepherd will continue to lead us in the same patient and instructive way in which He has always lead His people -- through the waters and through the flames.  We are trusting that He will lead us to the perfect living situation by the end of February when our current lease expires, and ultimately that He will lead us all the way to our final home in His very presence.

Therefore, this Thanksgiving, I am leaving Anxiety and Expectations at the wayside and am consciously choosing to be thankful instead -- not only for the fact that I know God will continue to provide, but also for the fact that He alone is our fulfillment, in this life and the next.