Holistic Faith

You are everything that I live for

Everything that I can't believe is happening

You're standing right in front of me with arms wide open

Every day is filled with hope

'Cause You are everything that I breathe for

And I can't help but breathe You in

And breathe again

Feeling all this life within

Every single beat of my heart

You are everything

("You Are Everything," by Matthew West)

The word "holistic" is an adjective which emphasizes the importance of the whole and the interdependence of its parts, according to the online dictionary.  So what does it mean, then, to have a holistic faith?

This is a question I have been wrestling with for as long as I can remember.   Before becoming a Christian, and early in my Christian walk, I believed that in order to be a good Christian, one had to spend the majority of one's time practicing such spiritual disciplines as prayer, meditation and study, so that one might totally devote one's thoughts and attention to God at all times, as He deserved.  But even this, it seemed, was not enough.  If following Christ literally meant that I was to deny myself, take up my cross, and follow Him, then how could I confine Him to just a few portions of my day--morning and evening--when I read my Bible and prayed?  I knew, in the deepest way of knowing, that there had to be more to it than that.  

This question led me to read such books as "The Practice of the Presence of God," by Brother Lawrence, a lay brother of the Barefoot Carmelite Priory in Paris, France.  I would recommend this book to anyone looking to grow in their attention to and focus on God.  It was said that Brother Lawrence believed that "it was a great delusion to think that the times of prayer ought to differ from other times; that we are as strictly obliged to adhere to God by action in the time of action as by prayer in the season of prayer."  Brother Lawrence himself wrote:

"Men invent means and methods of coming at God's love, they learn rules and set up devices to remind them of that love, and it seems like a world of trouble to bring oneself into the consciousness of God.  Yet it might be so simple.  Is it not quicker and easier just to do our common business wholly for the love of Him?"  

I was reminded of this book, and quotes such as these, when consideration of the question--What is holistic faith?--came up again this week.  I could sum up my understanding of holistic faith with three simple words:  Life is ministry.  However, I am aware of the fact that this three word summary will require a little bit of explanation.  Most people's first reaction to that statement is, "Oh, of course it is, I mean... of course."  But let me encourage anyone who reads this to carefully digest that statement.  Do you consider your life--your entire life as a Christian--to be your ministry?

Human beings define most objects, events, or experiences as profane, from the Latin, meaning "outside the temple", that which people define as an ordinary element of everyday life.  But we also view some things as sacred, that which people set apart as extraordinary, inspiring awe and reverence (Macionis, "Sociology").  This is true of both Christian and non-Christian people, and it is also true across cultures--regardless of their religious background or where they grew up, most people draw a distinct line between the profane and sacred elements of life.

This is why it is so easy to relegate our faith to just a certain day or days of the week (Sunday and Wednesday, for most of us), and hardly give a thought to it at other times.  This is why it is so easy to devote our attention to God during a worship service or a time of prayer, but so hard at other times.  However, this is a natural tendency that Christians need to pit themselves against, and strive to overcome.

There can be no compartmentalization of a life wholly devoted to God.

Christ has called us to more than church services and Sunday school.  He has called us to more than times of musical worship and prayer.  He has called us to more than the Lord's Supper.  He has called us to more than church programs, youth conferences, and mission trips.  The measure of the Christian life does not lie in the number of sacred practices and activities in which we participate, as opposed to those that are profane.  Please do not misunderstand me; all of the things I listed above are good things--things that a Christian ought to participate in and practice.  However, these things are only a very small part of a much bigger picture.  Let's take a look at scripture:

"So here is what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life--your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life--and place it before God as an offering."  (Romans 12:1, MSG)

The measure of the Christian life lies in the understanding that, for the Christian, the profane has been sanctified, and has become sacred.  We are called to live out our ordinary lives in the world with the extraordinary purpose of embracing and advancing the gospel of God.  Permit me to ask you to consider several questions, which I have recently been reconsidering, myself:

Am I a minister within my own family?

Am I a minister amongst my peers?

Am I a minister in my workplace?

Do I consider my daily interactions with family, friends and coworkers to be ministry opportunities?

Do I live out my faith on a moment-by-moment basis, every day?

These are hard and convicting questions, and when I first began to consider them, the answer to most of them was no.  I used to believe that ministry was something that missionaries and pastors did; I used to believe that lay people within a congregation were only doing ministry if they volunteered within the church or with non-profit organizations.  However, I have since come to the realization that ministry is simply loving and serving people, wherever they may be found, and whatever my relationship to them may be.

When I clean house so that my mother can sleep, I am serving her, demonstrating love to her, and ministering to her.  When I listen to a hurting friend and offer comfort and encouragement, I am loving and ministering to him.  When I offer to cover a coworker's shift because she isn't feeling well and would like to go home, I am serving and ministering to her.

I know that these things sound ridiculously simple, and that they might be hard to recognize as ministry, at first glance.  We're so used to seeing ministry as something big--a worship service with awesome music that helps people to feel close to God and experience His presence, a sermon that brings a congregation to its feet, a youth group building houses for Habitat for Humanity or collecting cases of bottled water to send to the victims of a natural disaster, a missionary team planting a church in a country where Christianity is persecuted--that it's often difficult to realize that ministry is also something small.

"I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble."  -Helen Keller

Ministry is also going out for coffee with a friend and talking about what God is doing in her life and encouraging her as she goes through a confusing and somewhat frustrating period of spiritual growth.  Ministry is also stopping to talk to the homeless guy on the corner as you drive home from work everyday and ask him about his day, and offering to drive him to McDonald's and buy him lunch on a particularly cold and rainy day, even though you're a woman and alone and don't know the guy from Adam.  Ministry is also striking up a conversation with a coworker when the night shift is slow and asking about what's going on in his life, and talking with him about religion, Jesus, church, and the Bible.

This kind of ministry is not easy.  It's not easy, because it's 24/7, and it involves people you have to interact with on a daily basis.  It's inconvenient, tiring, messy and uncomfortable.  However, this is the kind of ministry a holistic faith demands.

"Let every detail in your lives--words, actions, whatever--be done in the name of the Master, Jesus, thanking God the Father every step of the way."  (Colossians 3:17, MSG)

I'm still working on this; there are days when the conviction that my entire life is ministry seems overwhelming and impossible to live up to.  I am often tempted to retreat back into my safe little compartmentalized world, where I feel pretty good if I've put in my time at the church building for the week, given my tithe, served by stacking up the chairs in the sanctuary after church service, and prayed six out of seven mornings this week.  But I know that I am called to so much more.

Holistic faith may not be easy.  It may not be understood by others.  It may not always be rewarding.  But it is the faith that Jesus, to whom we say, "Lord, Lord!", has called us to to live out.

"Then [Jesus] said to them all: 'Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.'"  (Luke 9:23, NIV)

Summer

"It is easy to love the people far away.  It is not always easy to love those close to us.  It is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in our own home.  Bring love into your home, for this is where our love for each other must start."  -Mother Teresa


God has spent the whole of my Christian life teaching me about the value of relationships.  Relationships are the medium through which God chooses to portray His love.  By loving one another, Christians demonstrate the love of God.  I have learned much about loving my brothers and sisters, and loving the lost--these teachings ring in our ears every Sunday.  But I have also begun to learn how essential it is to demonstrate that love at home.

Summer has brought me home again.  It is interesting to watch God's plans take shape; interesting, and not always comfortable.  Last year, I had hoped I would be spending this summer in Israel.  In January, I had hoped I would spend my summer traveling and working with the National Missionary Convention's summer team.  However, shortly after mailing in my applications, God began to impress upon me that it was His will and desire for me to spend the summer at home, in order to build and strengthen my relationship with my family.  While I waited for word on my applications, I wrestled with God and submitted my will to His.  Whatever He desired, I was willing to do.  By the time I received the final word on those applications, the decision to go home was already made.

So here I am.  What exactly am I doing here?

Yes, I want to catch up with old friends, and maybe make a few new ones.  Yes, I want to get to a job.  But those things are not my priority.  You see, I've only been home for a week, but preparations to come home began months ago.  I've been praying for God to give me the wisdom, strength and courage to love and serve my family well.  My family is my priority, this summer.

Every family has it's difficulties and struggles--that's no secret.  Love is often hardest to express within one's own family, where personality differences and miscommunication can make conflict frequent.  But family is also a place where love can be learned, and grown.  My family isn't perfect; neither am I.  Nevertheless, I know that God will use this summer to grow all of us and knit us together in love.

My summer may not appear to be full of great purpose, but it is full of God's purpose.  And that is more than enough for me.

Beautiful Things

All this pain
I wonder if I'll ever find my way?
I wonder if my life could really change at all?
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found?
Could a garden come up from this ground at all?


You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us


All around 
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found in You


You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us


("Beautiful Things," by Gungor)


Beauty.

As I was reading over the posts I've written in the past year, a pattern emerged, like a symphony that begins softly and rises to a thundering crescendo.  Life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride.  There will be beauty from pain.  On the road to beautiful, the seasons always change.  These songs have meant so much to me, this school year.  They have comforted my aching heart and given hope and refreshment to my weary soul.  How much more they mean to me, now!  God really does make beautiful things out of the chaos and dust of human lives.

Change is painful; often unbearably so.  There have been a lot of enormous changes in my life this year--forgiving my father, breaking my engagement, dealing with the death of beloved friend and brother, battling depression, struggling with my calling and with the concept of grace.  Consequently, there has been an enormous amount of pain in my life this year.  At times, it did seem unbearable.  My heart was broken; the pieces scattered.  And even now that I've begun to pick up the pieces, it seems so incredibly weak and fragile--riddled with fractures and soft spots.  Irrational thoughts and fears linger, and it often seems that my confidence is shattered.  However...

"The LORD is near to the brokenhearted, and He saves the crushed in spirit."  (Psalm 34:18, ESV)

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."  (Psalm 147:3, ESV)

God has been very tender and gentle with me; He is a loving Father.  Under the care of the Great Physician, I have begun to mend.  But it will never cease to amaze me, nor will I ever cease to wonder, why God chooses to work through so fragile and fallible a medium as the human life, particularly mine.  I ask with the Psalmist:

"What is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man, that You care for him?"  (Psalm 8:4, ESV)

When I sat down to write today, I was at a loss for words.  My mind snatched aimlessly at my swirling thoughts, and as I pondered I begun to hum Gungor's Beautiful Things.  And as I mulled the lyrics over, a snatch of scripture flitted across my mind.  I sought the passage where the familiar phrase was located, and found this:

"We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure.  This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.  We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed.  We are perplexed, but not driven to despair.  We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God.  We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed.  Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies."  (2 Corinthians 4:7-10, NLT)

I used to believe that understanding the purpose behind one's pain would help it to subside.  I now know that pain with a purpose is still pain.  However, that does not make the purpose any less glorious.  My human life is a fragile clay jar, but I have the indwelling presence of God, and the gospel of Jesus Christ blazes like a beacon in my soul:

For a short time, the Creator of the world took on the frail terra-cotta mantle of humanity, with all the sweat and blood and tears contained therein.  He was intimately acquainted with every form of temptation, and He knew the full intensity of both physical and psychological pain.  He lived a perfect, sinless life.  He then assumed the guilt of all mankind and endured the full wrath of God.  The Son endured death--separation from God, His Father, from whom He had never been separate--in order to satisfy that wrath.  He did all this, and was gloriously raised and restored to perfect union with the Godhead, in order that mankind might be reconciled to God.  Having done all this, He entrusted the task of spreading and sharing this glorious good news... to us.  To fragile clay jars.  To dust.   This is the message God compels me to proclaim with my life.

It is unfathomable; ridiculous--laughable, even.  But is also true.  And incredibly, achingly beautiful.

God has striven mightily to impress upon me the meaning of beauty.  I have seen it in smiles and laughter.  I have seen it in bitterness and pain.  I have found it solitude, and in relationships.  I have found it in growth and in setbacks.  And it has surprised me over and over again in myself.  Beauty is found in the God-fashioned life.

I have often looked back on this season of my life; now, I look forward to the next.  Changes are imminent, and inevitable.  I've finished off my sophomore year of college.  Beloved friends are scattering across the country--and the globe--for the summer.  Some are graduating.  Many are getting married.  And I am going home, to build up and strengthen my relationship with my family, to reconnect and fellowship with old friends, to build relationships with the lost, and to grow immeasurably in the love and grace of God.  I look forward to rest and refreshment; I look forward to the challenges I will face.  Most of all, I look forward to the astonishing beauty God is working out in my life, and all around me.

He  makes beautiful things.