Mark Johnston

We're Not Slaves Anymore

We wrapped up the series “Fringe Benefits” at The Journey this past weekend with a closing message about the real reason God calls us to live generous lives:

We’re not slaves anymore.  We’re free.

Have you seen the show “Hoarders?”  According to the producers, there are 3 million compulsive hoarders among us.  I think there are actually a lot more.

Most of us don’t have a thousand cardboard boxes stashed around our house or 113 Star Wars action figures.  But we do our own fair share of hoarding.

We hoard our time, frittering it away on ultimately worthless stuff like checking our email for the hundredth time, reading the status updates of people we don’t know (or like), or watching TV until our eyes glaze over – rather than engaging in real-time relationships that would help the people we’re called to care about.

We hoard our money, stockpiling or spending it with abandon depending on our personality, making sure that whichever the case it all adds up to selfish benefit – rather than giving it away after our own needs are met to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and move the mission of God forward in the world.

And we hoard our talents and gifts, living well below the water line of our potential – rather than developing ourselves for the glory of God and the sake of our community.

We do all of this because we’re still slaves in our own minds.

A Journeyer sent me a note that strikingly illustrates this:

I've worked with… kids from foster care [and] a common behavior of children who've been through abuse is hoarding, often of food.  It's a means of control.  When they're not sure if they're safe, they know food is their constant. So they will ask again and again for food, insisting they are hungry, starving, even after they've just eaten.

When… trying to help them build relationships with other children and adults they can trust… it's very important to not give them what they hoard.  [That] only binds them to the behavior, leading them to [it] for comfort and stability.  So to help them learn to love I can’t give them what they're asking for.  Eventually instead of seeking food the child learns to come to me for comfort, for love, for care... then I can give the extra cookie I wanted to all along.  And it's such an overwhelming delight when that cookie just sits on the table forgotten because that child would rather play with me...

It just struck me… how that is just how our God loves us.  We come to him crying for more and more of what we really don’t need, and hoard what we're given because we're abused, and trapped in our instability.

That’s why the call to help instead of horde is so important.  It helps us realize that Christ has made us free.

If you’re holding and hoarding, you’re returning to slavery.  If you’re helping, you’re expressing freedom.

Which will it be?

The Other Slippery Slope

Have you heard of the “slippery slope”?  It’s used to warn us that a small step in a certain direction will lead to an inevitable, rapidly escalating slide to the extreme.  Our parents started introducing us to it when we were kids:

If you keep making that expression, your face will freeze like that.

The slippery slope that leads from 30 seconds of grimacing to the permanent rearrangement of our facial structures is a stretch.  But we have others that make more sense, right? 

We’re concerned about the decisions politicians make because we sense there’s a moral slippery slope at work.  We worry about whom our kids will date, the behavior of a friend that seems to be leading nowhere good, or what we will allow our boyfriend or spouse to get away with – because they’re all potential slippery slopes.  And we’ve discovered (painfully) that sin is the slipperiest of slopes – a look often becomes an act, a longing unsuppressed can lead to a life far from the one Christ intended for us, and a temper excused may quickly progress to violence and shame.

But what about the positive slippery slopes?  Why do we focus so little on the attitudes and actions that can set in motion an inevitable, rapidly escalating slide in the right direction?

If you keep praying like that, soon your faith will grow.

If you don’t stop forgiving your wife, before long she’s going to welcome grace and be transformed by it.

You know all of that hard work, relentless integrity, and consistent development of your skills is going to lead to a promotion and increased influence, right?

If you don’t want to end up with deep, quality relationships that will sustain and enrich your life, you’d better quit being so intentional about your friendships.

It’s a short step from the kind of generosity you’re starting to express to the happiness and fulfillment that eludes most people.

It’s a slippery slope all right.

You can spend your life frantically trying to avoid every possible misstep that might lead you into a moral, relational, or financial oblivion.  Or you can tenaciously pursue every right move, no matter how insignificant it may seem at the time, in the direction of the abundant life God has given you through Jesus.

The choice is yours.  Just remember: it’s a slippery slope.

The more you grow like this, the more productive and useful you will be in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ (II Peter 1:8 – NLT).

Slugs or Superstars?

Reading the Bible can seem confusing.  Immerse yourself in one part and you’ll wonder if there’s an ounce of goodness in us:

The LORD looks down from heaven

on the entire human race;

he looks to see if anyone is truly wise,

if anyone seeks God.

But no, all have turned away;

all have become corrupt.

No one does good,

not a single one (Psalm 14:3 – NLT)!

Flip to another and you’ll stand in awe of our human potential:

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body

and knit me together in my mother’s womb.

Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!

Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it (Psalm 139:13,14 – NLT).

So which is it?  Am I entirely corrupt, or wonderfully complex?  Incapable of doing good, or a marvelous work of God?

Am I a slug or a superstar?

Preachers can be of little help on this.  One declares we’re all slugs God can’t wait to step on.  Another insists we’re all superstars just waiting to discover our moment.

Who’s right?  Which is it?

Which should I focus on: my depravity or my potential?

There are days when I’m genuinely impressed with how I’ve lived.  I’m startled by some flash of wisdom, some sacrificial act of generosity, or some diligent effort I’ve extended.

There are those days… and then there are lots of others.  Days when I’m disheartened by my own foolishness, surprised by my stinginess, and stunned into silence by my self-absorption. 

In fact, sometimes I experience both extremes in the same day. 

How can someone so evil soar to such heights?  How can someone with such promise sink to such depths?

A few days ago, I was reading the book of Isaiah (much of which is not exactly complimentary toward the basic human condition).  I came upon this verse in Isaiah 41:

‘Though you are a lowly worm, O Jacob,

don’t be afraid, people of Israel, for I will help you (14 – NLT).

Only God can get away with calling us a worm.  And only God can offer such an incredible promise at the same time.  We’re depraved, but he’s gifted us with potential.  We’re sinful, but he’s shaping us more and more into the image of his Son.  We’re foolish, but he’s filled us with wisdom.

If I’m a worm, I’m a worm God has lovingly saved, scooping me up off the sidewalk just in time before I withered and died in my bad decisions.  Not only that, but I’m a worm that’s being changed into something else entirely; something decidedly un-worm-like.

I’m a slug who’s becoming a superstar.

And so are you.

What You Do Comes From Somewhere

What you do comes from who you are.

We often attempt to separate person from performance.  And with good reason: we all long to be accepted for who we are.  We don’t want our identity to be tied to what we do or fail to do.  That close a connection between actions and character creates a lot of pressure.

But we’re overlooking something extremely significant.  What we do has only one source.  It doesn’t happen in a vacuum.  It comes from somewhere.

It comes from who we are.

I certainly don’t mean that one act, whether regrettable or respectable, defines us.  One mistake doesn’t sum up our self.  And one startling success doesn’t mean we’ve arrived.  But over time, our actions prove to be far more than merely fragmented pieces of information.  They tell a coherent story: the story of who we are. 

Jesus said, A good tree produces good fruit, and a bad tree produces bad fruit… Yes, just as you can identify a tree by its fruit, so you can identify people by their actions (Matthew 7:17,20 – NLT).

How should we respond to this?  By acknowledging that if there’s ongoing sin in our lives it’s not just some random anomaly.  It comes from who we are.  If I have a habit of yelling at my spouse, feeding my lust, envying my coworker, or (insert your sin here), that says something about who I am.  That doesn’t mean we should feel condemned or hopeless about it!  It means we should get thoroughly honest with God and others, and stop treating our sin as if it’s somehow disconnected from our character.  It’s not that we just “need to stop sinning” (tried that lately?): some part of our actual self needs to be transformed by the Spirit.

The flip side of the coin is true as well.  If goodness is emerging in our lives, it’s not an indiscriminate twist of fate.  It comes from who we are.  If I’m kind and patient with my spouse, resist lust, celebrate with others, or (insert your sign of spiritual growth here), that says something about who I am.  That doesn’t mean we should feel arrogant or smug about it!  It means we should recognize it as part of the process of being reshaped by the gospel into the righteous people of God.  It’s not that we’ve just started “doing what’s right”: some part of our actual self has been transformed by the Spirit.

Because what I do comes from who I am.  

The good news?  God isn’t intimidated by what we’ve done or are doing.  What he did for us (the cross) comes from who he is (love).  He’s full of grace to forgive and change us when our hearts are humbled before him.  And he’s full of grace to affirm and celebrate us when we get it right.

What you do comes from who you are.  So before you do anything else today, good or bad, stop and ask yourself: “Who am I?”