Krissi

I have often wondered why sin is so stubborn when Christ’s death set us free from the power of sin and healed us. When I was baptized, I came out of the water … myself. I wasn’t transformed in any way but spiritually, and even that had a delay built in. Dying to sin, then, at least in my experience, is a slow grind against my own human nature and tendencies, a desperate plea to God for the strength and persistence to carry on. LIVING to righteousness is the painfully slow process of shedding a sin or two committed today, again tomorrow and the next day, until a tentative perception of change can be felt.

When I was growing up, the old denominational churches were culturally dominant. Evangelicals were mocked … Pentecostals and charismatics were more derisively mocked. By the 1990s, the confidence of old line denominationalist leaders – their self-confidence – was shaken. Their churches had morphed into Grade B country clubs, a “form of religion” without power. They were bleeding member, had lost their cultural clout and were quickly sidelined. In my wee opinion, all churches tend to institutionalize and lose passion/power. They move to the cultural left, that is, adopting the qualities and values of the dominant culture. It’s an inexorable shift. Yesterday’s reform movement becomes today’s insipid, dead church. Churches die from the head … they die from the top/leadership down. When the leadership becomes sclerotic, the church eventually dies though endowments and habits can carry it along another generation or two. Death is thus delayed. UNLESS there is a viable, sincere reform movement – a REVIVAL! – there is no hope for these churches. New England is littered with lovely Congregational churches that were once vital and faith-filled and are now residences, theaters and restaurants. Pastor Ralph directed this question to individuals – how to not become hypocritical – but I see it as a corporate problem, too. One of the underutilized ways of NOT being hypocritical is to be a part of a congregation that is spiritually mature and alive. Good fellowship can be protecting. Insulating, even. If a believer is within a body and a small group, that believer will rub shoulders with people who MAY point out hypocrisy. More than likely, just being with other believers who are committed to Christ and spiritual growth will sorta subconsciously cause a change in morality and outlook – it will cause a person to head in the right direction, to be more like Christ. -- One more thing. On an individual level, the easiest way to not be hypocritical is to suffer. Suffering brings a genuine repentance and change. Nothing else seems to do it as well. It's a horrible answer, I know, but those of us who have suffered greatly know that it is true. If you pray to grow spiritually, to not be hypocritical in your faith, YOU WILL SUFFER.

This is a three-part question: What is the significance that Jesus bore my sins? What is the significance that He bore my sins in His body? What is the significance that the sins He bore were on the cross? What does it mean to bear someone sins? To me, it means that Jesus metaphorically carried my sins for me, that he shouldered my sins or bore them. At one point I was crushed by the weight of my sins (even though I didn’t know it), but now, the weight of those sins are carried by Jesus. I think, too, that had Jesus not carried my sins for me, I would not be able to move. What is the significance that the sins are borne in his body? To bear sins in the body is to concretize or make “flesh” a spiritual event. Had sins been forgiven only in our hearts, by fiat, without Christ on the cross, the spiritual character of this event would have permitted our minds to think of it as a weird abstraction. Difficult truths are often softened in our minds -- the cross grounds thinking, disallowing us from straying too far from the reality of the greatest substitution. What is the significance of Jesus’ bearing our sins on the cross? Again, I think that the cross, as a natural substance that everyone understands (wood) makes the sacrifice of Christ all too real. Most people aren't abstract thinkers and therefore benefit from this-worldly, concrete visual examples. Many people at that time died on crosses. Dying in this way was not unusual. Because finding wood on which to kill someone was a commonplace activity, the death of Christ on the cross takes it’s meaning from the events that happened after the cross, the resurrection and appearances, and how the Holy Spirit was left in the hearts of all who believed. I guess I’m saying, in a round-about way, that the fact that He died on a cross, as opposed to being stabbed or drowned or burnt, really doesn’t matter except to drive home the idea that He was murdered by the people He came to save, in a common, ordinary way … just like His birth was a common ordinary experience. The earthly circle closed.

In your own words, explain the various characteristics that enable a Christian teacher to correct opponents. How does the lack of any of these hinder the task? As I think back on how I conceived various Christian theological and ethical tenets, I'm surprised at how much I've changed. At this point, I hold my beliefs more lightly knowing I could be wrong, just as I was wrong in the past and will be wrong in the future. For centuries, Christians slaughtered each other over minute aspects of doctrine. The large gap between Eastern and Western Christianity and Protestantism (Orthodoxy v Roman Catholicism v Protestantism) has never been mended, and, frankly, I doubt it will be. The current war in the Ukraine, a proxy war between the secular West and the Orthodox Russians, is, in many ways, an extension of an old animosity between East and West, although the elitists in the West long ago abandoned their Christian heritage, unlike the leaders of Russia. In our lifetime, we are watching unresolved theological tensions morph into cultural differences that have hardened into the political fault-lines that cause war. I don't think any Christian teacher, going back ten centuries to the final schism between East and West, could have, even with a correct attitude and abject humility, corrected a theological argument that became a huge cultural, and not political, chasm. Good attitude and a loving spirit would have helped in interpersonal relations, but theological and cultural differences on a macro level became were too great to bridge. We have this naive idea that contentions between Chrsitian groups originate in sinful attitudes or ideas, and therefore can be abrogated by acting and thinking more like Christ. This is not true, at least historically. Some ideas -- not all, but most -- are so deeply entrenched and believed that worshipping apart from each other in distinct denominations and movements is the best and most pacific solution. NO characteristics (personal traits, ethical changes or moral adjustments -- can bring together people who do not agree on the theological basis of the Godhead, for example. NO characteristics can cause some Christians to willingly submit to one leader, the Catholic Pope. NO characteristics can bridge the cultural differences that created circumstances of being military and political enemies. It is quite possible for individual Christians to befriend and enjoy other individual Christians from traditions unlike their own ... this is beneficial and what we should do. We should reach out. We must do so, though, knowing that macro changes between groups of people from different religious traditions within Christianity have not, historically, occurred.

This is too much for my little brain! I think Pastor Ralph is getting at the substitutionary idea of salvation, that His sinlessness abrogated, before God (Himself?) our sinfulness. We have to start with the premise that only Christ was sinless. No other person in history can claim this. Then, we have to see that His sinlessness made Jesus more than “super human” – in actuality He was God because no human can be sinless. Thus, His sinlessness is a proof of his divinity. I’m sorry but I am unable to understand how human sins were “poured into His soul,” nor do I understand the process by which He took our sins on Himself. I often say these words, but as I think about it, I don’t know what they mean. I do know that Christ’s entire purpose for coming to earth was our salvation. Somehow, we can be saved because of Christ’s sinless obedience to God on the cross. It’s not His suffering that saves us but His sinlessness.

Many years ago, in English grammar, I learned about good, better and best – adjective, comparative and superlative. The teaching in Paul’s description of everyday and better dishes tells Timothy to identify that which is good and better, and then only pursue the better (if not best), which is “mature righteousness.” A few verses earlier, Paul had told Timothy to “concentrate on doing your best for God, work you won’t be ashamed of, laying out the truth plain and simple …” (message version). We/Timothy are to be like the better tableware which can be used by God for BOTH everyday and special occasions. The assumption is that we’re wrongly satisfied with being everyday containers because then we'll have more limited usefulness to Him. Paul call the attitude of satisfaction with everydayness a “childish indulgence.” Instead of indulging ourselves, we’re supposed to pursue “mature righteousness.” So, how do we pursue mature righteousness? We do this by joining those who are … 1) In honest and serious prayer before God 2) Not caught up in silly conversations or debates … argumentation. 3) Able to teach in a way both gentle and cool-headed even with those who refuse to listen. I am not certain, but it seems that Paul is saying that cleansing ourselves (he switched metaphors!) is accomplished when we pursue that which is better or best, that is "mature righteousness."

This is profound. I have never thought of His crucifixion as painful because of my/our rejection of His love. It's easy to identify with the physical pain, more difficult to see His death as painfully separated from God, but to see it as painful because of something WE did to him, every one of us, is eye-opening. I reject His love on a daily basis when I sin. Some people never stop rejecting Him and die unsaved -- the ultimate rejection. There must be some quality in true love that is pained when rejected that goes beyond the pain we experience when jilted or rejected by a lover. As our love for someone gets "bigger," our capacity to be hurt also enlarges. In the past, I thought of this as allowing myself to be more vulnerable, thus more deeply hurt, but in the case of Christ, HIs love has nothing to do with vulnerability. It's a strong love AND one that feels pain.

I’m not sure what is my spiritual gift, but in the natural, for many years, I was a teacher of adults and university-age kids. There were times when I “winged it” during my lecture, not giving my best. Even though the subjects I taught were far less important than the Word of God, I still feel guilty about being a relatively skilled workman who turned out a shoddy product. I liked Pastor Ralph's memorable description of his father carefully chiseling a block of wood. Many people feel a deep inner satisfaction when creating something out of a base element of nature, often wood. Even a writer who scrubs and scrubs at a turn of phrase feels a similar pleasure, one that's difficult to describe ... it seems visceral, perhaps innate. I have know people who prefer hand tools to electric ones because they want to feel closer to the creative process as well as the end product. I believe this creative, perfectionistic desire is of God. I do not teach in church but if I were to serve this way, I pray that I would take it more seriously than I did when teaching in universities. The subject matter in itself demands a higher responsibility – the Word of Truth should be taught only by the most skilled workers who teach carefully and cleverly in such a way that God is pleased.

How does Christ's example speak to your situation? How is your behavior going to be different because of what you see in Jesus' character in this passage? This passage was a huge check on my words. Right now, I am trying to defend my elderly father from our government. He/I have done nothing wrong. It is insanely difficult to say kind words, not indulge in half-truths, not want to retaliate against bureaucrats who have harmed him/me, not allow myself to call in powerful people I know who could destroy those bureaucrats, and most of all, trust God to right this wrong. It's the last part that's so difficult. Trusting God. In the midst of this gross injustice, I can't help but to wonder why God allowed this to happen in the first place; since He is in control and this evil did happen, how can I expect him to right the wrong and bring justice? After all, Jesus never got worldly justice. The wrong that was done to him in this life was never righted by the courts or the public. Injustice, maligned reputation, intense pain and suffering ... this was God's will. God even planned this. Similarly, the apostles and some Christians have been martyred. It is very very very difficult to trust a God that did NOT protect some of his most ardent followers, those who loved Him the most. I cannot help but to think, "Compared to the apostles ... compared to Paul ... I am nothing. A mere spiritual worm. So, if God didn't rescue these godly men and women, why should I expect Him to rescue me?" I am afraid. Afraid of God's painful definition of Goodness. Afraid of how he actualizes what He says is His love/goodness in my life. I will do my best to obey Him and follow these five responses that Jesus showed us, but do so with great sadness, fear and distrust. I worry about the ramifications of my belief in Him. God seems more harsh than a God love and goodness, the Abba father. To sum, I fear God more than Iove Him.

Paul calls Timothy to endure hardship for the sake of the goal. What in the experience of a soldier, an athlete, and a farmer illustrate this well? Which of these examples speaks most strongly to you? I've never been a farmer, but intuitively understand the long time gap between planting and harvesting. The farmer makes a sacrifice without visible results. Specifically, after planting, the seed remains under the ground, seemingly doing nothing, as the farmer anxiously walks his field, looking for signs of change and life, seeing none. After plowing and plowing and fertilizing and whatever else a farmer does, it must be incredibly gratifying to see the first shoots emerge. Those first shoots portend a harvest, but do not guarantee a full harvest. Those shoots are only the potential of a harvest. Until that harvest is safely in, it can be destroyed. The goal is to get that harvest safely in. The hardship is the preparation time, the anxiety of waiting and the quick and laborious gathering in of the harvest. And then, relief.

Slaves didn't have a choice as to whom they had to work -- they were stuck, as it were, with a particular employer. We still have a choice to leave our employer and attach ourselves to another ... though that freedom may soon be curtailed by our corrupt government. So, I guess I'm saying that working in such a way that is "conscious of God" could mean quitting to find an employer who either shares our values or at least doesn't harm or harass us for those values. I like the idea God-conscious work. On the secular level of building character, which is rarely taught these days, it's often expressed as "Doing your best no matter where you are." As a child, I was always taught to do my best by my secular parents. Now, as a Christian, I think of this as working as if God Himself was my employer. Increasingly, employers ask us to do things against our conscience. With a family to feed, it's quite difficult to quit, but that's what we must do. Similarly, regarding our government from which we cannot quit, if the government asks us to engage in an obviously unjust war, for example, or to do things to fellow citizens that are patently dishonest and harmful, we must engage in some form of civil disobedience. We have no choice but to abstain as we openly, rationally and gently argue ... not complain.

I'm not sure the church can avoid the topic of suffering -- many people deeply suffer, after all -- though I agree that it's not preached as an inevitability. When people and nations suffer -- this could be great emotional trauma for an individual or a war for a nation -- the level of angst, disbelief and disillusionment increases, sometimes quite quickly. The church will have to speak to such suffering. I don't think the church is prepared for this. In the West, anyway, we've had it easy until recently. I do think the long period of relative ease and loveliness of life in Western countries is coming to an abrupt end. At this point the people in the church who have already suffered and have risen through and above it must take a mentoring role to those in the congregation who have never deeply suffered and don't know how to cope. And, we'll have to reach beyond the church to the unsaved. It will be a great witnessing opportunity! But will there be enough seasoned sufferers to press forward? To read someone from an earlier time in history who had suffered greatly and was struggling, I recommend Lettie (Mrs. Charles) Cowman's devotional, Streams in the Desert. I clung to this book during my period of suffering -- no one seemed to understand what I was going through in the church, so I buried myself in books, prayed often and "wailingly," and found old Catholic authors and this Protestant one to cling to. At the end of the 19th century, the period of optimism in Western countries ended abruptly as the realities of WWI sunk in. The suffering of Europeans ... the slaughter and it's aftermath... is difficult for us to comprehend today. I have found that European books written between 1890 and 1930 to be most familiar with real suffering and how to prayerfully overcome it. Oswald Chambers comes to mind, too. The good news is that periods of suffering can be followed by those of revival, both on an individual and national/regional level. Suffering also creates the conditions of awakenings.

Q2. (2:18) If we are to submit to our employers and respect them, what is that saying about God's expectation that we do a good job? In what sense do we dishonour God when we don't give our full effort to our jobs? I was raised in a secular family, yet was always taught that everything I did reflected on me and my family, and because we had to "preserve" our "reputation" I was required to do my best at everything. When I became a Christian, this attitude never completely left me. Reputation still matters to me, perhaps too much, but it's been mostly usurped by the idea that God is watching me and I want to please Him. I don't think our jobs are any different than the rest of our life -- everything we do should honor God, never dishonor Him. The simple rule, "ALWAYS DO YOUR BEST," is right before God. The real question, at least for me, has to do with knowing what God wants me to do. I can't do my best for Him if I don't know what He wants me to be doing.

Why is it important for pastors and church leaders to execute a strategy of mentoring teachers and elders in a congregation? How much time should be devoted to this teaching of future leaders vs. the time spent in administration and programs? Mentoring is future-oriented; it's not for the present. It should be seen as a sacrifice because you don't get to experience the fruit of your labor, particularly if you mentor younger people. It's much like putting away "seed corn" to plant for the next year rather than eating it yourself. Though some people seem particularly gifted as mentors and teachers (teaching is a spiritual gift), all leaders are tasked with mentoring. If the church is large enough, perhaps someone can be hired to do just mentoring -- to find promising people "who are faithful and able to teach others," as Paul put it, and then slowly and gently discover and develop their gifts. Still, even if there are people at the church who are particularly good at mentoring, every leader should feel compelled to seek out and mentor promising leaders of the next generation. Note that not everyone is slated for leadership. What about the 90 percent, or so, of the congregation that will never lead a congregation? They need teaching, too, and should get it in sermons, personal study such as this, and in Sunday school and small groups. Mentoring, however, is geared toward the tenth, tomorrow's leaders, so that the church as an institution thrives in the future. I have no idea how individual church leaders should decide how to spend their time, but wish that more of them would quietly take a few congregants aside to faithfully and loyally mentor them. Admin and programs are important because a church can't run without them: sadly, a church can run without mentoring ... until the leaders of that generation die and there is no one capable of stepping into their shoes. Again, mentoring is future oriented.

(2 Timothy 1:12) According to verse 12, what is the source of Paul's fearlessness? What does he trust God to guard for him? I'm relieved to know that Paul's death was swift -- by the sword. One of the many things that troubles me is how God's best men were tortured before they were executed. Why didn't God help them? When I first read this passage, I thought that Paul's life -- his mere existence -- had been entrusted unto God, and that Paul's faith was so strong in God's protection that he was convinced God would guard his life. Obviously, this was wrong. God didn't protect Paul's life. He let him be executed. The next verse provides the answer to what was protected by God ... in Timothy: "the good deposition that was entrusted to you." It was the gospel message that God protected, not Paul's ... or Timothy's lives. That's why they suffered. That's why they were executed. For the gospel. I don't think Paul is fearless. He gets mad, afraid and needs people around him. Paul's response is very human, actually. He seems to be talking to himself, at times, when he's exhorting Timothy to be brave.

This verse means a lot to me. I live in a completely secular environment with secular family members. This is all I've ever known. Most of the time, seculars tune out our words. They don't want to hear what we say and certainly will combat it verbally if we do say something faith-related. It's rare to get an opportunity to witness, then, as they've already ear-blocked whatever we could say. So our behavior speaks for us. They can't stop us or shut out what we do, even though they'll ascribe motives and interpretations of our behavior that serves to perpetuate their secular worldview. We must keep doing good. Keep serving even when we're being used and at times abused. The only witness we have is our good deeds, so we have to keep them coming. I don't know if they'll glorify God when He comes, but if they do, I pray that the wee things I've done that could be construed as "good" were enough to point them toward this faith. It's impossible to blend in for very long. At some point we have to make a decision -- to live as they do or stand outside their acceptance. It's a decision I made long ago. And yes, I've paid a dear and heavy price for not abandoning my faith ... that is, for continuing to (try to) do good.

Paul is writing to encourage timid Timothy. How is Paul's focus on Christ and the gospel designed to encourage Timothy? How is this an antidote for shame? Timothy fears his own martyrdom which did happen but only after he was an elderly man. Paul, I believe, was martyred soon after writing these letters to Timothy. I don't know why I believe this, but it seems that Timothy didn't fear death in itself but the pain and suffering that precedes death, the horrifying ways Christians were murdered by the government. Paul tried to encourage Timothy with these letters. What bothers me is the association of suffering and grace. How can God's grace -- unmerited love and favor of God -- be so tightly linked to our suffering? Was the suffering of which he writes being humiliated or ashamed by government agents, or was it deeper than this? Was Timothy's suffering bodily -- he had suffered from torture inflicted on him by government bureaucrats; furthermore, he was afraid of being killed by them in this way. "Join me in suffering ..." writes Paul. Why do we suffer? Paul says we suffer because God's grace includes the idea that our salvation is tied to suffering, not only Christ's but our own. "Being like Christ" means suffering as He did. As an aside, the Protestant church tends to diminish Christ's suffering and the probability of our own suffering (for example, Protestant crosses rarely have the body of Christ hanging on them while Catholic and Orthodox crosses display the mutilated and tortured body of Christ). I think we need to think and preach more deeply on suffering. Just my opinion. I don't see how shame fits into this narrative. What does Paul mean by not being ashamed? Was he ashamed at being singled out by the government? Was there shame associated in suffering in itself? Was he embarassed or ashamed at being humiliated during the torture by the government (nudity, blood and gore ...)? What exactly is Paul ashamed of? Paul says he's suffering for being an apostle, herald and teacher, yet I don't see how this would be shameful unless outsiders harmed Paul for assuming these roles. Clearly, Paul wants Timothy to understand that suffering isn't a sign of guilt or moral weakness. People may have thought that God was displeased with Paul/Tim precisely becuase they had been targeted, tortured and eventually martyred, that this was a sure sign of His displeasure? After all, God only wants good things for his children, right?

The problem, to be honest, is that I know that sin DOES pay off on earth -- the problem of why wicked people seem blessed in their lives is very real, to me. So, for some very sinful people, their sin doesn't seem to hurt them -- and, conversely, for some Christians, avoiding sin has a real cost. In an eternal perspective, sin costs one's life, but those who do not believe, and many Christians whose faith is flagging under the pressure of the world, simply cannot see this. What Peter is doing in this passage is reminding us, once again, that we have to take an eternal perspective on our suffering, that this world is temporary and fleeting. In the end -- the eternal "end" -- goodness does "pay off," and sin is punished. At times, this seems difficult to swallow. Why can't God reward those who strive to do good NOW ... or at least protect them? Why do good people suffer so much and bad/sinful people thrive? In the next verse Peter tells us to live exemplary lives to win over anyone who observes us. This is the "priestly work" or the high calling we have on our shoulders. We speak for God and do His work.

Although this may seem counter-intuitive, there is a fine line between being sensitive and socially "nuanced" when speaking the gospel and being cowardly and ashamed of the gospel.: it's easy to wrongly wait when we should speak; to speak when we should wait. I tend to be careful about what I say and to whom, yet I don't think this has prevented me from sharing the gospel message. I live/work/breathe with and among seculars. It's very important, then, that the gospel message is spoken in words they appreciate or understand and in a tone/mannerism that's non-confrontational. Having said this, the gospel message in itself IS offensive to those who don't believe. It angers secular people, even when spoken carefully. There's a point at which the story of Christ's sacrifice has to be told, in clear and plain language, not timidly hedged. I pray to reach that point. I pray to have the sensitivity to know when to speak. Everyone who knows me knows I'm a Christian. Many of them hate Christians. My faith hovers uncomfortably in the atmosphere. Seculars hate my faith ... and sometimes me. It can hurt, but God helps me move on. I believe the antidote to any reticence toward a timely speaking out about faith is PRAYER. Yes, just prayer. Prayer about the unsaved person. Prayer about an open door to witness and the place and time to do so. Prayer about the reception of the gospel message. Prayer for protection after I have spoken. Intercession must precede evangelism. That's sorta my rule. If I have not prayed first, unless the timing is clearly of Him, I keep quiet. Since it is God who draws people toward Himself, intercession makes sense. I'm asking God to do what He may choose to do, and for the wisdom, ability and strength to do it. After this, the results are up to Him. Even if I "perform" poorly, He can turn it to His good. "The One I have trusted in can take care of what He's trusted me to do right to the end." (v12 Message version)

Being a part of God's chosen people means carefully delimiting who is "in" and who is outside of us. Without borders or hedges, we merely blend into the dominant culture. We should be set apart. Western believers take divergent paths regarding their Christian faith and culture. First, some Christians try to fit in the dominant culture, not wanting to seem "different." This is the road taken by the Christian "left" or most liberal denominationalists. When the culture says that God is dead, or some other tripe, they parrot secular sentiment with a Christian gloss. Frankly, if Christians cannot be distinguished from seculars in behavior, mannerisms and even appearance, then I question how deep is our faith. Even appearance matters. I'm beginning to understand why the most devoted adherents to ANY faith dress differently than their dominant culture -- the Amish stand apart, in part, by demanding that people regard them differently. Ditto Orthodox Jews, etc. There may be a wisdom here. I need to think about this more. Secondly, some Christians put up secret, invisible hedges that make them look or seem like everyone else unless probed deeply. These are the closet Christians in government or the workplace who don't let their faith get in the way of their promotions or occupational advancement. They jump through elaborate hoops to justify their closeted Christianity. Thirdly are the Christians who are so overt and over-the-top that they inspire cringes and rejection from the well-behaved people in church. Some street preachers fit this bill. I'd rather be over the top, however, then under cover, err on the side of excess than deadliness. -- Being a part of God's own people must include the idea of NOT being a part of the dominant secular world, which is the meaning of this passage. We are THIS, but not THAT ... we are believers, not seculars/Jews. Though an individual Christian shines by living and acting a holy life -- Christians as a group shine by living and acting in such a way that as a group, we are fundamentally different or distinct from our culture. We also have to perceive of ourselves as set-apart, as a out-group within a hostile culture -- we need to raise the hedge, that is.

What advice would you give to a person who has let use of a spiritual gift or ministry lapse? How can a gift or ministry be rekindled? What might be involved in reclaiming use of such a gift? Paul's exhortation to Timothy to not neglect his spiritual gift is wedged into the middle of a long section on spiritual discipline. Paul lists things Timothy should do including preaching and teaching; then reminds him to keep up with the "special gift" that had been given to him by the Spirit and validated by the laying on of hands by the elders. (I want to know what is that special gift! Just curious. It came through a prophetic message -- this seems to be all we know about his gift.) Before I read Pastor Ralph's question, I had thought that Timothy was purposely not using his special gift, perhaps because he wasn't sure when/how to use it, or what he was supposed to think about it. It was a purposeful neglect, then. But on a closer read, the question (and verse) suggests he just walked away from the gift, ignored it and let it slowly wither. If this is the case, then why? Why did Timothy neglect his special gift? It seems as if he was working hard with the other gifts, but this one -- his most special gift -- wasn't being used. Why?

I'm not certain that praise is for God's benefit -- this makes it sound as if I am able to do something that benefits Him, as if He was deficient in some manner and needed to be filled or completed. Since God is complete in Himself, needing nothing, what does praise mean to Him? I don't know. I tend to anthropomorphize God, seeing Him as having exaggerated human traits -- "bigger than life." But God's love may be wholly different than the puny love I feel; God's anger may be very different than my own, too. So what it is that I'm praising if I can understand so little about Him? I must be praising the little I understand, though it's very tiny. But this doesn't answer the question of how I should offer praise that benefits God, not me. I don't know the answer to this. There is no way of escaping the "me" in praise and so, in a very real sense, I'm praising the parts of God I like, want to be true, or can imagine as through a glass darkly. I tend to gloss over the parts of teh Bible that are disturbing -- God demanding that the Israelites kill all the inhabitants of a particular region, for example -- because it is inconsistent with what I think God should be like: God=love, for example. But that killing is a part of God, too, and if I'm praising God for who He is, I need to praise the entire picture, not just the rosy parts. A reality-based, even brutal acknowledgement of God -- one that takes into consideration His wrath as well as His love, His judgment as well as His salvation -- may be praising God for who He is, that is, His benefit, not mine. Praising God for my benefit would be picking and choosing only the attributes of God I desire, value, understand and need.

Perhaps the "big deal" of regeneration is its invisible, unfelt rendering of a "not guilty" verdict. I tend to see regeneration through the prism of my own life and needs, as something that changes me, but it's real significance may be not IN ME, but BETWEEN me and God. This may be no more than the relational aspect of salvation/regeneration that so many stress, rightly. Increasingly, too, I see salvation as less of a choice than of election, though it's scary to say this. Also, as evangelists (which we all should be) my words matter less than the Spirit working though those words. God calls. God saves. God sanctifies.

Frankly, I often feel worthless and of no use to God. Though the fact that Christ redeemed me from my sins -- and that His blood is precious, He was chosen before I was born for such a task ... for YOUR/my sake -- should make me feel that God loves me, it mostly makes me feel unworthy. The section we are learning in I Peter starts with an admonition to live in fear as a foreigner on earth and does not mention God's love though it's implied in His actions. IT's a passage about judgment and His command to holy lives. Regarding earthly possessions: If I'm a fear-fllled (Reverent) foreigner on earth for a very short time, my earthly assets don't matter. All that matters is that my blip of time on earth leads to a longer/eternal time in heaven.

Righteous acts are never righteous enough -- there is always a tint of self-interest in every act/thought we have -- and, even if righteousness were possible, a righteous act would be followed by unrighteous acts -- we can't keep up the "act." This means that our salvation has to be based on something other than our righteousness. Sin is just so pervasive. Nothing is outside it's reach. It is the expression of self-interest, which never disappears even when we do things that others may think of as self-denying or altruistic. But here's where it gets tricky -- our motives for being saved are also tinged with self-interest. It's not as if we are impure in everything except our desire for salvation at which time, suddenly, our motives were sanitized. God must see through our selfishness not only at the time of our salvation, but in the times before it. Why some are saved and not others is a mystery only He understands, for none either merit salvation or are able to ask to be saved out of pure motives.