Reformed SHEology

This past Saturday I was the victim of a pickpocketing team. I am very, very aware of my surroundings, but I was duped by a distraction maneuver. One young man asked me a completely absurd question while the other took my wallet right out of my bag. I noticed my wallet missing a mere 15 minutes later. It took me about another 45 minutes to get home, go online, check my accounts and freeze them -- but in that 60-minute window, the thieves managed to charge $1500 to my accounts.

My parents have always told me "never underestimate anybody." I don't think these crooks are interested in stealing my identity. They probably were only after my money, but I took extra precautions to flag my driver's license. I don't want to underestimate these guys. But you know what? That saying works both ways. Never underestimate anybody. That means, these guys shouldn't have underestimated me, either. And I am confident they did.

You see, when these men stole from me, they underestimated me, but they also underestimated my God.Because I am a complete stranger to them, I'm confident they underestimated my impressive memory skills. They also underestimated my heightened sensitivity for even the most subtle, yet abnormal behavior. They are probably counting on me not knowing how my wallet disappeared, but unfortunately for them I know exactly where and when I was pickpocketed. I have already given the police a thorough description of the thieves. I even gave the manager of the supermarket the exact time to view his surveillance tapes, and sure enough, the whole crime was recorded. I don't know if they will be caught right away, but I have a pretty good feeling that these guys will be caught. You see, when these men stole from me, they underestimated me, but they also underestimated my God.

In December 2009, my car was stolen right out of my own driveway while I slept. The thieves only used it for joyriding, but God used it for His purposes. Out of every car on the block, the thieves chose my car -- the car that had over 5,000 gospel tracts and half a dozen Bibles in the back seat. The car was discovered by the police, abandoned at a neighborhood intersection. When I was brought in to inspect it for damages, I noticed one of the Gospels of John had been removed from the pile, and bent in half, as though it was being made to fit in someone's pocket. Never underestimate God.

Looking back on that situation, I see that God's hand was also in this pickpocketing incident. Three years ago, I gave myself a scare when I lost my wallet. Once I finally found it, I decided to put a few tracts in it so that if it ever was stolen, the thieves would get the gospel. So out of all the customers in that grocery store, I was selected to be a victim. Did these men really select me? Or was it divine providence that the one wallet they chose to steal was stuffed with gospel tracts? Could it only be coincidence that the chosen victim in this situation has been blessed with an uncanny ability to recall details, numbers, and events with impressive accuracy? What are the chances that this same victim is ready to prosecute and visit her trespassers in prison, armed with a Bible?

These two men (and a female accomplice, as I recently learned) may be wanted by the police, but at least one of them is wanted by God. God Almighty always actively pursues His elect. If it takes prison time to capture His sheep, so be it. The Word of God does not return void (Isaiah 55:11) and so this can only end up in one of two ways: these people repent, and God is glorified, or they reject the gospel, and God is glorified. End of story.

We don't want to underestimate anybody. The heart is wicked and there are hundreds of criminals walking the streets every day waiting to prey upon a trusting soul for the very purpose of exploiting her kindness in order to snatch her purse or wallet. However, those same criminals should never, ever, ever underestimate their victims. You just never know what kind of crazy, fanatical, lunatic Christians are running around, seeking to snatch your soul from the fire.

SHEologians,

I want to share something with you that has brought such growth and heightened my affections for Jesus over the years--sermons about Him! Faith comes by hearing. We hear when we read the Word and we certainly hear when we listen to God's Word preached by gifted men and women.

One of my favorites in heavy rotation is Arturo Arzurdia, founder, of Spirit Empowered Preaching. I'd like to put you all on to him. He has a robust sermon catalog. I'd like to suggest a few as must listens. If you have an ipod, then download and if you can, listen online while you work--which is what I do. CLICK HERE to scroll the catalog. Here are some of my favorites:

• The Ruth Series (a must listen for single women, the insight's oh my--bangin!)
• The Genesis Series (oh my!)
• A Clarion Call To A Worldly Christianity
• Successful or Faithful Shattering the Dichotomy

To whet your appetite, here are a couple of penetrating excerpts from the Ruth Series. These quotes are found at “The Proposal” message, expounding on chapter 3:1-18.

Bro. Arturo shares the following insight about Boaz’s disposition, Ruth 3:7:

...aren’t you glad to know, Beloved, that authentic spirituality is not defined
as a dour, somber, sullen, heavy disposition? Asceticism has no place in
the life of a person who is in covenant with the happy God. Sometimes, my
friends, the people in the Bible make us nervous and uncomfortable because they tend to defy the very ways we have sought to define holiness…

Has Bro. Arturo read the SHEology treatise(s) on modesty and all the error/imbalances that come with it? Ponder Bro. Arturo’s insights on Naomi’s instructions to Ruth in preparation for her providential meeting with Boaz:

…here is the first step in the plan—take a bath. After all we are
not hyper-Calvinist here, let’s not put God’s sovereignty to a foolish
test. You want to make a positive impression on a man and you smell badly?
Take a bath. (She’s been gleaning, by the way) Step two, put on some
perfume. Step three, put on your prettiest clothes—those sandals that
match it so perfectly. Now friends there is a sense in which I’m teasing
and a sense in which I’m dead earnest. It is true that Naomi’s goal is not
merely to make Ruth alluring but it most certainly includes this. Aren’t you
glad to know that spirituality is not an excuse for gaudiness and frumpiness….?

There are so many to choose from.....whatever suits your fancy simply scroll through and take your pick. A sermon a day keeps the enemies (of your soul) away :)

Happy Listening!

What is a friend? It is common for us to define our friends based on how nice they are to us, how much we have in common, the things we do together and how much time we spend doing those things, as well as how trustworthy they are with our most intimate secrets. But our definition of friendship is much different than the Bible’s definition. Joe O’Day, author of The Art of Friendship, writes, “Our preoccupation is usually with having friends. The Bible’s focus is on being a friend.” This simple but profound statement adequately describes my friendship with a dear man named Jason.

I first met Jason twenty-one years ago, in the Fall of 1988. At 13, Jay had an uncanny ability to put 100% of his effort into a friendship. At first, I wanted nothing to do with him. But I soon found I was no match for the irresistible pull of a boy who demonstrated unwavering patience, kindness, compassion, and sacrificial love on a continuous and persistent basis – especially when I did not deserve it. Looking back, I can’t point to a single time in our friendship when I was deserving of his loyalty and trust. But he offered it anyway – unconditionally – simply because he wanted to. I didn’t understand it then, but I now see that Jay was primarily concerned with being my friend.

I, on the other hand, was not as forthcoming with my contributions to the friendship. There were many times I would selfishly evaluate whether or not the relationship would truly benefit me. I spent most of that season of my life in a deep existential depression – a secret I worked hard to keep hidden from Jay – and as a result, I regularly bucked against his expressions of friendship toward me. Because he is not Almighty God, there came a point where Jay simply gave up. Of course, our decision to part ways was far more complex than I am making it sound. Although do I credit most of our problems to my existential crisis, Jay was not without his faults, either. Things disintegrated until we had a blowout argument and simply stopped speaking one day. We each spent the last 18 months of my high school career pretending that the other person did not exist, except for those special occasions when one of us was presented with an irresistible opportunity to hurt the other party. I will confess I hated Jay. I hated him with all my heart. I wished I had never met him. I wanted to forget every memory I had of him. But when I became a Christian, everything changed.

One night in December of 1994, I decided to break my silence. I attended a holiday music concert at my high school when I spotted Jay talking to some students. Craning my neck so that I wouldn't lose sight of him, I made my way over to him. He caught my gaze, and turned his back on me. Nevertheless, I walked up to him and said I had something very important to tell him. I announced that I had become a Christian, and no matter what he thought of me, it would not influence my opinion of him. As far as I was concerned, he was my friend. I made a commitment to him that day – that I would start being a friend to him – and that was not contingent upon whether or not he'd accept my offer.

Our preoccupation is usually with having friends. The Bible’s focus is on being a friend.By God’s grace, I have kept that commitment. Over the next several years I witnessed to him whenever possible, through greeting cards at Christmastime and on his birthday. My attempts to contact him never received any response. Although Jay held me in extreme contempt (and most likely still does), I never stopped praying for him. But at the Lord's prompting, I eventually stopped sending the cards. It was hard to let go of the feeling that I needed to "do" something in an effort to prove that I had kept my word to this person. But I know I don't need to continue demonstrating my word in order to keep it. My ultimate wish is to see my friend saved. And I can still remain faithful by praying for him.

I haven't seen or spoken to Jay in nearly a decade. Most people are surprised to find that I haven't given up by now. We are easily tempted to stop sowing when we don't see fruit. But the Lord reminds us to make our petitions to Him with persistence. Why is Jason my friend? Not because of anything he's done for me, but because I have chosen to be a friend to him. Sure, it's an uncommon choice to make, but I've got the best role model to emulate:

But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8).

We love Him, because He first loved us. (1 John 4:19).

While we were still His enemies, Christ demonstrated His love for us by initiating friendship toward us first.

Happy Birthday, friend. May you feel this prayer tonight, where ever you are . . .
_______________________________________

Heavenly Father, You alone are mighty to save. I lift up my dear friend Jason to You on this anniversary of his physical birth. For sixteen years I have brought this man before Your throne. My steadfast prayer all these years is that You have planned a spiritual birthday for him. I so look forward to that day, Lord. Will this be the year You are gracious and kind toward my dear friend, and grant him eternal life?

Father, I thank You for Jason. I thank You for giving him a heart of generosity. I thank You for blessing him with so many talents. I pray earnestly that those talents will no longer be wasted on the mere praises of men! Oh dear God may he worship You with his music one day. Lord, show him the glories of Calvary - give him the faith to understand the sacrifice You have made to reconcile him unto You. Father, You said in 1 John 5:14-15 that if we know You've heard our prayers, then we know we have the petitions we've asked of You. I thank You for the evidences of grace You have already demonstrated in Jay's life, as a sign that You have heard my prayers, that You are watching over my friend, and that someday I will have the petitions I've asked of You, and see my friend in glory.

Thank You for the honor of being this man's friend. Thank You for the privilege of having numerous opportunities to share with him directly. Please continue to reach out to him through other faithful Christians who are dedicated to preach the gospel. I thank You that his fate rests in Your hands. Please ensure that he is safe over the next year. Comfort him in times of trouble and grant him peace and strength to endure various trials that he may encounter this year. I pray this for him as well as his family. In Christ's Name, Amen.

My senior year of high school was a depressing time. My relationship with Jason was officially over. As a symbol of my "independence," I cut off all my hair. I wanted people to think I didn't care, but I was absolutely devastated. The grief over losing my best friend was magnified by the increasing pressure to devote my life to meaningless activities, like playing the French Horn. I was talented. But if I was going to live a mere projected seventy years, I wanted my brief life to make an impact on humanity. Playing the horn would not suffice. What I really wanted be was a writer.

I once wrote a story about a very talented young girl who was admired by all, but because she saw no reason for her existence, she committed suicide. Nobody found the body for four days.That final school year I found comfort and solace in various existential writers and poets. They were able to articulate the extreme sense of despair that I felt, and gave me the sense that I was not alone in the way I was feeling. I began to record my own thoughts in a journal I was required to keep for English class. Nearly every single page of that journal reflected just how deeply in bondage to existentialism I had become. For example, I once wrote a story about a very talented young girl who was admired by all, but because she saw no reason for her existence, she committed suicide. Nobody found the body for four days. I still have that journal.

I wrote each entry knowing my English teacher would be reading. These days, the things I had written would have earned me a psych eval. But back then, my stories earned me an A accompanied by phrases like, "Brilliant!" or, "You have such an amazing talent!" It just made me more depressed.

In the Fall of 1992, I entered college as a Theatre Arts major. I figured this was the best way to make an impact on humanity. Theatre Arts allowed me writing opportunities, but also the chance to live out my pain and frustration through my characters. Plus, the greatest existentialists of the 20th century were not self-proclaimed philosophers, but rather, playwrights. I thought a good start would be to follow in their footsteps. So I started taking classes.

In January 1993, I befriended a girl in my "Musical Theatre Technique" class. Her name was Amy, and she noticed I was wearing a cross around my neck. Amy asked me if I had a Christian background. "Well," I said, "I'm Catholic." I certainly wasn't going to tell her the truth: that I was a tortured soul grieving my own mortality. Amy invited me to church, but I flatly refused, explaining that I vowed I would never set foot in a church again. So Amy backed off a bit and asked if I'd settle for studying the Bible with her. I immediately accepted her offer: "I have always wanted to see for myself what the Bible had to say about life, but I just couldn't understand it." We agreed to meet for lunch after our next class. I had no idea what was about to happen to me.

We met in the student lounge. Amy began by asking me, "Why did Jesus die?" I scoffed at the question. "That's easy!" I said. "To pay for our sins." (If there was one phrase I had memorized from my Catholic upbringing, that was it.)

"Okay," she said. "Do you know what that means?" This is where I became a bit embarrassed and admitted that I did not know what that meant. "In fact," I told Amy, "I"ve been asking that question since I was eight years old." So the next thing Amy asked me was if I had ever read the Bible.

When I was ten years old, I asked my parents for a Bible for Christmas, but I didn't get one. My Aunt Barbara had given me an illustrated Children's Bible the following year, and I began reading it from the first page of Genesis. I thought I had to read the Bible all the way through, like a regular book. Even though it was a children's Bible, I still got bogged down around Kings. I never made it to the New Testament. But amazingly enough, I had read just enough to set off a chain reaction with Amy years later.

With no prior knowledge of how much I had read, Amy asked me, "Do you remember the animal sacrifices that were performed in the Old Testament?" I said I did. Then Amy said the magic sentence: "Well, that's why Jesus is called the Lamb of God."

At that moment, something happened. I felt as though something inside my soul had burst wide open.At that moment, something happened. I felt as though something inside my soul had burst wide open. Amy kept talking. I saw her lips moving but I couldn't hear what she was saying. My mind was flooded with enlightenment. Lyrics to Christmas songs suddenly made sense. "Born to raise the sons of earth! Born to give them second birth! Hark the herald angels sing, glory to the new born King!" It was as though my entire life was all a bad dream, and I had just woken up. "Long lay the world in sin and error pining, till He appeared, and the soul felt its worth!" I suddenly felt as though all the secrets of the universe had been revealed to me. As my brain was making the connection between Old and New Testaments, I finally understood why it was called The Greatest Story Ever Told.

At the time, I wasn't exactly sure I knew what was happening to me. But I was born again on the spot. No Ten Commandments, no mention of what a sinner I was or my need to repent. I did not make a decision, I did not say a prayer. In fact I was quite passive the entire time. All Amy did was correlate Jesus to the sacrificial systems in the Old Testament. I had become a new creature. I had miraculously been given the answer to my most pressing question and I was filled with so much wonder I had no choice but to throw myself at His feet. Life suddenly had meaning. There was a purpose to all of this!

Later that night, I opened the Bible Amy gave me and read the New Testament until I could no longer keep my eyes open. I read from Matthew straight through Galatians. I finally turned out the light at 3am, unwillingly.

I woke the next morning, acutely aware that His presence was filling the room. He had always been there. I just didn't see Him until now. Then I remembered something I read the night before:

"Unless a man be born again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God."
"Unless a man be born again, he cannot see . . . "

I can see.

I can see!

I CAN SEE!!!!!

And with that, I began Day 2 of my new life in Christ.

In preparation for our theme of the month, I surfed the internet a bit and came across an article by J.T. Webb entitled Existential Depression in Gifted Individuals. I can pretty much stop here and just have you read the article. It describes my adolescence with frightening accuracy, particularly with regard to interpersonal relationships. Webb states: "Isolation recognizes that no matter how close we become to another person, a gap always remains, and we are nonetheless alone." No example from my adolescence could illustrate this concept better than my high school romance.

ACT I: 1988-1990
Jason and I became fast friends early in the 1988-1989 school year. Toward the end of that same year, Jason passed me a note. "Jen, I really like you and I want to ask you to be my girlfriend," it read. That was the start of a whirlwind romance that would continue for the next two years.

Jason was the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful, sensitive, and compassionate human being I had ever met in my fifteen years on earth. (Hands down, his best quality was his generosity.) The more time I spent with Jay, the more I came to realize what a beautiful person he was. There was also a lot of chemistry between us that was difficult to ignore. We were so deeply enmeshed. We did everything together. Life was perfect - until my existentialism started interfering with the relationship.

Despite the fact that I was incredibly happy and I would even venture to say I was in love with Jason, I was simultaneously miserable. I knew my happiness was based on conditional circumstances. It was painful to think that Jay would eventually be taken from me in one of two ways: either he and I would one day cease to be friends anymore, or we'd be together for the rest of our lives and then simply die. The heightened awareness that I would surely lose the one person who meant everything to me was unbearable. Coupled with everything else that was happening in tenth grade, I felt I was going to crack under the pressure. I didn't want to end it, but I needed out.

He never saw it coming. Tears welled up in his eyes. He asked why, but I couldn't give him a straight answer. How could I? What was I supposed to say? "I can't see you anymore because I'm having a midlife crisis 30 years earlier than expected?" I assumed if I was going to eventually lose the only person who meant anything to me, it might as well be now. I couldn't see any point in postponing the inevitable.

ACT II: 1990-1991
After about six months, I recanted my original decision. Jason was my best friend. He was also, in a sense, my only friend. In spite of my belief that everything was pointless, I wanted to restore this relationship. I didn't have all the answers, but I thought I'd figure them out along the way. I reached out to Jay in the summer of 1990. By November, we were an item again. I promised myself that this time, I was going to really let him in and be honest about my existential struggle. I just wasn't sure how to do this.There is a profound sense of emptiness that accompanies the idea that any intimacy you shared with a person was all a smokescreen to begin with.

I started by dropping hints here and there. I tried to start philosophical conversations, hoping he'd bite, but nothing. Then one day, I purchased a gift for him that symbolized everything that was festering inside me: it was a religious pendant. This was more than a gift. This was a gesture on my behalf that said, "Please see me for who I am, and all that I am wrestling with in my heart! I am desperately searching for meaning and I want you to know me! I want you to know the real me!"

When I gave it to him, he took one look at it and laughed. "This is the ugliest thing I've ever seen!" he exclaimed. He asked me to take it back. I know Jason didn't mean to hurt me, but I still felt humiliated and rejected. Looking back, I can say in Jason's defense the pendant was pretty ugly. He was just a boy of 15. He didn't understand the things that kept me awake at night. He wasn't even aware that I wrestled with such issues. At that moment, I realized he would never understand me. I feared perhaps nobody would. Webb states:

When gifted children try to share these concerns with others, they are usually met with reactions ranging from puzzlement to hostility. They discover that others, particularly of their age, clearly do not share these concerns, but instead are focused on more concrete issues and on fitting in with others' expectations. Often . . .these youngsters . . . feel isolated from their peers . . . as they find that others are not prepared to discuss such weighty concerns.

There is a profound sense of emptiness that accompanies the idea that any intimacy you shared with a person was all a smokescreen to begin with. Jay was in love with the person who was responsible for all my high school achievements. But the person I truly was underneath was a complete stranger to him. It was becoming more and more obvious with time that we had two separate worldviews that were diametrically opposed. Then one day we had a terrible argument that ended it all, and we completely stopped speaking to one another.

EPILOGUE
Two and a half years after that awful day, I broke the silence when I approached Jason and told him I had become a Christian. He looked at me with a hint of disdain in his eyes and said, "Oh, so you're into all that religion @&#*!" My heart broke for him. I tried to explain to him that my faith was not a religion, but he didn't understand, nor did he care.

I saw him once more, six years after that conversation. His father had passed away, and God had placed me in the right place at the right time. I went to the memorial service, got up in front of about 300 people, and shared the gospel. It was terrifying, but I'm glad I did it. That was nine years ago, and I haven't seen Jason since. It may have been my last chance to share the gospel with him.

Sometimes, I believe God brings us through seasons so we can preach His Word with authority later. If I had not been so close to the family for those three years or so, I would not have been able to establish the credibility I needed to get up in front of all those people that day. I even had several complete strangers approach me afterward to thank me for what I had shared. As for Jason, he appeared both surprised and deeply touched by my compassion. After the memorial service, he could not say anything to me other than "Thank you so much for coming! I can't believe you came! I just can't believe you came!" I don't know how much of an impact the gesture had on him, but I pray God was glorified.

In my time as a Christian, I have come to learn that I do not need to work hard to be known or understood. The Bible says that God searches the hearts. My identity, meaning, and purpose is constant in Him. Friends may come, friends may go, but The Lord has never abandoned me. I have also come to learn that even though nothing on earth lasts, God has given us our blessings to enjoy while we're here, and we are not to mourn the end of those things. Still, a part of me mourns for Jason. While it saddens me to think he never knew or understood the real me, worse is the thought that he doesn't know or understand the real God. There is a desire to reach out and do more, but God has asked me to entrust Him with Jason's life and to simply pray for him instead. I still think of him every year on his birthday and pray that one day he will be born again.

I have been praying for Jason nearly sixteen years . . .

Since this month's theme is "Testimony," I thought I'd take a break from my own story and share the fascinating testimony of a dear brother in Christ, Jim Jones. Jim had plans of starting his own coven just before The Lord saved him. Here is Jim's story, in his own words:

You've probably noticed, choosing a man that has grown up with the name of an infamous cult leader and calling him to evangelism shows our Lord has a sense of irony.

I was raised going to a Seventh-Day Adventist church, because that is what my family did. I also attended private church-run schools up through and including two years of college, where I gained a fair amount of knowledge in scripture and religion. I even studied for the ministry. However, a walk with a church as opposed to a walk with Christ wasn't enough to sustain me. Eventually, I turned away and took a path that lead into drugs, the occult and other dark shadows.

I practiced Wicca as a solitaire for about three years. I flatly tell the Christians that think witchcraft and such are just make believe, they're very mistaken. Things happened! I read Tarot cards, and from what both friends and strangers told me the readings were disturbingly accurate. Later, my wife & I joined a Druid grove where I initiated and became an understudy to the high priest. I went deeper into circle work, rituals and spell craft. When we moved to Oregon, it was my full intention to start a new coven or grove here.

Looking back, I don't dwell on it too much, because I don't want to glorify the enemy or give the demonic more attention than it is due. Praise God that our Savior redeems! I believe He permitted that experience so that I can witness and relate to a group and counter culture that most of the church either writes off or is outright frightened of. As Joseph told his brothers... "what you meant for evil, God has used for good."

God took hold of me on February 29th, 2004. I was broken and sobbing; stripped of my self-righteousness. I realized the crimes I’d committed against God’s holy law. I’d lied, stolen, lusted, blasphemed His holy name and more. I deserved His wrath and judgment, and justice meant Hell. There was nothing I could do. I finally understood what Jesus had done, and it changed everything. As I faced the Judge of the Universe, Christ stepped in and paid the fine I could never hope to with His precious blood. I stood there, undeserving at the foot of the cross. I gave it all over to Him, and He handed back mercy and grace.

When I finally surrendered and passed through the narrow gate of repentance, other doors also swung open. Christ brought a teaching called Hell’s Best Kept Secret across my path. As I listened to it, I felt a missing puzzle piece fall into place. A spark of evangelism came to life and the Lord fanned it into a flame.

With the support of my wife, Kelly, I’ve begun a ministry of street witnessing and open air preaching. I'm a graduate of the School of Biblical Evangelism, and have also become the leader of a local evangelism team. Evangelism isn’t just a priority – it’s a necessity. The more I read of my Bible, I just can’t see it any other way. People are dying and souls are going to Hell.

This is my guiding scripture...

For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but wanting to have their ears tickled, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in accordance to their own desires, and will turn away their ears from the truth and will turn aside to myths. But you, be sober in all things, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry. 2nd Timothy 4:3-5 (NASB)

Evangelism is one of the values of Reformed SHEology. It is so important that we share the gospel with those who are perishing. I know I am a Christian today because someone shared the gospel with me. For this reason, I am thankful for Jim's faithfulness to the lost. In light of the stories I've shared so far this month concerning my own battle with existentialism, and the heightened awareness I have that the only work that lasts is that which is done for the Kingdom, Jim's ministry has taken on a heightened significance for me today.

You see, at approximately 1:27pm (PST) yesterday afternoon, Jim was hit by a truck while riding his bicycle. He is now at home with Jesus.

Jim leaves behind his wife, Kelly, and their two daughters, Holly and Willow. But he also leaves behind a legacy of fulfilling the Great Commission. When I think of the lives Jim has touched, and the souls who have heard the gospel as a result of his dedication to preaching the Word, I cannot help but rejoice. I will admit I am grieving the loss of a faithful brother who I could always count on to give me godly advice. But as a former existentialist, who once woke every morning wondering why I should bother with life at all, I am actually encouraged.

Yesterday, I was actually thinking to myself that perhaps my posts this month are a little too depressing for our readers. But today I am reminded that this blog is written for the audience of One. Apart from Christ, life has no meaning. In Him we find our identity. We find our consistency in a changing and uncertain world. We find our security and hope. And in Him we find our life, because HE CONQUERED THE GRAVE!!

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?

The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye stedfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.(1 Corinthians 15:55-58)

Friends, we are not promised tomorrow. Let's make today count for eternity, while we still can.


PRECIOUS IN THE SIGHT OF THE LORD IS THE DEATH OF HIS SAINTS.
Psalm 116:15

Tenth grade was perhaps the greatest year of my pre-regenerate life. It seemed like everything I touched turned to gold. Academically, I was on top of the world. I got spectacular grades in all my courses (much of the time without even trying), which placed me tenth in my graduating class (of 186). I was now the head of the French Horn section in the school band, and got invited to participate in the All-County orchestra. Upon auditioning, I was named first chair French Horn player (which loosely equates to being the best in the county). The music department took notice of my leadership and talent and cast me as the lead in the school musical. The show immediately catapulted me into social renown among students, teachers, and parents. If that weren't enough, I also won a place of honorable mention in my school's Mark Twain Literary contest. It was quite a year. But it was awful.

Underneath the awards and accolades, I knew that everything I held in the palm of my hand was fleeting. And there was no way to stop the process. Being classified as one of the "music kids" gave me a sense of identity and belonging. But when I began to excel in other areas, I became extremely confused. Whereas other kids were discovering they had one talent, I had several. Other kids had the luxury of focusing on just one strength, and planned to make a career out of it. I, on the other hand, hadn't a single clue what to do with my life, because I had so many choices. In fact, I had too many choices, and knowing I only had one shot at life made the pressure to make the right decision positively frightening.

I opened to Ecclesiastes, and began reading, hoping to find some answers. But what I discovered in the pages of that book made me sick to my stomach.The only way I knew how to cope with everything was to embrace the expectations people placed on me to excel, excel, excel. As meaningless and stupid as it seemed, it provided me with a sense of structure and familiarity that gave me a taste of comfort in an uncertain world. The praise and adoration I was receiving from my teachers also supplied me with a temporary high that would distract me from the reality that each day time was running out on my life. But the high would wear off every night when I turned out the light and was left alone with my thoughts. Why am I here? Why was I born? Will people remember me when I die? What is the meaning of life? Then one day, my English teacher presented the class with a voluntary reading challenge. We were to be given extra credit for reading some of the greatest works of literature. The catch? We could only read what the teacher assigned to us. My teacher handpicked for me to read the King James Version of Ecclesiastes.

I was excited to actually sit down and read the Bible. From early childhood, I always had always had a curiosity about the Bible. I went to my local bookstore and bought a copy of the KJV for about six dollars. I opened to Ecclesiastes, and began reading, hoping to find some answers. But what I discovered in the pages of that book made me sick to my stomach:

There is no remembrance of former things; neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after. (Ch. 1 vs. 11)

I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit. (Ch. 1 vs. 14)

For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow. (Ch. 1 vs. 18)

No! I silently prayed that there had to be some hope found in the pages of that book. But with each Chapter, Ecclesiastes just got more depressing:

The wise man's eyes are in his head; but the fool walketh in darkness: and I myself perceived also that one event happeneth to them all. Then said I in my heart, As it happeneth to the fool, so it happeneth even to me; and why was I then more wise? Then I said in my heart, that this also is vanity. For there is no remembrance of the wise more than of the fool for ever; seeing that which now is in the days to come shall all be forgotten. And how dieth the wise man? as the fool. (Ch. 2 vs. 14-16).

I remember looking up from the page and thinking, "There is no hope. Even God Himself thinks my life is meaningless!" My misunderstanding of the scripture at that time started a chain reaction. I began to devour works by Sartre and Camus. I also became completely obsessed with this song. Every now and then, I'd turn on the TV and see some news story about a high school superstar from a neighboring school district who was tragically killed in a drunk driving accident. While his death was mourned by those who knew him, my life continued, unaffected. And I knew that if I was in that kid's shoes, life would go on without me, too. All of my achievements would one day crumble with time and eventually amount to nothing. The more I thought about it, the easier it was to come to the conclusion that my life was totally unnecessary.

FAST FORWARD TO PRESENT DAY
Ecclesiastes is my favorite book of the Bible. Why? It reminds me how everything I held dear before my conversion - including my life itself - was nothing more than an idol. The book of Ecclesiastes helps me to remember that my talents were given to me by God, not for my own glory, but for the express purpose of glorifying Him.

For people who do not know Christ, there is only one truth: existentialism. All of their toil and accumulation of wisdom, wealth, and pleasure is nothing more than vanity and chasing after the wind. The world offers many suggestions for dealing with an existential crisis. But truly, there is only one solution to this problem:

But what things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ. Yet indeed I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having my own righteousness, which is from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God by faith; that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death, if, by any means, I may attain to the resurrection from the dead. (Philippians 3:7-11)

I thank God for the example of the Apostle Paul. Truly, the praise of men cannot compare to that of the King when He says, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant!" Nothing is worth doing unless it is all for Him, even if it is done well.

My teenage years appeared to be picture perfect on the surface. I was an academic superstar, artistically talented, and always had a smile on my face. Yet no one knew that beneath my sunny, cheerful exterior, I was hiding a dark secret. Between the ages of 13 and 18, I was a closet existentialist.

By the time I was fifteen years old, the philosophy literally dictated my every thought and deed from the moment I woke up, to the moment I went to sleep at night. Upon hearing that I was once lost in existentialism, most people will look puzzled and ask, "What is that?" So before I continue with the remainder of my testimony, I thought I would take some time to address what existentialism is, and why it is so dangerous.

Existentialism is a philosophy that is not easily defined, because it has no set definition. Basically, the idea is that life has no meaning apart from the meaning that we create and apply to it. Essentially, each person is responsible for defining himself and assigns purpose to his own existence. As a result, man finds himself exposed to the futility of this exercise, and often will succumb to feelings of dread, despair, nothingness, anxiety, and absurdity. These five words accurately describe my secret life as a teenager.

The trouble arises when one desperately tries to assign meaning and purpose to one's existence, only to realize that it is nothing more than a smokescreen. An excerpt from Wikipedia explains this wonderfully (emphasis mine):

When our meaningful representations of the world break down (which they may do at any time, and for any reason - from a tragedy to a particularly insightful moment on the side of the individual), and we are put face to face with the naked meaninglessness of the world, the results can be devastating . . . the concern with helping people avoid living their lives in ways that put them in the perpetual danger of having everything meaningful break down is common to most existentialist philosophers. (Source)

When we understand that we cannot control anything beyond our circumstances, life becomes very frightening, depressing, and desperate. For example, suppose I am a talented musician. My entire identity is built upon making music. Thus, I have constructed my own meaning and purpose upon this foundation. But suppose I am involved in a horrible accident that leaves me paralyzed, so I am unable to breathe on my own or move my fingers? I would never be able to play my instrument ever again. My existence, my purpose, and my reason for living are now gone.

Now imagine I am a talented musician, and I am perfectly healthy. I am still able to operate within the confines of the meaning and purpose I have given myself. I have not been involved in any accident at all. But the possibility that I could suffer physical harm on such a grand scale remains. Although I am healthy and making music, in the back of my mind, I know this truth exists only as long as my circumstances allow. Knowing that my purpose can be taken away at any moment is terrifying. And ultimately, my purpose will die, because one day, I will die. And everything that I ever created will be lost, because I am no longer able to act as the author and finisher of my purpose.

Existentialism is dangerous because it seduces the individual into coveting God's sovereignty. The insatiable desire to create meaning and purpose usurps the authority of the meaning and purpose that was made by the ultimate Creator.Depressing, isn't it? That's not even the worst of it. Existentialism is dangerous because it seduces the individual into coveting God's sovereignty. The insatiable desire to create meaning and purpose usurps the authority of the meaning and purpose that was made by the ultimate Creator. The Bible says, "All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being" (John 1:3). When we seek to manufacture our own meaning, we are rejecting the notion that the reason for our existence starts with God, not us.

A second reason why existentialism is so dangerous is because it is true (to an extent). Just read the book of Ecclesiastes and you will see what I mean. Everything will one day fade away. This is Biblical truth. But only when we take our eyes off God and look to our circumstances, only when we embrace the things of the world instead of the things of God, does this become a problem. A healthy outlook on God's sovereignty is the cure. The Bible says, "Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will never pass away" (Matthew 24:35, Mark 13:31, Luke 21:33). When we focus on God's sovereignty, we can channel this truth into the ability to let go of the things of the world, and instead cling to the only thing that truly matters: the Cross.

In Christianity, who you are determines what you do. In existentialism, what you do determines who you are. Perhaps you are familiar with the words of the old hymn: "On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand!" The Christian stands on Christ, the solid rock. The existentialist, on the other hand, has staked his territory on all sorts of sinking sand. This is why existentialism results in a lifestyle of despair. When you realize that everything you hold dear will one day be torn from your hands, either by death or circumstances, it leaves you with a feeling of uncertainty about everything.

Thank God, He has delivered me from existentialism. It is a complex philosophy that I don't think many people understand, yet most have been affected by at one time or another. For this reason, I hope to shed light on the impact it has on the human soul by sharing various highlights of my testimony.

For a more detailed introduction to existentialism and its themes, I encourage you to listen to R.C. Sproul's message by clicking here. The message is approximately 20 minutes long.

Now that you have a working idea of what existentialism is all about, keep this in the back of your mind as you read the rest of my story . . .

This story is a bit longer than usual, but it's worth the read! If you have ever wondered whatever became of the tract you gave to that complete stranger, then let this story encourage you.

Facing my mortality at thirteen was a turning point in my life. I suddenly viewed the world as a meaningless exercise in futility. The only hope that remained was my belief in the existence of a God who knew the answers to all my burning questions. In an effort to learn more about who God was, I took very seriously the religion I was born into, which was Roman Catholicism. But after a very disappointing incident on the day I made confirmation, I became completely disenchanted with the Church. That same night, lying in my bed and staring at the ceiling, I was seething with anger at God. "I'm sick of this!" I said to the ceiling. "Why won't you tell me who You are?" I waited for a response. I had no idea what to expect, but I never got one. "You know what?" I threatened. "I'm done! I am never setting foot in a church ever again as long as I live!" Again, there was only silence from the ceiling. Discouraged, I threw myself over on my side and went to sleep.

ONE YEAR LATER
When I was fifteen I managed to get a job in a grocery store called Waldbaum's. I worked as a cashier, but there was a boy who worked over in the Bakery department that had caught my eye. His name was Steven Hutter. I had never spoken to Steven, but there was something about him that peaked my curiosity. One day, I saw Steven talking with a customer and I overheard him call her "Mom." I watched the way Steven interacted with his mom, and wondered what it was about this boy that I was so drawn to. About 20 minutes later, Steven's mom had made her way over to my register with a very large grocery order. I wanted to make a good impression on her, in the hopes that perhaps I could learn more about Steven, and try to put my finger on what was so different about him.

I made sure to be extra friendly to Mrs. Hutter. She handed me a stack of coupons and I began to ring up her order. I made small talk with her and got so wrapped up in our conversation that I never deducted her coupons. She paid for her bill and began to leave the store when I noticed the coupons still sitting on my register. I called her back and had a manager come by to give her the cash value of the coupons, which totaled over $50. Mrs. Hutter was very grateful and thanked me several times. At this time I turned on the false humility and told her, "Oh, it's nothing. In fact, I don't know what made me look down in the nick of time and notice those coupons just sitting there."

She handed me a little pamphlet with a butterfly on the cover. The title was something like "You can be saved." I had no idea what it was. I had never seen anything like it before.Mrs. Hutter looked me dead in the eyes and said, "I believe THE LORD made you see them at that moment!" I was so stunned, I didn't know what to say. On Long Island, people don't talk about "the Lord." They will refer to "God", but not "The Lord." She must have noticed the look of shock on my face, because she added, "I really believe that!"

I was pretty uncomfortable, so I just said, "Uhhh, okay." I smiled and gave her the $50. "This is for you," I said. "Thank you," she replied. "And this is for you!" She handed me a little pamphlet with a butterfly on the cover. The title was something like, "You can be saved." I had no idea what it was. I had never seen anything like it before. I remember thinking she was a little weird, but even still, I was so curious to read that pamphlet! As soon as I was able to go on break, I took that pamphlet up to the ladies' room, locked myself in one of the stalls, and eagerly went through every word to see if it would tell me the answers I was looking for.

"Believe in Jesus, and you will be saved." I thought to myself: "I already believe in Jesus. This didn't tell me anything I didn't already know." I was so disappointed, but my eyes were closed. God would not open them for another three years. Once I did become a Christian, God brought to mind how I had demanded He reveal Himself to me, and how He did reach out to me that day through Mrs. Hutter. God is faithful. He will always answer prayer. It just might not happen in our timing.

SEVEN YEARS LATER
I was late to Bible study again. I had been saved at 18 while I was away at college and after graduating, I managed to make a few Christian friends back home on Long Island. That night we were meeting for a social activity and each of us were asked to bring a snack to the event. I parked my car in the first empty space I saw and ran into Waldbaum's -- the very same Waldbaum's where I had worked as a cashier back in high school. I grabbed the first bag of Doritos I could find, and then tossed it on the express lane conveyor belt. There was only one customer ahead of me, but the transaction was taking forever. I felt myself getting irritated. "This is supposed to be the express lane!" I thought. "What is taking so long?"

Suddenly I became aware of a presence behind me. I looked up to notice a gentle-mannered woman loading her groceries onto the conveyor belt. To my surprise, I recognized her. It was Mrs. Hutter. She had absolutely no idea who I was. How could she? I was just a stranger she had handed a tract to seven years before. But I remembered her. And being a Christian now for about three or four years, I knew that if I were in her shoes, I'd want to know what had become of the tract.

My heart was pounding. I didn't know what to say. The man in front of me finally finished his transaction, and I knew it was now or never. So I cleared my throat and said, "Excuse me, Mrs. Hutter?" She looked puzzled, as if she wondered how I knew her name. I continued, "You don't know me, but I went to high school with your son, Steven."

"Oh, how nice. What's your name?" She asked me.

I saw her eyes widen and I could hardly breathe, but I blurted out, "Mrs. Hutter I didn't get saved that day, but I wanted to tell you that I did get saved.""It's Jennifer. But I doubt Steven would even know who I am. We never really had any contact in high school." Mrs. Hutter smiled and nodded, still unsure of what I was getting at, but so patient and kind as she waited for me to continue. "Anyway, uh, I used to work here with Steven, at this very same grocery store." She nodded. "And one day, you came to my register. You gave me a gospel tract that day, and I read it. That was seven years ago." I stated again, "At this very same grocery store." I saw her eyes widen and I could hardly breathe, but I blurted out, "Mrs. Hutter I didn't get saved that day, but I wanted to tell you that I did get saved."

Tears began to form in her eyes. With reckless abandon, Mrs. Hutter threw her arms in the air, right there in the express lane, and shouted, "OH PRAISE THE LORD! HALLELUJAH!" She grabbed me and embraced me tightly. Everyone in the store was looking at us like we were insane. I felt a bit self-conscious, as this is not the typical scene one might witness in a grocery store on Long Island, or the rest of New York, for that matter. But I couldn't deny the excitement and wonder of that moment.

I had paid for my Doritos as she thanked me over and over for speaking up and encouraging her. She said she never knows what happens to the tracts she gives out, and it was such a joy to see what had become of a tract she gave to a stranger seven years before. The next thing I knew, I was in the passenger seat of her car, and she was praying for me. Then I was off to my Bible study.

I think I may have run into her once or twice after that. To my knowledge, she still lives on Long Island, in my hometown. Perhaps the next time I am in town to visit my brother, I will look her up and ask if she remembers me. I know I will always remember her as the first person God used to reach out to me and make Himself known.

It was the summer of 1987. At thirteen, there was not much for me to do aside from having the occasional friend over, completing my assigned summer reading for school, and watching television. One of the television shows I watched religiously was A Current Affair (not to be confused with the Australian program by the same name). A Current Affair was a New York based, television tabloid show that focused on scandals. Unsolved murders and celebrity deaths were a regular topic on the program, but the Summer of 1987 was an unusually popular season for death. That's because August of 1987 marked the 10th anniversary of Elvis Presley's death (August 16) as well as the 25th anniversary of the death of Marilyn Monroe (August 5).

Every weekday I watched this program. It seemed there was an endless amount of stories to report about Elvis or Marilyn: how lonely they were in life, how they both tried to reduce their emotional pain with drugs, superficial relationships, and material possessions. Both their lives ended in despair, as neither felt truly loved. Yet they both left behind millions of adoring fans who continued to grieve over their loss years after they passed. I was captivated by these stories. My interest soon grew into an obsession. Before long, I had posters of Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Natalie Wood, and Sal Mineo all over my bedroom walls.

I began the eighth grade that September. I continued to watch A Current Affair after school, and within a few weeks into the school year, I was faced with a frightening realization: I am going to die one day.

One night I had gone to bed and it just hit me. My life is going to end, just like everyone else who came before me. As I lay quietly in my bed, I suddenly became very aware of the sound of my own heartbeat. I imagined my heart stopping one day, my skin growing cold, and my body being placed in a coffin. I imagined the sound of dirt being shoveled on top of the coffin. It was dark. I would never see the sunshine again. My skin would rot, my hair would fall out. I envisioned worms crawling through my eye sockets and nasal cavity. I reasoned with myself that when I die will not be conscious of these things; that I was only feeling frightened because I was imagining my burial as though I were being buried alive. But it didn't help. I was scared. I did not want to die, but worse, I knew there was nothing I could do to stop the process.

I was literally paralyzed with fear the entire night. It felt as though there was a crushing weight on my chest and I could not breathe. I just remained on my back, staring at the ceiling, my arms pressed tightly to my side, and I stayed that way until morning. I was too tired to go to school that day, but I had no choice. So first period, I found myself in P.E. class.

My teacher came over and tried to help, but all I could manage to tell her was, "I'm going to die! I'm going to die!"As I exited the locker room, I looked across the gymnasium at my classmates practicing basketball drills. Suddenly, an intrusive thought entered my mind: "One hundred years from now, not one of these children will be here anymore." I imagined the gymnasium suddenly empty, the bouncing basketballs abandoned on the floor. The fear gripped me again, and I started to panic. My fear gave way to uncontrollable sobs and I started hyperventilating. A classmate asked me what was wrong, but I couldn't answer. My teacher came over and tried to help, but all I could manage to tell her was, "I'm going to die! I'm going to die!"

I don't remember how I got to the nurse's office. I just remember lying there paralyzed again. It was not long before I heard the sound of my mother's voice consulting with the school nurse. The nurse told me that my mother was taking me home. I was glad to be able to process this a bit with my mom. But once we got in the car, my mother became very angry with me.

"What is wrong with you?" she screamed. "You're thirteen years old and you're acting like a baby! Do you have some kind of mental problem?"

"No, mom." I squeaked.

"Well do you want everyone to think you have a mental problem?" she asked.

"No." I whispered.

"Then knock it off! Don't you dare embarrass this family!"

Before you think my mother was horribly cruel in her reaction, there is something you need to understand about Italian-Americans. We do not air our dirty laundry outside the family. (This blog, and especially this story, is an extreme violation of this cultural code of honor.) We also have a tendency to ignore problems within the family, hoping they'll just smooth out on their own. It is all part of fare bella figura, which basically means "to create a beautiful figure (or image)". We will knock ourselves out to present an overdeveloped facade to outsiders. We are a proud people. We don't want anyone to think we have any problems.

I went home that day and stuffed my feelings down as far as I could, but they kept resurfacing. In public, I was a happy, well-adjusted child. But privately, I was hiding a secret from everyone: I was mortal, I knew it, and I was terrified.

In hindsight, I now know that what I had experienced that day was a series of severe panic attacks. Obviously, this is not the end of the story, but allow me to end here for today to reflect upon my favorite, most cherished psalm, Psalm 116.

Praise be to One who conquered the grave; who died that I may live.

My first memories of religious education were in the first grade. I was raised Roman Catholic and every Monday I had to leave school early to attend CCD classes. At that age, the message is made very simple: God loves you, Jesus is your friend, pray to Him when you are afraid, etc. I happily attended those CCD classes. They were so comforting and fun.

By the time I was eight, these classes started getting complicated. I was bogged down with having to memorize prayers, learn the names of what seemed like a million saints, and obey all sorts of rules. One thing that always brought me comfort was whenever we talked about Jesus. There was just one thing that puzzled me, though. I kept hearing this phrase, "Jesus died to pay for your sins," but I didn't have a clue what that meant. Because we were often encouraged to be good little girls and boys, I had always assumed that a person enters heaven on the basis of their good works. If I was a good girl, God would then allow me into heaven when I died. So it left the Jesus question unanswered. Why did Jesus have to die?

That year my mother and I watched Franco Zeffirelli's Jesus of Nazareth on television during Easter Week. The evening the crucifixion scene aired, the question surfaced again, this time, from an actor in the film. An observer in the crowd muses, "He saved others, why can't He save Himself now?"

I turned to my mother after watching this and asked her, "Why did Jesus have to die?" She responded by rote, "To pay for our sins." Frustrated, I said, "But what does that mean? I don't understand! It's like that man said. He helped others, so why couldn't He help Himself? Why didn't He jump off the cross and show everyone How powerful He was? Why did He just stay there and say nothing?" My mother looked at me and simply said, "I don't know."

I was so disappointed. I was the type of child that needed a reason for everything, and at that moment I could find no reason for Jesus to have remained on the cross when He could have just escaped. Dissatisfied, I decided to come up with my own theory: the reason Jesus remained on the cross was because He wanted to "show off" just how powerful He was by raising Himself from the dead. Yes, that would certainly have much more of an impact than merely escaping the crucifixion! I was so pleased with myself, I went to school the next day and shared my theory with all my little friends. Thus, at the tender age of eight, I became the youngest false teacher I know.

Looking back on my childhood, I can see God was faithful to me. He did not leave me empty-handed. It may have taken ten years after I first asked this question of my mother, but I eventually got the answer I was looking for. The reason why Jesus remained on the cross is simple: He chose to stay there:

“Therefore My Father loves Me, because I lay down My life that I may take it again. No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. (John 10:17-18a)

Reader, no amount of good deeds will grant us entrance to heaven. If we claim we can get there based on our good works, we nullify God's grace and make the cross of Christ null and void (Galatians 2:21). Jesus had to die, because apart from His death, there is no other way for men to be saved. Think about it. If it were possible for you or me to get to heaven on our own simply by "being good," then Jesus died for nothing!

Imagine you were in a court of law, and you committed several heinous crimes, and you were found guilty, what would be your defense? If the judge posted bail at $50,000 dollars or sentenced you to life in prison, and you couldn't pay the fine, you'd go to jail for life. But let's say that at that moment, someone stood up in the courtroom and offered to post bail for you. Then, and only then, could you go free, because justice has been served.

This is what Jesus did on the cross. You see, all men are criminals in God's courtroom. All have sinned against God by breaking His law (the Ten Commandments). Only there is no sum of money will get us out of prison. Our bail has been posted at death. Jesus died to pay the fine, so we don't have to go to God's jail (hell). For further information, please click here.

When I was growing up, several of my friends had favorite songs that were very special to them for various reasons. Some of these songs brought back fond memories. Others communicated how one was feeling when ordinary words would not suffice. But above and beyond all our favorite songs was the song we singled out as being our "theme song." A person's theme song captured the very essence of who that person was.

Like my friends, I too had a "theme song," but I never admitted to it. The reason was my theme song was such an accurate description of what was going on inside my heart, to expose it to someone else would be far too intimate - and a betrayal to the song itself. There was one song that stood out to me above all others in its ability to perfectly diagnose the condition of my own humanity. Go ahead -- have a listen (click here for the lyrics):



This is a song about willful isolation. And I would go so far as to say it is a song about sin. Some may say this statement is a bit extreme. I beg to differ, and as a former hermit, I speak from experience. So here are my top five reasons why willful isolation is sin:

1. It is the epitome of selfishness. When we refuse to open our hearts due to some past emotional injury, we are choosing self over others. Remember Josh's McDowell's definition of love? To protect and provide. When we build walls, "a fortress deep and mighty that none may penetrate," as Simon and Garfunkel describe, who are we protecting first and foremost? Self. And as a result, who are we failing to provide for? Everyone else.

2. It is a prime example of rebellion, which God says is as the sin of witchcraft. God exists in a state of continual relationship with himself as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and we are created in His image. When we willfully choose to isolate ourselves from other people, we are rebelling against His design.

3. It is evidence that we do not trust God. We are afraid of how others might hurt us, so we take control and apply our own solution to sin: isolation. But God has already provided a solution for sin. It's called the cross. When we shut our hearts off from others, we are saying that we do not think reconciliation and restoration are possible. We are basically saying that the cross is powerless in the life of the believer.

4. It is evidence that we will not forgive. Many people have been badly betrayed or seen others go through a betrayal. As a result, they have chosen a life of solitude. "But what if you've been hurt really badly by someone?" If this is the case, wisdom would dictate that you stay away from that person. Yet many use proverbial wisdom as a license to sin and justify shutting themselves off from everyone. If we are constantly punishing everyone for what someone else did to us, we have not only not forgiven the offender, we have become the supreme judge of everyone else who crosses our path from that point forward. These poor people do not stand a chance against our subconsious accusations. They have done nothing to us, but they stand condemned for the offenses we know they could possibly commit against us in the future.

5. It shows we're only in this life for what we can get out of it, not what we put in. This is especially true in courtship scenarios. The world's philosphy in selecting a mate is not based on what we have to offer the other person, but rather, what they have to offer us. This is in direct opposition to Christianity. Again, wisdom would dictate that we carefully consider the character of anyone we are considering for a potential marriage partner, however, we are in sin if we are deliberately avoiding marriage (the way I did for over a decade) for any reason. Feminist philosophy is loaded with this type of self-serving mentality. It turns our divine command to love one another into a barter system: "If and only if you treat me right, then I will respect and submit to you." The Bible places no conditions on the command to respect one's husband. So when we deliberately "choose" not to get married, it is because we've asked the question, "What's in it for me?" and decided the dividends were not high enough. Others (myself included) have remarked, "I don't want to ruin my life." Is this an accurate portrayal of love?

Jesus said there is no greater love than a man lay down his life for his friends. But He wasn't just talking about one's physical death. He was talking about giving one's day-to-day life to others: living in service to other people. Christ gave His life, and every single Christian is expected to do the very same thing. We honor fallen war heroes who have given their lives for our country, but we forget that every day there are people all around us who have given their lives for others: parents, teachers, pastors, friends -- through the random acts of selfless service to you and me.

When I consider how I used to bellow, "I AM A ROCK!" I realize I have stolen one of our Lord's titles. This is prideful. This is presumptuous. This is sin.When I consider the gusto with which I used to belt out the lyric, "It's laughter and it's loving I disdain," I am faced with the realization that I have looked at God Himself with disdain. I have held in contempt the system of interconnectedness that He intended for me to have. How is this any less offensive to God than lying or stealing? When I consider how I used to bellow, "I AM A ROCK!" I realize I have stolen one of our Lord's titles. This is prideful. This is presumptuous. This is sin.

The world wants to lull us to sleep concerning these issues, and it endlessly encourages us to justify our sin. Last Sunday, my pastor stated in his message that the hardest word to get around in pastoral counseling is the word because: "I was mean to her because I was tired," or, "I stopped talking to him because I was angry." Does the word because justify our actions? Are we justified when we say, "I shut myself off because others have hurt me in the past"? Secular counselors would have us spend countless hours and dollars talking about why we did this or why we did that. Regardless of why, the fact remains we still behaved in a manner that displeases God, and He holds us accountable for our reactions to others' sin against us. Our excuses do not impress Him. We do not need counseling. We do not need therapy. We need to repent and forgive. Period.

Jesus urges us to put to death the deeds of the flesh. The Bible says that those who do such things are worthy of death, yet we continue to do them and give hearty approval to those who practice them. Consider what Simon and Garfunkel were suggesting in the following lyric: I have my books and my poetry to protect me. I was one of those who used to "connect" with others through books instead of fellowship. Instead of connecting with real people of flesh and blood I could touch and see, I connected with fictitious characters. The song may be forty years old, but the idea is the same. Only the methods have changed. We still may shun real relationships, but instead of hiding behind our books, we now hide behind our computers.

Though I am horrified to think that I once considered "I Am a Rock" to be my "theme song," I know that there is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus, the one true Rock. It is only by Christ's power I could repent of this sin. I will always remember 2007 not only as the year I repented of isolation, but also as the year I refused to give any approval to those who practice it. It is the year I stopped asking, "What's in it for me?" It's the year I wrote a requiem for an anthem I should have outgrown a long time ago. Praise be to God for the freedom we have in Christ to be more than conquerors. May we all continue to grow in love and service toward one another in 2008.