I was laying in bed a couple of nights ago trying to fight off the two cups of coffee I chugged earlier that evening. Remembering the ‘Preamble to the Constitution recite-off’ my mama and I had in the living room last weekend, I decided to try to recite things I had memorized as a kid to help me fall asleep.
I whispered a prayer first: “Lord, thank you for Edith, Fern, Sis. Campbell, Edna, and Penny who made me memorize things in Sunday School class for foil stars on a posterboard. Bless them for hours and hours of trying to teach a headstrong little blonde girl. Please give each of them lots of stars. Amen.”
I said the books of the bible, the Lord’s Prayer, a shabby rendition of Romans 8 with lots of gaps, the Apostle’s Creed—that was from college, the pledge to the Christian Flag (yep-- it’s in there to stay, apparently), and finally the 23rd Psalm:
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in still pastures, he leadeth me beside still waters.
He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me.
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the midst of my enemies;
Thou anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
RICH isn’t it?
(Sorry, but I’m going to need you to pretend I haven’t ever said nasty things about paraphrases now; I’m really into eating my words these days.)
Soak it in:
I trust in the Lord who takes care of me and all my needs.
He gives me deep, true rest that renews and restores the deepest parts of me.
He guides me down just paths even when I don’t exactly understand them.
Oh Lord! there are terrifying possibilities like cancer and car accidents around every corner that I can’t control or expect and that no one deserves; but I don’t live in fear of them because I’m too busy meditating on your presence and what it means to be yours.
Your discipline comforts me: I know the Holy Spirit will check my actions and my motivations and I won’t be given to my own messed up desires. Each notch in your staff represents a victory against beasts who seek to destroy in a hundred different ways. I need to hear those victory stories—from pages of books and pieces of scrolls and from the saints around me. There is great comfort in hearing that You are the God who not only directs the obedient, but who also fights for and wins the disobedient. It assures me that I can't mess up so badly that I can't be found.
Sometimes I’m preoccupied with people and what they want from me and how they treat me, but even then I’m living well enough in your provision to be concerned with who likes me and who doesn’t. “Enemies” don’t really phase me because in front of them and everyone else,
You engulf me, and more: Your love runs out of me in a frenzy of brushstrokes and strums and pennies and foot-scrubbing. Your love comes out of me even when I try to keep it in.
Life is good to me; I find leniency and forgiveness when I’m guilty, and when I’m innocent and false claims are made against me, the lies fall apart.
However long forever is, I’ll be safe with the Lord.
And then, I slept.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Father's Day Sermon 2011 @ Roseland UMC
Text: I Cor 4:15-21
"Even if you had ten thousand guardians in Christ, you do not have many fathers, for in Christ Jesus I became your father through the gospel. Therefore I urge you to imitate me. For this reason I have sent to you Timothy, my son whom I love, who is faithful in the Lord. He will remind you of my way of life in Christ Jesus, which agrees with what I teach everywhere in every church. Some of you have become arrogant, as if I were not coming to you. But I will come to you very soon, if the Lord is willing, and then I will find out not only how these arrogant people are talking, but what power they have. For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power. What do you prefer? Shall I come to you with a rod of discipline, or shall I come in love and with a gentle spirit?"
Paul writes regarding several issues in his first letter to the young church at Corinth. Among other things, he writes to them regarding how they should conduct themselves when they meet together; to explain how immoral behavior corrupts their bodies and souls; and perhaps most passionately, he writes to warn against factions in the church created by new teachers who insist that worldly wisdom enhances and informs the Gospel of Christ. While that premise might not seem vicious, Paul recognizes the ultimate danger in the Corinthians’ allowing that day’s financial, philosophical, and scientific knowledge to inform their faith. From his own Damascus Road experience, Paul knows that radical salvation and redemption by God’s grace becomes the lens through which every aspect of life is viewed—and that viewing life through the lens of smart business, of self-preservation, or moral philosophies absent of the presence of God, is ultimately self-serving instead of self-giving.
In chapters 1-3 of I Corinthians, Paul tells the church that worldly wisdom, particularly the growing influence of Greek and Roman philosophy, can never be the source of salvation. Paul writes “When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom, for I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” Paul’s problem is not that some of the Corinthians are embracing technology and advances in thought—his problem is the new teachers’ assumption that possessing these things makes the ‘haves’ better than the ‘have nots,’ and implicitly that human wisdom adds something to the message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ by which all believers are bound in equality and unity.
The passage we read today is Paul’s fiery response to those in the church who have begun to take on arrogant attitudes because they converse with the lofty rhetoric of the philosophers and teachers from Greece, Rome, and Egypt. Earlier in chapter 4, Paul dryly pronounces the extremes between the ones who follow the wisdom of the world and those who do not, exposing the rift which has erupted due to the elevation of worldly wisdom: he says “we are fools for the sake of Christ, but you are wise in Christ; we are weak but you are strong. You are honored, but we are in disrepute.” In the wake of this pronouncement, Paul clarifies his reasons for discrediting the Christian teachers of worldly wisdom, philanthropy, and commerce; he says “for though you might have ten thousand guardians in Christ, you do not have many fathers.” Though you have ten thousand people who can give you knowledge about living a better life—there are few who give you a piece of themselves, there are few who give you their heart. Our epistle reading for today explains Paul’s emphasis on the way true fatherhood differs from the influence of those who bring wisdom in three ways: presence, empowerment, and identity.
I. The presence of a father.
Paul recognized the importance of being present-with. He saw problems arising from new influences who were intertwining human wisdom with the Gospel, and knew it would not have happened had he been there with the Corinthian church. Paul disliked being away from the ones he begat in Christ and looked forward to the time when he could be present with them again.
Our society can relate; we are familiar with absent fathers. Whether a dad has passed away, works out of town to provide for his family, or is not around for less noble reasons, we know what it is to lack the presence of a natural father. We know that while many celebrate fatherhood today, many also hurt today.
Though these are deep wounds, we see that just as Paul sent Timothy bearing a father’s heart, we find the gift of surrogate dads all around us. We find them wearing coaches’ hats, we find them in friends and extended family, and in our places of work. They make us want to be better people. They remind us who we are and what we stand for. They call our lives into order and teach us that there is just as much love in the voice of discipline as there is in the voice of nurture. Sometimes, they step into our lives and demand something of us like Paul when he writes “how would you prefer I come to you? Bearing a rod or with a gentle spirit?”—that is in more familiar terms, they say to us “we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way… but you are in a mess and I won’t leave you until we get out of it, you have tolerated this long enough.”
When I talk about fathers today, think about those special people in your life who gave you more than knowledge; think of the ones who modeled for you integrity and passion. Think of the people who have left a piece of their heart in yours. Also, brothers and sisters, think about those to whom you are a father: the ones who need you to be present to help turn mundane life into a seedbed for good choices and habits, to be a voice of discipline, to empower them, and to help them understand their role in the world. As Paul explains to us in today’s passage, there is a posterity of the heart and it is as natural as physical parenthood. Fatherhood happens only by relationship; no book can teach it, no celebrity can mass produce it. It is in time together, it is in honest conversations, it is in sharing both the beautiful and the ugly in life. A father’s heart comes through presence.
II. A father provides empowerment.
In I Corinthians 4:19, Paul writes: “But I will come to you very soon, if the Lord is willing, and then I will find out not only how these arrogant people are talking, but what power they have…” Paul sees a need to sort out powerful, life-changing truth from the noise of human wisdom which has been sewn into the Corinthian church. Paul goes on: “For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power…” Verse 20 is Paul’s jabbing reminder that the defining moments in life are seldom won by eloquent speech and the strongest logical arguments.
In the same way, the empowerment of a father is not of the mind, it is of deep feelings—the kind of knowing we know in our hearts and feel in our guts. The empowerment we get from our fathers is in letting us witness their Superman moments, as well as in the vulnerable human moments of failure, pain, and loss. Through their stories we learn that that there have been darker nights and dryer summers, but God brought them through—this is how we learn to wait patiently for the first rays of daybreak, and how we bolster our faith for the day when we will dance in the rain ourselves. By hearing how our fathers see God working in their lives, we learn to see God working in our lives.
In the Christian tradition we call these stories testimonies— some are dramatic and wild, while some speak of faithfulness to a still small voice over a lifetime. Some stories are shiny and polished like a treasured pocket watch only taken out for special occasions—other stories are still being worked out along with struggles and a mile-high pile of issues. But they are all real first-hand accounts about God’s presence in the lives of people we know and are learning to trust.
This is the deep empowerment that our fathers give us—more than stories, they show us the evidence of God’s power in their lives so that we can begin to see it in our own lives.
III. A Father gives us our identity.
Paul tells the Corinthians to imitate his actions and even sends Timothy to remind them of his way of life. Paul knows that while we try to understand our teachers, we imitate our fathers. It is by watching our fathers’ habits, that we form our own habits; we are given attributes by our fathers that make us who we are; and it is our fathers who give us the name we answer to. Whether it is the last name that reminds us what stock we are from, or the debilitating name that calls us worthless and unlovable, we children find identity in the name give to us by our fathers. Paul knows the power of creating identity—he knows that what we do always flows out of who we believe ourselves to be. We act according to the identity given to us by our fathers.
Reflecting on these things, we revisit Paul’s words: “Though you have ten thousand guardians, you have few fathers…” Though you have ten thousand voices who can give you knowledge, you have few who can give you their heart. Though you have ten thousand self-help books, you have few who can call your lives into accountability, and arbitrate the great divisions deep in your soul. Though you have ten thousand Dr. Phils, you have few who instill in you what it is to live in true peace and satisfaction with who you are and who is around you.
Whether you find yourself considering the fathers of your own life, or whether you sit pondering the immense responsibility of fathering others, I remind you that fatherhood is natural. It does not require perfect people, grand plans for bonding time, or a dual degree in philosophy and communications—it requires presence, a story, and a name.
Let us also be reminded that we are all part of the family of an Almighty Father who has been doing this since before time began. His presence is undeniable and limitless. And to us who believe, it is the source of peace which permeates and saturates our lives.
Our Father’s Word empowers us through many great stories of faith and of his unfailing providence, but all of them point to one mighty story that resonates through generations and among all the brothers and sisters of this human family:
It is the story of how no one in our family could understand the love of our Father because none of us truly had his heart, so none of us knew how to really love anyone but ourselves. So our Father sent his Son, a part of himself to live among us as our brother, showing us the heart of the Father. Since many of us still did not understand his love, the Son laid down his life for us all and rose again in three days to show us that not even death can separate us from the selfless love of our Father. Now life and love spring up when we see one another, and we rest in the hope that we will never really be selfish and lonely again because we are learning to give and receive love like the Father now.
Finally, brothers and sisters, let us be reminded of our identity as children of Father God by the grace of Christ through the Holy Spirit. While our identity in the family of God is not without responsibilities of being about our Father’s business and living up to the family name, it is also not without the constant presence of the one in whose name we live and move and have our being. Paul’s letter to the Roman church says it this way: (Rom 8:14-16) “For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. 15 The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” 16 The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.” I remind you that the names and labels the world uses to define us have no power over us anymore when we realize what our Father says about who we are: We are dead to sin and alive in Christ—one Body called to be his holy people. We live by the Spirit as more than conquerors, a new creation committed to a life of reconciliation. We are free, we are faithful, we have purpose in the message of truth; we are a family who presses on, we give thanks in all circumstances, and we are a people of inexhaustible hope and love. This is who we are. This is the identity in our bloodline; this is the stuff we are made of.
Today, let us celebrate the fathers who call us higher, who empower us to be better and help us discover our identity. Everyday, let us live a life that celebrates the ever-present Father of us all, and the richness of being children of God through the power and grace of Christ. Amen.
"Even if you had ten thousand guardians in Christ, you do not have many fathers, for in Christ Jesus I became your father through the gospel. Therefore I urge you to imitate me. For this reason I have sent to you Timothy, my son whom I love, who is faithful in the Lord. He will remind you of my way of life in Christ Jesus, which agrees with what I teach everywhere in every church. Some of you have become arrogant, as if I were not coming to you. But I will come to you very soon, if the Lord is willing, and then I will find out not only how these arrogant people are talking, but what power they have. For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power. What do you prefer? Shall I come to you with a rod of discipline, or shall I come in love and with a gentle spirit?"
Paul writes regarding several issues in his first letter to the young church at Corinth. Among other things, he writes to them regarding how they should conduct themselves when they meet together; to explain how immoral behavior corrupts their bodies and souls; and perhaps most passionately, he writes to warn against factions in the church created by new teachers who insist that worldly wisdom enhances and informs the Gospel of Christ. While that premise might not seem vicious, Paul recognizes the ultimate danger in the Corinthians’ allowing that day’s financial, philosophical, and scientific knowledge to inform their faith. From his own Damascus Road experience, Paul knows that radical salvation and redemption by God’s grace becomes the lens through which every aspect of life is viewed—and that viewing life through the lens of smart business, of self-preservation, or moral philosophies absent of the presence of God, is ultimately self-serving instead of self-giving.
In chapters 1-3 of I Corinthians, Paul tells the church that worldly wisdom, particularly the growing influence of Greek and Roman philosophy, can never be the source of salvation. Paul writes “When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom, for I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” Paul’s problem is not that some of the Corinthians are embracing technology and advances in thought—his problem is the new teachers’ assumption that possessing these things makes the ‘haves’ better than the ‘have nots,’ and implicitly that human wisdom adds something to the message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ by which all believers are bound in equality and unity.
The passage we read today is Paul’s fiery response to those in the church who have begun to take on arrogant attitudes because they converse with the lofty rhetoric of the philosophers and teachers from Greece, Rome, and Egypt. Earlier in chapter 4, Paul dryly pronounces the extremes between the ones who follow the wisdom of the world and those who do not, exposing the rift which has erupted due to the elevation of worldly wisdom: he says “we are fools for the sake of Christ, but you are wise in Christ; we are weak but you are strong. You are honored, but we are in disrepute.” In the wake of this pronouncement, Paul clarifies his reasons for discrediting the Christian teachers of worldly wisdom, philanthropy, and commerce; he says “for though you might have ten thousand guardians in Christ, you do not have many fathers.” Though you have ten thousand people who can give you knowledge about living a better life—there are few who give you a piece of themselves, there are few who give you their heart. Our epistle reading for today explains Paul’s emphasis on the way true fatherhood differs from the influence of those who bring wisdom in three ways: presence, empowerment, and identity.
I. The presence of a father.
Paul recognized the importance of being present-with. He saw problems arising from new influences who were intertwining human wisdom with the Gospel, and knew it would not have happened had he been there with the Corinthian church. Paul disliked being away from the ones he begat in Christ and looked forward to the time when he could be present with them again.
Our society can relate; we are familiar with absent fathers. Whether a dad has passed away, works out of town to provide for his family, or is not around for less noble reasons, we know what it is to lack the presence of a natural father. We know that while many celebrate fatherhood today, many also hurt today.
Though these are deep wounds, we see that just as Paul sent Timothy bearing a father’s heart, we find the gift of surrogate dads all around us. We find them wearing coaches’ hats, we find them in friends and extended family, and in our places of work. They make us want to be better people. They remind us who we are and what we stand for. They call our lives into order and teach us that there is just as much love in the voice of discipline as there is in the voice of nurture. Sometimes, they step into our lives and demand something of us like Paul when he writes “how would you prefer I come to you? Bearing a rod or with a gentle spirit?”—that is in more familiar terms, they say to us “we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way… but you are in a mess and I won’t leave you until we get out of it, you have tolerated this long enough.”
When I talk about fathers today, think about those special people in your life who gave you more than knowledge; think of the ones who modeled for you integrity and passion. Think of the people who have left a piece of their heart in yours. Also, brothers and sisters, think about those to whom you are a father: the ones who need you to be present to help turn mundane life into a seedbed for good choices and habits, to be a voice of discipline, to empower them, and to help them understand their role in the world. As Paul explains to us in today’s passage, there is a posterity of the heart and it is as natural as physical parenthood. Fatherhood happens only by relationship; no book can teach it, no celebrity can mass produce it. It is in time together, it is in honest conversations, it is in sharing both the beautiful and the ugly in life. A father’s heart comes through presence.
II. A father provides empowerment.
In I Corinthians 4:19, Paul writes: “But I will come to you very soon, if the Lord is willing, and then I will find out not only how these arrogant people are talking, but what power they have…” Paul sees a need to sort out powerful, life-changing truth from the noise of human wisdom which has been sewn into the Corinthian church. Paul goes on: “For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power…” Verse 20 is Paul’s jabbing reminder that the defining moments in life are seldom won by eloquent speech and the strongest logical arguments.
In the same way, the empowerment of a father is not of the mind, it is of deep feelings—the kind of knowing we know in our hearts and feel in our guts. The empowerment we get from our fathers is in letting us witness their Superman moments, as well as in the vulnerable human moments of failure, pain, and loss. Through their stories we learn that that there have been darker nights and dryer summers, but God brought them through—this is how we learn to wait patiently for the first rays of daybreak, and how we bolster our faith for the day when we will dance in the rain ourselves. By hearing how our fathers see God working in their lives, we learn to see God working in our lives.
In the Christian tradition we call these stories testimonies— some are dramatic and wild, while some speak of faithfulness to a still small voice over a lifetime. Some stories are shiny and polished like a treasured pocket watch only taken out for special occasions—other stories are still being worked out along with struggles and a mile-high pile of issues. But they are all real first-hand accounts about God’s presence in the lives of people we know and are learning to trust.
This is the deep empowerment that our fathers give us—more than stories, they show us the evidence of God’s power in their lives so that we can begin to see it in our own lives.
III. A Father gives us our identity.
Paul tells the Corinthians to imitate his actions and even sends Timothy to remind them of his way of life. Paul knows that while we try to understand our teachers, we imitate our fathers. It is by watching our fathers’ habits, that we form our own habits; we are given attributes by our fathers that make us who we are; and it is our fathers who give us the name we answer to. Whether it is the last name that reminds us what stock we are from, or the debilitating name that calls us worthless and unlovable, we children find identity in the name give to us by our fathers. Paul knows the power of creating identity—he knows that what we do always flows out of who we believe ourselves to be. We act according to the identity given to us by our fathers.
Reflecting on these things, we revisit Paul’s words: “Though you have ten thousand guardians, you have few fathers…” Though you have ten thousand voices who can give you knowledge, you have few who can give you their heart. Though you have ten thousand self-help books, you have few who can call your lives into accountability, and arbitrate the great divisions deep in your soul. Though you have ten thousand Dr. Phils, you have few who instill in you what it is to live in true peace and satisfaction with who you are and who is around you.
Whether you find yourself considering the fathers of your own life, or whether you sit pondering the immense responsibility of fathering others, I remind you that fatherhood is natural. It does not require perfect people, grand plans for bonding time, or a dual degree in philosophy and communications—it requires presence, a story, and a name.
Let us also be reminded that we are all part of the family of an Almighty Father who has been doing this since before time began. His presence is undeniable and limitless. And to us who believe, it is the source of peace which permeates and saturates our lives.
Our Father’s Word empowers us through many great stories of faith and of his unfailing providence, but all of them point to one mighty story that resonates through generations and among all the brothers and sisters of this human family:
It is the story of how no one in our family could understand the love of our Father because none of us truly had his heart, so none of us knew how to really love anyone but ourselves. So our Father sent his Son, a part of himself to live among us as our brother, showing us the heart of the Father. Since many of us still did not understand his love, the Son laid down his life for us all and rose again in three days to show us that not even death can separate us from the selfless love of our Father. Now life and love spring up when we see one another, and we rest in the hope that we will never really be selfish and lonely again because we are learning to give and receive love like the Father now.
Finally, brothers and sisters, let us be reminded of our identity as children of Father God by the grace of Christ through the Holy Spirit. While our identity in the family of God is not without responsibilities of being about our Father’s business and living up to the family name, it is also not without the constant presence of the one in whose name we live and move and have our being. Paul’s letter to the Roman church says it this way: (Rom 8:14-16) “For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. 15 The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” 16 The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.” I remind you that the names and labels the world uses to define us have no power over us anymore when we realize what our Father says about who we are: We are dead to sin and alive in Christ—one Body called to be his holy people. We live by the Spirit as more than conquerors, a new creation committed to a life of reconciliation. We are free, we are faithful, we have purpose in the message of truth; we are a family who presses on, we give thanks in all circumstances, and we are a people of inexhaustible hope and love. This is who we are. This is the identity in our bloodline; this is the stuff we are made of.
Today, let us celebrate the fathers who call us higher, who empower us to be better and help us discover our identity. Everyday, let us live a life that celebrates the ever-present Father of us all, and the richness of being children of God through the power and grace of Christ. Amen.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
New Life
If I seem to change, it has nothing to do with the new year. It has everything to do with new life, new birth, and a new mind.
I already hear some of you chomping on thoughts like, "I thought she had been a believer for a long time-- but here, she's claiming a recent 'new birth.' What craziness is she learning at that seminary? The liberals must've got her already." Relax, and read on.
Gaining a new life and a new mind in Christ aren't quick little chemical processes that occur at the moment of salvation; if they were, Christians would be perfectly just and righteous when they get up from the prayer bench. As we all know, that isn't the case. We believers still struggle. We struggle not to curse the guy who cuts us off on the interstate, we struggle to forgive the family member who systematically ruins every annual attempt at a nice Christmas meal, and we struggle to put down the box of donuts in the grocery store because we don't need them. We're not perfect, and despite our best efforts, we fail to represent Christ pretty miserably sometimes. Christ died so that we could be in right relationship with God, so it seems that salvation should be the antidote to sin. Yet we're still goofing up. So what happened when we prayed the prayer of repentance?
The Holy Spirit of God came to live in us when we prayed the prayer of repentance, that's what happened! The Spirit is creative, dynamic, and full of potential. This "new birth," "new life," and "renewed mind" thing isn't just whatever warm and fuzzy feeling we may have gotten when we prayed the prayer in faith-- it's the ecstatic whirring and fluttering of the Holy Spirit in us every day. We're as capable of a brand-new life 60 years into the Christian journey as we were the day we first called upon the Lord. The Spirit of God which is in us is dynamic, constantly in flux, urging us toward both fulfillment in our personal vocations and the corporate purpose of the body of Christ. Being 'born again' isn't a moment, it's an experience. And I plan to grow and hurt and laugh and sweat and savor every minute of it. Undoubtedly, this is the kind of experience which changes a person.
I already hear some of you chomping on thoughts like, "I thought she had been a believer for a long time-- but here, she's claiming a recent 'new birth.' What craziness is she learning at that seminary? The liberals must've got her already." Relax, and read on.
Gaining a new life and a new mind in Christ aren't quick little chemical processes that occur at the moment of salvation; if they were, Christians would be perfectly just and righteous when they get up from the prayer bench. As we all know, that isn't the case. We believers still struggle. We struggle not to curse the guy who cuts us off on the interstate, we struggle to forgive the family member who systematically ruins every annual attempt at a nice Christmas meal, and we struggle to put down the box of donuts in the grocery store because we don't need them. We're not perfect, and despite our best efforts, we fail to represent Christ pretty miserably sometimes. Christ died so that we could be in right relationship with God, so it seems that salvation should be the antidote to sin. Yet we're still goofing up. So what happened when we prayed the prayer of repentance?
The Holy Spirit of God came to live in us when we prayed the prayer of repentance, that's what happened! The Spirit is creative, dynamic, and full of potential. This "new birth," "new life," and "renewed mind" thing isn't just whatever warm and fuzzy feeling we may have gotten when we prayed the prayer in faith-- it's the ecstatic whirring and fluttering of the Holy Spirit in us every day. We're as capable of a brand-new life 60 years into the Christian journey as we were the day we first called upon the Lord. The Spirit of God which is in us is dynamic, constantly in flux, urging us toward both fulfillment in our personal vocations and the corporate purpose of the body of Christ. Being 'born again' isn't a moment, it's an experience. And I plan to grow and hurt and laugh and sweat and savor every minute of it. Undoubtedly, this is the kind of experience which changes a person.
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